#there’s probably a million but there’s only been a handful i’ve been in

[whytheylosttheirminds]

happy birthday, baby (part one: birthday girl)

(boyfriend!rafe x girlfriend!reader two-shot)

summary it's your first birthday as rafe's girlfriend, and he's desperate to show you just how special you are to him...

content fluff! smut! 18+ minors do not interact!

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“It’s too much, Rafe!”

The pile of presents in front of you is outrageous. Bows and bags and big, meticulously wrapped packages.

“Never too much for my girl,” he stands back, beaming as he watches you take in the display with your mouth agape.

“I don’t even know which one to open first,” you muse.

“Any of ‘em. Just not,” he steps forward and plucks one bag from the pile, “this one. This one’s for last.”

You eye him suspiciously as he sets the bag on the kitchen counter, out of reach. 

“What surprises do you have planned, Cameron?”

“If I told you,” he smiles, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso, “then they wouldn’t be surprises. Now pick a present or we’re gonna be here all day.”

“Excuse me, I will not be rushed on my birthday,” you say defiantly.

“Not rushing you,” he drops a kiss on your shoulder, “just got a lot of shit planned for ya, I don’t want to waste any time,” he clarifies.

“There’s more?” You turn in his grasp, eyes wide.

He’d already woken you up with breakfast in bed, and an adorably off-key, groggy voiced rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’ His bedroom was full of flowers and balloons, including two big pink ones displaying your new age. After you ate the fluffiest pancakes you’d ever had in your life, he slipped a heavy diamond necklace around your neck, kissing your shoulders as he clasped it. Giving him a million thank you kisses, you told him you loved your present, and he chuckled, leading you to the kitchen to the mountain of additional presents you’re now ogling.

“So much more. I’ve got a whole day planned for you, so let’s get to it,” he said with a quick tap on your ass, making you giggle.

“Okay, okay! I want…that one,” you point to the largest package in the back of the pile, “‘cause it’s big.”

“Huh, where have I heard that before?” He pretends to think, a smug smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

You roll your eyes, shoving him back by his shoulder and scoffing, “you’re on another one today, I swear.”

“Just excited to celebrate you,” he grins, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before pulling the biggest present out of the pile.

You sit in one of his dining chairs, opening present after present, each one delighting you more than the last. Flashy and expensive; a new bag, two pairs of shoes that have been on your wishlist forever, jewelry until you’re dripping in diamonds and precious gems. Sweet and sentimental; a printed album of all your instagram posts since the two of you got together almost a year ago, a gold ring engraved with a handwritten message, a crystal picture frame with a shot of the two of you on his boat at sunset. 

You wonder if it’s possible for your heart to actually burst from affection.

When only one present remains, you eye the counter quizzically, waiting for him to bring you the little bag he had set aside. Rafe just makes himself busy picking up the discarded ribbons and wrapping paper, a little blush on his face as he focuses on the chore.

“Rafe…” you try to get his attention.

“Yeah?” He leans down to pick up a bow that had fallen under the table, when he stands, you step in front of him, grabbing the trash from his hands and setting it to the side. 

“I want my last present please,” you smile, hands cupped in front of you expectantly.

He scratches the top of his buzzed head, taking a deep breath, “why don’t we wait? I booked you a spa appointment so you should probably get ready…”

“Rafe,” you cross your arms over your chest, “why are you being all squirmy?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t know if you’ll like it, I don’t want you to think…anything.”

You had no idea what he meant by ‘think anything,’ but this whole you not liking something he took the time to pick out for you business was just nonsense. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stood up on your tiptoes to place a soft, steady kiss on his lips. 

“Well I do know. I’m gonna love it, because you got it for me, and I love you,” you ease his worry.

You had told each other you loved each other for the first time a little over a month ago, but it still feels like fireworks everytime one of you says it. Nothing in life is sweeter than the sound of his quick, reassuring “love ya” before hanging up the phone, or his whispered, emotional “I love you so much,” when he’s buried inside you late at night.

“I love you too,” he grins.

“Good,” you place one more kiss on his lips, “then I would like my last present now, please.”

“Yes ma’am,” he smirks, walking you toward the kitchen, kissing you all the way as he backs you up step by step.

By the time you reach the kitchen island, you’ve almost forgotten about the striped gift bag waiting for you there, distracted by his lips and the cute little smooches they’re making against your mouth with each step.

He reaches back for the bag without pulling away, holding it behind his back as he ducks down for one last peck before swinging it forward and presenting it to you.

“We can take it back if you don’t li-��� you silence him with a finger to his lips.

“Shhh, it’s my last present of the day, let me enjoy this,” you request.

He nods solemnly, waiting until you were looking away, too distracted by the tissue paper in the bag to see the smirk growing on his lips as he thought about his actual last present for you. A rush of nerves shoot through him as he pictures the little black velvet pouch sitting in his nightstand drawer. 

Obeying your request, he bites his tongue as you pull out the rest of the tissue paper. When you finally see what’s sitting in the bag, a slow, delighted smile spreads across your face. You don’t pull the gift out, just bite your lip as you blink up at him through your lashes. His cheeks are adorably pink. 

He’s never bought you lingerie before. He’s seen you in plenty of it, though. Hell, he cleared a whole drawer for you like a month after you started dating, telling you to take as much space as you needed as long as he was the only one who got to see you in it. But the thought of him actually going into the store and asking the sales lady for exactly what he wanted to see you in, surely pulling out his black card and telling her the price tag was not an issue, made your belly tighten with lust.

“Ah I see,” you smirk, “it’s a present for me and for you.”

He nods with a lick of his lips, “you gonna try it on for me?”

You lead him to the chair you were sitting in to open presents, guiding him to sit and placing one more kiss on his cheek before excitedly padding to the bedroom to get changed. He watches you go with his tongue pressed into his cheek, readying himself, wondering how the fuck someone like him got lucky enough to be with someone like you.

Rafe had picked out the cutest little set for you. Matching floral bra and panties, sheer and constructed with hardly any fabric at all, a matching garter belt and thigh high sheer stockings. You gasp when you see the price tag, understanding now why the fabric feels so nice and the stitching is so intricate. 

You take your time pulling it on, both to be gentle with the expensive pieces and to tease the man waiting for you in the other room. The thought of him squirming in that chair wondering what the hell was taking so long makes you giggle.

“The fuck are you laughing about in there?” He calls out impatiently from the other room. “You’re killin’ me!” 

You laugh hard at that, head falling back in delight as you clip the last strap of the garter into place. You add a pair of kitten heels to tie it all together and run your fingers through your hair, one quick look in the mirror to appreciate yourself before stepping slowly from the room.

“Sorry to make you wait, baby,” you tilt your head apologetically and step towards him tauntingly. 

Rafe just smiles and looks to the ceiling, shaking his head slowly in disbelief.

“What?” You ask as you approach, hands finding his and bringing them to rest on either side of your waist.

His thumbs trace circles into your skin, “just don’t know how I got so fuckin’ lucky. Must’ve done something right in a past life.”

Your skin goes hot at his words, and the way his eyes are skimming over your body like you’re the eighth wonder of the world.

“Nah, I think you just did a lot of things right in this life,” you pull his arms so he’ll rise to his feet.

Rafe lifts his arm with his hand still holding yours, spinning you with his pointer finger like a ballerina, memorizing every inch of you as you twirl for him.

“No man could possibly be good enough to deserve you, baby,” he responds, his large, rough hands running over your bare hips, guiding you to hop up and wrap your legs around his waist. “I’m just the luckiest guy in the world.”

You kiss him, too overwhelmed by the way he’s looking at you and holding you up to say anything in response. No one has ever made you feel so special, so wanted. He’d kneel down and kiss your feet if you asked him to. But that’s not what you want right now.

“Need you, Rafe,” you mumble against his lips, legs squeezing him tighter, hands splayed on the back of his head like you’re trying to permanently seal his mouth to yours, “please.”

“You don’t gotta beg, angel,” he coos, “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Cause it’s my birthday?” You tease.

“No. I’ll give you anything you want every day of your fucking life,” he swears, “you deserve the world.”

But you don’t want the world, you just want him.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you sigh, lowering your core over his growing hardness, playfulness gone and replaced by frenzied need.

In response, he shifts to hold you up with one arm, using the other to sweep aggressively at the counter and knock all its contents to the floor chaotically. You love him wild like this, complete disregard for the dishes and various items he’s just sent flying across the kitchen, too drunk on you to even attempt making it to the bedroom. 

He drops you onto the counter, not too hard to hurt, but just hard enough to make your tits bounce and a little “hmph!” to rise from your chest. You’re pulling him to you in seconds, nails clawing at his shoulders and the back of his head as his lips devour yours. He slots his hips between your knees, forcing your legs to fall open for him.

“Gonna make you feel so good, birthday girl,” he promises, chest hovering over you powerfully, lowering you slowly until you’re laying down on the counter, your legs dangling off the edge. 

He kisses down the column of your throat, nipping and nibbling all the way as he hooks his fingers to slip under the straps of the garter belt, pulling until the clasps break away from the top of your stockings with a snap!

You gasp, “you’re gonna break my present!”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he shakes his head, bent in half to lower his mouth down your body, sucking purple splotches into the sensitive skin of your stomach, claiming you with every mark.

When he’s satisfied with his artwork, he lifts himself up, piercing blue eyes consuming you with an adoration you’ve never experienced before. You writhe a little under his hungry gaze, and his eyes wander to the panties he gifted you, corners of his mouth perking in a grin. His hand snakes up your thigh and he sweeps his thumb over your covered slit without warning, making you gasp and arch off the cold counter.

“Looks like you already made a mess of your present anyway,” his eyes twinkle with mischief as he spreads your wetness through the fabric.

“Can’t help it,” you whine under the pressure, “you always make me so fucking wet.”

He’s desperate to taste you, lowering to his knees and dragging your panties down with him. Gripping your hips, he pulls you to the edge of the counter, closer to his mouth. He nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the sting outweighed by the pleasure. 

You arch toward him, desperate to feel his mouth on you, but his fingers find you first. He spreads you, groaning a strained ‘fuckkkk’ at the sight. He gathers your slick onto his fingers so slowly, so deliberately, it’s driving you insane. 

Finally, finally, he lowers his mouth and licks, ever so gently, up your center. You’re on fire, the cold marble counter below you doing little to cool your spiked body temperature. 

Between deliberate licks he whispers praises, his tongue and voice taking turns worshiping you.

“Do you know I belong to you?” He confesses, his other hand gripping the edge of the counter so hard it almost cracks. “Do you understand that you fucking own me?”

“You talk so pretty, baby,” you moan, losing your grasp on language as he sends lightning bolts of pleasure shooting through your body, “love that mouth.”

“It’s yours,” he promises, finally lapping at your clit with a pointed tongue, “it’s all yours, everything I’ve got.”

“Just want you!” you cry out when he pulls the sensitive bud into his mouth and sucks hard.

“You have me, ‘m not going anywhere,” he says after releasing your clit with a pop. His middle finger, already soaked from you, dips into your entrance slowly. “You’re my everything, forever.”

Rafe continues to wrap you in soliloquies of praise as his other hand kneads the skin of your stomach reverently, like a potter molding his clay.

It’s these promises that make your head spin, drowning in the tapestry he weaves with his words until all you can think, all you know, is that you love him. When a second finger enters you and his mouth finds the spot he knows so well, everything in the world fades. The only thing that means anything is this man and the way he makes you feel.

His fingers twist and twirl inside you while his mouth works your clit. You’re beside yourself, feeling your release creep closer and closer with each flick of his tongue. You grab the edge of the counter top for purchase, but it’s not enough. Your hands paw at his head, wishing there was something more to ground you. 

You love his buzzcut, you had an appointment in your shared calendar each month for him to dutifully sit on a stool in the bathroom while you redid it with the electric clippers, but in this moment you wish for the first time that he’d grow it out. You tuck the thought away for later.

He loves the way you’re clawing at his scalp, and clenching around his fingers, knowing you’re close like he knows everything about you. He grabs one of your hands, offering his to you so you can squeeze as hard as you need to, loving the pain as he pushes you to the edge.

You cry out his name when you come, nearly breaking the bones in his fingers. He doesn’t stop until the very last wave of ecstasy rolls through you, his body hovering over yours as he soothes you through the cool down.

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” he whispers into your collarbone, following the vulnerable words with a shaky kiss.

“I think I have some idea,” your palm glides over his scalp, where you were just leaving scratches, inspecting to make sure you hadn’t done too much damage. “Because of how much you mean to me.”

He just shakes his head, his buzzed hair tickling your chin.

You both rise from the counter, Rafe straightening your lingerie set and taking in his gift to you one more time. He stands between your legs, fists on the counter as he leans forward on flexed arms.

“How am I supposed to top this?” You wonder aloud, hands smoothing over his shoulders and your head tilting in that adorable way he’s obsessed with.

“What do you mean?” He puzzles.

“When your birthday comes around,” you explain, “you’ve set the bar so high.”

Rafe smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. His gaze wanders from you as he pulls back slightly.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he shakes his head.

“Are you joking? And miss the chance to celebrate you?” 

“We- I don’t really do birthdays,” he says, and before you can pry any further he adds, “plus yours isn’t even close to over yet.”

Rafe lifts you effortlessly from the counter, making you yelp in surprise. You rest your head on his shoulder as he carries you to the bedroom, thinking obsessively about the way he accidentally said ‘we.’

Your heart breaks picturing younger Rafe, no birthday candles to blow out on his big day, no crowd of friends and family singing to him, no one to make him understand how special and worth celebrating he is. 

No, that just wouldn’t do. You start planning the second he falls asleep that night, determined to make his next birthday the best he’s ever had.

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part 2: birthday boy coming soon!

for more boyfriend!rafe see my masterlist ♡

remember! writers live off replies and reblogs, don’t forget to feed your faves 😘

[softestepilogue]

full offense but fandoms are unbearable because y’all are unlikable. y’all are so weird and i will die on that hill.

this is like the third time i’ve been in a fandom where a white male SIDE character is heavily favored by the fandom and they start jumping through hoops, and grabbing reasons out their asses, to prove why the main poc character is a terrible person. they will also ignore any wrongdoing of the side white male character.

it’s so fucking weird and exhausting.

[saerins]

ᯓ ᝰ CRAZY GOOD .ᐟ — itoshi sae

hold up, netizens. you’re in for a treat this time because guess what? out of all people, it’s time for itoshi sae to hard launch his girlfriend: you.

itoshi sae x female reader. content tags pro-player!sae, established relationship, profanity, kissing, kind of a tease here, he likes showing you off, oliver is the matchmaker. word count 1.5k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ hi guys i finally have some sae content for you all !!! >:) yes i’ve missed him , and no i didn’t abandon him :’) heh i hope all my sae lovers that are still here will like this mwah <3

there are many things that itoshi sae is good at.

soccer skills, one of them. snubbing people, the second. (that’s how he got the reputation of being rude—even if it’s not really true!) and three, not last and not least (but still substantially), it���s causing a buzz.

he caused a buzz the moment he debuted on the soccer field. his first game and he already made a name for himself. people started asking where he’d been his whole life (even if he was introduced to the people very early on), equating him to soccer megastars like cristiano ronaldo.

ever since that day, he’d been caught in the spotlight numerous times. mostly related to soccer, but some due to his personal life. more specifically, the media loves to take a guess on who he’s dating.

yeah, he’s had more than his fair share of dating rumours. if it were up to the media, sae would have had about thirty-four girlfriends by now and he’s only twenty-six this year. (go fish!)

but as many people do, almost everyone who consumes media content about sae is particularly interested in one thing that is shrouded in mystery: his dating life.

because despite all the rumours and whatnot, there’s never been any confirmation of any relationships at all. and no one in his circle has ever coughed anything up, so anything in that regard has been strictly hush-hush.

well, until tonight, when your boyfriend of six months invited you to one of his teammates’ high-profile birthday party.

“what, are you nervous?”

your boyfriend’s ever unbothered tone is still the same as when you first heard it a year ago. somehow you find it funny that one year later you’re living with the same guy you’d first found to be somewhat intolerable.

sighing, you try and zip up the back of your dress, looking into the mirror, making sure you have your best face on. “sae, you have fans that number in the millions, of course i’m nervous,” you comment, watching from the reflection in the mirror as sae saunters over to you, taking his hands out of his pocket.

he smirks at you through the mirror, his body pressed against you as he helps you zip your dress the rest of the way up, his lips right next to your ear. “i’ve never even seen you this nervous in front of me,” he says, poking a little fun at you as he gives you a light kiss on your temple.

a soft chuckle comes from him as you deadpan, obviously in much more distress than he’ll ever know. not that he’ll blame you; he’s used to the fame, you’re not. “relax, they’ll love you.”

“sae, they won’t.”

he shrugs. “yeah, you’re probably right,” he agrees, earning a small slap on the arm—and he’s laughing again, though this time he tilts your chin up and gives you a long, slow kiss. the kind that takes your breath away everytime he does it. “but who cares? i love you.”

and there he goes, saying that as if it’s no big deal. making your heart beat so quickly it’s not funny. and before you know it, he’s whisking you away into the lobby where a personal towncar is ready and waiting, with the chauffeur and everything.

“geez, oliver sure loves to go over the top, huh?”

sae gives a sharp exhale at your comment. “hey, that’s your friend right there.”

you roll your eyes, getting in first and sticking your tongue out at him. “and you should be thanking him, without him we’d never have met.”

you look away from him right after saying that so you don’t see it, but sae’s smiling to himself, already thanking his lucky stars.

he thinks meeting you and getting to love you is the luckiest he’ll ever get in this lifetime.

by the time you’ve arrived at the venue—a hotel in the heart of the city—swarms of paparazzi already litter the streets outside. they’ve no doubt had their fill of the other soccer players and mega celebrities that have already arrived and are now ready for the real star of the night (aside from the birthday boy himself): itoshi sae.

of course, everyone’s expecting to see sae all by himself because that’s what usually happens; sae attending any and every event alone and unbothered by the scene. it’s never a surprise anymore, but sae’s a good payday and they’d never miss a single shot.

the moment sae exits the car, it sounds like there’s a million shutters pressed all at the same time, give or take a few milliseconds. (it’s nothing you’re used to.) he stands right where he got out for a few seconds, and even inside you can hear the amount of photographers just begging sae to look straight at them.

and if you think that’s rowdy enough, oh boy you’re in for a treat. because the moment the paparazzi realise that sae’s not, in fact, headed for the hotel just yet, you can hear just a few confused noises before it turns into even more pleading the moment they realise he’s opening your side of the door.

when he opens it and holds his hand out for you, that ever handsome smile on his face (which you forget that he only ever shows to you), you feel like you’re nearly blinded by all the flashes. you brave through it though, taking his hand and getting out of the town car, being greeted by the mass of photographers yelling out to you and sae.

“sae, who is that!”

“hey, girl! look over here! yes right there!”

“what’s your relationship?”

“obviously that’s his girlfriend! hey you!”

you’re a little wide-eyed, stunned at how chaotic this scene is. it’s easy to lose yourself in it, but as it always is, sae realises it whenever you are, and he’s quick to pull you back in.

in this case, he pulls you into his arms, a hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he rests his forehead against yours.

“hey, focus on me, just me,” he whispers to you, eyes looking into yours, eyelashes fluttering against one another’s.

(the paparazzi are having a field day.)

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you ask him, chuckling because you only now realise what a fucking tease he is.

sae shrugs, pulling your hair away from your face. (he’s actually just really grateful to you for doing this for him when you don’t need to—when you’re happy to just be able to support him behind the scenes but he really just wants the world to know that you exist, because it’s a blessing, really.) “maybe i am.”

and this time your heart’s beating faster than you know it ever could, his teal blue eyes melting into your gaze, lips getting closer and closer to your own, his calloused hand on the back of your neck.

like clockwork, his lips sink into yours, his tongue snaking its way in. (and the crowd goes absolutely wild.) you’re both laughing at the panicked and hurried yells from the photographers, slowly pulling away from each other.

you reach your hand out to wipe your lipstick stain off his lips but he doesn’t let you, winking at you and leaning in to whisper, “let everyone know who i belong to.”

such a fucking tease.

not that you’re opposed, so you let him be, shaking your head and following him as he holds your hand and leads you in.

within the next hour, pictures of you and sae flood the internet. (notifications come flooding into your phone too.)

itoshi sae hard launches new relationship with mystery woman!

soccer world loses another bachelor—everything we know about itoshi sae’s presumed girlfriend

most of them are pictures of your kiss, with a good chunk of it being his lipstick-stained lips.

as you scroll through some of the articles your friends texted to you, you’re probably never going to be used to it. you’re probably going to be anxious over everything you do in public now.

a slight panic bubbles up in your chest, but then sae comes over, pulling you backwards into his embrace, looking over your shoulder at your phone.

“that quick, huh?”

and suddenly it’s like anxiety has never existed. because even if it may not seem like much, a year of knowing itoshi sae has made you feel safer than you ever did, knowing that he’s always there to catch you, to never make you feel alone.

you melt into his embrace, turning your head and giving him a kiss, your lipstick stain still on his lips.

“i fucking love you, itoshi sae.”

his eyes widen a little before they grow soft, arms pulling you even closer. “i love you too, stupid.”

(and while the two of you are getting all lovey-dovey at his party, oliver’s just slightly—a lot—upset that sae upstaged him during his own birthday party.)

“i fucking hate the both of you,” oliver groans.

[lis-likes-fics]

Casual

Pairing: bff!Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 12.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, protected sex (birth control), virginity loss, friends with benefits, Eddie talks you through it, constant consent, humor during sex, Eddie calls you "mama" but no mommy kink, fondling, slight hair pulling, oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, a million different positions, slight edging?, L-bombs but not romantically, swearing... A/N: So I wrote this as a best friends with benefits thing and not a best friends to lovers, but the line gets blurry sometimes with besties. I really fucking loved this one because they're like...they literally never stop being besties, they're so fucking dumb, I love them. So yeah, this is platonic in the least platonic way possible, and I love that for them. Thank you so much and enjoy! A/N #2: While I was writing the first author's note, my typing kept popping my ears. *cries in adhd like a little bitch*

Eddie finds you in his bedroom doorway moments after hearing the front door close. He half expected Wayne to be coming back home early from work, but that didn’t make sense because he only left an hour ago and he probably would have called ahead.

But, no. You stand there with damp hair from a fresh shower and dressed down in some shirt you stole from his drawer and pajama pants. He raises a brow. He hadn’t been expecting you, but he isn’t surprised in the slightest. He doesn’t even bother to move from his spot, leaning back on his bed with an arm behind his head and a book in his hand.

“Hey, there,” he mumbles.

You stare at him for a while, saying absolutely nothing. You don’t seem particularly pleased. He stares back. Neither of you move.

“I’m upset,” you finally say, still staring, still standing.

If Eddie’s remembering correctly, you’re supposed to be out on a date. So hearing that you’re upset isn’t necessarily pleasing to him. Judging by the time, you should have had a very entertaining night. But apparently not.

He’s the first to move as he lets his book fall down to his lap. “Why?”

You think for a moment and then drop your stuff at his door, walking inside as you use your foot to close the door. There’s a long pause between speaking, as you use it to walk around his room and look at all of his stuff. “It’s sort of embarrassing.” You pick up a random pepper shaker on his desk, swirling it around and then turning on your heel to look at him.

He’s got his head tilted to his shoulder with a look on his face that reads “seriously?”. He sits up, lifting a brow. “I’ve seen and learned a lot about you since we became friends, so I doubt there’s anything you could do or say to embarrass yourself in front of me.”

You roll your eyes, licking your lips as you set the pepper shaker down again. “Okay, well…” you trail out, trying to decide how you want to tell him. “You know how I had that date?”

He puts his book away, crossing his legs and leaning back on his elbows. “The drive in?”

“The drive in.”

“What about it?”

“Well…” you sigh. “Okay, so…” You lick your bottom lip, trying to form the words. You’re never shy in front of him, so there must be something wrong. You chew on your lip, thinking to yourself with a heavy sigh. You plop down onto the bed next to him. “God, so, we got there and the movie was fine and whatever–” you roll your eyes, “–and we watched most of it but at some point, we started, like, kissing, and whatever, right?”

Eddie shrugs, laying back to stare at the ceiling as you continue to recount your night. “Yeah.”

“And it got a little…”

He raises a hand to prompt you, “Hot and heavy?”

“Yeah.” You look down at your lap where you fiddle with your fingers. “So we drove away somewhere more…more private?”

He looks at you, sitting back up enough to fully see your face as he smirks lightly. He gives you this devilish look that makes you want to hit him. “Did you...?”

You nod a little. “Yeah.”

Swallowing thickly, you watch his face shift as he takes in your demeanor. His head slumps to one side, his smirk falling off his face. “Oh…” he mumbles. “How do you feel?”

You stare at him. He can see you mulling over your response as you struggle to find the right words. Despite yourself, you feel a knot tying itself in your throat. You force it down and away, pretending it’s not there and hoping it’ll help. And it does…for now, at least.

“I’m upset.”

He cringes a little, lifting an arm to give you a place to lean into him. “That bad?”

You bury your face in his shoulder and pout. “Yeah.” You pull away suddenly. “I mean, I know everyone’s first time sucks ass and whatever, but, like…” You drop your head in your hands, wiping at your face as you find yourself glad for washing your makeup off earlier. “Eddie, I didn’t even…”

He almost seems offended. He doesn’t care about announcing it because you’re alone and also it’s outrageous. “You didn’t cum?”

“No!” you exclaim. “I…faked it.” You’re almost disgusted with yourself for it. It sort of just happened in the moment. He was clumsy in trying to get you there, but it wasn’t working. You just wanted to end it off and move on, so you just…made the sounds and the faces. He seemed pleased enough. “I feel kinda bad. I mean, he was sweet and all, and he, like… He tried, but…”

His question is crude with as little hesitation as humanly possible. Again, he doesn’t care about being awkward or guarded because you’re his best friend, and you’ve talked about worse, and there’s no filter with you. “How big was he?”

“Eddie, what?” Usually you wouldn’t mind his brashness, but you’re still trying to get over the events of a couple hours ago.

“Honest question,” he shrugs. “I just wanna know. Was he like…” he lifts his hand, squinting his eyes and hunching over and pinching his fingers together, “little?”

You shrug. His bluntness is rubbing off on you. You feel a little less awkward and you hunch a little less. “He was fine…just a little too…short? To reach?”

He makes a face, like he’s shocked and disgusted. He looks you up and down almost like it’s your dick. “That’s rough,” he says. “How many times did he cum?”

“Why do you assume he came?” you raise a brow.

He rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Please, guys always cum.”

You roll your own eyes and push yourself off the bed. You’re roaming his room again as you mess with all of his stuff. You open his drawer and ruffle through his unfolded clothes, you pick up empty beer cans and turn up your nose at the smell, you strum the strings of his acoustic. You do all of this instead of looking at him when you answer. “Twice.”

“Oh.” You fake disgust when he looks at you, smirking and bobbing his brows at you. “You must’ve been really fuckin’ nice.” He makes this weird growling sound, and the “ew” that comes out of you is guttural. He snorts happily, and then his humor is gone as he deadpans, “Or he’s a lightweight. Did he cum inside?”

You’re sick of him.

You shake your head. “I made him wrap it.”

“Aren’t you on the pill?”

“Yeah.” He hums.

He watches you lean back against his desk, looking at this weird mask he had just sitting among the chaos. You move it around in your hands and force down the heat in your throat at the recounting going on in your head. Swallowing it down is a hard task that ultimately fails as he watches you begin to choke on the unshed tears.

He sighs, his chest warm with a bitter emotion as he watches your waterline threaten to spill over. “Oh, c’mere.” He stands from the bed, opening his arms wide to pull you into a bone crushing hug. It’s warm and it hurts and it feels so nice. He smells like he always does, green apple shampoo stolen from your house and cheap cologne and cigarettes. It’s a nice smell.

“I guess I like…I don’t know, I expected a little more. It was…really disappointing.” A couple of tears manage to get past you, and it pisses you off but you’re already over it. “I wanted…to get rid of it, and now it’s gone but it doesn’t feel like anything’s changed, but it also feels like everything’s changed, but not in a good way.”

He rubs your back, listening to you as you need him to listen. “I’m sorry,” he mutters when you stop. He sets his chin atop your head after a kiss to your forehead. Part of him wants to square up with the dude you went out with, but he sets that urge to the side in order to comfort you. “That fuckin’ sucks, and you deserve so much more.”

After a moment, you pull away from him, wiping at your face with a huff. “It’s stupid.”

“S’not stupid.”

You don’t argue, you just throw yourself onto his bed, laying flat on your back with your arms and legs spread so wide that you take up nearly all the space left. Eddie watches you lay there with your eyes closed and your breath slowed. He thinks you’re really pretty, especially right now with you wearing his shirt. He almost hates himself for thinking to ask–

“Look, it might be…creepy and weird to ask and—Jesus, if I’m being creepy, I want you to fuckin’ punch me s hard as you can—but, shit, maybe I should shut up.”

His rambling is cut off by you, still lounging on his bed. You haven’t moved, your eyes are still closed. You don’t seem fazed at all by his awkwardness. “What are you about to ask me, Ed?”

He sighs, sitting next to you with his foot shoved underneath him. He sets his hand on your thigh. You still don’t move, used to his touchy-communication. “What happened tonight fuckin’ sucks–”

“You say ‘sucks’ a lot.”

“It’s a nice word.”

You peek at him through one opened eyes. “You’re weird.”

“Nevertheless–” You laugh. He watches your belly tense as you do it, rolling over to sit up and witness his fumbling with opened eyes. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…”

You laugh again, and he’s happy he could do that for you, especially after your rough night. You’re happy you could ease his worries, because he was being awkward, and Eddie isn’t usually awkward with you, and you know he likes your stupid jokes.

He takes a breath and starts again. “What happened sucks, and—only if you want to—I would be willing—if you’re comfortable—to…fix it for you.”

You raise a confused brow, less confused and more vaguely unbelieving. “Fix it…for me?” you echo.

He shrugs. “I don’t like when you cry, and I want to make you feel better. I’m not a total expert on sex, but I think I know my way around it pretty well.” He puts his hands together like he’s going to pray and points them toward you. “If you want…I can help.”

You raise a brow and stifle the smirk threatening to grace your lips, ready to tease him in order to push down the flush of heat rushing through you. “You wanna fuck me.”

He raises his hands. “I want to fuck you if you want me to fuck you. To help. But I’d love to fuck you… if you want…me to fuck you.” There’s a pause. “Maybe.”

You look away, scratching your head in thought. “Since when have you wanted to fuck me?”

He smacks a hand down onto your thigh just to do it. “Babe, it’s always been on the table. All you had to do was ask.” Whore.

You roll your eyes for the millionth time. “You’re such a guy.”

He shrugs like he doesn’t care at all. “Like I said, guys always cum.”

You raise a brow at him, shoving his hand off your knee to stand again. You jab an accusatory finger into his chest. “Is that to insinuate that you’ve cum thinking about me?”

“I– Okay, I did not– Listen here, you little shit.”

You laugh out loud, still pointing at him to make fun. “I’m kidding!” He fake laughs, and you return the favor by tilting your head and questioning him further. “But have you?”

To avoid it being awkward, he just shrugs nonchalantly and answers the question. “A couple times.” It works, even though you flush at the answer.

“What? That is so weird!”

“That is not weird.” He hopes you ignore the way his cheeks turn pink, powering through it with more brashness and more jokes. “It is completely normal to think of your best friend when you’re cranking one out.”

You shake your head definitely. “No, it’s not.”

He challenges you. “Have you ever cum thinking about me?”

Without turning your head, you glance away from him. “I don’t think that makes it normal.”

“So you have, is what I’m hearing.” You turn to him quickly, raising a finger as you try to speak over his ad libbing. He thinks he’s really funny, and it’s gonna make you scream.

“Listen–”

“Listening.”

You huff, glancing away and then looking back at him. Well, not really him, but the ends of his hair over his shoulders. “Maybe once or twice…” you shrug, “Maybe even thrice, but that’s not–”

“You little freak!” He points his finger at you, his whole face wide with amusement.

“Hey– Be nice to me. Or I’ll cry. You don’t like it when I cry.” You pout to give him a preview. You’re sure you could summon more tears if you really need to…

“You’re evil,” he shakes his head, looking up at you with a huge grin.

You bob your brows. “Yes, I am.”

He surprises you. In the next moment, his arms are wrapped around your midsection, and your feet lift off the ground. He takes you in his hold and turns you until you’re being slammed into the bed. You laugh as you bounce, squirming around to push him off of you as he pins you under his weight. Both of you are giddy with the amusement, laughing at each other and playing along with the other’s fun.

When you open your eyes and the laughter dies down, you realize that he’s actually pinning you to the bed. It sobers you up almost immediately, and you realize that he’s really close. He could kiss you right now if he really wanted to. You notice the exact moment he realizes it, too.

You gulp and take a breath for courage. Your voice is small—awkward—but it’s okay because he’s your best friend. “You can…” you mumble. “You can help, if you want to help.”

His eyes glance at your lips, and then he raises both his brows as he looks back at you. “You want me to?”

You nod, trying not to hold your breath to avoid dulling the charged air between you. “Yes, I want you to.”

He tilts his head and the tips of his hair tickles your cheek. “Is it because I have you pinned?”

“It helps.”

Eddie backs off of you, sitting back on his bed to allow you to sit back up. You do, crossing your legs underneath you. He thinks for a moment, watching you as he does. There’s a long pause where the both of you contemplate something, unsure if the other has the same thing in mind.

“Before we do anything,” he breaks the silence carefully and articulately, and you can see the moment that all his seriosity has set in, “I need explicit permission. And you gotta let me know how you’re feeling. I don’t wanna do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

You listen intently, nodding along as he lays down the rules. “Okay,” you say.

He tilts his head toward you, looking up at you through his bangs. His brown eyes are so pretty. You’ve always thought so. They’re so warm and loving, just like him. It’s the reason you became his friend in the first place: because he’s warm and loving. “S0?” he prompts, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You take in a deep breath and smile, lifting a hand and slowly setting it on his own. “I want you to have sex with me, Eddie.”

He visibly shudders, and you think he’s a sucker. Technically, he is, but whatever. “Jesus,” he mutters, running his free hand through his hair. Then he smacks yours away, and your chuckle turns into a snort. He always knows how to make you comfortable. “Okay.”

You turn your body to face him, clearing your throat. “So… How do we…?”

“Okay, so…” He makes a “shoo” motion with his hands, so you get confused and raise a brow. You slowly and hesitantly lean back onto your elbows, staring at him with all the silent questions you can muster. He rolls his eyes. “No, get up. Sit over there, whore.”

You roll your eyes at him in return, moving to sit at the head of his bed with your legs crossed in front of you. Playfully, he rolls his eyes yet again and shakes his head at you like he’s disappointed. Eddie turns to lounge across the foot of the bed, propping himself up on his elbow. “First, I want you to walk me through everything he did.”

“Okay,” you mumble, thinking back to what happened in that car. “Well, he kissed me. We made out for a bit, and then he pulled me into his lap.” You only glance at him as you speak, but he’s so nice about it that you don’t feel so weird talking to him about being poorly fucked. “And he took off my shirt. He was, like, moving my hips and stuff.”

“Okay.” He listens so closely. His full attention is on you and only you, and it feels nice.

“Then he, uh, he played with my nipples. You motion vaguely to your chest.

“Did he use his mouth?” he questions gently.

“Mhm.”

He shakes his head then. He’s still gentle but his tone leaves no room for argument. “You gotta say yes or no, sweetheart, or I’m not touchin’ you.”

That’s fair enough. “Yes.”

“And it felt good?”

“Yes.” It almost sounds like a question, but he understands what you mean.

“Okay,” he gestures toward you. “What else did he do?”

You think for a moment. It’s already becoming a little fuzzy as your mind becomes distracted by the thought of Eddie, your sweet, idiot Eddie, doing these things to you and making it feel good.

This is the same boy you’ve seen fall out of his van because he tripped on the step and totally ate shit hitting the ground. This is the same boy you’ve seen stuffing his face with marshmallows because he was dared to by Mike and Dustin, and he was trying to prove that he could do more than they originally dared for him.

This is also the same boy you’ve seen absolutely shred his guitar with some fingering skills you’ve been envious of. And the same boy who’s seen you cry a million times and wiped away all the tears with plenty of jokes and compliments and threats of violence as were humanly possible. If there’s anyone who can make you feel good, it’s him.

You shake the thoughts away in order to get them straight. “He laid me down on the seat,” you remember, “and took off his pants and stuff.” You don’t really need the “and stuff” but it does make it a little easier…for some reason.

He furrows his brow in question, tilting his head like he’s grossed out all of a sudden. “Okay?”

“And then he…” you stare at his Dio poster across the room, “put it inside.”

He lifts his lip in disgust. He’s done that a lot tonight in response to this guy. “That’s it?” he asks with more distaste than you thought possible.

“What do you mean?” you furrow your own brow this time.

“Baby,” he says effortlessly, like he’s said it a million times before (because he has), “there wasn’t even foreplay.” He sits up, “No wonder you didn’t get off, girls need foreplay. Guys don’t need shit. We just think about tits, and we’re hard.” He shrugs, “I’m thinking about tits right now. Hard as a rock.”

The face you make transcends the rolling of the eyes or the upturn of a lip as you scoff. “Eddie–”

“You gotta be built up,” he continues, brushing past his comment like he never said it to begin with. You consider his words, taking them as the truth because he knows way more about sex than you would. He’s no prodigy, maybe, but you’re barely out of your virginity, so he’s got more advantage than you. “Did you blow him?”

You glance up, a bitter tone in your words as you mutter the first part, “Between positions… yeah.”

You don’t think “disgust” fits anymore. He’s just annoyed and entirely displeased. “You blew him, and he didn’t blow you?”

“I thought the term was ‘eat me out’.”

He shrugs a shoulder absently. “Symmetry.”

You airquote your response. “Okay, ‘symmetry’.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes,” you reply finally, still tasting traces of your toothpaste in your mouth. “I blew him, but he didn’t blow me.”

Eddie makes a guttural sound to try to properly express the amount of offense he takes to this. “You know what, fuck this guy.” He leans forward, placing both his hands on your knees and holding them there as he stares at you with those big, brown eyes of his. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got you now.”

It’s easy to take humor from that to avoid dealing with the arousal it sends through you. “You’re real confident.”

He’s not pulling back on anything, he has no reason to. He somehow becomes more intense as he effortlessly response, “Because I’m gonna fuckin’ eat you out like my life depends on it.”

“I–” There’s no way you can respond to that. “Oh. Uhm.” Your mind is immediately a jumbled mess of fantasies and incoherent words and more fantasies. There’s a heat between your thighs and an anticipation in your belly that makes it difficult to think.

“Relax,” he catches your sudden daze. He pats your thigh like it’s just something that he does and not a preface to him pulling them apart and having a feast. “You’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

He gets up, stretching his arms high over his head to pop his back. You can’t help the way your eyes fall to the slip of his belly, spying a tattoo hidden away there underneath his shirt. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” He eyes you. “You don’t need any infections.”

You turn your lip up because you think he’s disgusting. “That’s gross, Eddie.”

He points at you. “But considerate.”

You get up specifically to push him away from you. “Go shower, you dirty whore.”

He winks at you. “Yes, mama.” You don’t know how to respond to that. “Get comfy, I’ll be out in a bit.”

You swallow thickly, trying not to dissolve into some pathetic puddle because he called you “Mama”. You’ve never been into that before, and all of a sudden, you can’t get the sound of it out of your head. He’s already long gone, leaving you alone in his room as you sit on his bed to wait for him.

You’re a total goner, you’re sure.

~

You’re going through more of his stuff by the time he comes out of the shower. You glance over your shoulder at him after the door closes, and you’re almost surprised by what you find.

It’s not like you haven’t seen Eddie shirtless before. The sight isn’t unusual to you, but given the context and the way his sweatpants hang low on his waist, giving the perfect view of his gentle V-line, his soft tummy. It’s a mouthwatering sight, and it’s taking everything to look away.

His hair is still dripping. The dampness is giving his curls a gentle shine in the lamp light in the room. He rubs his towel haphazardly through his hair as he speaks. “I know I’m gonna take them off anyway, but–”

He stops short when he finally looks up to see you. You’re rummaging through his drawers like the little thief that you are, your hand stopped somewhere in the second drawer in favor of watching him. But that’s not what makes him pause. It’s the fact that you’re in one of his shirts, one that goes down past the curve of your ass and stops short before even reaching your mid-thigh. Your legs are bare—you’ve discarded all your other clothes somewhere in the room and left yourself in some underwear and his shirt.

He always knew you were sexy. As your closest friend, it’s his duty to know how sexy you are, but this is another level and he doesn’t understand why.

Instead of pointing out the fact that his sweatpants are growing a sudden bulge, he gestures to the shirt. “Are you gonna steal that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He scratches the back of his neck, tossing his towel onto a chair stuffed in the corner of his room. It’s stacked high with clean laundry that he never got around to. He pays no mind to it when the towel and a couple of clothes fall to the floor immediately after.

Eddie takes a breath before he looks back at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles, raising a finger to make a come hither motion. You listen to him, walking over to stand in his space. Your hands rest at his sides because you always rest your hands at his sides, and, naturally, he holds you back.

“Remember,” he begins in a quiet voice (or as quiet as Eddie can be), “you gotta use your words. I gotta know if I’m hurting you, or I’m doing too much or too little.” His thumbs stroke your elbows. “You know your body better than anyone, but I’m gonna do my best to know it even more than that.”

You chuckle playfully. “Okay.”

“And you definitely, definitely have to let me know when I’m doing something right.”

“So you’ll keep doing it?” you guess.

He shakes his head and says in a flat voice, “No, to stroke my ego.”

You roll your eyes, and your humor is interrupted by his hand lifting to touch your cheek. You lean into it because his hands are warm. “You still wanna do this?” He’s completely serious, and a little nervous now as he looks at you.

You nod, raising one hand to wrap around the back of his neck. “I trust you, Eddie.”

He nods, mostly to himself. “Good. That’s good.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips. “That’s great,” he raises his brows. Then he sighs, glancing away from your intense gaze. “Let’s hope I don’t fall in love with you or something, or you’ll be getting your back blown out every night and twice on Sundays. Jesus H. Christ.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head at his ridiculousness, almost forgetting that he’s probably completely serious and you are about to fuck as you play into your banter. “You’re so–”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. You’re cut off by Eddie’s lips engulfing your own, warm and soft and really nice against your own. You let out a long breath, pulling him closer by the back of his neck as he takes a step forward into your space.

To be completely honest, you’ve kissed Eddie before. You’ve kissed him on a dare, you kissed him to trick people into thinking you’re dating. Hell—he was your first kiss because you and some friends were screwing around and then you happened to be picked to be locked in a closet for seven minutes because you were at a stupid party playing stupid games.

So the sensation isn’t completely new, but the making out part is. Eddie is a really good kisser.

When he pulls away, you aren’t really expecting it. He seems pleased by your daze as he bobs his brows. “So what?”

Instead of answering him, as you’ve forgotten what you were going to say, you kissed him again. It’s really nice, kissing someone. It’s nice to be this close, to breathe each other’s air, to taste each other’s lips. His tongue grazes your top lip, and you lean into it, because you trust him and it’s nice.

Eddie keeps you pulled close against his body as he starts stepping forward, keeping you from tripping as he does. The back of your knees hits the bed, and you hold on too tightly as you feel yourself falling backwards. You laugh when you fall back onto the bed with his weight on top of you. He laughs with you, “You’re okay, mama.”

He silences you with his mouth again, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his. He likes it just as much as you. Between that and his little pet name, your mind is swimming and your heart is racing. When he pulls away, it’s only to press his lips to the skin of your neck, suckling and nipping gently at the flesh as he does. You close your eyes, your fingers happily tangled in his hair as you keep him close.

“Mama,” you mutter under your breath, seeing just how much you like it as he nips at your neck. “I like that.”

You can feel him smiling against your skin. “Yeah? Want me to keep using it?”

You nod, “Yeah.” A hum echoes in your chest as he wraps his hands around your sides, lifting you a bit just to put you farther up the bed. He crawls on top of you, one of his knees settled between your legs as his hand caresses your side.

Your breath becomes thin when his hand smooths underneath his shirt, feeling the softness of your skin with a quiet breath. His palm stops at your belly as he slips the very tips of his fingers to rest underneath your breasts, feeling just how warm you are.

“Good?” he mutters, taking your earlobe so gently between his teeth and letting it go.

You nod, your eyes heavy like they’re glued down with sap. “Mhmm,” you breathe.

“Yes or no, mama?” he reminds you, gently kissing your lips.

“Yes.”

He smiles, rewarding you with another kiss as he whispers against your lips. “Good girl.”

You don’t have time to think about that right now. It’s too nice, too fuzzy. It sends a warm flush straight to the pit of your stomach and makes your breath hitch. Eddie knows and adds it to the list of things you like for tonight.

The slightest whimper slips from your lips when you feel his warm fingers reach up to brush your breast, gently groping you as he plays with your peaking nipples. He hikes your shirt all the way up until your bare chest is revealed to him, and he takes them in with an appreciative breath before leaning down to take one between his lips.

It’s much different than the guy before him. Eddie’s deliberate, licking and sucking and so, so gently nipping the bud. It sends a strange sensation through you, lighting every nerve ending and making it impossible to think straight as you keep your fingers tangled in his hair. You keep him close. It feels too good to do anything else.

You speak between breaths, your heavy eyelids and sticky lips working against your attempts to speak. “You’ve seriously cum to the thought of me?” you wonder, whimpering when his other hand comes up to pinch your other nipple between the pads of his fingers.

“Yeah,” he mutters, sucking harshly and making you gasp.

“Why?” you ask, making an attempt at playfulness between the haze of his ministrations. “Am I that irresistible?”

With only seriousness, Eddie looks up at you, letting his fingers take over in teasing you. “Yeah.”

Your grin falters, almost not expecting his answer—or at least the amount of honesty in it. “Wait, really? You’re not just buttering me up?”

He makes a face, a confused one that flatters you more than anything else. “No? You’re fucking sexy as shit.” He tilts his head, “You think I’m lying when I tell you that?” Eddie’s hand smooths down your side, gripping your hip as he goes.

You shake your head, bringing your knee up and sighing gently when his hand slides over the round of your ass. “You don’t have any weird feelings for me, do you?”

He pinches you, and you squirm away from him giddily. “Mama, I’m in love with you, but not like that.” He gently makes your side. “Now stop talking to me. It’s hard to kiss you if I’m talking.”

You chuckle. “Yes, si-”

Your words are interrupted by a tiny moan when his fingers graze the mound of your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties. Your back arches just slightly, the ticklish feeling making quick work of scouring your body.

“Does that feel good?” he wonders quietly.

You nod and bite down hard on your lip. The anticipation of it is eating you up. “Yes.”

“Good,” he lilts, continuing to brush his middle finger up and down the length of your panties until he’s pulling them to the side just enough to see you. Eddie licks his lips, leaning in to kiss your belly. You’re weak against him, trying not to cant your hips up into him and deter his work.

His finger caresses your folds through the bit of slick that had begun to gather there. “You feel the difference?” he asks between kisses.

“Yes.” Your voice is a squeak, and he seems quite proud of himself for making it that way.

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” he says. “Then I’m going to put my mouth on you. You’ll let me know if I’m doing too much, right?”

You nod. “Yes, Eddie.”

He smiles, “Thanks, mama.” He feels the way you react to that, the slightest flutter of your folds. He sits up just to allow him the access to slip your underwear down your legs. The little, flimsy material comes right off. He drops it to the ground and comes to kneel in front of the bed. You hold your breath when his hands close around your waist, pulling you down to the edge to bring you that much closer to his face.

Instinctively, you close your thighs. It’s hard to will them to open and stay that way with the way his warm breath fans over your skin, his hands touch your body, his eyes stay glued to your own, constantly asking for consent.

You think he’s going to say something smart, smirk at you and chuckle at your shyness. But he does. Instead, he just gives you a calming look and asks, “You still okay, mama? You wanna stop?”

You let out a gentle breath, shaking your head. “No, I’m okay.” You chew on your bottom lip. “Just not used to this.”

“That’s okay,” he reassures. His kindness is honestly making your arousal worse. You feel like you’re going to start shaking if he pulls away from you. “Can I open your legs?”

You nod. “Please.”

He nods back, kissing your knee and smoothing his hands down your thighs, one on each side. The hand on the inside of your thigh dips so slowly between yours, seating deep between them until he’s slowly pulling them apart. The sound your thighs make when he opens them is lewd, it’s the quiet schlick sound that comes from the arousal that seeped out of you. You start to feel embarrassed, but then he sighs like he’s so relieved to see it.

“Tell me why you’re so fucking pretty,” he shakes his head. Your thighs are itching to close as you watch him lean in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh, just to kiss you. You bite your lip, nervous and so ready.

But then he stands. “Give me a second,” he says, walking away from you as his hands slide off your thighs. You sit up higher on your elbows, watching in confusion and slight annoyance as he leaves you on the bed.

“Eddie,” you call while he walks to his dresser.

“Hang on,” he smiles. “Jesus.” He does that thing where his tongue sticks out over his bottom lip as he sorts through the junk on his desk. “Not leavin’. Just lookin’ for something,” he mutters.

You fall back on the bed, willing your heart to calm. He makes a sound of success, turning back on his heel to get back to you. You look at him and watch as he cards his fingers through his hair. He pulls it back into a ponytail, wrapping a hair tie around it to make a messy bun.

You flush at the sight because not even a moment later, he’s on his knees again right between yours. “You can’t be serious,” you say.

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” he replies, looking at you excitedly. His hands land on your thighs again, keeping them spread apart as he pulls you again to the very edge of the bed. “I’d say hold on tight, but there’s nothing to hold onto so… Enjoy!”

He dives between your thighs, and the heat of his mouth latches onto your pussy. Your mouth slips open and a deep moan rumbles out of you. Your thighs close around his head as you feel his tongue licking at you, lapping at your folds as he delves between them.

“Eddie,” you call, one of your hands reaching down to touch the top of his head, trying to find some purchase at his hair. His tongue swirls around your clit, and you’re a total goner when his lips close around it and suck. You mewl at the unfamiliar feeling, enjoying every bit of it with an immense amount of pleasure.

You’d expected him to go slow, hesitant little licks against your folds as he worries about overwhelming you. But this is not that. It’s hot and heavy with deep strokes of his tongue and the tiniest nips of his teeth. There’s no way to keep yourself calm. Your hips are tilting up into his mouth, meaning he has to hold you down with his arms wrapped around your thighs.

Eddie seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He moans into you, heavy breaths fanning over your skin as he eats you out “like his life depends on it”. Your open-mouthed moans encourage him, especially when you say his name in this high-pitched gasp and slam your eyes shut. Your ankles hook behind him, pulling him in closer.

Eddie’s making the most obscene sounds—sounds worse than what you’re making. He slurps and laps at you like a dog drinking water. You’d call him a whore again if you could think of humor at the moment, but the only thing you want to tell him is to keep going and never stop.

When he pulls his mouth off of you, you whine. He smiles, knowing he’s doing a good job as he shushes you gently. “It’s okay, I’m not stopping,” he says. In the next moment, you feel his hand cup your pussy. “I’m gonna put my fingers inside of you. Is that okay?”

You nod. “Please, Eddie.”

His fingers tease your entrance, though you don’t think he means to. He looks at you as he prods a finger at the seam of your cunt, slowly pushing it in until they part around him. A short “ah” sound is what he hears as he presses his finger inside of you, moving slowly until he’s got it all the way in. “Good?” he checks, the slightest thrusts moving in and out of you as he does.

Your nods are becoming insistent. “Yes, Eddie.”

“You want more, mama?”

“Yes, please.” He loves how polite you are. You’re usually so mean—though, he loves that about you, too. It just means you love him.

He sets a steady rhythm, one that’s still slow as he focuses in on your face, the way it shifts and squints at every little push of his thick finger. It feels really nice, the way he takes his time with you, making sure you feel everything he gives you.

“M’gonna add another. You ready?”

“Yeah.” He rewards you with a second finger, pushing it inside along the first and stretching you out for him some more. He thrusts them in and out, a slow and steady motion slowly building as he massages those inner parts of you. He curls them, and they press against a spongy point inside of you that has you rolling your eyes. “That feels good, Eddie. Don’t stop.”

He smiles at your initiative, giving you what you want with as much enthusiasm as you give in wanting it. He leans in, his tongue darting out to lick at your pussy. You’re wetting his fingers so nicely, making it so easy to slip them in and out of you.

His lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks on it while you whine, while his fingers curl inside of you with every intent of coaxing an orgasm out of you. Little ramblings fall from your tongue as you grind against his. He's greedy in the way he licks around his fingers, over your clit, tasting your arousal as it seeps out of you.

A knot is tightening in your belly. Your hips reach for him with each little nuance of his skilled fingers as you seek out the release he's promising you.

His name comes out as a moan on your tongue. If either of you hadn't been so preoccupied, he would have made fun of you for it. Instead, you're spread out on his bed with his fingers inside of you, a moment away from cumming on his mouth.

Your hips try to lift up into him as you get closer and closer. He holds you down with one arm, his lips and tongue and prodding fingers working in tandem to taste you.

Your ankles hook behind his head as your back arches off the bed. “Eddie,” you whisper. He feels the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, his tongue becoming more insistent in the way it flicks and laps at your clit.

He makes these sounds of encouragement, humming and mhm-ing into you as he goes. Your release is like a burst in your belly, it starts there and swarms into your legs, your chest, the base of your being. Eddie’s tongue keeps licking and lapping at you as your back arches off the bed and your legs tighten around his head. You moan his name as white noise erupts in your ears, the distant murmuring of his words muffled as you try to cope with the pleasure that has begun to set every nerve ending on a wild fritz.

Eddie seems more enthused than anything else by your orgasm. Both his arms wrap around your thighs and hold you down. He actually stands, bending at the way to get closer as he longs to taste all the slick and arousal that leaks out of you. As he sucks on your clit and hums at the way that you taste, you grip his hair and pull him in closer.

But there’s a point where you think you might die if he touches you any more. There’s a gasp in your chest that rips its way out as you push him away from your fluttering pussy as kindly as possible. He leans in again, just for a moment, before he registers your body pulling away from him, notices the way your thighs unclench and your fingers loosen from his hair and your moans and gasps of his name turn into weak whimpers and grunts.

“Fuck,” you huff as you lay back on his bed. You turn onto your belly, crawling up his bed and collapsing into his pillows that spell like him. He watches, licking his lips and wiping his face with a smile.

“I was right,” you mumble, feeling your body coming down like you're floating back to the ground.

“About what?” You feel the bed dip next to you where Eddie sits down. Then you feel him lay back, his head laid out on your thighs.

“You're a whore.”

He rolls his eyes, smacking your leg with the back of his hand. “You liked it.”

“Doesn't mean you're not a whore,” you say. “Just means you're a good one.”

He sits up, moving over you so he's caging you in. His hair has come mostly undone by now, and it's more of a mess due to your insistence on how wonderful he is. His guitar pick hangs down in your face. Your eyes cross and uncross trying to watch it dangle.

“Well, if I'm a whore,” he bends down, his soft lips pressing into your neck as your lashes flutter, “then I'm gonna charge you. It's three dollars a minute.”

You chuckle. “Well, guess what?” He hums. “I'm poor, so no.”

He breathes in through his teeth, shaking his head. “Then I guess you'll have to work it off.”

You try not to be too timid as you press your fingertips to his chest, guiding him back so he's sitting up. You move onto your knees, pulling your arms around his shoulders and relishing his hands on your waist.

“That shouldn't be too hard,” you mutter. You are timid when you lean into him, testing the air between you to make sure it's okay that you kiss him.

When you still haven't made any contact, he nudges your nose with his. “C’mon,” he goads, his lips sticky when he speaks with all the familiar affection between you.

Your lip quirks a bit at his humor. You kiss him, biting his top lip just to confuse him. He laughs and you consider your goal achieved. You run a hand down the center of his bare chest, pausing at the base of his belly to tease the light happy trail disappearing into his sweatpants.

You slip your hand just underneath the waistband of his pants, tickling his skin as your fingers brush the base of his length hiding poorly behind the fabric. He flinches slightly from your touch, chuckling lightly as his hand comes to cup your elbow.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask suddenly, slightly startled by his reaction.

He shakes his head. “No, mama. You just surprised me.”

“Okay,” you murmur, your timid fingers slowly attempting to try again. But he just shakes his head.

“This isn’t for me. This is for you,” he says, pulling back enough to see you.

“Yeah, but,” you lick your bottom lip, “I wanna make sure you’re enjoying yourself, too.”

He licks his own lips as if to remind you that they were just wrapped around your sensitive cunt. “Trust me, I am thoroughly enjoying myself, mama.”

Your finger hooks around the waistband of his sweatpants, a slight pout arising from your face. “Can you take ‘em off, at least?”

His hands are already pulling them down his legs as he teases you. “So needy.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut the fuck up.” Your response falls short. As soon as the last word leaves your mouth, his cock springs from its loose confines and reveals itself.

You flush at the sight of him. You’re not a cock-hungry whore or anything—but if you were one, you think his dick would be a perfect subject for it. It’s not like he has this perfect cock that was hand-crafted by the gods or anything. But you think it’s safe to say that calling Eddie a freak is a valid name.

He’s long, freakishly so. He’s got a nice girth to him, you think, but you don’t know if he’s going all the way in—but, of course, you could be exaggerating. You’ve seen two cocks in your entire life, and Eddie’s is one of them and, admittedly, the better of the two. He will definitely reach.

“What the fuck, Eddie?” you look up at him.

“What?” His face falls slightly, his eyes widening just a bit as he wonders if your comment was good or bad. “What’s wrong?”

“How the hell do you fit that thing in your pants?” You shake your head. “Like, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He just shrugs, but he’s a little relieved that you’re just being his asshole and not just some asshole. “I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

“How is it supposed to fit inside of me? What is that, like a foot long?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m flattered—really, I am—but it, most definitely, is not a foot.” He looks down at the erection between his legs. The tip is flushed, and it kind of looks like it hurts. “Seven and a half.”

“What the fuck?” you whisper under your breath. You reach down, brushing your fingers over the tip. He gasps through his teeth, and you watch the way it kicks up in response. “Sorry,” you tell him, ignoring the amusement in your chest. It reminds you of a spring, the comedic kind that goes “boing!”.

“S’okay,” he murmurs. He lifts a hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb over the rise of it as he asks gently and genuinely, “You still wanna go?”

You nod, “Yeah. That monster isn’t gonna scare me away.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that big.”

You shrug. “You know, I heard Harrington’s like that big, nine inches.” You make a circle with your hand, moving it up and down like you’re jerking it off. “You think it’s true?” You bob your brows up and down.

He shakes his head, running a hand down his face as he snickers at you. “I doubt it. He could be one or the other, but both seem a little excessive. Have you seen how tight his pants are?”

“Yeah… you might be right.”

“We gonna talk about dicks, or are we gonna fuck?”

You sigh, shrugging like it’s nothing as you look back at him. “I guess, we’ll fuck.”

He smiles, pulling you closer to him. “Well, then, c’mon, mama.”

You actually giggle, surprising him as you bring a leg to wrap around his waist, pulling the other up to follow suit. He kisses you, his hands supporting your thighs as his dick nuzzles between the both of you, kept warm and wet by the way your folds sit against him as it pushes into his lower belly.

Eddie reaches between your bodies, taking his weeping cock in his hand and stroking himself a couple times with little wavers of breath. You watch some precum spill from his tip, sliding down the bottom.

“You want me to use a condom?” he asks.

You swallow thickly, thinking quickly before shaking your head. “Pill.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t.”

You’re touched by his consideration but you don’t really want to put into words how much you actually want to feel him inside of you. You shake your head again, kissing him quickly to soften the slight awkwardness in your chest. “I don’t want you to use a condom, Eddie.” You almost whisper it, but he understands.

“Okay, mama,” he whispers back. He kisses you, lifting you up from his lap just enough to tuck the head of his cock at your soaked folds. “You ready?” You nod. “Don’t hold your breath. Breathing makes it feel better.” You nod again.

“Ready.”

You try not to hold his breath as he slowly lowers you down onto his lap, splitting you on his cock as you take him inch by inch. At one point, you’re sure he can’t go any further as you feel him seated somewhere deep inside you. And he’s right, it feels really nice.

Your breath is so light and airy when you sigh against his lips, holding him tight as you bury your face in his shoulder. “Fuck,” you huff, hearing his own breaths pass heavily in your ear.

“Fuck,” he echoes. “Jesus, you’re squeezin’ me, mama.”

You don’t know how you feel about the way this makes you feel, the way it makes you act. Your voice gets sort of whiny, breathy, this little thing in his ear that makes his cock twitch slightly inside of you. “Can’t help it,” you sigh. “So fuckin’ deep.”

He nods, his hands steady and firm at your backside and your arms tight around his neck. “I won’t move until you tell me to.”

You just nod, knowing he’s not going to move until you give him an explicit “yes”. It’s a lot to adjust to. He sits really deep inside of you, and he’s pressing against a spot that makes you delirious with just the pressure the head of his cock puts on it. But when you can’t take the suspense anymore and you’re too excited to see how it would feel, you nod again.

“I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll go slow.”

You nod.

Holding your waist, Eddie begins to thrust his hips up into you. He does as he says and moves slowly, guiding your body in his lap so you grind down on him. A whine falls from your lips at the feeling, and you almost immediately seek out that pleasure with the eager roll of your hips into him.

“Not too fast, not too fast,” he hisses, lightly patting your hip.

You nod into his shoulder, feeling his hands roaming. His arm wraps around your waist, his other arm comes up to hook over your shoulder. He keeps thrusting, moving so slowly and filling you so deep. Following his commands, you roll your hips slowly into him, meeting each of his own movements in a building rhythm.

There's an ebb and flow in the way that you move together. Tiny whimpers fall from your lips, and his heavy breaths join them.

Somewhere along the way, it's not enough. Your insistent hips grind into him in search of more. He feels it in the way you breathe, the way you move, the way you hold him just a little tighter.

“Eddie,” you huff. “C’mon, I need more. Please.”

The way you say it is a little more whiny, a little needier than you intended. It feeds his ego, and he can't help but to lose some of his reassuring kindness. He starts making fun of you because he likes making fun of you, and he thinks that you'll probably eat that shit up.

“More?” His grip on you tightens just a bit. His thrusts become a little jerky, searching the same intensity you are. “You need more, mama?”

“Eddie,” you groan.

He pulls your face from his shoulder in order to look at you better. “You sound so whiny, baby. Like a little bitch.”

You roll your eyes because he's Eddie, and he calls you a little bitch anyway. Grinding in his lap, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug. A strangled grunt comes out, and you smirk devilishly. “So do you.”

“Har, har,” he says.

“If this is all you can do, just tell me. It's okay if you're a one-pump-chump.”

You like vexing him. He likes when you vex him. But he also likes proving you wrong because he may be doing you a favor, but he can't let you go about thinking he can't fuck.

“Fuck you,” he scoffs. Then he's pushing you onto your back and wrapping your legs back around his waist, slipping out in the process. He towers over you like some wolf, bushy hair accommodating as his necklace swoops down to brush your skin.

“If you want me to stop, tell me to stop,” he says. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He guides himself back into you, embedding himself within you until you're full. One of his hands grips your hip while the other takes a hold of the headboard. It's this metal thing that squeaks whenever you move. So when he's thrusting into you with a vigor that has grown in the past couple of moments, it's accompanied by the constant whine of the metal. It's sort of funny.

His hips roll into you, waves of pleasure coming with each one. His hand cradles your neck, and you lean into him as he latches onto the sensitive skin of your throat, teeth scraping and tongue licking up the taste of your skin.

One of your legs comes up to wrap around his waist, and you moan as you pull him in deeper. His pace builds into this steady, needy kind of rhythm. The harder he thrusts, the more you clench, and the harder it is for him to stifle his grunts.

But you like the sounds he makes. Sometimes they're these deep groans that rumble in his chest like thunder. Sometimes they're these weak moans that you're pretty sure is him trying not to whimper. And you like the moans so much that you card your fingers through his hair and tug on a chunk of it as his head pulls back. His muscles flex, and his lips part. You watch his eyes flutter, this shocked whimper comes out of him.

“You did that on purpose,” his word and your moan mix together with the thrust of his hips.

“Ah…haha,” you gasp, nodding a little. “Yes, I—Oh, yes, I did.”

“What, are you a top or something?” he wonders, raising a brow.

You shrug, your mind a little blurry with the feeling of his cock shoved inside of you. “Dunno.”

He's interested enough to find out.

Once again, you're being moved around. You whimper when he pulls out of you just to sit you up again. Eddie moves to the head of the bed and pulls you back into his lap. “Let's find out.”

You take him in your hand, lining him up with your waiting lips. As you slowly sink back down onto him, your eyes flutter shut as you feel the way he fills you. And it only gets better from there as you slowly take him farther inside until he’s buried so deep that you can feel him pressing somewhere inside of you that you can’t quite pinpoint.

You’re fully seated on him now, eyes squeezed shut as you adjust to the feeling. Your hands come to rest on his chest, the fingers of your right hand brushing over the demon head on his pec. When you roll your hips and feel the way it presses inside of you, you’re immediately done for.

Your rhythm isn’t steady for a while. You move purely out of an urge to quell this need in the pit of your stomach. As you fuck yourself on his cock, Eddie’s hands hold your waist tightly just to have something to hold onto. You move quickly and without remorse, your head thrown back in pleasure as your hips lift up just to smack down on his lap once again.

For a while, you just grind on him, focusing on that deep spot that shoots electricity through your thighs. This pitiful sound flutters out of you, like a shudder running down your spine as your hands move to cup the back of his neck in your palms. His name falls from your lips with a plea, it’s a weak sound that would bring him to his knees if he wasn’t already on his back.

“Fuck, mama,” he huffs. “Keep going, just like that.”

His hands caress your skin, roaming your body underneath his shirt still draped over you. He hikes it up farther and farther until he feels your warm breasts. “Can I take this off?” he asks. You just nod, muttering an “mhm” as you keep bouncing with closed eyes. He pulls the shirt over your head, revealing your bouncing breasts to him as he takes a hold of them with greedy hands. He palms them, kneading them like he would dough. You just keep moaning as he builds you up.

You don’t mean to, but in an attempt to respond, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a repetitive “yes, yes, yes” that echoes in the room alongside his own loud, open-mouthed breaths. “Shit, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.”

That makes you whimper, moving almost ruthlessly just to satisfy the rising need in your belly. “Fuck, I need cum, baby,” you whisper, repeating that again and again with each little roll. Eddie wastes no time in bringing his large hand to rest at the juncture of your thigh and your hip, his thumb swirling insistent circles into your clit. You gasp at the feeling, which is way more electric than you thought it’d be.

It becomes a little difficult to think. Visions of Eddie and his hands and your bodies, and the sounds of your slick and skin, and the smell of sex and body wash and cigarettes cloud your mind. You’re on the verge of tipping over the edge, you can feel your fingertips tingling with the wild sensations of your pleasure, so, so close to you now–

Eddie pulls you up from his lap, unsheathing your cunt from him. Your moans and your breaths are interrupted, and this weak cry tumbles from your tongue. He grunts, laying his head back and making this “hmph” sound.

You blindly reach for his cock, trying to guide him back inside of you before he’s lightly smacking your hand away. “Wait, mama, wait.”

“Eddie,” you whine, thoroughly unhappy with the way the growing waves in your belly had begun to retreat. “Please.” You could honestly cry. It had felt so good—you had felt so good, and he’d taken it all away in a matter of a second.

“What the fuck, dumbass?” you huff, looking at him with eyes unfocused with frustration and face flushed with lust.

“You’re so mean,” he says, almost as put off by the failed release as you.

“I was so close.”

“I know.” He sits up a little more, moving you off his lap. Your arousal is coating both of you, your thighs are sticky with it, his lap and his cock is glistening in the dim golden light. “That’s called edging.”

“I know what the fuck edging is. Why are we doing it?”

He laughs at your frustration, and you want to hit him. “Relax, we’re not done yet.”

“Well, hurry up,” you whine, already trying to throw your leg back over his legs. He just swats you away again.

“Turn around.” You would argue, but you’re too horny. So, instead, you turn around so your back is facing him. His hand spreads out along your back, and you nearly squeal when he pushes you down so your face is pushing into his covers. He pulls you up so your ass is in the air, grabbing one of your cheeks and squeezing.

“You still good?” He’s checking up, trying to be nice even though he was just the cruelest he could’ve been.

“Yes, please.” He likes you like this, honestly. It’s fun to see you so needy. It’s just something he can hold over your head.

He lightly smacks your ass, not enough to hurt but enough for your hips to jerk at the unexpected sensation. Immediately, he smoothes the skin with the palm of his hand and hums. He nudges your legs apart, spreading you open for him just enough as he pumps his cock in his hand.

“Just testing out some positions,” he says simply before he’s guiding himself back inside of you. It’s a welcome feeling, one you’re beginning to become accustomed to. Once he’s fully inside, he bottoms out with a heavy sigh. “It’s good to see which ones you like.”

“I like when I’m being fu–”

You’re cut off when his hips thrust into you, an almost cruel snap that makes this filthy smacking sound. You moan, literally feeling yourself melting into the bed as one of his hands comes to fist the sheets by your head. The other holds your waist tight, keeping you steady as he begins to fuck into you.

You really like this position. Being on top of him was so, so nice, but being underneath him is a feeling that makes your brain numb. You wrap your hand around his wrist as your other curls in the bedsheets, mewling feebly with every snap of his hips.

It’s dizzying, having him take you like this. There’s a light sheen of sweat coating your skin, encouraged by the warm air straying in through the slightly opened window. His breath is heavy, and you can hear him grunting every time his hips meet your ass. “Do you like this one?” he huffs, moving his hand to wrap lightly around your neck. He pulls you up from the covers so you can speak, your bodies bumping back and forth in the dance you’ve created.

You’re being kept steady only by your hand on the bed, gripping the sheets tightly. “Yes, Eddie,” you moan. You like saying his name, especially when you feel so good. It’s like a wave through your skin. It falls off your tongue with ease. “That feels good.”

He’s happy you’re happy. He keeps it up, losing his breath the longer he goes as your loud ones mix together in the heavy air of his bedroom.

You’re so glad Wayne isn’t home because there’s no way you would’ve been able to keep quiet. You respect that man too much to put him through this. The loud squealing of the bed certainly doesn’t help.

You turn your head to his arm, pressing your nose to his wrist to smell him. He smells like he always does, cigarettes and cheap cologne, like leather and maybe a bit of metal. But under that, you can still smell it. Green apple.

You kiss his wrist, and something snaps in him. For the hundredth time, Eddie pulls out of you and moves you back onto your back. Once again, you’re looking up at him as he locks you in. There’s a wild look in his eyes that makes you breathless, and when he’s pushing into you again, you moan.

“Right there,” you mutter incoherently when he fucks into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer as you keep your legs spread wide. “Yes, fuck, right there.”

Eddie focuses on that spot, punching the head of his cock into it over and over again and watching the way your eyes roll, your head falling back into the sheets and your hands tightening around his arms. He loves the way your lips part, your soft lips split open by the feeling of him. He bends down and kisses the exposed expanse of your throat, sucking on the skin and nibbling hickeys into your skin.

When he pulls away from your neck with a light smack, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down so your bodies are pressed flat together, skin to skin. He ruts into you, pressing his forehead against yours as you both breathe the other’s air. It’s all heat and lust and something else, something hot and heavy.

“I needa cum, Eddie,” you mumble, “For real this time.” You manage to get it out with a minimal amount of stuttering. You’re surprised you were even able to put the sass in it that you managed. He’s made such a mess of you.

His thumb finds your clit once more, and he’s circling the bud with a fervent kind of eagerness. “Keep breathing for me, mama. Breathe in deep.” You do as he says, so much so that you get a little dizzy as the air comes and goes. You buck your hips up into his thumb, your whimper getting higher and higher with each swirl.

You feel a knot curling in your belly, followed by a startling heat. “Eddie,” it comes out almost as a question. You’re addicted to the way his name feels in your mouth. You repeat it over and over, squirming and breathing and tightening your hold on him. He keeps fucking into you, focusing on that spot that makes you see stars as he just thrusts faster until his hips are moving in short, hard spurts.

When the dam breaks, it's with a slack-jawed gasp and a tight embrace. Your whole body tenses, like a coil tightening. It gets hot and hotter and hottest until a band snaps and you're trembling. You moan his name like a cry for help, holding his face between your hands and marveling at the softness of his skin. A brilliant shudder makes its way through your body, the quivering of your limbs making it impossible not to whimper and whine at each little shake.

Eddie helps you through all of it, keeping his in and out pace until it becomes unsteady with the fluttering of your pussy around his cock. Your mouth latch onto one another, more heat and lust and longing to fill the space between you as you recover with a dizzying head and buzzing veins. Loud and sloppy smacks accompany the ones coming from your hips, still meeting with the last sparks of your orgasm and the drive for his own.

His steady thrusts are unsteady now, just tiny little pumps of his cock inside of you as his breaths build into gasps just as small. You’re already coming down from your high, and your whines are sounding a little different now as you tilt your head to the side and hold onto his arm, the punch of his cock bordering on an overstimulated feeling after trying to recover from the large crash of your orgasm.

“Eddie,” you whimper, one hand still splayed across his cheek.

He pulls out of you suddenly, peeling his hand off of you to grab his cock. He tugs harshly at it, bucking his hips into his hand until he’s spilling out over your belly in warm spurts, these shuddered moans coming with it. “Oh, fuck, mama,” he whimpers in that sticky tone, burying his face in the crook of your neck as the last ropes of cum coat your skin.

There are a few moments where there’s complete silence—save for the sound of a car here and there, or a dog barking in the distance, or some people laughing even farther away, or your heavy breaths huffing between you two. Your fingertips caress the skin of his cheeks, drawing patterns into his face as he simply enjoys it with closed eyes and settling breaths.

When Eddie sits up, he takes your hand to pull you up with him. You both sit on his bed, looking down at your bodies now sticky with his cum, though his isn’t the only fluid sticking to your skin. Your thighs make a wet sound whenever you move.

You run a hand down your face, sighing heavily. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, popping your toes. Eddie watches you stretch your arms over your head, enjoying the way your tits look when you do.

“So I did good?”

You look back at him to see the way he watches you, his brows bouncing with a sly grin on his face. You roll your eyes, not looking at him as you chuckle. “Yes, Eddie, you did good.”

He smiles wide.

Eddie stands from the bed, and you watch the way he sort of limps from his room. You can’t help your grin at the sight. At least that means you did good, too.

Eddie returns with a wet cloth in his hands, which he uses to clean you up first, wiping away all of your slick and his cum and even some of the saliva from your neck left behind by his sloppy kisses. He takes care in the way he does it, paying such close attention to you to ensure you’re just as clean and comfortable as he wants you to be.

When he’s done with you, he wraps his hand gently around your throat and pulls you in for another kiss. You lean into it. His kiss is like air in your lungs, and you sigh gently. Then he disappears again and comes back clean (and still deliciously naked—you enjoy the sight of his chain link tattoo curling around his upper thigh). He rustles through his drawers, pulling out another shirt, this one clean and not somewhere on the floor.

“You’re staying over, right?” he asks, as casual as ever as if he hadn’t just cum all over your stomach.

And, just as casually, you nod and turn onto your stomach to stretch again. “Mhm.” He tosses the shirt at you. It lands on your head, and you don’t move to put it on just yet. He picks up his sweatpants from the floor and puts them back on.

Eddie nudges you to the side so he can pull the covers back, and that’s when you sit up to put on his shirt. You stand, padding across his tiny room to turn off the lamp on his dresser, shrouding the room in relative darkness. When you climb back into the bed, you latch yourself onto his back and hold him to your chest. He’s really warm, and it feels nice to be this close.

Sometimes you wonder if you and Eddie are supposed to date. There’s nothing casual about your friendship, and there never really has been (especially not now). But you think that having Eddie as your best friend, perhaps just under unconventional circumstances, is the best thing there is. If you ever decide to get together, that’ll be a moment for a time in the (relative) distance.

For now, you just rest your ear against his back and listen to his heartbeat. “Eddie,” you mumble, bringing your leg up to rest over his body like he isn’t bigger than you.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

There’s a huff that you think is him chuckling. He pulls a hand up and pats yours a couple light times. “Anytime, mama.” There’s some silence. “I love you.”

You smile. You love your best friend Eddie.

“I love you, too. G’night.” He hums back at you.

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @queermaxwooo @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog @thegr8estpuff @lover-of-books-and-tea @xxhanililoxx @quickslvxrr Eddie the Banished taglist: @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @queermaxwooo @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 @mewchiili @mischieftom Tag yourself here...

[hargreeves-duncan]

Can I request five x reader (takes place in s2) where reader (five’s partner) gets sent to Dallas around a year before five comes and after he does and reader sees him, she immediately tackles him on the spot and gives him many kisses. Maybe reader manages to work at a casino too

a/n: hi, thank you so much for your request! i haven’t written in a while so i'd love to hear your thoughts, enjoy!!

summary: it's been far too long since you've seen your boyfriend - he learns that the affectionate way.

warnings: reader works at a casino but there’s no actual gambling so🤷‍♀️

word count: 1.4k

You had to hand it to yourself, for someone who’d known next to nothing about life in the 1960s, you’d adapted pretty well. In no time at all, you’d managed to land yourself a job as a waitress in a casino. A very good one. It seemed in this timeline, Jack Ruby thought a casino would be a better investment than a night club - and for your part, you couldn’t say that he was wrong, nor could you complain.

The hours were long, but the pay was good enough and the other girls had taken you in as one of their own. You quickly began to excel. Strolling between the tables and flashing smiles was easy, second nature even. You developed the wit and charisma to charm the casino’s patrons without second thought, which meant you got more drinks served, more loyal customers and bigger tips to go along with them. 

Most nights the new life you’d built for yourself was more than enough but sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but yearn for what had come before - who had come before.

There was always a dull ache in your chest whenever you caught a fleeting glimpse of a lone, brown-haired man at one of the tables. In those moments, you could never stop yourself from believing for a slither of a second that Five had made it and he’d come right back to you.

You’d waited for him in that dingy, old alley for two weeks straight, because you knew that Five would never abandon his family like that. That something must’ve gone wrong, but it was okay because he’d come back and everything would be fine. That was what you told yourself. You were so sure he’d show up and solve everything in an instant, because that was what he always did. And when he hadn’t, it had almost destroyed you.

The first few months were gruelling, taking your first steps in the new world had taken a while. Grieving Five had taken longer. The obvious truth was staring you in the face. A year without contact from him or any of the other Hargreeves siblings? The probability was that you were the only one who had survived.

It was a truth that you were reluctant to admit, even now. One that led you to where you are today, starting yet another night shift, beside the casino’s bar, to serve a particularly rowdy Friday night crowd of patrons.

As you begin to set up, Mary-Anne, one of the other waitresses on shift, sidles up to you. Her honey-blonde curls bouncing around her ears as she leans against the bar. Trying to stifle her laugh, in her southern drawl, she says, “Has he tried talking to you yet?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, tilting your head to the side, “Has who tried talking to me yet?”

Her grin grows wider as she gestures to a table on the far corner of the room, laughing, “That little boy. Haven’t I said a million times that we oughta get tighter on the security in this place?”

She sighs, resting her hands on her hips, “I went over to him - trying to tell him that we don’t allow minors in here - and what’d he do?”

Deciding to humour her, you smile, looking down at her, “I’ve got no idea, tell me.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as she smiles, “He told me that he more than knew his way around place a place like this and that I had nothing to worry about with him. Can you imagine having the nerve like that at his age?”

The thought made you laugh. It reminded you of Five. His haggard temper in the body of his younger self always seemed to shock people in the very same way. You paused. It couldn’t be him, couldn’t it? You must be jumping to conclusions. After all this time, it’d make no sense if he was here now and yet…

“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing as you glance between the table and Mary-Anne. You squint, trying to see if you could recognise him.

A part of you felt silly and girlish for still holding out hope but this kid’s description was just too similar and besides, you were a teenager again, you were allowed to be lovesick and entirely delusional. It was practically your god-given right.

Mary-Anne nodded, loading her tray up with drinks of all shapes and sizes to cover her half of the room, “He did.”

Your eyes were locked onto the distant table, practically pleading for the kid to just turn around and let your hopes down already. Still, all that greeted you was the back of his head and the green fuzz of the poker table in front of him.

When you didn’t tear your eyes away, Mary-Anne looked you up and down, her baby blue eyes swimming with concern, “You alright there?”

Looking back at her, you sigh, already pent up at the possibility of Five being so close, “Yeah, I just… What did he look like?” You ask tentatively, biting your rouge-tinted, bottom lip between your teeth.

Mary-Anne hums in thought as she loads your tray for you, “Gosh, I don’t know - he had dark hair, was wearing a suit. It had the funniest, little emblem on it.” She says, tapping her chest in place of where it would’ve been.

Your eyes widen in shock and excitement as you process her words, “An umbrella! It was an umbrella, wasn’t it?”

Mary-Anne grins, giggling, “It was… how’d you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer her. You were already starting to tremble and hyperventilate, entirely overcome with nerves and joy and pure, unbridled excitement all at once. A year of being apart and now he was no more than a few strides away. Your smile brightens up like no other.

You slip your tray from over your head and place it down on the bar as you say, “Hey, cover for me, would you? I’ll be two seconds.”

Without waiting for her answer, you dash across the room - a flurry of giddiness bubbling up inside of you the closer you get. You tousle your hair and straighten your uniform, anything to keep your anxious fingers busy and to better yourself for something you’ve waited for for far too long.

Hearing heels coming towards him again, Five sighs in frustration and turns around in his chair, “Lady, I already told you-“

The breath feels like it’s been stolen from your throat as he turns to face you. It’s really, truly him. Your boyfriend is right there in front of you and you’ve never felt more relief than in this moment.

“Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you want to cry or scream or simply just take him in for the first time all over again. As you look over him, his piercing gaze, his dark hair and the freckle on his right cheek that you can’t count the number of times you’ve kissed, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his lips.

God, how you’ve missed the feeling of them. You barely have time to think about what you’re doing before you’re cupping his face and pressing your lips against his once more, savouring every part of him in a way you’d never thought to before.

Your hands trail over every callous in his skin, memorising him with your fingertips, and as you pull back, Five’s gaze softens like nothing else as he smirks, “Hello, you.”

His hands reach out to cup your face, gazing over you as if he’s not entirely sure that you’re real. After all your time apart, you’re not sure either. You smile, nodding, “It’s me. It’s you. You’re here, you’re really here!”

You cup his face in return and you can’t help but press another kiss to his lips. He smiles fondly as you do. And so you kiss him again… and again on his cheek… and on his freckle… his chin… his forehead. Everywhere your lips can reach, you press them.

After a moment, he laughs weakly and reaches up to pull your hands away from his face and intertwines them with his own fingers instead, “Okay, love.” He says chasteningly, “Let’s calm down there, shall we?”

Your smile grows shyer as you right yourself, “Sorry.” You say, brushing your hair away from your face.

He shakes his head, brushing your hair back for you and then guiding you by the waist to the seat beside him, “No, don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. Believe me, I’m just as happy to see you. Really.”

It’s him who initiates the kiss this time. He’s soft, delicate almost, in the way that he kisses you, as if each movement of his lips is a new way of giving all of his love to you and promising that he won’t ever let you out of his sights again.

[carajilloplz]

bad habit ✮⋆˙ joost klein

SMUT 18+ MDNI

warnings: smoking, alcohol consumption, w33d (just a little), lots of teasing omg it's ridiculous, making out, oral!fem receiving because joost is a MUNCH, unprotected p in v, choking kind of?, orgasm denial and overstimulation

i am so sorry

Du weißt, dass das eine schlechte Angewohnheit ist, oder? - You know that's a bad habit right?

Hast du Feuer - Got a lighter?

Inside the venue, the music was ridiculously loud. Your friend had dragged you to a show (Ski Aggu? You had no idea, you were just there to support) and it was a good show and pretty solid music, but not exactly what you would listen to on a daily basis. In the end you ended up enjoying it, loving the antics onstage. Your favorite was that one song, probably his most recognizable because you’d heard it out before, where a tall blond guy wearing a full-on dress shirt with a tie and some funky-looking glasses. 

The show was good, and since your friend had run into some acquaintances, you accepted your fate for the night and gestured to her that you were going out for a smoke. You’d had a few drinks already and just wanted to take a break from that and the overly loud music inside. Stepping outside, you took in the Berlin night cold and cursed yourself for only wearing a thin slip dress, at least covered by the oversized leather jacket with a million pockets. Curiously, somebody stepped out of the bar as well and you recognized him as the blond who was onstage earlier for that one song. 

“Du weißt, dass das eine schlechte Angewohnheit ist, oder?” He spoke, teasingly referring to the box of cigarettes in your hand as you rummaged through your pockets for a lighter.

“Hast du Feuer?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one.” he says, reaching in his pocket.

You scoffed, shaking your head at yourself. “Is my german actually that bad?”

The man laughs, exposing a set of very charming dimples and a crinkle in his eye hidden by his wide-rim tinted glasses. “No it’s not, you’re just drunk and very clearly not from here.” He reaches out his hand with the lighter in it, and as you go to grab it he snatches it back, smirking and giving you a challenging look. “And what do I get in return?”

You roll your eyes, reaching into your pocket. “Here, you can bum one off me.” The blond nods appreciatively as he grabs a cigarette from you and proceeds to light his own first. He then reaches out with the lighter to yours, holding it up to light your cigarette and you can feel his gaze on you. There was a significant height difference, so you had to crane your neck up quite a bit to speak to him. 

“Thank you…?” you say, prompting him to share his name, playing dumb because you already knew it. 

“Joost” he replies, exhaling smoke and looking down at you, very obviously devouring you with his eyes. Oh so that’s what he’s playing at. “And you are…?”

Immediately your demeanor changed because, hell, he’s quite hot and seemed pretty fun from what you’d seen of him on stage. Might as well. You told him your name and teasingly started inquiring about his stage presence. 

“So you’re friends with Aggu or something right?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking a drag and leaning his shoulder against the wall, towering over you. “We’ve been pretty tight since we were openers together once.” You nod understandingly, raising your eyebrows in the most subtly patronizing way to keep teasing him. He catches on. “Why, you listen to him?”

“No, not at all actually. My friends dragged me to this show.” you say, matter-of-factly “Lowkey I thought it would be kind of bad but I am pleasantly surprised.”

“Good,” He’s kind of shocked by your bluntness, but clearly intrigued. “What was your favorite song?”

“The one you sang with him.” You reply, finishing off your cigarette and dropping it to the ground and putting it off with your boot. “I’m going back in, you coming?”

Hurriedly, Joost takes a few last drags and follows you inside, lightly putting his hand on the small of your back as you led the way back to your friends.

“There you are, babe!” your friend replies, dropping the conversation she was having with an acquaintance. She leans closer to you, speaking into your ear over the loud music. “I see why you were gone and I’m not gonna get mad because he’s cute.”

You brushed her off with a wink and a laugh and casually turned back to Joost, “This is Joost, Joost this is my friend Lina that dragged me here.”

She waves, “Big fan.” and turns back to her other conversation. Silently you thanked her to yourself for getting the hint. You turn back to Joost, looking up at him and pointing accusingly.

“You owe me a drink for giving you one of my cigs.” you say, teasingly looking up at him with a smirk. You had to play his game, and at this point you felt like he was catching on too.

“Oh do I?” Joost replies, looking down at you challengingly through half lidded eyes and lightly licking his bottom lip. “You’d still have to owe me one back.”

“I can give you a kiss and we’ll be even.”

He nods, biting his cheek and turning to the bartender and signalling for two more of what he was drinking. Your drinks get served and you stand on your tippy toes, hand on his chest to lean into his ear to say ‘thank you’, and as you pull back he leans in but you quickly dodge him with a playful smirk. He’s very clearly into it and going in for the long run, so he followed you when you grabbed his hand and gestured towards the dancefloor. Even if Aggu’s show was over, the venue was still thumping with music.

Swaying your body rhythmically with the beat, Joost’s hands found themselves comfortably settled on your waist, slowly reaching towards your ass and pulling you closer like that. You kept going though, turning around and staying close to his body, making a point of teasingly moving your hips against him, feeling the light graze of his crotch against you.

This set him off the edge and he kept one of his hands firmly on your hip and reached the other to splay his arm across your shoulders in a light headlock to pull you closer. “And when can we get even?” He says into your ear, his voice an almost growl dripping with desire.

You turn around and look him wantonly in the eyes before reaching to give him a kiss. Joost kisses back firmly, leaning down a little to match you and reaching up his hand to cup your jaw. Immediately in that drunken kiss, you tangle your hand into his hair, complimenting the clashing of teeth and the slow roll of Joost’s tongue in your mouth. You continue to kiss, sloppily grabbing at each other, his hand snaking to grab at your neck and you reaching up to snake your arms around his shoulders as he pulled you closer. He suddenly stopped. 

“Liefde, I have to take you home.” Joost pants, cheeks red and flustered from your passionate kiss. “You’re driving me insane.”

You give him a teasing look. “Look at you, all direct. Don’t seem like the type.”

He scoffs, leaning down towards your ear— “If I weren’t direct I wouldn’t be able to tell you that the though of you makes me hard and I want my head between your legs as soon as possible.”

This comment shuts you up completely, shooting a bolt of electricity down your spine and the mere idea of Joost between your legs makes you squirm pleasurably. You nod, looking up to him still slightly in shock.

“Let’s go to mine, I’m two blocks away and I’ve got weed.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The walk back home for the two of you was excruciatingly long because you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. You walked with your hand slipped in the back pocket of Joost’s jeans, and he kept looking down at you as you took another drag from your cigarette. He couldn’t help himself, really, and he pressed you against the nearest wall and gave you a long, deep kiss. You both grabbed at each other as you passionately made out against the wall of some random building on the way to your house. Romantic, huh?

Somehow, you made to your apartment and you discarded your leather jacket at the entrance. This left you in a very thin, almost transparent silk slip that gave Joost a perfect view of the outline of your body behind you, the dress almost translucent because of the light. 

You plopped onto your couch, reaching for the bong on your coffee table as Joost sat next to you. Taking one or two hits, you passed it onto him as you analyzed his face in a different light than where you were before. His eyes were a dashing color blue and his blonde hair was the just right amount of tousled, falling onto his defined face perfectly.

He didn’t finish putting the bong down on your coffee table before you straddled him, looking onto his eyes, almost level to you because of his height, and gave him a profound kiss. His large hands settled on your ass, encouraging you to move your hips backwards and forwards, prompting him to grind back up into you. You continued like this for a while, tongues clashing and hands grabbing at each other, clouded by the substances running through your systems. You worked on loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt as you continued your kiss, pushing it down and off his body. Joost thought you looked positively angelic as you pulled away, connected still to him with a string of saliva and focusing on rubbing your tangibly wet pussy on his hard crotch. 

Suddenly Joost grabs you from above him and turns you around to lay you on the couch, immediately putting his weight on you and passionately continued your kiss. You felt his bulge on you, hard from all the anticipation and teasing you even more as he continued to slip his tongue in your mouth. He snakes his hand down your side, rreaching down to your thigh and grabbing all over it, clearly enjoying the plush of your soft skin. Slowly, he begins reaching up towards your slip, moving it up slightly so you are more exposed.

“No underwear?” He asks through your kisses, snickering as you whine slightly because of the subjection he’s putting you in. Joost continues, smoothly and teasingly moving his hand on your waist, moving down to your leg, wrapped around him, and reaching up to your ass and giving it a slap. This sends a jolt through your body, extremely turned on but surprised at his harshness. You let out a moan and pulled him even closer. 

“You liked that?” You moan in approval as he begins moving his hand between your thighs and breaks the kiss to start kissing your neck. Joost was literally leaving you speechles with his touches, making you a writhing, whining mess under him. He brings you up towards him to slip the straps of your dress down your shoulders and begins kissing down your chest, making you whine as he starts going lower and lower. Bringing his hand towards your pussy, he slowly traces his fingers up your slick folds until he gets to your clit. He starts to draw small circles with his thumb on the bundle of nerves, sending shocks through your body and making your back arch, bringing you closer to him. 

As he continues to teasingly and painfully slowly move lower, you tangle your hands in his messy blonde hair. He finally reaches your throbbing pussy, but not even making a single movement that would indicate he would do anything yet with it, focusing on kissing your thighs.

“Fuck Joost, please do something” you moan, arching your back and expecting him to do something, but he just stops his kisses and puts more pressure on your clit. At this rate, you felt like you were coming closer and closer without him doing that much purely from the teasing.

“What was that, baby? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Please eat me out Joost, stop being such a fucking tease.” You reply through another moan, pulling at his hair to get closer.

“Ask nicely and I’ll do it.” He replies, menacingly pressing his thumb even more and looking up at you expectantly. “I want you to beg.”

That alone sent you into a moaning mess, immediately submitting to his touch. “Joost please please eat me out, I need you. Please do something, I can’t stand it.”

He instantly puts his lips to your pussy, lapping at your clit and putting one, two fingers in, hitting just the right spot, making you whimper out when combined with the feeling on your clit. Joost was clearly enjoying himself down there, running his tongue in all the right places and pumping his fingers in and out of you at a rough but pleasurable pace. You felt the familiar build of pressure in you, heightening your sensitivity to every touch and lick. 

“Fuck Joost keep going please” You moan, pulling at his hair and trying to keep your legs from shaking. “I’m gonna come.”

He immediately takes his mouth off of your pussy and climbs back up to your level, leaving you confused  and overstimulated from the lack of touch. He brings his hand up to your neck and grabs you by your jaw to look directly at him.

“You don’t cum until I say so.”

Joost quickly reaches down to unbuckle his belt as he continues kissing you. He was impossibly hard, and you helped him unbutton his jeans and reaching down to palm him through his underwear. He immediately let out a moan of relief at the loss of pressure when he pushed off his jeans, grinding into your hand as you both moaned at the buildup of anticipation. You were still put off from your orgasm and he was ready to shamelessly start fucking you, so you were both clearly on the same page when you reached down to pull down his underwear and release his hard cock. He was huge, you could feel it from making out earlier but seeing it at it’s full length you felt scared but also extremely turned on.

Through moans and clawing at each other, he grabbed his cock and quickly found his way towards your entrance, nudging the head of his cock and rubbing it against your hole.

“Tell me if you can’t take it,” he pants, and you were flattered by the concern but you knew better.

“Just put it in Joost, I need you inside of me.”

This set him off. He instantly started pushing himself inside you with a groan, bottoming out easily because of how wet you are. Joost looked at you to see if you were okay, and continued once you let out a moan and looked up at him. He moved at a painfully slow but strong pace in the beginning as you adjusted to his size, and once you started bringing him closer, he sped up his pace. 

Both of you a mess of moans and groans, you continued to angle yourself towards his pounding thrusts, making him groan more as you started clawing at his back. You felt a mix of pain and pleasure as you felt his length inside you, building up the pressure in your belly once more, this time more intensely. He was bottoming out completely with each thrust now, letting out garbled curses in Dutch and pounding into you as you moaned out. 

“Joost, please can I come.”

“Yes you can schatje, come for me.”

Instantly, you gushed all over his cock, arching your back and seeing stars. You stayed in that state for a minute, relieved from the overstimulation, but he didn’t stop his thrusts. 

“I want you to come again, baby. C’mon get on top” he says, bringing you up as he sat up on the couch. Although you were blissed out from your orgasm, you still couldn’t help but be entranced by his orders, so you gave him a kiss as you straddled him, sinking onto his cock with a whimper. He was the one that continued the pace, hands on your ass, moving your hips back and forth and getting himself off with you. 

You were a mess at this point-- your hair was all tangled and you were a flustered mess full of scratches and one or two hickeys, just like him. He placed a firm slap on your ass, which made your dripping cunt clench around him and made him let out a loud groan as he thrust up against you again. 

“Fuck schatje you feel so good on me.” he groans, continuing to bounce you up and down. Joost loved the way you looked on top of him, a flustered, moaning mess that did everything to reach that second orgasm that he felt was close for you. That pleasurable pressure was growing in you again, and your overstimulation was driving you crazy. You loved the feeling of Joost’s cock inside of you, and in this position it was just hitting the right spot every time.

Joost eventually got sloppier, and started moaning harder, groaning your name hotly in your ear, which combined with his hands on you drove you closer and closer towards your orgasm. 

“Can I come inside you?” he asks, “I’m close liefde, fuck.” You moan at the mere thought.

“Please come inside me Joost I’m so close.” You moan, intensifying your movements for a moment, Joost moving your hips harder, which set you off into a mess of gasps and whimpers, leaving you without air as you felt the flash of your second orgasm. 

Your orgasm set off Joost too, coming at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, and with a deep groan of your name, spilled inside of you. The both of you stayed there for a moment, panting as he leant his head against the back of the couch looking up at you. You looked divine, a blushing, blissed out mess and he was sure he wanted to have that view again. You leant against him, slumping back and putting your head on your shoulder. 

Peppering kisses along your shoulder, he sighed. “Fuck smoking, I don’t know how I’m going to quit you now. ”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

a/n: thank you for coming to my tedtalk. i needed to get that out of my system. i'm like speechless at myself because of how horny this is.

[bookyeom]

pairing: s.coups x reader word count: 4.8k warnings: a couple of swears i think, kissing, people being bad friends and treating reader badly :(, a tiny bit of poor self-esteem on reader's end but not much, seungcheol gets a lil mad at one point but it's nothing crazy

Author's Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it's not necessary.

pov by ariana grande

i wanna love me the way that you love me for all of my pretty, and all of my ugly too i'd love to see me from your point of view cause nobody ever loved me like you do

You feel like you’ve been subject to an intervention.

You’d come over to pick up a sweater you’d left at Jeonghan’s, and now you’re sitting on his couch while both him and Soonyoung stare at you, arms crossed. You have the distinct feeling that you’re being judged. 

“You’re here early,” Jeonghan finally says, and you immediately don’t like the tone of his voice. 

“Yeah,” you say, slowly. “Junseok couldn’t make it last minute, so I just came straight here.” You don’t miss the look that passes between Jeonghan and Soonyoung, and you inwardly groan in preparation when you realize what’s about to come.

”Wow, he canceled?” Soonyoung says, sarcastic as ever.

“We’re so surprised,” Jeonghan follows, and you roll your eyes. 

“Things happen,” you try, but your friends don’t even flinch. 

“Yeah, they always seem to happen with him in particular, especially when you guys have plans. Poor guy.” 

“Come on. Stop.”

Jeonghan smacks you on the arm, and you yelp. “He’s such a dick, Y/N. Break up with him.”

“We’re not dating! I’ve told you a million times that we’re just friends.”

“Does the fact that you’re just friends justify how he treats you?” Soonyoung asks, and that hits you, hard. Your shoulders slump, and Soonyoung sits next to you on the couch.

“He’s just forgetful,” you murmur, but even as you say the words, you don’t really believe them yourself. 

“Hoshi is the most scatterbrained person I’ve ever met,” Jeonghan points out, “and even he remembers plans.”

The man in question appears offended for a brief moment, before quickly brightening up at the end of Jeonghan’s statement. “Yeah,” he nods solemnly in agreement. “I sometimes forget my sentences half way through. If I can remember making plans with my friends, so can he.”

You remain silent. You know they’re right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“You know who else never cancels on you, at least not without a solid explanation?”

You know where this is going, but you’re definitely going to pretend that you don’t. “Joshua? Seokmin? Love those guys. Truly the most loyal companions and —“

“Seungcheol not only sticks to plans, he also makes them with you first,” Jeonghan continues on, interrupting you, not even batting an eye as he ignores your pouting. 

“And he’d probably rather poke his own eye out than cancel on you,” Hoshi supplies.

“He’s my friend,” you protest weakly. “Do you mean you guys wouldn’t gauge an eye out on my behalf?”

“No,” the two men opposite you answer at the same time, and you sink back into your seat with a huff. 

“DK would,” you mumble.

“Yeah, but — bless his stupid ass — he’d do that for any of us,” Hoshi points out. “Seungcheol, on the other hand, thought it was funny to lock me out of the bathroom when I was hungover and needed to throw up last Saturday morning.” 

“Okay, but Cheol told me that you spilled a bottle of vodka all over his new laptop while you were drunk and tried to cover it up,” you counter. Hoshi opens his mouth to retort, but Jeonghan cuts him off. 

“Last week, he canceled lunch with Mingyu and I just because he didn’t want to get out of bed.”

“He had an exam the night before!” you protest, quickly jumping to Seungcheol’s defense in his absence. “For a really hard class, too! He was telling me about it when he came over to study.” The two men stare back at you pointedly, and you feel your cheeks flush. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jeonghan simply smiles, and it unsettles you. “Just that I’ve known Seungcheol for three years and I’ve never, not even once, seen him willingly study with someone else. He always talks about needing to focus alone.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, and try valiantly to hide it with your turtleneck sweater. “Maybe you guys are just annoying.”

“Or maybe he’s in love with you,” Soonyoung pipes up, a wide grin on his face, and you let out a whine. 

“Stop,” you plead as the two of them high-five. 

“You and Seungcheol are so annoying. If we’re talking about good ‘friends’,” Jeonghan puts quotation marks in the air around the word as he says it, “he should be at the top of your list. That man cares about you so much it’s kind of sickening.”

”Are you saying you don't care about me?”

You’re trying to change the subject, and Jeonghan knows it. He glares at you. “We care about you enough to try and knock some sense into you, don’t we?”

“I’m leaving,” you announce, pushing yourself off the sofa, sweater in hand. 

“Hey,” Jeonghan calls out as you pass through the threshold. “Can you take this, too?” He appears a second later as you’re tying your shoes, holding out a pair of socks. You raise an eyebrow in question. “They’re Cheol’s,” he explains. “I can almost guarantee you’re going to see him before I do.”

“How do you know that, Jeonghan?” 

“When are you guys hanging out next?”

You squint at your friend for a moment, before you begrudgingly take the socks from his hand. “Tomorrow morning,” you murmur. You pointedly ignore Jeonghan’s laughter as you all but slam the door behind you. 

“How was yesterday?”

“Hm?” You hum through a mouthful of food, glancing back up at Seungcheol. 

You’re sitting across from him at your favourite cafe. It had been silent since your food arrived and you’d both shut up to shovel food into your mouths, so you’re surprised when he speaks up. You also have no idea what he’s referring to.

“You hung out with Junseok last night, right?” Seungcheol asks, and you wince.

“Oh,” you manage. “No, we didn’t end up getting together.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate, clicking his tongue as he brings his coffee mug up to his lips. “Asshole.”

“Cheol.”

“What? He’s an asshole.” He sets his coffee down again, elbows on the table as he runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Did he cancel, or did you?”

You look back down at your food. “He did.”

Seungcheol simply nods, crossing his arms as he leans against the back of the booth. You’re reminded again of just how big his arms have gotten lately, and you try to shake the thoughts before your gaze lingers just a bit too long. “Of course he did.”

“He’s trying,” you mumble miserably, knowing it sounds lame, even to yourself. “He’s getting better at following through.”

The man in front of you raises his eyebrows. “Is he?”

“You’re being a dick.”

“I’m just telling the truth.” Seungcheol shrugs. “Why do you even like him?”

“I don’t like him like that anymore,” you mutter. “I haven't for a while. It was a dumb crush, Cheol, you know that. We’re friends now.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Okay, well, I’m your friend too. And as your friend, I’m telling you – he’s an asshole.”

This time, you don’t offer a rebuttal. You fall silent, pushing the eggs around on your plate. You can feel Seungcheol watching you, and you can practically hear his defenses lowering the longer you stay quiet. Usually, you can keep up with his banter and sass, but you know he can tell that you’re actually upset now. You’re tired of arguing. Deep down, you know he’s right, and you don’t have it in you to meet his gaze.

“Somebody who cares about you wouldn’t do stuff like that, friend or otherwise,” he finally speaks again, his voice softer now. “I know it sucks… but sometimes, it really is that simple.”

“Yeah,” is all you say. 

“Hey.”

You make yourself look at him again, offering him as much of a smile as you can. 

He smiles back, soft. “People care about you, okay?” 

You nod. The longer he looks at you, the more you start to feel that electric current, that low buzzing that seems to take over your entire body whenever Seungcheol is close. Jeonghan’s words linger in the back of your mind as he finally looks away, breaking the tension between the two of you.

That man cares about you so much it’s kind of sickening.

You hate how downright… silly you feel.

”He promised he’d make it this time,” you sniffle, and Seokmin squeezes you tighter into his side. “He even booked the tickets. Why would you book the tickets and then cancel on the day of?”

“Once a liar, always a liar,” Jeonghan calls out from his kitchen. 

“Once an asshole, always an asshole,” Seungcheol agrees. He’s leaning against the doorframe that separates the kitchen from the living room, and you don’t know why it hurts a little that he hasn’t tried to comfort you at all since you walked in. His comment only serves to upset you more, and you glare at him.

“Are you happy?”

Seungcheol blinks in surprise, turning back to you from where he was watching Jeonghan in the kitchen. “What?”

”Are you happy that you’re right? Do you feel good about it, Cheol?” You can feel Seokmin pat your shoulder comfortingly, but it doesn’t help — you’re annoyed now.

”What are you even talking about, Y/N?”

“You’re right — he’s an asshole. You’re right. You love being right, don’t you?”

The silence is almost palpable. Jeonghan has stopped moving in the kitchen, Seokmin is frozen next to you, and you can cut the tension in the room with a knife. Seokmin slowly moves to stand up, heading into the kitchen with Jeonghan, leaving the two of you alone.

“It’s not about being right,” Seungcheol finally says, and you avoid his gaze when he joins you on the couch. “All I care about is the fact that he should treat you better.”

Seungcheol’s tone leaves no room for argument, and you can feel your shoulders sag. You know that he’s right — and you hate it. 

“I know,” you admit, and all of your misplaced anger drains from you in seconds. “I know he should,” you repeat, feeling your remaining defenses start to crumble. “So why won’t he?” 

You say the last words so quietly that you’re surprised anyone hears you, but you know that at least Seungcheol has when his shoulders fall. You hear him inhale a breath, but you speak again before he gets a chance to say anything.

“I just don’t understand why I’m not worth the effort.” You can hear your voice crack, followed by silence, and then — you break. The tears are falling before you can stop them. You feel the couch shift as Seungcheol turns. Whatever hesitation he’d had about comforting you before seems to ease up as his hand finds your knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. You’re grateful, but you still can’t look at him.

“What about the people who do treat you well?” His tone is softer now, but you can tell he’s still upset by the tone of his voice. You don’t have a chance to answer before he speaks again. “I could tell you a million times how great I think you are, I could make a thousand plans to hang out, I could go on and on about how much I like being around you… but nothing will change until you figure out a way to believe me. I—“ He clears his throat. “We— care about you so much. All of us. We should be the people that matter.”

“But what did I do wrong? With him?”

Seungcheol’s hand on your thigh is gone in a flash. He stands up, and you miss his warmth immediately. “I don’t know what else to say,” he says, voice low. He’s angry, you can tell, but he would never admit to it. 

You want to apologize, desperate to bring him back to you, but you’re frozen. 

“I’m going to head out.” He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t look back at you. Jeonghan and Seokmin appear from the kitchen, but no one says anything except for a ‘drive safe’, and then he’s gone.

It’s silent for a moment, and then you say, “I fucked up.”

To your surprise, Jeonghan doesn’t scold or tease you. He doesn’t even agree. Seokmin disappears back into the kitchen to tend to the food Jeonghan was cooking, but Jeonghan himself joins you on the couch with a sigh.

“Listen,” Jeonghan starts. “You and I are similar — we always tend to focus on the people that don’t care. We want to be loved, so when someone doesn’t put in as much effort as us, we feel like we have to figure out why. We want to know what we did wrong, even though we didn’t do anything wrong at all. We forget that there are tons of people that love us a lot already. I love you, for example.” Jeonghan pinches your thigh affectionately, before he juts his thumb in the direction of your front door. ”Or what about that guy? The one who just left my apartment, pissed, because you let someone make you question your worth? He cares about you without thinking twice. For him, it’s effortless. You’re worth it, and you’ve never had to prove that to us. You just are, and always have been.”

You’re officially crying now. You know you’ve really upset Seungcheol, and you know your friends are all right. You know it, you know they love you and you love them, but why don’t you believe that you deserve it?

“I should go home,” you say softly, but your hand squeezes Jeonghan’s in acknowledgement, in a quiet thanks.

“I won’t say anything else except for this,” Jeonghan says gently. “I know you think Cheol is worth it, too. Being with someone doesn’t always have to feel like effort.” He shrugs. “Sometimes, it’s effortless.”

You spend the next week thinking, and thinking, and thinking, until the ball drops and you finally just do it. You block Junseok on every social media, you delete his number, and you’re proud of yourself for it. You don’t message your friends back very much throughout the week. Seungcheol in particular has been radio silent, but you suppose you deserve that. You don’t reach out first, instead taking the time to process everything that’s happened, to process everything you’re feeling — and not just about Junseok. 

You know that Seungcheol has always meant a little bit more to you than anyone else. Now, you’re wondering why you’ve never done anything about it — and you’re also wondering just how long you’ve been blind to the fact that Seungcheol most likely, almost definitely, likes you back. 

Y/N [5:36pm]: early Galentines dinner at my place this Sunday at 7?

You receive an almost immediate thumbs up from Seokmin and Soonyoung.

Hannie [5:43pm]: yaaaaas

Wonu [5:44pm]: might be a bit late but I’ll be there 

Kwanie [5:52pm]: NOOOOO I’m busy :(

Kwanie [5:52pm]: galentines?? WITHOUT ME????? UNBELIEVABLE

You smile at that, texting Seungkwan a private apology in a separate chat. Your heart jumps in your chest when you receive another notification, and you’re filled with relief so quick and intense that it feels like you’ve been doused in water.

Cheollie [5:58pm]: I’ll be there. Cheollie [5:58pm]: need help setting up?

You hug Seungcheol the second he walks through your door. He reciprocates, and you feel relieved and anxious and warm and fuzzy all at once.

Now, a half hour has passed, and neither of you have mentioned what happened the week before. He tells you about his week at work, and you hate the small talk but you know it’s all just the road back into the familiar ease of your friendship — so you participate. It’s only when you’ve finished getting ready for dinner, Valentine’s Day decorations and lights all strung up and ready to go, that he speaks up again. You’re preparing tea for the two of you when he catches you entirely off guard. 

“Will Junseok be joining us tonight?”

You can feel your shoulders tense up. You can tell that it pains him to say it, but you also know he’s the brave one for even bringing it up. You take a deep breath. 

“He’s not coming tonight, or any other night, actually.”

Seungcheol seems surprised as he hands you a mug from the cupboard before grabbing one for himself. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really.”

Seungcheol’s eyes follow you as you move across the kitchen to the kettle, pausing before speaking again. “I can tell.”

You turn back to him as you click the kettle on to boil, an eyebrow raised in his direction. “Was that sarcastic?”

The man smiles as he shakes his head. “No, I mean it. You seem happier than...” He trails off, but you both know what he’s thinking: than when I saw you last.

“I am,” you reply honestly, and it’s silent again for a moment before you both start to speak at the same time.

“Listen, I–”

“Hey, Cheol–”

You can feel warmth start to spread through you when he begins to laugh at your clumsiness — it had only been a week, but you’d missed that. You’d missed him. 

“You first,” you offer, and he nods.

“I’m sorry that I was frustrated when I left the other day,” he says, and you tilt your head in surprise at his apology. He shrugs before continuing, “I shouldn’t have left like that… but in my defense, I didn’t know you’d disappear for a week.” He’s joking, and you smile a bit at that.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Cheol.” He joins you at the counter and you begin to pour hot water into both mugs, eyes focused on the task at hand, but you can feel him next to you. It suddenly all feels so intimate, the way you’re making tea for him the way he likes it without him saying a word, the way he watches you move around in your kitchen as if he does it every day. 

You turn to hand him his tea and when your eyes meet his, you feel a flush begin to creep up your neck to find him already looking back.

“I mean it,” you say softly, and he hums in response, eyebrows raising as he takes a sip and waits for you to continue. “I really am sorry for not being around the last couple of weeks.” You hop up onto the counter, legs dangling off of it as you wait for your tea to cool. 

Seungcheol sets his mug down on the counter and sends you a soft smile, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “It’s okay. I get it.”

You nod, looking down, and pick at a thread on your jeans. “Thanks,” you say quietly, but he knows you’re not finished speaking. His eyes don’t leave your face, and his fingers still grip onto the handle of his mug as he waits, ever patient, for you to gather your thoughts. “I’m still sorry, though. I was just so overwhelmed and didn’t want to deal with it, so I let everything build up to a breaking point.”

“I promise it’s okay,” Seungcheol repeats. He’s being genuine — you can hear it in his voice. Your eyes meet his again, and you almost wish they hadn’t because you have more to say, and you might lose all of the courage left in you if he keeps looking at you like that. 

“Just… Just let me explain,” you request quietly, and he nods again. “I… I guess I just needed a bit of time to myself. To figure out what’s important to me.” You pause, choosing your next words carefully. “To figure out who is important to me.” 

You can feel your cheeks flush as you finish. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you this whole time, and you think your heart is in your throat now as he continues to gaze at you.

“Yeah?” 

Does he understand what you’re implying? Your eyes move to land on the dark strand of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. You suddenly feel a desperate need to reach out, to brush his hair back, to touch it. To touch him. Would he let you? Does he want that, too?

“Yeah,” you finally repeat, your quiet voice matching his as you meet his gaze again.

He moves then, slowly, almost as if he’s worried he’ll scare you off, shifting closer and reaching across your legs to set his mug in the sink. Your breath catches in your throat as he straightens back up in front of you, his now-empty hand falling to the counter beside your thigh. He’s standing right in front of you, caging you in between his arms, and you can’t look away.

“And what’s the verdict?” Comes his question, dark eyes searching yours.

“That I should start to focus more on the people that show me they care. Because those are the ones that I care about the most, too.” 

The tension in the air is palpable. 

Then his fingers gently, tentatively, brush against yours where they rest on the counter. He doesn’t do anything more, testing the waters, and it takes everything in you not to shiver. His gaze falls to your mouth, and you hold your breath — then he looks down and away from you, his eyes squeezing shut, and the moment is lost.

“Cheol?” You say carefully, desperate to get him to look at you again. He hums in response, but he doesn’t look up. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you feel like if you don’t say what you want to say right now, you never will. “Thank you.”

That seems to get his attention as he lifts his head to meet your gaze once more. You can tell he’s surprised as he murmurs, “For what?”

“For being here.” You’re not sure if that’s what you meant to say, or how you meant to say it, because it sounds far too simple for how you feel about the man in front of you. And then he smiles.

“Of course,” comes his reply. You watch as his smile grows and he says, “I was told there would be free beer.”

You blink at him for a moment, processing — and then you let out a single, surprised laugh. You feel some sense of relief wash over you as the tension between you breaks a little, as everything around you seems to soften. You feel a little bit like you’re glowing from the inside out, warm and fuzzy like the pink heart-shaped lights strung up around your apartment, and you wonder if he feels it, too. You’re starting to think that maybe he does.

“Cheol,” you say, and you offhandedly wonder why you’re saying his name so much. He grows serious again, but the lighter air between the pair of you gives you just enough confidence to continue. “I don’t just mean today,” you elaborate, your voice soft. You feel vulnerable now, even more than before, your eyes falling to your lap. “You’re always there when I need you, and even sometimes when I think that I don’t.” Seungcheol laughs quietly at that. “It means a lot to me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You mean a lot to me.” 

When you look up, you find him gazing back, and you abruptly realize that he’s moved even closer. The fingers that were playing with yours move up to your waist, and your entire body reacts to the warmth of his palm. 

“Is this okay?” He murmurs, a quiet question that threatens to overwhelm you. He’s making sure that you want this just as much as he does. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“More than okay,” you affirm. His mouth lifts at the sides, dimples just peeking through. Again, you think that there’s something more that you wanted to say, but your breath is caught in your throat and he’s just so… beautiful.

“I…” He trails off, and you watch as his eyebrows furrow. You’re desperate to be even closer as you wait, closing the final space between you to press your forehead to his. “It was so hard not talking to you this week,” is what finally he says, and though he hasn’t said much, you think you understand. 

I missed you. That’s what he’s trying to say.

You desperately want to communicate to him that you won’t leave him like that again, that you don’t plan on going anywhere, that the last seven days away from him sucked just as much for you. In a bold move, you ease your legs apart, leaving room for him to stand between them. Your calf moves to hook behind his knee, tapping against him in a silent request for him to come even closer. You hope he understands — that you want him close like this, that you missed him more than you think he realizes.

He seems to understand you just fine.

He easily fills the space you made for him, his chest nearly flush against yours now. He gives your waist a gentle squeeze, and you inhale a shaky breath as he brushes his nose against yours. Your hands have found his shoulders, grasping onto the material of his sweater, and his eyes fall shut.

The same, pesky strand of hair is falling into his eyes again, and you’re pretty certain that given your current position, you’re allowed to do something about it now. So you do, lifting a hand to gently brush it back and over his forehead, gaze following the movement. His eyes open at the touch, and a whisper of your name brings you back to him. 

The moment you lock eyes again, he’s leaning forward to capture your mouth with his. 

Your hand falls from his forehead to his bicep as you gasp into the kiss, as you try and process. When you do, when you realize what’s finally happening, you can’t get enough. You’re pulling him in so close that you feel a bit feral, your fingers pressing into his arms, his back, one hand finding its way to the hair at the nape of his neck. You can tell he’s not faring much better than you as he chases your lips relentlessly, as he pulls you into him so close that you can’t feel anything but him. 

When you finally need to breathe, your hands find his face. You pull back, eyes taking him in as he lets out a breath, like he can’t believe what’s just happened, either. He looks at you, and you look back, and you have no idea what to say or do — until suddenly, you’re beaming. You can’t help it as you pull him back in for one long, slow kiss, grin wide against his mouth, your hand moving again to the back of his neck. He’s smiling, too — your favourite smile of his, the one that’s completely, entirely genuine — and when he pulls away only to bury his face in your neck this time, you can feel the smile against your skin.

“Fuck, I’m in love with you.”

It’s quiet, whispered against your skin, but you hear it. Your fingers pause their trail up and down his back. You move his face back up to look at him, your eyes searching his, desperate to know if you heard him right. “Cheol?”

He kisses you again, once, twice, so slow and soft that it makes your head spin. “I love you,” he says, breathless against your lips. He waits for you as you let it sink in, his hands firm on your waist, eyes boring into yours so you know that he means it. 

You believe him.

“I love you too,” you whisper, foreheads moving to rest against each other once more. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be. It’s okay.”

He pulls you into his chest, and you can feel just how fast his heart is beating. You’re certain that yours isn’t doing much better.

“I do have a question though,” he says after a few moments pass, and you hum, urging him to go on. “You said you were going to spend more time with the people that care about you, right?” 

You move back to look at him and tilt your head in question. “Yes?”

“I’m guessing that includes Jeonghan and Hoshi and the boys,” Seungcheol muses, and you nod, your eyebrows raising. Then he pouts, and you sputter out a laugh.

“What’s that face for? They’re your friends, too!”

Seungcheol huffs. “Yes, but if you meant that you’re going to kiss them like that, too, then –”

You clap a hand over his mouth. “Ew!”

The man in front of you has a shit-eating grin on his face now, and you remove your hand. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“Trust me,” you shudder, “you’re the only one I’ve ever thought about kissing.”

“You’ve thought about it, huh?”

You look up at him, smacking his chest. “Shut up!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve thought about it too.” When he moves to kiss you again, you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Speaking of our friends,” you tease, “they’re literally going to be here any second. You have permission to kiss me as much as you want to later, okay?”

A/N: here it is! The first of our Thirteen Valentines. I have to be honest, I got a little carried away with this one... I'll put out a full disclaimer that not all of the fics will be this long! Seungcheol has a solid grip on me and I couldn't do anything about it, you guys.

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :)

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @savventeen @eoieopda

[citricacidprince]

could you draw the courtroom scene with relativity falls? (mabels bubble)

Gladly!!! I’ve already brought up some Stan Weirdmageddon Bubble stuff here, but the equivalent of the Mabel Trial for Stan makes me wanna blow up I just adore it!!

Okay, so first things first, here’s Captain Stan’s design, my precious baby boy <3

Figured it’d be fun to mix some aspects of Grunkle Stan’s Mr. Mystery outfit with a pirate twist, just for fun!

As for the ‘trial’, its more of a argument between two boys who just WONT talk about their issues

Fiddleford, Boyish Dan, and Anjelita are also there, but Stan isn’t mad at them. In fact, he doesn’t even care that they’re breaking the rules by being there, he’s only mad at Ford. He’s mad that Ford was just going to leave him behind and send Stan back to New Jersey by himself while he stayed and studied with their Grunkle Dipper. Leaving Stan all by himself at home. Alone to deal with their father. Alone with no friends. Alone to be the family disappointment.

But no matter how mad he gets at Ford, Stan can’t ever say that he’s hates him, and Stan would give him a million chances to fix things. So, instead of immediately throwing Ford off the deck of his ship, he gives him an ultimatum. A very easy solution to all of this.

All Ford has to do is say that he’s sorry, and Stan would let him go. He won’t leave the bubble because he actually really likes it in there, but he’ll let Ford go.

This.. doesn’t end very well

Stan, absolutely heartbroken, decides to make his brother walk the plank. If he’s dead to Ford, well then Ford is dead to him as well.

However, right before his crew could push Ford into the water, something happened.

You see, when Stan unknowingly gave the rift to Bill he only had one wish. That he’d never be alone again. So when he first appeared in his bubble it was actually completely dark and empty, except for a small light glowing in his hands. It was a little version of Ford. He smiled and laughed just like he did when they were a bit younger, and he said everything Stan wanted to hear.

Very quickly Stan realized he could manipulate the bubble and create anything that he wanted, just like he could back in the Mindscape. So he created what he knew. Glass Shard Beach, New Jerseys. It was full of never ending boardwalks, houses and attractions with silly names, and that beach he loved so much. It didn’t take long after that to realize it was still quite lonely, even with Lil’ Ford (a name he lovingly gave the small version of his brother). However, he didn’t want the town to be full of faceless nobodies or people he actually knew, that’d be weird.

Then he had the genius idea to just fill the town with himself! After all, he never had to worry about himself betraying him or leaving him behind!

Soon the town was overrun with imperfect duplicates of himself and he couldn’t have been any happier.

However, the duplicates were so much like him that it soon made a new problem arise. They started asking about Ford. Like, ‘Where is he?’ ‘Can you make one?’ ‘I miss having him around.’

Stan did have Lil’ Ford hidden under his pirate hat, but he didn’t want to tell the other Stans that he was there. He didn’t know exactly why he kept Lil’ Ford hidden away. Probably a mixture of bitterness and anger still aimed at his real twin brother and a selfishness to keep Lil’ Ford to himself. So he just declared that Fords were banned altogether and left it at that.

This was a problem when right as Stanford was about to pushed off the plank, Lil’ Ford came out from under the Captain’s hat and told Stan to stop all of this.

The two bicker for a moment and some Stans ask who that is, causing Lil’ Ford to happily state that he’s Stanley’s brother, that the two are going to sail the world together, and that he loves Stan very dearly.

This doesn’t go over well with literally any of the Stan on board and it especially doesn’t go over well with Ford

The Stans pull a mutiny and try to kill Stan because they don’t think he should be Captain anymore and one of them should run the town instead.

Hard cut to Boyish Dan, Anjelita, Fiddleford, Ford, and Stan having a high speed boat chase with other Stans and popping the bubble while escaping. (I like to think Stan popped the bubble at the last second with the help of Shanklin <3 )

Stan is NOT happy about having to leave his Weirdmageddon bubble.

“You should have left me in there. I was HAPPY there.”

“Who cares if you were happy, you were living a lie! A sad delusion! You should be happy we pulled you out of there!”

Boyish Dan has it cut in before the two start fighting right then and there

Stan eventually calms down enough to decide that he’s going to save their Grunkle Dipper from Bill, but there is a thick tension between Stan and Ford that last until the huge blow out fight at the Cipher Wheel

A fight that started because Stan wanted Ford to finally say it.

‘I’m Sorry.’

[bbydoll18xx]

I’ve Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Part 2)

You give Paige some guidance when it comes to self-pleasure.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Part 1

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4k

Themes: mentions of sex, sex toys, and some ~self-pleasure~

A/N: hiii guys!!! I honestly cannot get over the love for part 1. That was probably one of my favorite things I’ve written since I’ve been here on tumblr, and I’m so glad you guys shared the love 💜😚

I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint!!

Here we go!!

~

“You shoulda seen the way she was blushing! I’ve never seen her act that way!” KK roars to the rest of UConn’s women’s basketball team, the girls leaning forward in extreme interest as KK recounts how Paige had turned into a bumbling mess in your presence the day prior. 

“God, KK, shut up. I did not,” Paige whines, her face growing warm with humiliation. 

“There she goes again,” Jana teases, and the girls erupt into another round of laughter. 

“Y’all suck,” Paige pouts, walking off the basketball court and heading towards the locker room for a much needed reprieve. 

The taunting had yet to stop since she had stepped foot in the sex shop a week prior. KK and Ice had hunted down valuable information that a certain someone had worked there, and they had forced Paige to come inside, knowing you were standing behind the counter.

Paiges’ thoughts drift back to that day, as they had nearly a million times the past week, and she muses over the way your hair had flowed over your shoulders and your lips glistened pink.

Her crush on you was unwavering, the same way the ocean waves continuously kissed the shoreline. 

And despite what nearly everyone had perceived about Paige Bueckers, she was absolutely terrified when it came to expressing her feelings. Especially about you. So she bottled them up, settling for watching you from afar with a hope that maybe she’d muster up the courage to talk to you.

That was until her teammates had made the decision to do so for her. 

She really couldn't be all that mad at them.

Her crush on you had started three years ago. The two of you had shared a fondness for studying in the same area of the library, where it was quiet and away from the loudness of your respective roommates. Paige’s grades had always been good, but the daily motivation of seeing you, tongue occasionally peaking out in concentration and your body nestled in large, comfy-looking sweatshirts had Paige securing her place on the Dean’s List semester after semester. 

And with everything Paige did, she completely lacked subtlety when it came to you, and it only took a few longing glances in your direction for Ice and KK to connect the dots. 

~

“Oh, c’mon you can’t be mad at me,” KK whines, running into the locker room after Paige. 

Paige rolls her eyes. “Well, you ain’t gotta put me on blast.” She sits on the bench, putting her head in her hands.

“You’re being way too dramatic. She offered to show you how to use the damn toy,” KK stresses, and Paige’s face goes pink again.

“Soo,” she drags out the word with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Just take her up on the offer and boom you can have sex and then live happily ever after!” 

Paige’s eyes widen as KK, in the midst of her rambling, doesn’t see Coach Geno walk in behind her. 

Based on the look on his face, he had definitely heard KK, and he clears his throat, causing KK to whip around, her hand flying over her mouth as she pieces the situation together.

“Shit,” she mumbles under her breath, sending a weak smile over to Geno, who just waves her away, a disgusted grimace on his face.

But as Geno rambles on about how the practice went, Paige’s thoughts drift back to the way you suggested to help her. 

Would you really want to? Paige was navigating something completely new, and it was stressing her the fuck out.

If only there was a way to get rid of the pent up anxiety.

~

On the other side of campus, you were having a similar dilemma. You had been trying to work out what had come over you yesterday when you had boldly and uncharacteristically offered to teach Paige Bueckers how to use a vibrator.

The interaction plays in your mind for the millionth time, and you slap a palm across your forehead in frustration.

“I am so fucking stupid,” you groan, catching the attention of your roommate who was working on a paper at the seat across from you at your most favorite spot in the library.

“What’d you do now?” She asks, and you divulge her in yesterday's interaction with Paige, and her eyes widen.

“Dude, you have been drooling over her for the past three years, and you’re telling me you’re not going to wife her up?” She asks in a hushed whisper.

“I think she was just being polite,” you sigh. “We exchanged numbers, but I’ve been too scared to do anything.”

Charlotte shakes her head in mock derision, “I raised you better than that.”

You sit there a moment, contemplating. 

“Fuck. Okay, I’m gonna do it.” 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up Paige’s contact information, your fingers shaking slightly as they ghost over the keypad. 

“Hi, still need some help? If not, no big deal. Just thought I couldn’t leave a pretty girl stranded,” you read out to Charlotte as you compose the text, and she claps loudly in approval.

“God I hope she doesn't think I'm some sort of sex addict,” you moan, looking at the delivered sign under the text. 

~

Back in the locker room, Paige nearly chokes on a swig of water as your text appears on her screen. Aubrey, who is sitting next to her, slaps her on the back a few times, before leaning over to take a good look at what was causing the reaction.

Aubrey hoots loudly as she reads the text and promptly snatches Paige’s phone out of her hands to show it to KK, who had proudly deemed herself the captain of yours and Paige’s ship.

“FINALLY!” KK yells, fist pumping the air with great enthusiasm, and the whole locker room erupts into laughter again. 

Paige rereads the text. And then again. Your words were flirty and sure, just as they had been yesterday, and Paige is once again reduced to a blushing, simpering mess. 

She looks around the room, eyes wide and a shy grin on her face. “What do I say?” And the girls erupt again.

“Tell her you wanna fu—” KK starts eagerly before Azzi, who was sitting next to the younger girl, covers her mouth with a sharp look on her face. KK moves Azzi’s hand away, pouting and muttering to herself about how she’s “just tryna help Paige get some pussy.”

With pink cheeks and a pounding heart, Paige composes a reply, hiding her phone from the curious eyes of her teammates, hoping it seemed way more confident than she felt. You had a strange effect on her, reducing her assured ways into a bumbling mess, teetering on the edge of falling into madness.

And it was just the beginning. 

After all, you had yet to even touch her. 

~

That night you stand in front of Paige’s door with a pounding heart, determined to keep up the facade you had attached to your being, and as she appears on the other side, it is cemented. 

There was just something about seeing a bashful Paige Bueckers that makes your confidence soar, and you send her a cheeky smile, reveling in her mannerisms.

Paige leads you into her bedroom, and you immediately spot the purple vibrator laying atop of the comforter. 

You break the ice. “So what’s stopping you from finishing?” You ask, looking her in the eyes.

An embarrassed chuckle leaves those pink lips, and she rubs a hand over the back of her neck. “I guess I just keep gettin’ distracted,” she mumbles, and you nod in understanding.

“I like to think about someone,” you say boldly and pointedly. “If you close your eyes and immerse yourself into a fantasy, it’s almost like they’re there with you.” 

You watch as she takes a deep breath, like she’s mentally preparing for what she says next.

“Can I try again? And you can walk me through it?” 

The air leaves your lungs, surprised by her suggestion, and you agree before any other thought could cross your mind. 

The situation was something out of a filthy romance book, and as Paige undresses down to her boxers and her sports bra, you thank every star you had wished on the last three years for letting this happen. 

Paige settles onto her pillows, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, and with shaky hands, grabs the vibrator.

“P,” you say softly, and her eyes fly back open, meeting yours. “Use your hands first. Tease yourself, and let the arousal build up,” you suggest kindly, and she nods, putting the toy back down.

She runs her hands across her toned stomach, causing your own to lurch with want. Her hair was sprawled out on the pillows, and her bottom lip was red and plump from biting it, and despite just getting started, she looked completely fucked out. 

You secretly hope the image never leaves your memory.

Paige continues to tease herself, her fingers delicately dancing across the fabric of her boxers, and a quiet moan leaves her mouth. Her eyes are still closed in concentration, and you wished you could peer into her thoughts, hoping you were the object of her most intimate fantasies. 

And as if she could read your thoughts, your name leaves her mouth in a broken whimper that has you wanting to jump her bones and connect that sinful mouth with yours.

She’s panting now. Her eyes open, those crystal clear baby blues pleading for more. The unspoken words spoken between the two of you bridged a formidable bond, and you know at that point that this would lead to a whole lot more than offering friendly tips on masterbation. 

“Need more,” she whispers, her lithe body squirming on the bed hinting at her growing arousal. 

“Okay, baby, now take the vibrator and start at your tits and run it down your stomach,” you instruct, your voice nearly trembling. 

The quiet buzz fills the room before it’s cut with Paige’s whimpers as she runs the toy over her now exposed breasts. The pointed, pink peaks of her nipples make your own strain against the lace of your bra, and you shift uncomfortably in the gaming chair you are sitting in. 

The toy gets dragged over her belly, going lower and lower until it grazes the waistband of her underwear, and with a frustrated sigh, she lifts her butt to rip off the offending fabric. 

And now she was laid out bare in front of you, occasionally peeking at you, making sure you were still watching. 

You could not look away, and your body subconsciously leans forward toward the blonde girl. 

She places the buzzing toy on her clit, her back arching off the bed in response, moaning in pleasure. Her hips jump, grinding against the vibrator, desperately seeking an orgasm that had been denied from her several times over the past week. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” you whisper, enthralled with the display in front of you, and Paige opens her eyes once more at your praise, sending you a needy look and a pout. 

“Keep going,” you encourage, and she adjusts the vibration, a higher pitched buzz ringing through the small room. 

Paige’s skin glows with a subtle sheen of sweat and arousal that you want to meticulously lick, and her whimpers grow louder as she squirms, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“Fuck, gonna cum,” she groans, and you bite your lip, her noises effecting every fiber of your being. 

And with a loud moan, your name leaves her mouth, along with a long string of expletives, as her back arches off the comforter again. Her chest heaves as the orgasm rips through her, and her eyes roll back in overwhelming pleasure.

Your gaze rakes over her, taking in the gorgeous woman laid out before you, watching as she slowly comes down from the high. 

“Oh my god,” Paige breathes heavily, suddenly feeling exposed and shy again. 

“That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you admit, your own cheeks flushed with arousal, and Paige’s eyes trail to your peaked nipples straining against the fabric of your shirt. 

“I was thinkin’ of you the whole time. And that was the best fuckin’ orgasm I have ever had,” she responds, putting her underwear back on, much to your displeasure. 

“Thank you,” she adds shyly.

You shrug, moving to sit next to her on the bed, you run your hand across the flesh of her thigh, goosebumps erupting in its wake.

And before you can even make your own move, Paige connects your lips in an impassioned kiss that adds fuel to the fire that was raging in your core. The kiss was messy with unrestrained want and need, swapping unsaid words that had been brewing in both of your heads over the last three years.

The two of you had unknowingly fallen in love with the thought of each other, and now, here you were, falling right into each other. 

And it wasn’t going to stop there. 

~

The next afternoon, you are back at work, your mind continuously going back to the delicious display of Paige’s naked body. You had been on the edge all day, dying to get home to rub one out. Or four, if you were being completely honest with yourself. 

Sitting in the back room in front of the fan, desperately needing a cool off, you hear the familiar jingle of the bell on the front door, alerting you that someone had entered the shop. You take a few deep breaths, trying to compose yourself. 

It was hard to be cordial when you were surrounded by sex toys.

You walk out of the back room, your eyes immediately trained on Paige who was now standing at the front counter with a huge smirk on her face. 

Blushing you walk up to her, pressing your lips to hers, the taste of her mouth sending your body up in flames once more.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask breathily.

Paige gestures towards the package she had set on the counter with a wide smile. “Figured I’d add to the collection. Wanted to buy something for your pleasure,” she adds casually.

Your belly lurches as your eyes land on the strap on, a deep purple and six inches of thick rubber.

“Fuck me,” you breathe, feeling yourself drip with excitement at the thought.

“Oh, I plan to,” Paige grins, and she pulls you in for another kiss.

Things were just getting started.

~

This was a blast to write!! Also I am obsessed with shy, blushy Paige

xoxo katy

~

You can now read part 3 here

[obsessedwithceleste]

You’re Not Everyone Else

Lorenzo Berkshire x reader

Based on this request🫶🏽

Summary: Enz thought he knew everything there was to know when it came to wooing pretty witches, but it will take a lot more than the botanical gardens to win you over.

word count: 4.4k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

You glare menacingly at the offending bundle of flowers propped up perfectly against your pillow, practically glowing as the sunlight streams onto them through the window. As if it were a sign that the flowers were bloody heaven sent.

Daphne’s mouth is practically on the floor as she watches you dump the fresh bouquet of expensive looking tulips directly into the trash can.

The flowers had been waiting for you on your bed when you came back from class, and you didn’t need to read the note attached to guess who they were from.

You can tell that she wants to protest, but you cut her off before she’s able to even get a word in.

“Don’t. You know how I feel about Berkshire. It’s not going to happen.” You sigh, rolling your eyes at the mere thought of Lorenzo Berkshire actually managing to weasel his way into your heart.

That boy was no good. He had a pretty face and the charisma to go along with it. He was nothing but a womanizer and you had heard all the stories to prove it. In fact, there was probably an alphabetized list of all the girls that had fallen victim to Lorenzo Berkshire floating around somewhere. He practically had his pick of the litter when it came to the Hogwarts dating pool, and yet for some reason he had landed his sights on you.

You could remember the first time Daphne had brought you to the Parkinson estate, introducing you to all of her friends. He had been their. Young, but charming as ever. He had been kind then. And sweet. But that was just to lure you in. By Christmas that same year you had heard all about his escapades and wanted nothing to do with it.

Daphne, to her credit, had tried to dissuade you, vouching for her friend, but you could never quite see past the swirling whispers that seemed to damper the boy's shine. He was her friend. Fine. He had been her friend first after all, but that was all he'd ever be. A friend of a friend.

But it had been years at this point, of flowers being left in your dorm room, chocolates, even soppy love poems declaring his affection for you, but you were having none of it. And it seemed the more you pushed the boy away, the more determined he was to make you his.

“It’s so romantic though,” Daphne protests, looking like she’s debating fishing the flowers out of the trash can. It was the third bouquet this week. And it was only Tuesday.

“Pft. Manipulative is more like it. He only wants one thing Daph, and you know it,” you reply, collapsing onto your bed with an annoyed huff.

Your friend is silent for a moment, mulling over her words.

"You liked him at one point. You told me so," she says finally.

"Sure, when I was thirteen. He's only after me now cause he likes the chase. He'll get bored," you reply, rolling your eyes slightly and brushing off the girl's comment.

Your roommate lets out a sigh, wringing her hands as she takes a seat on her own bed across the room.

“Oh I don’t think Enz would do that to you. I’ve known him since we were kids. He seems so serious about this.” Daphne replies.

You’d heard Daph say that same thing what felt like a million times over since this whole thing started.

“Yeah, well. It’s going to take a lot more than the botanical gardens to win me over.”

Lorenzo Berkshire was infamously known around the halls of Hogwarts for his flirtatious tendencies. It didn’t bother him much, even though half the things being said about him weren’t true in the slightest. But really what was denying any of it going to do?

Let people think what they want was what he always thought. Only one person’s opinion really mattered anyway. Yours.

Lorenzo had always been the romantic of the group, not that there was really any competition for the title, but still. From the day he met you, he knew that you were the one. You were perfect. Funny, and smart, and kind, always playfully bantering with your friends.

He remembered the summer after third year when Daphne had introduced you to the group. All of you gathered at the Parkinson estate. You had swept Theo in chess and Lorenzo had just sat there staring at you. Completely mesmerized. After that everyone seemed to love you, and you seemed to get along with everyone too. Even him. At first.

The first few months were bliss. Lorenzo loved making you laugh, seeing you smile. He knew then that he was down bad. But then, halfway through your fourth year, it was like a switch had flipped. He didn’t have the faintest clue as to why you suddenly seemed to have a certain level of hostility towards him. But he knew that he missed you.

“What in Salazar’s name could I have possibly done wrong?” Lorenzo groans, head falling back, face in hands as he leans back on the common room sofa. “I thought I was doing everything girls want. I send flowers. I send sweets. I even wrote her heart felt poems about how I feel about her!”

“That is disgusting. Have some dignity,” Draco snorts from his spot across from Lorenzo who just sticks his tongue out at the blonde boy in response.

“Oh hush Draco. I think it all sounds perfectly reasonable,” Pansy remarks, giving Enzo a nod of approval.

“Well it would be perfectly reasonable if it worked! She won’t even give me a second glance. She’s so nice to everyone. Bubbly and sweet and talkative. But as soon as I’m around she clams up! Did you know she’s helping Mattheo with charms right as we speak? Bloody traitor he is.” Lorenzo laments.

To be fair, you had had an upstanding tutoring session with Mattheo for weeks now, instituted my Professor Flitwick, but minor details.

“Well she is pretty talented when it comes to charms,” Daphne says awkwardly, lips pursed as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, trying not to be noticed.

Pansy squints at her friend, squirming and fidgeting. It was entirely unlike her. She was usually the one with her head screwed on correctly.

“Hold on Daph. You know something. What is it?” She demands.

Daphne looks at the raven haired girl in alarm, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders not daring to utter a word.

“Daph, come on, look at this man. He’s utterly pathetic,” Draco adds, gesturing towards the distressed brunette. Enzo glares at his friend.

“Just spit it out,” Pansy orders.

“She thinks you’re just trying to use her for sex!” Daphne blurts out, crumbling under the pressure.

Lorenzo blinks once. Then again.

“What?”

Daphne just shrugs once more rather helplessly as the group just stares at her as if she would solve all of Enzo’s problems.

“To be perfectly fair, there are a lot of rumors about you that have been circulating for years. I think, you just might be coming off a bit- ah, disingenuous perhaps?” Daphne says finally.

She could practically see the gears working in Lorenzo’s head as he takes in her words. She’s a bit worried she’d broken him when he remains silent for what seems like forever.

“I have so much work to do,” he announces finally, standing up and marching off to his dormitory, a look of fierce determination sketched onto his face.

“Oh now look what you’ve done Daph,” Draco groans, looking at the retreating back of his friend.

“She’s the one who made me say something,” Daphne protests, pointing an accusatory finger at Pansy.

“Shush Draco. None of us wanted to hear him monologue about his undying love again anyway,” Pansy retorts.

To be quite honest, you were feeling a bit ambushed as none other than Lorenzo Berkshire plopped down beside you on the sofa that you had claimed in one of the rather abandoned corners of the library.

“Afternoon love,” he chirps happily, shooting you one of his famous smiles. The kind that normally made girls melt at the mere sight.

“Hello Lorenzo.”

“You never responded to my note,” the boy chatters on, ignoring your clear disinterest in his presence. You really weren’t sure if the boy didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

“What note?”

The boy blinks at you. “The note I sent with the tulips the other day?” He replies, as if it should have been obvious.

“Oh. I threw those away.”

“Oh, you threw them aw- what?” He asks, apparently caught off guard by your nonchalant answer.

“I threw them away, placed them in the trash can, sentenced them to eternal damnation. Do try to keep up Enz.”

“Wha- why?” He splutters, genuinely looking a bit hurt.

You look at the boy raising an eyebrow. "I throw away all of your flowers."

"All of them?"

"Are you daft?"

Lorenzo's jaw is practically on the floor, his ego clearly being knocked down a peg or ten.

"Yes- I mean no- I mean- why are you throwing away my flowers?" He splutters.

Growing increasingly more frustrated, you glare at the boy.

"Can you quite down? And if I can be quite honest Lorenzo, I'm not exactly your biggest fan. It's nothing personal of course, you understand," you sigh, trying to get back to your reading.

Enzo is having none of it however as he tries to replay every interaction he could think of between the two of you. He simply doesn't understand. He thought he'd never been anything but a gentleman to you.

"You don't like me? Me specifically? But- you like everyone!"

It was true. Lorenzo had never heard a bad thing about you from anyone. Not even Draco had a bad word to say since you seemed to go out of your way to show kindness to everyone around you.

"Yes well, you're not everyone else Lorenzo."

Lorenzo's mind races as he stares at you in shock. You looked awfully lovely today. Damn it, stay focused. He just wanted you to see him. Was that too much to ask?

"I'm not just trying to use you for sex!" he blurts out, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth, staring at you wide eyed. Real smooth Berkshire.

With a groan, you snap your book shut, closing your eyes in frustration as you realize that you're not going to be getting any reading done with Lorenzo sitting next to you.

Taking a slow inhale, you turn to get a good look at the boy beside you. Fluffy brown hair, warm, earnest eyes, only marred by the subtle pout adorning his lips.

“Let’s just say I were to give you a chance-“ you start.

“You won’t regret it. Pick you up at 8 tomorrow!” He replies, jumping in, the widest smile gracing his face.

Looking at the boy was like looking at a golden retriever puppy. You knew he was anything but, but how could you say no to that face?

“Alright Berkshire. One chance. Then, I never want to hear about this again.”

He was not going to blow this. He simply wouldn’t allow himself to. Everything that he had been working for these past months was leading up to this, he just couldn’t let it slip through his fingers. Enzo was giddy with anticipation as he lead you carefully down the cobblestone path.

“You better not be leading me out to the forest to murder me,” you call out to the boy behind you, his hands firmly in place over your eyes.

You were only half joking.

Before he even needs to respond, Enzo drops his hands and you’re immediately hit with bright sunlight.

“Where are we?” You ask in shocked amazement, staring around at the garden before you. It was straight out of a fairytale really. Bright, glowing green leaves, flowers of every color. There were even little, glittering sprites dancing about the flora.

“Hogwarts gardens. You never been?” Enzo asks, walking over to a spread on the lawn that you hadn’t even registered yet.

It was clear that he had put in some effort. The soft blanket laid out on the grass was littered with fruits and pastries, even a variety of little sandwiches.

“Didn’t even know this place existed,” you mutter, allowing the boy to guide you to a nice, sunny spot on the lawn.

“I’ve been working out here with Sprout for years. My favorite place,” Enzo tells you offhandedly, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

Under the warm sunlight, he looked unreal. Like an ethereal creature who took a wrong turn and somehow ended up sitting in front of you. You really could see what all the fuss was about when he was staring intently at you, a soft smile gracing his lips.

Wait.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realize you’d been staring as well, but Enzo doesn’t seem to mind.

“I think Daph mentioned that you were some herbology buff,” you say in an attempt to recover a bit of your dignity.

Enzo smirks. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. I am top of the class.”

“I thought that honor went to Longbottom,” you reply, picking at the food in front of you.

Lorenzo's face turns to a grimace.

"He could be real competition if he weren't a such pyromaniac. Sprout is still giving him the cold shoulder after he almost burned her prized Cobra Lily. Thing deserved it though. Always hissing at me."

You don't know why, but you can't help but let out a laugh at the thought of the Lorenzo Berkshire having an ongoing feud with a plant.

"Haha, yeah. You laugh now, but that bloody plant has been antagonizing me for weeks. I'm one hiss away from dropping the damn thing off of the astronomy tower." He responds sarcastically to your laughter, only causing you to fall into a further fit of giggles. The brunette boy just sticks his tongue out at you in defeat.

"Oh come on now, that's no way charm a witch," you tease, pulling yourself together as you grin at the boy in front of you.

"Yeah, well I've tried every other way I can think of, so it was worth a shot," Enz replies, his joking smile not quite reaching his eyes.

Your grin falters as Enzo's eyes drop to the grass surrounding the both of you and you take in the sudden silence of the gardens.

"It's hard to believe someone actually likes you when you're just another face in the crowd," you say finally, not willing to meet the boy's eyes.

"You don't have to believe me now. I'll wait."

It was a moment of sincerity that you weren't expecting out of the boy. Usually he was all jokiness and smiles. Not a bad quality by any means, but you were never sure when you could trust the boy's words. You felt like you could trust him now though, in that moment.

After that, you find yourself quite enjoying your afternoon. You had forgotten how easily the two of you actually got on when you weren't avoiding the boy like the plague. He had so many stories about the gardens, and it quickly became apparent that the particular spot he had brought you to was his sanctuary. It was nice getting to hear him talk, without all the extra noise and whispers, and off-putting looks from your classmates. You had missed him.

In the days following your garden excursion, Enzo keeps his word- backing off a bit from his pursuit for your affection. He was still around of course as you shared a friend group, but the excessive love poems had stopped and the next bouquet of tulips that appeared in your dorm was addressed to both you and Daph which she was thrilled about.

Over the next few weeks, it did not go unnoticed by you that your eyes had seemingly become magnetized to a certain brunette boy, quietly observing. He'd caught you watching a few times, tossing you one of his famous, dazzling smiles.

Slowly, you find yourself seeking the boy out on purpose as you found that you rather liked the way he had been able to make you laugh so easily that day in the garden. You had forgotten how much fun he was to be around. How warm and happy you felt when he looked at you. And he was rather sweet when he wanted to be. You had known the boy for years at this point. You thought you could read him like a book, but he still managed to surprise you.

In fact, you were as surprised as anyone to find yourself seated next to the boy in your astronomy class. It was a relatively new seating arrangement, but you found that he made the late night class significantly more tolerable. You didn't know what time it was now, but it was late, and you were tired.

"If you fall asleep, I'm not going to catch you if you fall out of the tower," Enz whispers in your ear as you fight to keep your eyes open and trained on the night sky.

"Yes you would, you’re too obsessed with me to let me fall," you respond, still able to feel his breath on the back of your neck.

You couldn't remember when the two of you got so comfortable with one another, but it had happened so quickly you almost didn't realize. Almost.

He hums in response, backing away and scribbling down the name of some constellation before gazing out at the sky once more.

“Whose idea even was it to let sleep deprived teenagers take a class at midnight in a tower without railings. They’re practically asking for a student to fall,” you grumble, slumping against Enz dramatically.

He lets out a soft snort of laughter this time as he continues to chart different constellations onto his parchment. You had finished the night's assignment ages ago and now had nothing to do but watch him quietly, resting your chin on his shoulder as he draws perfect little stars.

“What’s that?” You ask, reaching over the boys shoulder to pull something out of the notebook.

The soft pink color had caught your eye, peeking out of the pages, and a gentle tug reveals the petals of a tulip, followed by a green step. The flower isn’t as vibrant as it should be, and is flattened like a book page.

Enzo pauses, looking at the flower carefully.

“That’s from the first time we met.” He says, trying hard to sound casual. He continues to stare down at his notebook, but the stiffness in his arm makes it clear that he isn’t focused on stars anymore.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion.

“Pansy doesn’t have tulips at the estate,” you reply, suddenly feeling more awake.

“No. But the greenhouse here does.”

Feeling even more confused, you tilt your head, waiting for Enzo to go on.

He carefully plucks the flower out of your hand, tucking it safely back into his notebook.

“The first time we met was in second year. We were learning the Herbivicus charm and I just couldn’t get it. But you got it so quick. You helped me, and that’s the flower we grew.”

You don’t know what to say. You don’t even remember that day. It seemed so insignificant to you at the time.

“And you kept it?” You ask, your confusion amplified by your sleepy haze.

“I liked you,” is all you get in response.

You’re quiet after that, watching silently as Enzo scratches away at his parchment. His eyes flickering over to you nervously every so often. It was strange seeing him without his usual confident smirk.

As class eventually wraps up, the two of you slowly make your way down the winding staircase, quickly falling behind the other students who were racing off to get some much needed rest.

Your feet reach the final step with a muffled thud as you come to a hesitant stop. Normally this is where you and Enzo would split off for the night, but looking up at the boy, rays of moonlight glowing across his face, you can’t find it in yourself to move away.

With a sudden wave a confidence, impulsiveness, and probably a fair bit of deliriousness, you find yourself grabbing onto the collar of Enzo’s shirt, pulling down, and crashing his lips onto yours.

It takes a moment for realization to fully hit Enz, but you quickly find yourself back against the cold stone wall, Enzo’s lips still firmly on yours, deepening the kiss as he boxes you in. He moves against you with sheer lust, years of pining pouring out.

You vaguely feel his hand moving up your thigh, gripping tightly at your waist before moving up to cup your face, thumb brushing against your cheek softly tilting your head up further as his lips move against yours.

It’s hot, and dizzying, and just, right. You’re not quite sure how to describe it.

When Enz finally pulls away, you can feel his breath against your lips from his soft pants as he looms over you.

“I think a like you too,” you murmur, lips just barely brushing his with every word.

That’s apparently all Enzo needed to hear before he’s practically carrying you back to his dorm.

It’s a blurry haze as you find yourself pulling him onto the bed, lips connecting once more as your bodies move methodically against each other. It’s as if you’d simply turned off your brain, any worries or doubts scattering to the winds as Enzo’s warmth overtakes you.

The next morning a wave of icey cold fear washes over you as you realize what you’d done. What had you been thinking? All these years of avoiding him and for what? Rolling over in the tangle of sheets, Enz is still fast asleep, bathed in streams of sunlight peaking through the curtains. He really was gorgeous.

“Mornin love,” his voice shaking you from your thoughts.

“Hi,” you reply cautiously, turning to meet the boy’s eyes.

His eyes shine as he grins contentedly at you, pulling you closer so your noses are practically touching.

“I can tell what you’re thinking. Stop it. You’re stuck with me now,” he says, pressing a quick peck onto your lips.

Your face grows warm as he continues to pepper your face with kisses.

“I don’t ever want to leave this moment,” you sigh.

You can feel Enzo’s smile.

“I’m that good am I?” He asks cockily.

You snort. “Don’t want to have to admit to Daph that I can actually tolerate you for extended periods of time.”

“Aw, c’mon now love, don’t be like that,” Enz chuckles, tapping your nose lightly with his finger.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh as you feign annoyance, batting his hand away.

“I’m going back to sleep. I don’t want to deal with you anymore,” you tease, rolling over.

Enz just laughs, snaking his arm around you and pulling you close, pressing a kiss on the back of your head.

“Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go,” he murmurs as you allow your eyes to flutter shut once more.

“Wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”

Did I start writing this way back in April? Yes. Do I remember what the original plot was going to be? No. Is this edited? Also no.

Anyway, Live Laugh Love Lorenzo Berkshire🤪

[munsonsmixtapes]

Backseat

older!rich!Eddie x younger!fem!reader

summary: Eddie is a regular at the store where you work and flirts with you every chance he gets

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) oral (f receiving) Eddie had a degradation kink, Eddie ties reader up, use of the word whore, age gap (reader is 25 and Eddie is 40)

Based on a comment on this post by @n0t-even-try1ng-2

You watched Eddie enter the store as you folded a shirt and put it on the table with the others that were just like it. He had come in very regularly and you wondered just what he did to his clothing in order to need a new shirt every week.

He made a beeline for you with a bright smile. He was dressed in his usual suit so you assumed he just got off work. You didn’t know what he did, but you assumed that it was important considering that he wore a suit everyday. Maybe he was a lawyer or something along those lines. His long hair was perfect, not a single hair out of place and you found yourself wanting to run your fingers through it. It just looked so soft and pretty.

“Hey, stranger,” he greeted with his million dollar smile.

“Hello, Eddie,” you nodded. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” It wasn’t like you were counting or anything. Okay, maybe you were.

“Yeah, work’s been kind of busy,” he shrugged. “I’ve been getting off after you close, which is a huge disappointment because I missed you-I mean, you guys.” Nice save.

“Well, we have some new stuff in if you’re interested.” You led Eddie to the rack where the new clothing items were located and he stood behind you. He reached up and grabbed onto a blue button up shirt and you didn’t miss the way his hand rested on your hip as he did so.

You looked down at his hand and slowly brought your hand up to rest on top of his. You had been wanting him to touch you for months, maybe in a more inappropriate way, but you were going to take whatever you could get.

You had been crushing on him for months and you knew that a relationship between the two of you would be inappropriate, but you couldn't help but fantasize about it. He was so hot and older and knowing that you probably shouldn't have been interested in him only made you want him more.

"What do you think?" He asked as he held the shirt up to his chest. The color complimented him perfectly, making his brown eyes pop.

"I like it. You should try it on." Eddie began to unbutton his shirt and you put your hands on top of his. "Not here, silly!" You giggled. "In the dressing room."

"I think I need some help. These buttons are awfully tricky," he winked and grabbed you by the hand, pulling you to the nearest dressing room.

He pulled the door open and dragged you inside before slamming it closed. As soon as you were out of the view of the cameras, your hands immediately went to Eddie’s shirt, unbuttoning it as slowly as possible. 

Once it was unbuttoned, you eyes the tattoos that were all over his torso, curious about them and what they meant. Maybe you could have asked him later. He put the other one on and you buttoned it up, moving even slower as a way to tease him and he was playing right into your hand, falling for it so easily. 

He then turned to the mirror, moving this way and that to see how it looked and he immediately decided that he liked it. He wanted to buy it with the intention of having you rip it off him, the buttons flying everywhere as you did so. And then he’d buy another for work because he really did think that it suited him. 

“What do you think?” He asked as he turned to face you and you studied him, wondering how he looked good in every single color. It was honestly unfair. 

“Very handsome,” you replied, moving your hands up to fix the collar that had gotten moved when he had put the shirt on. Your fingers brushed his neck as you pulled the collar down and he felt his cheeks burn as thought about what they would feel wrapped around his neck, giving it a little squeeze. He just wanted you to do the most filthy things to him and he just knew that you’d enjoy it just as much as he would. 

“I’ll take two,” he said before leaning down so that his lips were right by your ear. “One for work and one for you to rip to shreds,” his hot breath on your skin mixed with his filthy words was making a mess of your cunt. “I don’t want it to even look like a shirt when you’re done with it.” 

He pulled back to look at you and the sexual tension between the both of you was palpable. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and Eddie slowly brought his thumb up to remove it. Once it was free from your teeth, he ran his thumb along it slowly, removing some of your lipstick, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind at all. In fact, you wanted nothing more than for him to kiss you so roughly that it smeared all over both of your faces.

Before you could register what he was doing, he grabbed hold of your hips and pushed you up against the door. He pressed his lips to yours roughly and you responded quickly by wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible. His lips moved down to your neck and he peppered the spot with kisses before giving it a rough suck. You let out a loud moan and quickly covered your mouth, suddenly remembering that you were at work. You pushed him off of you and fixed your shirt, looking at yourself in the mirror to make sure that you looked presentable. You definitely didn’t with your hair all messed up and your lipstick smeared all over your face.

“Let me clock out really fast,” you told him as you checked the time on your phone to make sure that it was okay for you to do so. You pulled Eddie over to the register and checked him out before shooing him out of the store. He stole another kiss before heading out to his car to wait for you while you finished closing up. 

You did your duties as quickly as you could, but still made sure that they were done correctly as you occasionally turned to the car that was in front of the store. The very handsome man was sitting in the driver’s seat, his eyes looking at you hungrily.

You usually took your sweet time to lock up so you’d get a little extra cash for staying later, but not tonight. Tonight, you had something waiting for you and it was worth losing the few extra dollars if it meant he was going to fuck you senseless. 

You locked the doors as quickly as possible before getting into the passenger seat of Eddie’s very nice, very expensive car. You turned to him and he was already looking at you, lust filling his eyes. Without a word, his hand moved to the back of your head and he pulled your face to his, your lips crashing together. He took no time to lick into your mouth, trying to speed up the process since he was already very hard and getting even more so by the second. 

His hands moved up your top and he quickly removed it from you, wanting to see just what kind of bra you were wearing. It was black and lacy and he wondered why you were wearing something so scandalous to work. 

“This is pretty,” he complimented as his free hand ran over the lace, his cold fingers brushing along your skin causing a shiver to run up your spine. “You wear it for me, sweetheart?” He joked. 

“Yes,” you breathed, completely serious. 

“Did you think you’d get lucky?”

“I was hoping.”

“Yeah?” He asked as he unhooked your bra and tossed it into the backseat. “Been dreaming about this, hm?” His hand moved to your tit and he began to massage your nipple with the pad of his thumb. “Been dreaming about all the things I’d do to you?”

“Yes,” you moaned and Eddie put on a devilish smirk, loving that he had you exactly where he wanted you. 

“Good,” he moved his hand to the other nipple. “Because I’ve been dreaming about it too. Christ, you’ve been torturing me every damn day. Did you know that? It’s like you’ve been wearing those skimpy tops on purpose.”

“Maybe I have.” You bat your eyelashes and that was the final straw. Eddie pressed his lip to your chest and gave it a rough suck, causing you to moan loudly. Music to his ears. He licked and sucked all over, wanting to hear more of those delicious sounds. 

He moved his way down to one of your tits and brought your nipple into his mouth, moving his tongue back and forth along it, teasing you a bit before going in for the main event. He gave the sensitive spot a rough suck and you whined in response, wanting even more than he was giving. You were getting needy and he was eating it up. 

Just as your vision was going hazy, Eddie brought the thing between his teeth and nibbled on it, giving you a little taste, wanting you to bed for the full thing. He needed to hear the words fall from your lips, wanting to hear you whine for him. 

“More, Eddie,” you whimpered and he did as you asked, biting down a little harder. “Harder.” Your whines were getting pathetic and he was getting super hard. He bit down as hard as he could without actually breaking the skin and you screamed his name as you reached your first climax. Eddie pulled away with another smirk, convinced that was the fastest he had ever made a girl cum. Less than twenty minutes and you were already a fucking mess. 

He looked down at his creation of hickeys all along your chest and smiled to himself, thinking that was his best work. He then pressed his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth again, swirling his tongue around it, wanting to taste every inch of it. 

You pulled away and started to move to the backseat, pulling Eddie with you by his tie that you hadn’t noticed he had put back on until now. He followed you eagerly and as soon as you were both seated, you started to remove his tie. Once it was off, you handed it to him, your eyes going dark. 

“Tie me up,” you commanded and Eddie blinked at you, almost as if he didn’t understand you. 

“Wh-”

“I said tie me up,” you commanded and Eddie nodded furiously, wanting to obey. 

“Need you to take my shirt off first, sweetheart, then I promise that I’ll tie you up.” Your hands went to his shirt and you unbuttoned it as fast as you could, desperate for him to actually get inside you. You couldn’t wait any longer and swore that your pussy was aching from how long you had been longing for his cock. 

As soon as his shirt was discarded, he grabbed your wrists firmly and lifted them over your head. He then looped the tie through the handle that was connected to the side of the door and tied it tight, looking down at your face to see that flirty look that always drove him crazy. 

Once he was done, he lowered himself down onto you and licked and sucked on your stomach, slowly but surely making his way down to your jeans, hearing your pathetic little whines as you begged for him. 

“Eddie, please,” you begged. “Need you so fucking bad.” He looked up at you as he slowly unbuttoned your pants, taking his time sliding the zipper down. He then practically ripped your jeans off of you as he slid them quickly down your legs. He then discarded them before removing your underwear, spreading your legs wide to get a good look at your cunt. 

It was sopping wet and he licked his lips as he thought about what you tasted like. But that would have to wait. He wanted to fill you up first and lap up the combination of his cum mixed with your slick, just knowing that it was going to taste heavenly. That you would taste heavenly. 

“Shit, sweetheart. Is this all for me?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your cunt. 

“Who else would it be for?” You asked, your tone a little angry since he seemed to be taking his time. 

“Don't take that tone with me,” he commanded. “Or else I’ll have to punish you.”

“Maybe I want to be punished,” you replied. 

“Alright,” he sighed. “You asked for it.” He unbuckled his belt and quickly pulled his pants along with his underwear, letting his massive cock spring free. 

He rolled a condom onto it and before you realized what was happening, he pounded it into you, causing you to let out a loud moan. He gripped your hips, digging his fingers into your skin as he thrusted in and out. 

You looked up at him, watching his chest move as his breathing became labored. He was looking down at your with a devilish smirk and you didn’t like how he knew just how much you were enjoying yourself. Like he had you all figured out. By the end of the night, you’d know him like the back of your hand. You intended on it. 

“Oh my god,” you mewled. “So good.” 

“Look at you,” he said as his hands moved to your ass, his fingers digging into the skin so hard that they were definitely going to leave marks. “Taking it like such a good whore.” 

“If anyone’s the whore,” you said through labored breaths. “It’s you.” And he was. You knew he had a reputation around town and he was definitely living up the hype. So many women had talked about how good he was in bed and they were definitely right. Maybe if you were lucky, next time he’d actually invite you into his bed instead of the back of his car. 

Eddie was loving the way your were speaking to him. It always seemed like women just did what he wanted just because he was asking. But he loved that you spoke your mind and weren’t afraid to give it back to him. 

He gave your ass a rough slap and you gasped, but had to admit that you loved the sting. He somehow knew exactly how you liked being fucked and he didn’t even have to ask. 

“What did I tell you about talking back?” He asked, giving your ass another hard slap. He pounded into you again and again, your sounds becoming music to his ears. He had fucked more women than he could count, but you were definitely becoming his favorite. 

“You didn’t say anything.” And he hadn’t. He had just told you that he didn’t like your tone. He retaliated by thrusting all of him inside of you and your vision went hazy for the second time as you felt another orgasm building. 

“Eddie,” you whined. “I think I’m gonna-” your words were cut off by a loud scream escaping your mouth. 

“That’s right, princess,” he cooed. “Let it out. God, look so fucking pretty on my cock.” His thrusts continued until he let out a scream of his own before slowing down. He then pulled out and disposed of the condom before untying you. 

“You wanna know where else I’d look pretty?” You asked, batting your eyelashes again. 

“Where?” He was trying to piece it together, but he couldn’t figure out what you were referring to. 

“On your face,” you replied, pushing him down so that his back was to the seat. 

“Fuck, okay,” he nodded enthusiastically as you hovered over him. You placed a messy kiss on his lips then he helped you place yourself onto his face. Your legs were spread wide so he had total access to your cunt and he could feel your slick all over his face, fully prepared to lick up every last drop once he was done. 

You held onto the handle that hung on the roof as his tongue moved back and forth across your slit. Moans already falling from your lips at the small action. He licked and sucked on the spot, moving you lower down his face just slightly so he could see just how undone you were becoming with just the movement of his tongue. 

“Eddie, shit,” you moaned and he saw that as an invitation to continue, moving his hands to your ass once more, digging his fingers into your cheeks.

His teeth grazed your cunt and you knew you were done for. The pressure on the sensitive spot was driving you absolutely wild and you would have been happy with him doing just that the whole night. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he shoved his tongue inside you, swirling it around until he hit just the right spot. 

“Fuck,” you mewled, throwing your head back as ecstasy rolling through you. You were feeling almost drunk, but you weren’t ready to give up just yet. Not when it was just getting good. 

Another scream fell from your lips and now your throat was feeling raw, but you still wanted to keep going. Especially when it felt so good. 

Eddie removed his tongue from you and went back to licking and sucking, wanting to lap up every last bit of your slick. You tasted absolutely divine, so much so that he could have eaten you out for hours. All the sounds you had made in response were all just a bonus. 

He brought his teeth back in again and you reached yet another orgasm, another scream tearing through you. This one was more intense than the others, taking every last bit of strength you had with it. You were suddenly feeling so tired and limp. 

Once he could see just how tired you were, he decided to call it quits. He helped you off of him then took some napkins from his glove compartment, cleaning the both of you up before getting you both dressed. 

He then helped you into the passenger seat, knowing that you were in no position to drive at the moment. You were too blissed out to even speak properly. God, he wished he could make you feel like that every night. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” He asked. “Or we could go back to my place. Whichever you prefer.” 

“Your place,” you responded a little too quickly. “For sure.” 

“Good,” he nodded, placing his hand on your thigh as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Because that’s what I was hoping.” And he was. He was looking forward to letting you borrow some of his pajamas and snuggling with you in his bed. And in the morning, he was going to make you a big breakfast complete with everything you could have ever wanted. He was going to absolutely spoil you and you were going to eat it up. 

[brokenmenswhore]

the sink | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: modern!aegon x fem!reader

summary (i am so shit at writing summaries): at a party, y/n sees aegon in a compromising position

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), choking, drinking, rough sex, aegon is a lil mean <3

────── ☾ ──────

Parties were never really your scene. You told your best friend, Heleana, that you didn’t really want to go, but she convinced you that you were wasting your chance at university experiences by sitting in your dorm, and she was right. You wouldn’t be in university forever, and you could only truly live right now.

Her brother, Aegon, was campus-renowned for his parties. Heleana & Aegon lived in a rather large mansion off-campus, seeing no need to move onsite and leave such a lavish place, and it was close enough to drive.

You and Aegon never got along. He was arrogant, a playboy, and had no care for his studies or his sister. All he wanted to do was fuck about and drink, and he didn’t like that you gave him attitude whenever he said something particularly ghastly, but you didn’t care. You didn’t like him and you didn’t care if he knew it. You could handle your own with him, and everything he did annoyed you.

You personally hated driving to Heleana’s house. The roundabout driveway only allowed a certain number of cars, and had no definitive parking spaces. It was a free for all, as you told her the second you walked through the door.

“Oh hush, I’m just glad you came,” Heleana smiled, “come! Drinks are in the kitchen.”

Heleana’s house never failed to astound you. You had been here several times, having been close with Heleana for a few years, and still, you didn’t know which room was which. If she asked you to retrieve anything from a specific room upstairs, you’d end up lost.

You followed suit, downing a good portion of a beer the second it was handed to you.

“Eager, are we?” Heleana laughed.

“Oh come on!” you retorted, “you said it yourself, I never get out. Well, I’m out, and I’m not gonna waste it!”

Heleana sipped her beer and giggled at your enthusiasm. “Maybe you should channel that energy into, I don’t know, a boy?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “And why would I do that?”

“You’ve been so wound up and stressed from exams lately, I just think you could use an outlet! Sue me.”

You laughed, not responding as a method of moving on from the subject.

“Fine,” Heleana broke the silence, “but you’re dancing with me.”

“No, I-“

“You’re dancing!”

With that, Heleana pulled you into the living room, forcing you to dance with her. You didn’t mind too much, eventually having fun with the feeling of dancing and the slight buzz in your brain. After a few hours of dancing and mingling, you felt your energy and social battery depleting. Heleana, ever so attentive, noticed.

“Why don’t you go get some air?” she asked.

“There’s a million people outside, Hel,” you responded, “I honestly don’t think it would make a difference.”

“Why don’t you head up to my room then? No one is allowed upstairs. Well, except Aegon, because he lives here, but he’s probably out by the pool drunk or something.”

You smiled at her. “Thanks, Hel.”

You made your way up the stairs, quickly remembering that you had absolutely no idea where you were going. You climbed back down a few steps, looking over the banister to try to find Heleana so you could ask her which room was hers again, but it was to no avail. It would be impossible to find her in this crowd.

I’ve been here a thousand times, you thought, I can find my way to her room, it really can’t be that hard, and I’m really not that drunk.

You turned down the first hallway you spotted, trying to retrace your steps from the last few times you’d been in the house, still denying any sense of drunkenness you felt. You decided on a door you thought may be right, and opened it.

It was not Heleana’s room.

Aegon had his face buried in between a girl’s legs, her body seated on the bathroom sink as he kneeled on the floor, her fingers in his hair. You couldn’t move for a second, completely bewildered by the sight in front of you, as the girl let out a particularly filthy moan. You caught yourself and turned to leave, but right when you clicked the door shut, it swung open again.

“What the fuck are you- oh, it’s just you. Fucks sake, I thought she had a boyfriend that was catching us or something. Don’t scare me like that, Y/N,” Aegon said, chin glistening with wetness.

“That’s very ethical of you, sleeping with someone you know is taken,” you replied, your distaste for him evident in your tone, “I was just looking for Heleana’s room. Sorry.”

“On the other side of the house?”

You looked at Aegon confused, signaling to him that you genuinely had no idea you were in the wrong place.

“Tell me, Y/N,” he started, “have you always looked that fucking good in black?”

Your eyes widened. You had no idea what to say, and based on his breath, he was pretty drunk.

“I- I don’t- what?”

Aegon stepped closer to you, “did you enjoy the show, at least?”

He was a bit too close for a comfortable conversation, and you refused to be embarrassed by Aegon Targaryen of all people. “Isn’t she still in there? Least you could do is finish her off.”

“Who said I didn’t?”

“I don’t have time for this, Aegon,” you sighed, beginning to walk away, but he trapped you in between his body and the wall with his arm.

“Maybe I would be more eager to get back in there if she looked half as good as you do right now.”

“Don’t piss me off,” you spat, “I’m really not in the mood for your shit.”

Aegon pouted. “My ‘shit’ is part of my charm.”

“What charm?” you bounced back.

“You don’t think I’m charming? Wow, Y/N, I’m hurt. Like, genuinely, that cut down to my soul.”

“Aegon, you’re drunk. Now are you just gonna hold me hostage against this wall forever or are you gonna let me leave?”

Aegon looked at you, intently, as if contemplating his options.

“You really want me to go back in there?”

You looked up at him, frustrated and confused. “Why the hell would I care what you do?”

Aegon looked at you for a brief moment before nodding his head, removing his arm from the wall and gesturing you away.

“Thank you,” you said, turning your back to him and walking away.

Heleana reached the top of the staircase at that very moment. “Hey!” she called out, “I was just coming to check in on you.”

“I got lost,” you admitted.

“My god, Y/N,” she laughed, taking your hand and guiding you to her bedroom.

You and Heleana sat on her bed, sobering up and watching movies for a few hours.

“Would you be okay if I crashed here?” you asked her, “I still feel like shit.”

“Of course,” she smiled, “I keep an extra toothbrush in the hallway bathroom just in case.”

“Thank you. I just wish I thought of this earlier, I’d be more prepared.”

“Give me a minute,” Heleana said, leaving you alone in her bedroom.

She returned a few minutes later with a tee shirt and a pair of boxer shorts.

“What the fuck do you want me to do with those?” you asked.

“Aemond is away with his friends somewhere in Europe right now, so he won’t miss them.”

“I’m not wearing your brother’s clothes.”

“Oh, whatever! He’s a giant, they’ll be plenty baggy and comfortable. Plus, he’s not Aegon, you can actually trust that his clothes get washed properly.”

You sighed. You didn’t want to spend the night in what you had on, and no one would ever know you took his clothes anyway. “Fine, but you’re putting them back exactly the way you found them in the morning.”

“Deal!” Heleana smiled, jumping back on the bed as you changed.

The night winded down, and by around three in the morning, Heleana was fast asleep. You took the opportunity to run to the bathroom and get ready for bed.

You stood in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth and then your hair until all the knots were out. Mid-brush, the bathroom door was violently swung open.

“SHIT! For fucks sake,” Aegon almost screamed, placing a hand over his heart to calm down the startled beating, “what the fuck are you still doing here?”

“Staying over, not that it’s your business.”

Aegon rubbed his eyes as if he just woke up and was adjusting to the light, but you could tell he’d not yet gone to sleep. He scanned you up and down. “Are you wearing my brother’s clothes?” he asked.

You sighed, continuing your routine and not giving him any glances. “Shut up, I didn’t bring any clothes.”

“So you stole my brother’s?”

You turned to him, annoyed that he was still talking to you. “technically your sister stole them for me. I didn’t bring any of my own, and I can’t fit into Heleana’s. Why am I even telling you this? You don’t care and I don’t like you.”

Aegon’s bottom lip jutted out as he inched closer to you, “now why don’t you like me?”

You put the brush down in defeat. “Aegon, it’s three in the morning.”

“And?”

You huffed, “and it’s too late for me to have to deal with you.”

Aegon just looked at you. You waited for him to say or do anything, and when you realized he had no intention of moving, you started to make your way out of the bathroom. That’s when Aegon grabbed you by your waist and slammed you onto the bathroom sink.

“What the fuck, Aegon? Let me down,” you said, trying not to lose your temper as he held you down on the sink.

“You know I asked you a question earlier,” he spoke, voice low and lips close to yours, “and you never answered it.”

“Aegon, I don’t care, let me down.”

“Did you enjoy the show?”

You met his eyes. “The show that I watched for 3 seconds before leaving? The show I didn’t even try to watch, but saw accidentally? Yes, Aegon, how entertaining it was briefly watching you perpetuate cheating.”

“Would it kill you to just be nice to me?”

The question caught you off guard, and admittedly struck a nerve in your heart. He sounded so sincere, so genuine, like he wasn’t trying to play a game or garner a reaction. He truly wanted to know why you were always so sharp with him.

Thinking about it, he had never done anything personally to you. He never hurt anyone, except maybe the girls he never called in the morning, he just didn’t exhibit behavior that you ever would, but none of it was malicious. He just came off like a cocky and overly confident rich kid, but he never knew how to be anything else.

“You’re right,” you said, surprising Aegon, “I’m sorry, I know I can be really pissy with you. I don’t want to be mean to you, you’re just so good at getting under my skin. Also, you’ve ghosted three of my friends, but still, I’m sorry.”

Aegon stared into your eyes for what felt like an eternity.

“You don’t like me because I’ve ghosted your friends?”

“No, Aegon, that’s not the poin-“ you bowed your head, “you’re impossible.”

“So tell me why you don’t like me.”

“I don’t know.”

“You do know.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t!” you exclaimed, “I don’t even actually hate you!”

Aegon smiled, “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” You were beginning to get frustrated.

“You like me.”

You scoffed. “Quite the contrary, no offense.”

Aegon tsked, “no no no, I think you like me. I think you like me like me. I think you wish you were sitting in this exact spot a few hours ago when you walked into the ‘wrong room.’”

You threw your head back, “I really was looking for Heleana’s room!”

“Admit it,” he said.

“There’s nothing to admit, you narcissist.”

Suddenly his demeanor changed. He got even closer to you, placing his torso in between your legs, lips almost touching yours. “Admit. It.”

It was a demand, not a request. His eyes were dark and his tone was lower than you’d ever heard it.

“Or what?”

Aegon growled. “or I’ll fuck it out of you.”

Your breathing stuttered.

You were undeniably attracted to him. You always had been, he was gorgeous. Part of your hatred came from jealousy when you would see him with other girls, but you also knew he was a player and fucked around, so you tried your best to turn it off by just fighting him at every turn. However, now, it was early in the morning and late at night all at once, both of your buzzes had faded, and your emotions were overflowing.

“So do it.”

Aegon slammed his lips onto yours, enveloping you into a heated kiss, one of his hands snaking through your hair and pulling roughly until your head was forced back so he could have easier access to your neck. He sucked at a sweet spot right underneath your earlobe, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Shut up,” he demanded.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s three in the morning and my sister is home, so shut up.”

“I barely made any noise,” you retorted.

Aegon paused his assault on your neck to look at you, pulling at your hair roughly. “Stop. Talking.”

Looking into his eyes, you knew it would be better to obey than to continue your back and forth, so you did your best to stay quiet.

Aegon began to kiss lower and lower, eventually kneeling in front of you just as you had seen him before. He began tugging at the waistband of the boxer shorts you were wearing, “I can’t believe you’re wearing his fucking clothes, you could just be wearing mine.”

You giggled, and then acted like you didn’t make any noise, so as to avoid Aegon’s temper.

“Something funny?” he asked, catching it.

“You jealous or something?”

Aegon tore the boxer shorts off of you, not even telling you to lift your hips, causing you to almost fall off the sink from the force.

“Aegon!”

“Shouldn’t be wearing his clothes,” he spoke, almost more to himself than to you as he quite literally tore the tee shirt off of your body, one jagged rip in the middle of the design on the front, “you’re not fucking his.”

You looked up at him, shocked, “Aegon! What the fuck am I supposed to tell Heleana happened to this shirt? I’m clumsy, but I’m not that clumsy!”

“You could always tell her the truth,” Aegon smiled, “or better yet, tell Aemond. Make sure he knows you’re not his.”

You sighed at his jealousy. “I really don’t think he’s under the impression that I’m his, Aeg, I really just needed clothes for the night.”

Aegon’s jealousy was overshadowed by your use of a nickname. He immediately dropped back down to his knees, ripping your underwear in half just as he did the shirt.

“Aegon! I don’t have any other clothes with me!”

He slapped your thighs as a warning to open them wider, “shut up, you’ll just wear mine.”

“I really dont thi-“ your words were cut off by a sharp inhale as Aegon pressed his lips to your clit, tongue drawing circles and swirling around the bud as he looked up at you.

A pang of jealousy hit you as you remembered that he was in this exact position with someone else mere hours ago. This moment wasn’t special to him. You were just another one of his girls.

“Aeg, wait-“

Aegon immediately stopped at your protest. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, I just- I can’t do this right now.”

Aegon looked concerned. “What happened? Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said?”

You attempted to stop his train of thought before it derailed, “no! No, it isn’t you, it’s just-“

“It’s just you just saw this show with someone else?” he questioned, standing to meet your eye level.

“I really don’t just want to be a one off type of person. I’m sorry,” you said, feeling guilty for stopping.

“Hey, hey,” he said, sweetly capturing your attention, “this is not the same situation as it was earlier today. You aren’t just a random one off. I literally left that girl in here the second I saw you. The only reason I was in that situation was because I was all worked up from seeing you in that fucking dress earlier,” he admitted.

“You were not.”

He nodded his head, “did I not make it obvious enough to you when I told you you looked good in black?”

You threw your hands up, “clearly I thought you were fucking with me.”

“I wasn’t fucking with you,” he assured you, “now if you don’t mind, can I get back to actually fucking you?”

You pulled him in for a kiss before he dropped to his knees yet again, tongue immediately finding its place on your bud.

He traced a finger around your soaked hole, staring up at you as he slid one finger inside of you, watching you throw your head back and attempt to breathe through the pleasure, desperately trying not to make a noise.

Without warning, he added a second finger, pumping both in and out of you as his tongue continued to swirl and flick at your bud. Your breathing was becoming erratic, and you fought with everything in you to hold back moaning.

Aegon curled his fingers, hitting that sweet spot inside of you, causing you to grip his hair and push his face closer into you. He moaned at the sensation, sending shivers up your body. You whined and whimpered as quietly as you could as he continued to work you until you started squeezing his fingers.

Before you could come, he ceased all action, standing up and meeting your eyes again. He put both fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean before giving you a wet kiss, the feeling of your slick still on his lips. The feeling nearly made him feral, deepening the kiss as he pulled his own boxers down to free his cock. Precum was already leaking from the tip at only the sight of what his fingers did to you. He used one hand to begin to stroke himself as the other held the back of your head, pressing you even harder into the desperate kiss.

You reached between your bodies, gripping his cock and moving his hand away. You began to stroke him, causing his hips to jolt and a whine to leave his lips and break the kiss.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he sighed, barely able to get the shaky sentence out.

You kissed him as a response. You lined his tip up with your entrance, looking at him and nodding up and down to signal that you were ready. Before he pushed in, you grabbed his face, saying, “I’m not a virgin, you know. You don’t have to be nice.”

Aegon growled, slamming his entire length into you without giving you time to adjust. You threw your head back and he pulled completely out before slamming into you again, each violent thrust causing your entire body to snap backward.

“Fuck,” he groaned, setting a steady pace.

You continued to whine and moan, unable to mute or quiet yourself.

“Shut up, Y/N,” Aegon warned.

“C- can’t,” was all you could get out, his cock stretching your walls at a violent rate.

“I don’t care,” he spat, almost mean, “I said shut up.”

He then snaked an arm between your bodies, rubbing circles onto your clit as he fucked you hard. Your body gave out, and you fell backward, head leaning against the mirror as Aegon pulled your hips closer to the edge of the sink so he could fuck you deeper.

“Fuck!” you cried out, completely losing any control you had over yourself.

Aegon moved his hand from your clit to your mouth, covering it and forcing you to remain quiet.

He continued to fuck you hard, your body still being roughly pushed harder into the sink and mirror with every thrust. With his hand pressed against your mouth, your head was now pressed hard against the mirror, meaning you were unable to move.

The hand that wasn’t around your mouth made it’s way to your waist, gripping you as Aegon’s thrusts became faster and faster.

He moved his hand from your mouth to your throat. “Tell me how it feels.”

You whined. “G- good, it’s- ah! It’s g-“

He squeezed your throat. “I know you can use your words better than that, angel.”

“It feels good, so good,” you forced out.

“Good girl,” Aegon praised, never moving his hand from your throat as he continued to fuck into you.

“Aeg, I-“

The nickname made him feral. He began thrusting into you at an unholy pace, both hands moving to your shoulders to keep you speared onto his cock as he pistoned in and out of you harshly.

“You gonna come?” he asked you.

“Y- yes, Aeg, I-“

“Beg me.”

You whimpered, barely able to think or speak. Apparently your silence was too long for Aegon.

“Beg. Me.”

“Please, Aeg, p-please l-let me come, Aegon, please-“

He moved a hand back in between your bodies, rubbing your clit again as your walls squeezed his cock. You nearly screamed his name as you came, his only choice to swallow your moans with his mouth, kissing you through your high, still chasing his own.

It was almost overstimulating, him still thrusting into you in desperate need of his own high as you were attempting to come down from yours.

“Aegon,” you whined.

“Mhm,” he moaned in response.

“Please come for me,” you pleaded in the most seductive voice you could manage.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he barked.

You grabbed his face in your hands, forcing his eyes to meet yours, “Aeg, fuck- please-“

That was all it took for him to come undone, unloading inside of you before pressing his forehead to yours to catch his breath.

You could fill indents in the back of your thighs from the edge of the sink. Once he calmed down and pulled out of you, he began to put his clothes back on, while you stayed seated, naked, on the sink.

“You just gonna stay there?” he quipped.

You gestured to Aemond’s ripped up clothes on the floor, “You gonna give me your clothes or what?”

[matchpointfaist]

it will come back - art donaldson

;; dark and obsessive art donaldson

cw; aggressive art, rough sexual content, drinking, manipulation, stalking??, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, kinda icky behavior??

you know better, babe, you know better, babe

than to smile at me, smile at me like that

you know better, babe, you know better, babe

than to hold me just, hold me just like that

things with art started off with a simple, well intentioned smile across the court. you were warming up, stretching your shoulders when you caught his eyes stuck on you, drinking in the tight tennis dress clinging to your skin. his bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, his gaze pin sharp and hair-raisingly intense. you had seen art before, at his matches or just around the court warming up. 

you weren’t nearly as well known, or competitive, as art. you weren’t even on the official team, you really only played as a hobby and as an excuse to get out of studying constantly. it seemed, to you, that his entire being revolved around tennis. if you saw him, it was typically on the court, or just leaving it. he always had his tennis bag slumped over his shoulder, his name ever-present like a brand. 

you brushed off his stare, trying your best to push it from your mind and continue your stretches. you were only able to relax when you saw him headed for the gate, following after his coach. your breathing calmed, and you turned to one of the other girls, gesturing to the net. “wanna hit with me? you asked her, “i only have half an hour.” she nodded, walking over to her side of the court. art’s stare was still at the forefront of your mind by the end of your 30 minutes. 

after you showered off the sweat from your practice, you headed to the library, hoping to cram in some last minute studying before your biology exam. you claimed your table, spreading out your books and walking to the vending machine in search of a red bull. 

when you returned, you were surprised, and unnerved, to see art donaldson himself seated at your table, your notebook open in front of him. “hey, uh, that’s my stuff,” you said awkwardly. his head snapped up, those blue eyes landing on you once again, “yeah, i know. sorry, shoulda asked first, i just needed the notes for bio.” his voice was confident and smooth, like he hadn’t at all been invading your privacy. “oh, didn’t know you had that class. well, i’d love to help out but i kinda need to study, so..” you trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint. “oh, no problem,” he smiled, standing up quickly, “see you around.”

you went back to your studying, but couldn’t shake the feeling of confusion finding art with your notes. you knew for a fact he was not in your class, which was only held once a week, when you knew he was more than likely practicing. you tried, and once again failed, to the push the thought from your mind. you told yourself there was no reason for him to lie, he could have just transferred into the class for an extra credit,  and went on with your reading. 

sure enough, as your bio professor handed out forms for the exam, art was nowhere to be found. you leaned to the boy on your right, your voice barely a whisper, “hey, is art donaldson in this class? i could’ve sworn he told me he was,” “nah, don’t think so. i’ve never seen him, anyway.” you nodded, going back to your own paper, mind a million miles away. 

after your exam, you went to the dining hall, hoping to enjoy a quick snack  between classes. you saw him  before he saw you, this time, and found yourself admiring the fluidity of his movement, the ease of his posture as he talked to one of the other boys you saw him with frequently. you felt crazy for ever thinking anything was off about him reading your notes. he probably took the class privately, considering his insane schedule. a few moments passed, with you continuing to watch him, and finally his eyes met yours, catching you. you smiled shyly, going back to your salad and scolding yourself for staring. 

you saw his bright white nikes from your peripheral vision, just at the edge of your table. “hey, i just wanted to say sorry for stealing your notes like that,” he said lightly, “i’m in molecular bio lab, i thought you were too. just got confused,” “oh, it’s okay! no big deal,” you replied, feeling silly for not thinking of that before. “alright, cool. hey, while i’m over here, you play, don’t you?” “what, tennis?” he nodded, taking a bite of his apple. 

your breath faltered slightly as you watched the juice drip down his chin, entranced as he licked it off his bottom lip. “uh, yeah, i do,” you stammered, “not super well, i just play for fun mostly. why?” “to be honest, i need a hitter that’s not gonna scream at me about precision,” he laughed, “love my coach, but he’s intense, and sometimes i just need to let off some steam.” “oh, i get that. i could ask around for you!” you smiled. “oh, i was wondering if you’d be interested? it’d be nice to hit with someone who’s not super competitive, and i’ve seen you play. you’re good,” he said, leaning slightly closer, “if you have time, i mean.” “oh, yeah, that would be fun! i’m really only free in the afternoons, my last class is out by six everyday,” you tried not to let your confusion show in your voice or on your face. “cool, works for me,” he said, “i could meet you at the west court tomorrow at six thirty? it’s a little more secluded so you won’t have to worry about people critiquing or anything.” “yeah, sounds good to me, i’ll be there,” you smiled. 

on your walk  back to your dorm, you ran over the conversation in your mind, examining every sentence for any deeper meaning. what would art donaldson possibly want to do with you? sure, you were fine at tennis, but you weren’t a pro by any means. you told yourself he was right, he needed someone less intense, less competitive. you were ideal for that, considering you weren’t in a position of power, or a threat, to him. 

your classes went by quickly the next day, and by six you were ready to be on the court, to see if art was genuine with his intentions. you changed into a tank top and shorts, grabbing your racket bag and jogging to the west court. you stopped yourself from entering when you laid your eyes on him. he was shirtless, back muscles flexing as he stretched his arms above his head. he bent down, touching his toes, and you watched as his toned legs flexed along with his back and arms. you could’ve stood there all night, dumb look on your face and blush across your cheeks, until your footing slipped and you stepped on a stray branch. he stilled, turning to look at you slowly, and it struck you how much he looked like a predator stalking their prey in that moment. “well don’t just stand there,” he called, a smug grin on his face. you blushed darker, embarrassed of being caught, and entered the gate. “sorry, i was just making sure it was you before i came in,” you explained, knowing he could probably see through your lie. “oh, no problem,” he reassured, “you all stretched?”  you nodded, though you hadn’t stretched, but too aware of how tight your outfit truly was to stretch in front of him, “did you just want me to hit it back? or did you want like a match?” “we can just hit for now, let you get comfortable,” he said. you nodded again, heading to your side of the net and grabbing a tube of balls. “ready?” he called over the net, racket already in his position. “ready!”

you weren’t ready for the sheer speed of art’s serve, of the way he grunted slightly when the ball left his racket, the way his muscles visibly rippled with the impact of the hit. you just barely managed to hit it back, having to jump slightly to reach the ball, and felt a sense of accomplishment watching it fly back over the net. he looked like an entirely different person than the boy you’d seen in the dining hall the day prior. before, he was all easy, fluid movement, smooth words and lazy grins. now, he was rigid, hard lines, his light eyes set with a determination you had never seen in yourself. you wondered if he forgot who he was playing, forgot that he wasn’t in the french open he had won the year before. 

art was always intense like this, it was the only time he could be himself. he could be as aggressive, as loud, as he needed to be. he could let go, not having to pretend to be polite and easygoing any longer. people asked him frequently, if he felt the pressure to perform, and he wanted to tell them he felt more pressure to perform in a basic conversation than he ever had while playing tennis. until he met you, that is. talking to you came as easily to art as swinging a racket, and that was when he knew you were both in trouble. 

i know who I am when i’m alone

i’m something else when i see you

you don't understand, you should never know  

how easy you are to need

your little practices with art continued for three weeks, with you meeting him at the west court every other day at six thirty pm. you slowly began to look forward to them, and by the fourth week, you were desperate to get out of your last class each day. so desperate, really, that you texted art at four oclock, asking him if he’d want to meet you earlier. you emailed your professor, telling him that you’d come down with a migraine and you’d have to make up any notes next week, and went up to your dorm to wait on art. thirty minutes went by, and you hadn’t heard from him, so you went to change into your tennis skirt and brush your hair up into a ponytail. a knock on your door interrupted you, and you hesitantly opened it, not expecting anyone. art stood in the hallway, racket bag over his shoulder and disheveled hair. 

“hey, sorry i came as soon as i saw your text. sorry, i fell asleep after my match,” he said, and you took in his full appearance. his eyes were still hazy, and he had slight creases on his cheek from his pillow. you couldn’t help but think what a beautiful sight it must be to wake up next to him. “oh, you didn’t have to do that, i just got out of my last class and didn’t have anything else to do,” you said, attempting to downplay your desperation. “well we can go down to the court now, here i’ll carry your bag,” he smiled, and you reluctantly passed him your pink racket bag. “let’s go then,” 

the walk to the court was oddly quiet, with art seeming to be in a bad mood and you not wanting to speak up and irritate him farther. once on the court, as always, he seemed to transform. his hits were much more aggressive than usual, his typical quiet grunts turning into full on groans as he served. you noticed how tense he looked, almost uncomfortable, and after half an hour you dropped your racket. “what’s going on, art?” you asked him, approaching the net. “nothing,” he said dismissively, serving another ball just to send it flying against the fence. “i can tell something’s up, you can talk to me,” you said, tilting your head up at him. you weren’t used to this side of him, so short and borderline angry. “i said i’m fine, do you want to play fucking tennis or not?” he snapped, and your eyes teared up in shock. “i guess not,” you snapped back, picking up your racket and rushing off the court, “i was just trying to be nice.” 

you made it halfway back to your dorm before you heard art calling after you, his tone pleading even from a yard away. “please wait, i’m sorry,” he called, and you heard his steps bounding up to you. you kept walking, desperate to be back in the comfort of your bed, and felt his fingers circle around your wrist, pulling you to a stop. “i don’t want to talk about it, art. just don’t worry about it, i’ll see you around,” you said, your tone clipped. “i am worried about it, i want to apologize. i shouldn’t have snapped, you didn’t do anything wrong. i’m just really stressed out and i shouldn’t have taken that out on you. will i still see you tomorrow?” he rushed out, looking at you intently. “it’s fine, seriously. i get it, i know you’re stretched really thin. we don’t have to do this anymore, i’m sure you get more than enough hitting practice with your coach and in your matches. thank you for the experience, though,” you said, turning away from him once again. “you can’t just blow me off,” he said, his rough tone from earlier creeping back, “i’m trying to apologize, not cancel our practices. if that’s what you want, then fine, but don’t blame it on me.” 

you walked away quickly, ashamed at the tears now slowly rolling down your face from the confrontation. you didn’t want to call off your practices, but you also didn’t want to become his verbal punching bag because he was exhausted. he didn’t come after you this time, and you felt more hurt than relieved. your tears kept coming, even after you reached your dorm room. you were so upset, you never even stopped to wonder how art knew which dorm was yours. 

three days passed, and you didn’t hear from him at all. it took almost all of your self control not to send him a text, or stop by one of his matches, but you held yourself back. on day four, there were flowers outside of your door. you rolled your eyes, squatting down to read the attached note. ‘west court, six thirty. art.’ you opened your door, placing the bouquet on your desk and throwing yourself onto your bed. your mind raced, debating if you should meet him or not, wondering what he would possibly have to say. you felt completely out of control as you changed into your tennis dress from that very first day you saw him, grabbing your racket and locking up your dorm. 

you walked onto the court at six thirty on the dot, with no art in sight. you sighed, sitting on the cold pavement and stretching your legs. ten minutes went by, then twenty, no art. at seven, you rolled your eyes and left the court, pulling out your phone to text him. ‘really nice, art. thanks for the flowers.’ you sent it, turning off your ringer and going back to your dorm, wanting the day to be over. you showered, changing into your pajamas, when you noticed your top drawer was open.  you knitted your eyebrows, sorting through the drawer, but not noticing anything missing. you told yourself you just left it open, and put on a movie on your small tv before going to sleep. 

the next morning, you woke up to a text from art. ‘i’m so sorry, i meant to come but got caught up in one of my classes. can i make it up to you?’ you ignored it, going about your morning routine and turning your phone off once you got to your literature class. when you exited, someone grabbed your wrist, yanking you out of the door frame. you gasped, your heart rate spiking, but immediately relaxed when you saw his familiar head of blonde curls. “what the hell, art? scared me to death,” you scolded, putting your hand on your chest. “you didn’t reply to my text, i just wanted to see you,” he said softly, rubbing your wrist where he had grabbed you, “did you like the flowers?” “would’ve liked seeing you more, but yeah, they were pretty. what’s going on with you? you’re acting so weird,” “i told you, i’ve just been stressed out. do you wanna get dinner or something? i feel like we’ve spent all this time together and we barely talk,” your eyes softened, and you nodded, “yeah, i’d like that. don’t stand me up this time,” “i’m not, promise. i can pick you up at seven?” “what should i wear?” “i’ll have something sent up to your dorm. see you at seven,” he said, and left you standing dumbfounded in the crowded hallway. 

at six, you climbed the stairs to your room once again, this time finding a department store garment bag hung over your doorknob. you blushed to yourself, taking it off the knob and entering your room. art had sent you a beautiful dark red dress, a silver necklace hung around the neckline to pair with it. your face reddened even more, your mind going to how much money he must have spent on this. as you pulled the dress from the bag, you saw a small note tied to the hanger. ‘you’re gonna look gorgeous. art’ you giggled to yourself, feeling like a high schooler giddy in love, and held the dress up to your body. he had somehow picked your perfect size, and only after looking in the mirror did you recognize the signature stanford color. 

you quickly straightened your hair, putting on the new dress and digging into your closet for shoes to pair it with. you sighed loudly when you came up empty handed, pacing around the room barefoot, unsure of what to do. you heard a knock on your door and ran your hair through your hair anxiously as you went to answer it. art stood in the hall once again, this time in a white button down and pressed black dress pants. your breath caught in your throat, all thoughts of your shoes gone as you took in the way he filled out the thin white shirt. “i realized i forgot shoes, and i had some time to kill so i hope these are alright,” he said, holding out a black shoebox. “oh, thank you so much. i was just thinking i didn’t have any wear,” you breathed a sigh of relief, moving back to hold your door open, “you can come in, i’ll just put these on and be ready.” he nodded, his eyes darting all around your room as he entered. you sat on the edge of your bed, leaning over to open the box. your breath faltered once again as you saw the gorgeous black heels. “these are beautiful, art. thank you,” you said, taking them out carefully. you slid one on, fumbling with the clasp. “do you mind helping? sorry, i can’t get the clasp with my nails,” you said, blushing slightly. he shot up from his seat, nodding, “yeah, here,” 

he kneeled in front of you, taking your calf into his hands gently and clasping the shoe with ease. he gently took your other foot into his hands, his thumb rubbing circles on your ankle as he slid your foot into the heel. you could feel your pulse all through your body, heart racing at the simple feeling of his gentle hands on your legs. “hey, how’d you know what size to get me?” you asked suddenly, realizing you hadn’t thought of it before. his face reddened just barely, and he said, “oh, i must’ve just noticed when you were stretching or something. i probably just guessed.” you nodded, still questioning it in your mind but not pushing it further. you closed your eyes in pleasure as he ran his hand up your calf, before standing up and holding the same hand out for you. “shall we?” 

he took you to a dimly lit, obviously expensive italian restaurant just off campus. “this is beautiful, i’ve never been here,” you said, in awe of the detailing on the walls and the subtle beauty of the design. “i’ve been once, with my parents when they were in town for a match. it’s pretty nice, nice wine selection,” he said, pulling out your chair for you. you thanked him, smoothing your dress down and sitting down. he took his seat across from you, immediately opening the drink menu, his eyes raking over the options. “do you have a preference?” he asked, peering at you over the menu. “no, i’m not much of a drinker so whatever you recommend is great,” you told him. the server came over, and you noticed how he instinctively turned toward art first, like he commanded all the attention in the room. “what wine would you like, mr. donaldson?” the server asked, and the realization struck you that art wasn’t just famous on campus, but more than likely all throughout the country. “we’ll do the 2005 pinot noir, thank you,” art replied, handing him the menu, “and you can just leave the bottle.” “perfect, i’ll be back shortly with that,” you smiled at art across the table, your eyebrows raised, “so, mr. donaldson,” you giggled. “yeah, unfortunately. nineteen years old and getting called mr. just because i won a few games,” he laughed, but you could see the tension underlying his laughter. “well, i think its cool. you’re a big deal,” you said reassuringly.

the waiter returned quickly with your wine, pouring you both glasses and asking art what you’d both like for your main course. “i’ll do the eight ounce wagyu with a caesar salad,” he replied, then nodded to you, “and she’ll have whatever she wants,” “oh, i’ll just have the ricotta ravioli, thank you so much,” the server nodded, heading to put your orders in, and art grinned at you. “you’re so polite, it’s endearing,” he said, his eyes gleaming. you blushed slightly, “i was just raised that way,” you said. “tell me more about how you were raised, i wanna hear all of it,” 

there was not a quiet moment the entire evening. you talked all about your life, growing up in the south, while art told you all about his busy upbringing in palo alto. his life was all tennis lessons, private school and flashy cars, something you were not accustomed to. you found yourself wishing you could have known him when you were both young, before the world had shaped him into the hardened version of himself he was now. he seemed calmer through dinner, like you could see the tension melting from his body with every laugh that left your lips, or every brush of your hand against his over the table. 

with all your talking, you didn’t notice his one glass of wine to your four, didn’t notice how his jokes started to get much, much funnier, how the touch of his hand started to feel almost euphoric. when he said it was time for him to get you home, you protested, telling him he couldn’t drive yet. “oh, i’m alright,” he assured you, “i had one glass before our meal even came, i promise i’m fine to drive,” you pouted your lips, confused why he had stopped but let you keep downing glass after glass. a slight pang of anxiety formed in your chest at the thought that maybe it had been intentional, but you quickly pushed it away, telling yourself that art wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, or make you uncomfortable. 

the drive home was full of laughs and his hand was on your thigh, rubbing small circular motions. you sighed, leaning your head back against the seat. “tonight was really fun, art. thank you again, for the dress and the shoes and everything,” you said sweetly, adoration in your eyes as you watched his skilled hands around the steering wheel. “of course, it was my pleasure,” he said, glancing over at you. the streetlights made his blonde hair look like a halo. “we should do it again,” you said. “yeah, absolutely. whenever you want,” he smiled, “i’d love that.” 

he walked you up to your dorm, holding onto your arm the whole way to keep you steady. “i think i’m a little drunk,” you finally admitted, halfway up the stairs. “yeah, i can tell,” he said, grinning down at you, “you gonna be alright in here alone?” “oh, yeah, i should be fine. you could stay for a little, if you wanted,” you said, focusing your eyes on his lips as his grin widened. “oh, i don’t know if that’s a good idea tonight,” he said, “but next time, of course,” you pouted slightly, but nodded, agreeing. “well here’s your door,” he said, gesturing to the doorway, “do you want me to unlock it for you?” you nodded again, handing him your keys, watching as his fingers wrapped around the key and twisted the lock. “thank you, art,” you giggled, “thank you for the whole night. no one’s ever taken me to dinner before. not a boy, anyway.” “i find that hard to believe, but i’m glad i could be the first,” he smiled, pushing a stray curl from your face, “you should get some rest. goodnight, love,” he leaned down, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to your cheek, and he was gone before the warmth of it had time to fade. 

you woke up the next day, head pounding, dress still on. you smiled to yourself as you remembered the events of the night, trailing your fingertips across your cheek where art had kissed you. you got dressed for classes with a skip in your step, unable to wipe the giddy smile off your face all the way through the day. you didn’t have practice with art that evening, so the thought to surprise him popped into your head. 

you approached one of his tennis friends, michael, in the dining hall. “hey, sorry if this sounds weird, but do you know art’s dorm number? i had something to give him, and-” he cut you off, smirking. “yeah, it’s 38. second floor, third door on your right. knock yourself out,” he said. you blushed, thanking him quickly and leaving. the embarrassment of his presumption stunted your confidence in your actions, but you proceeded to his dorm anyway, sure that he’d want to see you. 

when you approached room 38, you hesitated to knock, questioning yourself once again on if this was right or not. as you stepped closer to the door, you heard quiet moaning, so faint it was barely noticeable. it was definitely a man, all breathy grunts, but you couldn’t tell if it was art for sure. you told yourself he must have a roommate, surely he didn’t have a girl in his room, surely he wouldn’t do that to you. your mind raced, until all thoughts were halted by the clear moan of your name through the door. your heart skipped, and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip, confusion clouding your thoughts. you should just leave, you thought, just go and never speak a word of this to him. but curiosity got the best of you, and suddenly you were knocking on his door, cheeks red and eyebrows furrowed.

you heard some clambering inside, before moments later, a sweat sheened, pink cheeked art opened the door. “jesus, what are you doing here? you scared me,” he said, and you took note of how breathless he was. “oh, i just wanted to say hi, since we didn’t have any practice today,” you said, “can i come in?” “yeah, of course, come on in,” he said, quickly recovering his face and smiling down at you. you entered his room, taking in the tennis posters covering the walls, the dark comforter on the twin size bed. it was clean, cleaner than you’d expect a male dorm room to be, but smelled distinctly of art. “this is cozy,” you complimented. “it’s alright, about as good as one of these shitty dorms can be. i’m just waiting for my sophomore year so i can live off campus,” he said, shrugging, “i like yours much more. here, you can sit anywhere.” you sat on the corner of his bed, not wanting to make yourself too comfortable, “so, were you busy when i came? i’m sorry if it was a bad time,” you could’ve sworn his face reddened, but he quickly recovered, insisting that he hadn’t been busy at all. “did you want to do something? or were you just saying hello?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “just saying hello. i need to get home, i have a seven am lecture. i’ll see you at six thirty tomorrow?” you confirmed. “yeah, of course. i’ll see you then,” he smiled, and you gave the room one last scan before heading for the door. “well, goodnight art,” you smiled, walking out into the hallway. you couldn’t shake the feeling that the light pink panties shoved just under his bedframe had been yours.

two hours later, you were laying in bed, unable to sleep. all you could think about was what you had clearly seen in art’s floor hours prior, and your mind raced with the possibility that they were yours. he could’ve snagged them when he came in to give you your shoes, but you couldn’t understand why he would possibly do that. your imagination ran wild, filthy images of your panties wrapped around his cock, the sound of him groaning out your name as he fucked into fist, his cum all over the pink fabric. your thighs squeezed together, hot tension building between them. you wondered what it would feel like for him to touch you, for those long, skilled fingers to work their way into your core, to make you fall apart for him. you wondered if the sounds he made during tennis were anywhere near as alluring as the sounds he’d make while he fucked your throat. you couldn’t ignore the burning, intense desire anymore, and slipped your hands into your pajama shorts. you tried your hardest to suppress your moans as you circled your fingers around your clit, thinking about art, about his toned arms, his long fingers, his plush pink lips. how good it would feel to have those lips wrapped around your clit instead of your fingers, how beautiful he’d look pumping you full of his cum. you came quickly, art’s name shamelessly tumbling from your lips as you bucked your hips to meet your own hand. you fell asleep thinking of him holding you. 

don't let me in with no intention to keep me

jesus christ, don't be kind to me

honey, don't feed me, i will come back

the next day, you went to your classes, trying your best  not to let art completely consume your thoughts. hot shame burned the forefront of your mind from what you’d done, the things you’d thought about him. part of you was worried from the intensity, the suddenness of your closeness and attraction to art. part of you wondered if you should end things before they got to be too much. you weren’t used to this, to this all consuming need for another person. you told yourself this wasn’t like you, touching yourself to the thought of a man you’d only been on one date with. and you worried about why, and how, art had your things in his room. you were ashamed at how hot you’d found it, now acutely aware of how dangerous it could be, a man being that interested in you that he would stoop to stealing your panties from your room, to moaning your name behind closed doors. most of all, you were ashamed of how you didn’t care, how you wanted to fall into whatever this was with art, how you’d let him do whatever he wanted with you. 

at six thirty, you entered the court you’d become all too familiar with. art was serving to the fence again, beads of sweat already rolling off his back. “how long have you been out here?” you called, smiling when he turned to face you. “not too long, got bored waiting on you to get out of class,” he replied, crossing the court to stand before you, “maybe we could do something else, instead of practicing. i’ve worn myself out,” you found this hard to believe, but didn’t protest. “like what?” “whatever you want, we could go to dinner or see a movie or you could come to my room. whatever sounds best to you,” he said, already putting away his racket. “maybe we could go for a walk? if you’re not too tired, of course. i’ve been cooped up in classrooms all day,” “yeah, of course. a walk sounds great,” 

the two of you walked all around campus, talking about your days and how exhausted you both were. “i don’t know how i’ve never asked you this, but are you staying off campus next year too?” he asked you suddenly. “uh, no,” you said honestly, “i can’t really afford to move out of the dorms, to be honest. i’ve got my tuition and housing covered, and i really don’t mind the dorms, they’re comfy,” “you could always stay with me,” he said, and you stopped in your tracks. “i actually wanted to talk to you about that, well something like that,” you said, your anxiety almost tripping up your words, “do you think maybe we’re, well whatever we’re doing, is moving a little fast? i know we were practicing together for a while, but we’ve only just started really talking, and i’m just not used to this kind of thing,” his expression hardened quickly, his eyes darting everywhere but you. “yeah, that’s fine, it’s not really a big deal to me,” he said dismissively, “i was just being nice.” “oh, yeah of course. i feel silly now,” you rambled, laughing awkwardly, “it’s just, you know the date was really lovely and i’d love to do it again, but i didn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” “and what idea would that be, specifically?” “just, y’know, didn’t want us to get ahead of ourselves. didn’t want you to get the idea that it was more than it was or anything,” “and what is it exactly?” “oh, i don’t know. we’re friends, and i really like you, and i like getting to know you-” he cut you off, his jaw tight, “friends? that’s what you think we are? friends?” 

your brows furrowed, confused, “well yeah, i thought we were friends. are we not friends?” “i didn’t know that’s all this was, no. but that’s fine, if that’s what you want,” he backed away from you slowly, looking like he had the night he yelled at you. “art, wait, i didn’t mean-” “no, i get it completely. i’ll see you in a couple days, yeah? have a good night,” “wait, don’t go,” you protested, but he was already quickly walking away from you. you tried to ignore the irony in your position, how you had left him standing there in your previous fight. you tried to ignore the flashes of pain in his eyes when you said you were friends, the look of betrayal across his face. you focused on coming up with a plan to make it up to him, as he had with you, and this occupied your mind your entire walk home. 

art spent the next few days miserable, throwing rackets during matches, snapping at his coaches, straining his muscles to the point that he spent each afternoon with the team’s physical therapist. he couldn’t believe the audacity, the stupidity of you to say you were just friends. you had to have known, had to have felt the intensity in his feelings for you. he told himself you didn’t mean it, but each time he pictured the certainty on your face, his anger made his concern for your feelings on the situation dissolve entirely. it was like you did it on purpose, talking to him so sweetly on your date, showing up at his fucking dorm, just to claim you were friends. friends didn’t touch themselves to the thought of the other, didn’t moan friends names as they came, alone in their dorm room. granted, you didn’t know that he had seen, didn’t know that he had almost came at the high pitched moans you let out. he was sure, now, that he’d never get to hear them for himself. 

a week after your fight, you worked up the courage to send art a text. ‘hey, miss you. i’ve been trying to plan some grand gesture, but they all feel wrong after the date you planned. meet me at the court tonight? we can talk, or we can play. whatever you want, just come please,’ you sent it, biting your lip with anxiety awaiting his response. 

it can't be unlearned

i’ve known the warmth of your doorways

through the cold, i'll find my way back to you

oh, please, give me mercy no more

that's a kindness you can't afford

i warn you, baby, each night, as sure as you're born

you'll hear me howling outside your door

he responded to your text an hour later, a simple, ‘i’ll be there,’ but it was good enough for you. you once again put on the tennis dress you’d worn the first time art had noticed you, putting your hair into a neat ponytail and lacing up your nikes. at six thirty, you waited anxiously for his arrival, reapplying your chapstick to busy your hands. he walked in, a careless, lazy expression on his face, but you could see the squareness of his shoulders, the hardness of his jaw. “thank you for coming,” you said, your voice timid. “of course i came,” he said, his voice as tense as his muscles. “i thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me, after what i said. i need to apologize, i don’t think we’re just friends, i just didn’t know what else to say. i don’t know what this is, but i really like you, and it scares me,” you rambled, your face hot. he quickly crossed the distance between you, his gaze intense. “and?” he bit out. “and what? and i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, art. i don’t want to just be your friend, i never wanted that. it’s just, you make me feel all these things so strongly and it really is scary-”

 “you don’t think it’s scary for me? all my life, i’ve only been good at tennis, at shutting the fuck up and playing the game, and that was fine with me. i didn’t care about having a fucking girlfriend, didn’t need real friends, didn’t want to spend my time hearing someone else tell me their bullshit problems, nothing. i just played the fucking game, minded my business, if i needed to get off i’d fuck some randmon fan, i didn’t care. and then i saw you, and fuck, you’re just so pretty, and you looked so oblivious, so fucking sweet. i just had to have you. do you know how that felt? all my fucking thoughts, everything, just you. i waited, i was so good and i waited but then i had you, right on the tips of my fucking fingers i had you. then you look me in my face and tell me we’re just friends? fuck that, i’m not your fucking friend. i have sat by and been patient and i’ve kept it to myself but i won’t wait anymore, i won’t fucking do it. i need you, goddamn it, i think about it all the fucking time,” 

before you could say anything, he tilted your jaw up to face him roughly, crashing his lips into yours. you were taken back by the force, your feet stumbling slightly, but his hand on your low back righted your posture. the kiss was rough, teeth clashing and his tongue searching desperately for yours. you moaned into the kiss as he sank his teeth into your bottom lip, the taste of your blood filling both of your mouths. he pulled away, his bloody lips kissing down your neck, biting roughly as you just gasped above him. his hand held your jaw still, his thumb digging into your pulse point, choking you slightly. “you don’t know how long i’ve waited for this,” he growled, kissing back up to the shell of your ear. he raked his teeth over the sensitive skin, his breath echoing in your eardrum, “wanted to fucking bruise you and bite you and make you cry for me.” he pulled away from you suddenly, pulling you over to the edge of the court, right against the fence. “art, wait,” you protested weakly, your hands coming to his chest.

“i’m done fucking waiting,” he snarled, his hands roughly grabbing your ass, “not gonna wait anymore. gonna make you all mine, see if you ever try that friends shit again. if you don’t want this, you tell me to stop,” his fingers came between your thighs, pressing into your cunt through your dress, “but i don’t believe you want me to stop, i can feel you through your slutty little dress.” you moaned as his fingers curled against you, grinding your hips into his hand desperately. he turned you around suddenly, your face pressed against the chain link of the fence. the cold air surprised you as he flipped the skirt of your dress over your ass, yanking your panties to the side. “we can’t do this here,” you protested, trying to straighten out your back, “someone will see.” “why do you think i always bring you here, baby? nobody’s gonna see a fucking thing,” he said, his tone smug, “nobody’s gonna hear you moaning under me, hear you cumming on my cock. we’re all alone out here.” 

you gasped loudly as he kneeled beneath you, his tongue sliding between the folds of your pussy. your legs immediately began to shake, your knees nearly buckling. his tongue slid inside of you, fucking you with the tip of it as his fingers came around to rub at your clit. “art, fuck, please,” you moaned, grinding against his face roughly. he pulled away, his fingers continuing their motions, “please what? you want me to fuck you against this fence like the fucking whore you are, hm? is that you want?” when you just moaned in response, his free hand smacked your ass roughly, digging his nails into the sensitive skin, “fucking answer me.” “yes, please, want you to fuck me so bad, i’m sorry just please,” you begged, your voice nearly breaking into a sob. he was behind you in an instant, his clothed hips rubbing against you, his breath on your neck. “gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna forget why you ever told me we’re just friends,” he said, biting down on your neck roughly. you knew you’d have marks the next day, could feel blood bubbling to the surface of your barely broken skin. 

his joggers came down, and your breath hissed as he teased your entrance, rubbing his cock between your folds teasingly. “tell me again you want me to fuck you,” he spat, gripping your hip with one hand. “need you to fuck me, art, please,” you pleaded, trying your hardest to rub your hips against him, gain some friction. without warning, he slid into you, both hands on your hips roughly now. “fuck, oh my god,” you all but screamed, hands clinging to the chain link desperately. he fucked into you at a vicious pace, one hand on your hip, one underneath your stomach holding up. “you look so fucking pretty taking my cock,” he groaned, leaning over to you to press hasty kisses down your back, “feel so fucking good,” “feels so good, thank you,” you moaned, near tears from the intense pleasure. “thought about this for so long, you have no idea what i’ve done, what i’ll do to you if you ever try to leave me,” he growled, his thrusts getting even rougher. his balls slapped against your clit, the added stimulation sending you even closer to the edge. “want you to cum on my dick and fucking suck it off,” he moaned,  and you could tell from the stutter of his hips he was close too. he changed his position, fucking into you faster, and you nearly screamed at the new sensation. “art, gonna cum, fuck,” you moaned out, your walls constricting around him tightly. his hand came down to your clit, rubbing harshly, desperately, and you let go. 

your orgasm hit you roughly, crying out and your knees giving way completely. he fucked you through it, holding back his own orgasm until he was sure you were through. when the spasms around him slowed, he pulled out of you roughly, forcing you to your knees in front of him. “open your fucking mouth,” he moaned, holding your jaw tightly. you opened for him, sticking your tongue out as far as you could manage, and he slid his cock into your mouth, groaning loudly as he did. you could’ve cum again just from the taste of you and him, all mixed together, a filthy reminder of what you’d just done. he fucked into your mouth roughly, hands holding your ponytail tightly. “gonna cum down your throat,” he moaned, his hips stuttering once again, “so fucking close, you’re doing so good,” as soon as you cast your eyes up to make contact with his beautiful blue ones, he lost it. he came straight down your throat, hips bucking wildly and profanities flying from his mouth. you swallowed as it came, and his hips slowed eventually, until he pulled out of your mouth entirely. “did so fucking good,” he panted, pulling you to your feet, “kiss me,” and you did, your mouth still tasting of his cum. he groaned into the kiss, his hand going to your hair once again. 

you pulled away to catch your breath, leaning your forehead against his chin. “that was so good, baby. are you okay?” he asked you, his voice softer than you’d heard it in days. you nodded, still catching your breath, and he tilted your chin up to face him. “don’t ever do that again, okay? don’t want you to ever question what we have. you’re all mine, and i’m all yours, and nothing else matters, yeah? isn’t that right?” “mhm, you’re right. i’m sorry again, art, didn’t mean it,” you said, resigned to anything but him in this moment. “it’s alright now, baby. you know better now,” 

he had you right where he wanted you.

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 8

Hey...😁 So this is basically all filth but there's a lot of realization in it so it's educational filth!

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WC- 7.8k

Warnings- buckle up- Daddy kink, anal, BDSM, dom/sub dynamic, both soft and mean dom H, possessive H, spitting, use of sex toys, impact play, spanking.. probably more tbh. let me know if I missed one!!!

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Y/N could feel a shift in them, but she couldn’t exactly pinpoint where it started. 

Sitting in his bed, she had him standing on the side with her back towards him as nimble fingers curled into her hair as he brought them back into a plait. And for some reason, it felt more intimate than anything else they’d done so far. 

Getting back from the bar, Harry had been adamant that she take a quick shower and dry her hair, welcoming her back in with some cut up fruit and juice to have while he did her hair for her. No one had done it for her since her mum, and that was when she was just a wee little thing. 

Sitting in her nightie she’d packed specifically for his viewing pleasure, he’d given her a long look before muttering to her to get on the bed before he lost it again. 

So she did, following instructions yet again as he had hair ties from when he said his hair was longer. He was increasingly gentle, careful not to snag any knots as he moved her hair around and smoothed it back to avoid any weird spots or bubbles in the hair. When she asked why, he had simply said he wanted her hair out of her face. 

Considering they were going to the illusive club tomorrow, questions kept cropping up in her brain and it felt increasingly difficult to keep them from spewing out of her mouth, so she allowed them to be set free. Harry had always been good with her questions before, but she’d been a little nervous about ruining the comfortable silence they’d fallen into. 

“Do they know you at the club pretty well?” His fingers faltered in her hair at the question but only for a moment before righting themselves. 

“They do, yes. I had been a frequent flyer but I haven't been in a bit.” His voice was calm and gentle, much like his hands. It amazed her how rough and mean he could be during sex, could smack her and choke her, call her a set of holes, but the moment it stopped he treated her like the most delicate little flower whose petals were worth millions. It had thrown her off at first, she had to admit, but now it was something she was growing to look forward to. It was rare she got handled like she was precious and at first she had to admit it made her uneasy, but now? Now she was leaning into it like a kitten searching for pets. 

“May I ask why you stopped?” She was extremely curious about it, considering that had been the catalyst of their arrangement, but Y/N didn’t want to push too far into uncomfortable territory for him. 

“Well…” There was a sigh behind her. “I didn’t have a sub of my own and hooking up with someone for a single night isn’t fulfilling to me anymore. I desire a connection, trust… It had been hard for me lately to get into the headspace with someone I’d just met and wasn’t going to see again.” There was a pause as he finished the plait, fastening it with the hair tie. “Lately I’ve just been craving intimacy and a connection. For me, half of the fun of the lifestyle is having that trust. How much can you trust someone after an hour, y’know? It’s partially why I had us meet and discuss prior to even doing anything, and I took it slow with you. I didn’t just fuck you right then and there. A good dom would get to know you and have proper conversations before playing with you.” But internally, he really did hope no one else would get that privilege but himself. 

“I understand.” She turned around to face him, looking up at his still standing face from her position sitting with her legs crossed in a pretzel. “I was worried at first… you know, when we agreed to this. I’ve been eager to try, but I was also really nervous. I was nervous you’d not find me attractive or something I wanted to try would freak you out. Or…” There was a debate in her mind if she wanted to say it or not, but considering what had happened tonight, she decided to say it. “Or you’d just view sex as some sort of favor and not actually enjoy it.” 

It made him frown when she dropped her eyes from his own, fiddling with her fingers and avoiding contact. That was the last thing he’d thought of. If anything, he forgot about the Danny part and focused on building a dynamic with her far more than he should considering the consequences but he knew she wasn’t dumb. Even if they both didn’t say it, there was something deeper there. And while he wasn’t quite brave enough to admit feelings fully, he wasn’t about to let her think any bit of that could ever be true. 

“I enjoy it far more than I ever anticipated, and ever should have.” He said quietly, tapping her chin. “Look at me while we’re talking, darling- thank you.” A softer smile curled on his lips as he allowed himself to stroke her cheek, taking a deep inhale. “Don’t worry about any single part of that. I think… you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve set my eyes on. There’s a reason I didn’t talk to you so much when you were around. I knew my attraction to you would grow and you were someone else's… This was a twist of fate.” The admission made her eyes widen slightly but he wasn’t done. “And not a single thing you’ve mentioned has freaked me out. As someone with my background growing up and experiencing the community full force, I’ve seen it all and m’willing to try anything with you.” There was a twinge in his heart as she rested her cheek in his palm, giving him the softest eyes he’d ever seen in his life. He could see that she trusted him, but he had to ask. “Do you trust me, Y/N?” The question lingered in the air as he searched her features.

“I do.” There wasn’t a lick of hesitation. The girl held more trust in him than she did her own boyfriend which… she’d need to unpack later. “I know you’d never hurt me and have my best interest at heart.” It had been proven as much tonight when he’d stuck up for her, that he’d been so irritated with the other man for ignoring her, that he gave a fuck about how she felt. There were texts every day asking how her job was, if she ate, what she was doing to unwind, placing more care and interest in her than she’d felt in a long time. 

“I do, sweetheart. I really do. I care about you a lot.” The murmur was soft, their voices hushed even though no one could overhear. “I want t’make all of those fantasies you have come true. The one we talked about. I’ll take care of you, okay?” He felt her nod against his hand before gripping his wrist and pulling it towards her mouth. There was nothing said as he let her do what she wanted while watching curiously. The twinkle of mischief rose in her eye again, sparking a flame in his stomach as she exposed her pink tongue to him and brought the fingers that had been stroking her cunt while they were out into her mouth. 

Hearing him talk so sweetly about her had turned her on again. She’d been good tonight, at least she thinks so, but she wanted to tease him a little bit. Didn’t he know that being so nice to her would work her up? Couldn’t he guess that the sweeter he was, the wetter she got? She got both sides of him. Sweet Harry, and the mean Daddy she had slipped up with later. 

“Tastes like you, hm?” The tone shift was so easy, so quick that Y/N’s tummy flipped. “See… m’nice to you, and then you’ve got t’go and be a dirty little thing. Should’ve known to keep my sweet words to when you’re fucked out and limp. Turns you on when I’m sweet to you, doesn’t it?” It was a tease considering Harry knew he couldn’t stop himself from being nice to her. It was what he wanted. 

But right now he felt the mean streak kick back in. 

“Open wider.” He instructed, watching for her to listen, but she didn’t. Instead she sucked over his fingers again, testing his patience. “I told you to open.” One more chance he’d give her. 

Y/N was trying to misbehave. She wanted to see what he’d do. Pushing boundaries. See how he’d handle her. Taking his fingers into her throat, she gagged a little but kept them there as his gaze turned dark, eyes blazing at the misbehavior. This was what she meant by wanting to be a brat. 

She hadn’t expected him to kneel on the bed, taking her hair in his hand while ripping the wet fingers from her mouth. She hadn’t seen the slap coming. Wet fingers smacked over her cheek, shocking her slightly as the sting made her throb. He’d only done this twice before, but the submissive really fucking liked it. A moan left her throat as soon as it pulled away, making him snarl. Again, his fingers swiped against her cheek, making her mouth open a little bit. 

“Fucking brat.” He grit out. “Serves me right for being nice t’you. And to think I was going to be nice to you tonight…” He sighed, shaking his head. “Open that fucking mouth or I’ll force it open.” 

Y/N was tempted to disobey but she wanted to see why he wanted it, so she listened. Tongue out, she fluttered her lashes at him as the grip on her braid stung against her scalp. She hadn’t expected him to lean forward, pursing his lips and spitting right into her mouth. “Don’t swallow. Keep it there- Don’t fucking move.” He ordered, though he didn’t do anything else. He simply stared at her, eyes narrowed as she looked back up at him. This view was perfect in her opinion. She felt small, delicate, like he could throw her around- but so strong and confident like this. It felt like she was capable of anything. 

“Since you want t’call me your Daddy so badly, I think we should take care of that. Acting like a fucking brat, even after I was so nice and let you cum on my fingers in the middle of the week…” Shaking his head, he leaned in again and spit right on the flat of her tongue before using the sucked fingers to spread it over her tongue and down on her chin, letting some drip off her tongue down to her tits. “Now you can swallow.” 

Y/N hadn’t seen this bit yet. There had been peeks of it, little hints, but his demeanor had shifted into something she’d been dying to see. Just like in the hallway, she wanted him to take. Take, take, take until she had given it all to him. “Sorry, Sir.” She whispered, not daring to wipe herself clean. The mess was what she deserved, a filthy badge of honor.

A look of disapproval was shot her way as he used her hair as a leash, leading her to the very edge of the bed. “No, no, no, Darling.” He scolded, shaking his head at the honorific. “Where’s that other name that you called me when begging for my load inside you?” His eyebrow raised. “I liked that one for tonight. Let me hear that.” 

“Sorry, Daddy.” she whispered, wincing as he arched her head back. 

“Yeah, y’should be. Pissed me the fuck off.” At that he could see her shrink a little in her form, making him take a moment to check on her. Softening his voice, he caught her attention and gentled his grip for a moment to give her a chance to give her a beat to say something if need be. “You know how to use your colors. Where are you right now?”

“Green.” She nodded. “I don’t want to really upset you though.” 

“You’re not, sweetheart. You’re alright.” He promised, leaning down to kiss her once before his mask slipped back on. “Now I think…. That we should teach you some manners. Can you handle yourself for a moment? I think I’ve got the solution to get that brattiness out of your system.” 

Y/N nodded,  more than willing to hand over quite literally anything the man had to offer. It was pathetic but she found herself vying for even a tiny bit of his approval. The man had control of her body in ways she’d only dreamt of, so of course she’d hand it over on a silver platter. “What do you want from me, Daddy?” She whispered, watching his eyes as they trailed over her with this smirk that slightly unnerved her. 

“I think… I’ve given your cunt a good amount of attention tonight. It’s time for me to play with your ass.” 

—

Y/N was slightly humiliated as she pressed her cheek to the mattress, Harry’s spit still on her chin as her arms extended back so her hands could spread her ass open for him. He wasn’t even paying attention to her yet, instead looking through the bedside table for whatever it is that he was going to use on her. 

Was she nervous? Of course she was. The only play she’d had with her ass had been on her own accord or when Harry had stuck his thumb in, but the excitement heavily outweighed it. If she could choose anyone to be her first in this, it would be him. Sure, he’d bully her a little because he knew that was what she liked, but he’d take care of her. Harry always took care of her, no matter what. Sex or not. He was slowly overtaking her brain and she found that it was exactly how she liked it. 

“Such pretty holes.” His voice broke her out of her train of thought, heat raising on her cheeks as she could feel his gaze. Completely exposed for him to see, she felt the cool air on her most intimate parts as his warm hand ran over her now clean inner thigh. “You’re already wet. Seems you do like a bit of humiliation, don’t you pet?” It was rhetorical, so she kept her mouth shut. “I’ve been thinking about this since the first time I got a peek at this ass. Did y’know that? It’s fucking gorgeous.” There was no hint of shame in his own tone, speaking as if he was in awe of her. “And here you are, spreading yourself open so I can see the puffy little cunt I just abused and that untouched hole. It’s an honor to be the first to have it.”

He was understating it a lot, at least for now. Satisfaction of being the only man to take her ass was something that fueled his ego tremendously, knowing he would be the single person who got to feel how tight and hot it could be around his prick. His hopes of Y/N deciding to choose him instead were his motivation, as unhealthy as it may be. “Here’s our options- and make no fuckin’ mistake, you’re only getting options because its the first time you’re getting fucked here.” In future scenes he would be deciding and she could color out, or talk to him if she didn’t like it. “We can put a plug in you. Let you sit there with it in, but you’ll have to lay with me for a while and let it stretch you more. Or,” He ran a finger over the little hole, smiling when she jolted again. “Daddy can open you up with fingers, place that vibrator you liked so much on your clit and take you when I feel you’re ready. That one may hurt a bit more going in but… you said you like a bit of pain, yeah?” 

The girl did. Pushing her ass back against his finger, she nodded heavily at the second option. “Second, please. Please I want..  I don’t want to wait a long time, Daddy.” 

“Hm… Do you really think you can handle it, Puppy?” He clicked his tongue, moving his finger away from her ass and down to her swollen clit. “I know you’re a bit of a whore, but you know m’not small. It’s not gonna be easy for that tiny hole to take. May have to force it in a little.” It was incredible to him how she reacted to his words so visibly, making it so fucking easy to read her. Maybe they were just in tune with one another, but the little inhale she made clued him in to just how much she liked that. 

“I can do it. I can, it’ll fit. I promise, I can be good and take it. I can take you cock anywhere, I want it so fucking bad, Daddy.” Her voice shook a little, surprising the dominant as he looked down at the body he was meant to ruin. Again, the surge of possessiveness rose to the surface of his skin and bubbled in his blood. Of course she could take it. Of course his little brat would be willing to do anything he wanted, because she was fucking made for him. 

“Alright, pet.” He feigned a resigned sigh. “Don’t disappoint me then. You’re gonna have t’make sure you can take it then.” Excitement was tingling the base of his spine, his cock fully hard again as he left her in her position to go and grab the toy. The Hitachi needed to be plugged into the outlet, which took a moment to do. 

“Daddy?” Her voice called to him, a bit apprehensive. His heart melted a little as he walked to her, toy in hand. 

“It’s alright, Puppy. Didn’t go anywhere too far. Had to get some supplies.” Laying them out beside her, he swatted her hands away from holding herself open. “You’re going to hold this on your pretty clit for me while I open you up. Do you think you can handle that? Or shall I go and get tape so I can keep it there?”

Shivers went up her spine as she imagined it, being forced to cum over and over again with the vibrations coursing through her body. For now, she thought she could handle it, but it was an increasingly enticing idea. “I can do it, Daddy. I’ll be good, I can handle it.”  Harry let out a noise of doubt that only made her huff. “I can! Why did you make that noise?”

A rough spank was laid right to the bottom of her thigh, making her yelp. “Don’t talk back. I asked a simple question, no need for the dramatics.” His voice was stern, a little mean, and she could feel her poor cunt throbbing at the demeanor he had. There had been something so utterly delicious, she had found out, about a man who could fuck like he hated you but worshipped you in all other aspects. He would cover her body in soft kisses and cooling lotion when they were done and hand feed her fruit, but right now it was seeing the other side of the coin.  “Now, I’m going to start. You ask before you cum, and if I tell you to take it away, you do as I say. Am I understood?” 

“Yes.” Y/N sulked, only to be spanked again. “Why?!” The exclamation made his own sigh even louder. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” Forgetting that had been an accident, but Y/N couldn’t lie and say his strict demeanor didn’t get her going. 

She was relatively calm though her excitement could be felt in her stomach. Her cunt had been fucked thoroughly in the dark hallway, an undeniable excitement lingering in her body when she remembered leaving with her lips swollen and cum dripping down her thigh. The man who thought he owned her had barely given her a second look, while the one who she looked to for comfort had his hand on the small of her back. It still astounded her how much trust she had put into Harry. How quickly they’d clicked, how he was so in tune with her body and her thoughts that sometimes he knew what she was feeling or thinking before she was even aware of it. 

“Fucking brat.” He muttered, placing the toy into her hands and letting her position it accordingly. “Be good for me, or you aren’t getting fucked.”

With that, the toy was switched on by his thumb at the lowest setting, and the fun began. 

Harry’s view was impeccable. It was always a beautiful thing to see a submissive bare themselves to you, but it was even better when that submissive was Y/N. She had already placed so much trust in him, already chosen him a plethora of times and proven her place. The cravings he’d had of her throughout the week had been almost debilitating. Half the time he was tempted to tell her to come over after work and say fuck it all to the weekend arrangement. Have her sit in his foyer with nothing on when he got home, or in his bed. 

Clicking open the cap of the cherry lubricant, he let a bit dribble down and over her hole. It had been something he’d been looking forward to since she had mentioned it to him, but now that he was getting to do it, that he was smearing his fingers to spread the lube over her while he felt the vibrations work through her body, the excitement only kept building. “This is pretty, y’know.” He mumbled. “Made to be fucked. Think all of your holes were. Makes sense that you’re such a filthy whore.” 

Y/N whimpered underneath him, rubbing her face into the duvet. He had considered tying her hair up so she couldn’t move her head, but that was something else he had to look forward to one day. There were so many options for them that his brain was constantly coming up with more plans, new debauchery to put her body through. His cock was scorching under his briefs, his pants tight, but he was far more focused on her. She was doing well so far, but he was waiting for a slip up. There wouldn’t be much grace given until his cock was buried in that tight little hole. 

“If you’d told me that the pretty girl who walked up all shy to be in that cafe would have her cunt dripping from being degraded while I prepared her ass to be fucked, I’d have been shocked. I imagine most people would. You come off as so sweet, demure… Such a good girl. But you’re nothing but a cock thirsty whore.” His hand pulled back to spank the round of her flesh, a mewl leaving her throat as she trembled slightly. “See? Have half a mind to record this. Maybe next time I will. Take a video of your pretty face while my cock splits your ass open, keep it bookmarked on my phone. So many things I want to do to you, my pet, and such little time in the day.” Clicking his tongue, he ran his finger over the pucker of her ass. It clenched around nothing, making him bite back a groan. She was completely and utterly exposed for him, at his mercy. Better yet, this is where she wanted to be. She chose this, came home with him after giving her boyfriend a metaphorical fuck you, and was now handing over her untouched hole with an eagerness he hadn’t seen in many people. 

“If it makes you happy, Daddy.” She said shakily, panting slightly. 

“Exactly. You’d do anything to make Daddy happy.” The dominant crooned, giving little warning as he pushed the tip of her finger into her ass. He could feel her start to shift her hips, so his opposite hand cracked over her hot skin again to cut it out. “Stop being fucking greedy. Barely got a quarter of a finger in there and you’re trying to fuck yourself on it. Pathetic.” 

Y/N apologized wearily, trying her best to keep still as his finger sunk in deeper. The toy’s vibrations against her clit had her feeling on edge already, but the intrusion in her ass was making her eyes water. “Sorry, I’m sorry but it feels good, Daddy. I want more.” 

Harry scoffed in amazement. This little thing had been having vanilla, missionary sex? She’d been subjected to holding back her true wants and for what? She should have always belonged to him. He knew what to do with her. Harry knew how to please her, how to work a body and a mind who craved this sort of stuff. “I know you do, Puppy. Want to thump your little leg and whine for more like a real pet, but you’re going to take whatever the fuck I give you, and you’re going to like it.” 

Of course, because of her begging, he let himself draw it out. 

Two minutes in she had warned she was going to cum, so he demanded she take the toy away for a minute before putting it back on, one setting higher. 5 minutes in and he added another finger, almost sending her into another orgasm. This time he had her hold the toy away for two minutes, repeating the cycle. Fucking the fingers into her tight channel, he could only imagine how good it was going to feel on his cock. 

“M’gonna add the third, and this time I think I’ll be generous and let you cum. You’ve been a good girl.” His voice softened up, putting his clean hand down and switching it to the next setting. “After that we’re going to try.” Harry was plenty aware of the fact that she had taken it like a champ. He’d even prepared her in the past when they spoke of it that he wouldn’t be upset if she needed more to work into it, but Y/N was definitely a go-getter. 

He watched carefully as he slowly worked the third finger in, watching her reactions. He’d been vigilant for her comfort, and while no one took fingers in the arse as a walk in the park the first time, she had done impressively well. Even with the ruined orgasms which he knew pissed her off immensely, she had been so fucking good and he couldn’t wait to reward her for it. “What’s your color, sweet girl?”

“Green- green, so green Daddy.” She slurred. “I’m so close. I-I’m gonna cum so soon.” This was the place he wanted to get her to, the slightly delirious pleasure filled state of mind that would make it all the more easy on her. The lax bodied ease in which she would be able to take his cock with less tenseness. 

“Go on, baby. Make a mess of yourself so you can take my cock in this pretty little hole.”

It seemed like his permission was enough to set her off. He felt her whole body shake, clenching around his fingers with her walls as she let out a wail he hadn’t heard from her before. Thighs trembling, hand accidentally losing grip of the toy and fingers tensing in the air as she backed into his fingers before trying to get away. His unoccupied hand gripped her hip and kept her in place, praising her as his fingers didn’t stop. In and out, he massaged and stretched her open as the orgasm rattled her bones. 

“That’s my best girl. Knew you could do it, little thing.” He cooed, soothing her skin as she stopped trying to escape the feeling. “Poor pussy, s’a lot hm? Daddy made you wait a little bit to cum, but it was worth it.” 

Y/N nodded into the soft fabric, not yet able to find her voice. This time he didn’t scold her, knowing it probably was intense from the mixture of new sensations and edging with quite a powerful toy. Instead he let her work through it, waiting for her to give him a sign. “Puppy? Alright?” 

“M’amazing.” She giggled, slapping her hand around to find the vibrator. “Can I turn it off, please?”

“Course. Go on, pet. It’s just about time for the real fun to start.”

—-

Y/N was boneless under him, tensing only when he slowly pulled fingers out to dribble some more lubricant over her hole. “Need to get it nice n’wet, my pet.” He was careful to describe what he was doing now that they were getting closer to the real thing. “M’gonna get my cock nice and slick too, make it easier to slide in. You’re a snug little thing, need to make sure we get you as comfortable as possible. 

She had no doubt in her mind that he would do that. Harry had never failed in taking care of her, always making sure she had what she needed. Maybe with quite literally anyone else she would be shaking with nervous, but with him it was only a tiny tremor in her hands. His unlubed fingers had stroked her hair away from her face and made her look at him, promising she was okay to continue before he had gotten to this point. His clothes off, his body heat radiating from behind her. “Okay, Daddy.” 

This mindset was newer to her. Everything felt a little fuzzy and a bit like slow motion but she didn’t feel scared. It was comforting. His voice was deep and calm, at least for now, brushing over her skin like a feather. If she could, she would arch into his words like a cat looking for a pet from it’s owner. Perhaps that was because that’s sort of what she felt like. 

“See? When you listen to instructions and don’t act like a brat, you’re so sweet.” He praised. “I’m gonna be a bit meaner to you, but it’s okay because my slutty little puppy quite likes it, I reckon.” 

She did. She did, she did, she did. She liked how pretty his voice was when he degraded her and acted like she was just a hole for him to unload his cum into. If that was what he wanted her to be, she would happily take it all like the overly eager puppy she turned him into. Something about the man and his demeanor, both as a dominant and a man in general, had her wanting to roll over and submit. There were stark differences between how Dom Harry and Regular Harry treated her, but they fell into the most delicious melting pot that she wanted to submerge her whole body in. “I like anything you do to me, Daddy.” She responded like the perfect little pet she was. 

Harry cooed at her, leaning over her body and placing a kiss on her shoulder. “I know. It’s what makes us so fun, isn’t it? I want to do nasty, dirty, horrible things to you… and you want to let me.” 

Y/N keened as she felt the tip of his cock slap a few times over her hole, eyes fluttering shut. It had been a long time in the making, and she wanted to feel him inside of her. In a place no one else had been before. It would be his, in her mind.

“You tell me if it’s too much. Color if you need to. Do you understand me?” 

Y/N nodded, humming to him, but that wasn’t good enough. A tap to her hip made her eyes peel back open to look at him, his eyes narrowed on her. “Words, Y/N. Tell me you understand how to use your colors and you feel safe.” Oooo, the government name.  If this wasn't the first time they were doing this he likely wouldn’t be so heavy on the double and triple checking, but it was a lot for her to take. He was a lot for her to take. 

“I understand, Daddy. I know I’m safe and I know how to use my colors. Please, fuck me now.” 

Harry gave her a warning glare before he exhaled through his nose, muttering about ‘where his good girl had gone’, but took it for now. They were both keyed up and ready to finally do this, and he couldn’t help that. 

It was cool in the room, but she felt hot all over, particularly under the skin, as his cock rubbed over the well lubed hole. 

Her brain’s fuzzy feeling returned as she felt the first bit begin to push in. It wasn’t entirely pleasant, as she knew it probably wouldn’t be, but she wasn’t about to tap out. Taking quick breaths, she was reminded by the dominant to change that. “Deep, slow breaths. You’ll hyperventilate if you keep doing that.” He murmured, rubbing small circles into her hip. 

His eyes were zoned in on the side of her face as he watched her grip the duvet in front of her. Ever so attentive, she knew he would stop if she asked but there was no point in asking that. Even when it hurt a bit, like he was stretching her so far out that she’d split, she didn’t do anything but curl her fingers and toes, making herself breathe through it. Harry was soft with his words, gentle with his touches as she let him sink into her slowly. 

There was no rushing this. Her body felt like molasses the longer he was inside of her,  not bothering to ask how much more was left. She’d done her research before she ever met Harry but even more after the fact about how to get through it. Deep breaths, good prep, communication. All three things she had actively gotten from him. It was now a journey of waiting for her body to stretch and accept. 

“I’m okay.” She whispered, reaching her hand back to his on her hip. “I feel okay. You can keep going.” He had little bits where he would wait a few moments before continuing to push in, but she wanted it over with. It was starting to become more pleasurable as her body adjusted and he was being cautious with her, but she could take it. 

“Okay.” He agreed, flipping over his hand and letting her hold it. 

Harry was trying his best not to take her out of the moment, or to cum himself. It felt stupidly good, the wet heat engulfing him and clenching around as she tried to adjust to the feeling. Was she truly tighter than anyone else he had, or was he just far more attached to her than the rest? It was something he’d need to unpack later while she was asleep in his bed and he could be creepy and look over her, but at the current moment he couldn’t recall another time where he had felt this good being inside of someone else. “M’gonna grind into you a bit, okay?” He warned her, slowly rocking his hips and hearing her gasp at the small movements. 

God, it felt so good. Like a damn vice, her hole gripping him tight as her nails dug into the back of his hand. For a second he was going to ask if she needed a moment, but the broken moan that left her swollen lips clued him into it. It was the complete opposite. “Oh, Puppy… You like how that feels?” 

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, spreading her legs a bit more. “I’m so f-full.” 

The way she said it was going to be ingrained in his wank bank forever. Whiny and shivery, but full of pleasure. Like she couldn’t believe how well she was filled. “You are. Nice n’snug inside this perfect hole. Think I was right about you being made to be fucked. Though… I think it’s mainly by me, yeah? Pretty holes made to be filled by me, cause I fill ‘em so perfectly.” 

“Yeah, Daddy.” She mewled, arching slightly as he pushed in a bit further. “It’s so perfect and I l-love it. It hurts but it feels so good n’I wanna do it again.” 

“Haven’t even finished this one and you’re already planning our next fuck… Really are Daddy’s girl. Addicted to my cock inside of you, jus’ like I’m obsessed with filling you.” She didn’t know just how true those words rang out now. How he had poured over the fact that he liked her far more than he should for an arrangement like this, how he had been so desperate for her that he’d broken his rule -which he never does as a dominant- and made her cum in the bathroom during their lunch because he had wanted to make her feel good so badly that it made him feel borderline insane. 

“I am. I’m Daddy’s girl.” She babbled, pushing back into him. “I can take more. You can- you can fuck me. I can take it, I promise. Green.” The urging made him chuckle to himself because fuck, could she get any more perfect?  Make it any more obvious that she was completely and utterly made for him, saying all the shit he had been hoping she would? 

For once, the dominant couldn’t tell his submissive no. 

He was slow about it at first, listening to her mewl. Filling her up and pulling out shallowly, letting her adjust to the action. The man relished in the feeling of her stretching and clinging to him, greedily trying to keep him inside of her.  It became increasingly hard to keep his composure, but the good news was that Y/N didn’t want him to. 

The slow crescendo gained momentum, the hand she was holding falling down as she tried to move herself onto her hands. While he had been trying to keep it slower for her, it seemed his submissive craved more- fucking herself back onto him with the sweetest whines being punched out of her as she did so. The gall, the audacity of the girl had him laughing under his breath- but he wasn’t going to let it go.

His hand gripped her hair, swiftly pulling it around his fist like a leash and pulling her up onto her knees. “If you want more, you’ll take it like this.” It was reminiscent of their other time he loved to look back on, but his prick was filling a different hole. Teeth descended onto her neck as he picked up the pace, biting down as she squealed his honorific into the air. “Oh, what? Is it too deep? Too much? You want to get greedy and now it’s too much for that slutty hole?” He cooed, the condescending tone making her shiver. “That’s too fucking bad then. You know what to say to get me to stop.” Unless she uttered that word, he knew she could take it. 

Y/N felt lightheaded in the best way. This new sort of pleasure had her dripping all over her thighs, her clit pulsing between her legs as he fucked into her ass. Pounded it, really, in a way she had only dreamed about. Pinpricks on her scalp from the grip on her hair, involuntary noises being punched out of her lungs from the pressure, she was feeling her eyes lull with each thrust. It was only with him, she didn’t have to think about anything but how good she felt. How to please him, how to piss him off, how he would make her cum. The most primal of urges being met, all the while he was focused on her. There was no thought of work infiltrating his brain, or sports, or the distraction of texts or pulling out mid stroke for a phone call- no. In their intimate moments, Harry was just as tuned into her as she was, him. 

“You fuck me so good.” Somewhere along the line, those thoughts had her tearing up. This was the first partner in which she had felt the reciprocated want, the attention she felt she deserved being laid down onto her. Her eyes stung but there was no way to stop it as the tears began to dribble down her cheeks. Something like an emotional release starting as the physical pleasure began to bubble up in her stomach, his hand winding around to the front to circle her slippery clit. “Don’t stop, Daddy. Don’t stop, please don’t ever stop fucking me.” 

The words probably held more weight than she realized, her shuddering voice making him groan into her neck. “As long as you want me, I’ll keep going.” His voice was deep with the pleasure, hoarse as he promised her he wouldn’t stop. “You feel so good, baby. I’ll give you whatever you need. Don’t ever worry.” turning her head, his tongue licked over the salty tear that had fallen down her cheek. “Your holes are mine, aren’t they? Every single one. No one else’s. Only for Daddy to fuck. Took this ass n’now it’s mine.” He himself was losing it a bit at her declaration, finding himself close. “My perfect slut.”

The intensity was high but neither of them wanted to stop. Unspoken words thick in the air as the pleasure filled both of their bodies, leading them towards their ends sooner than they’d want. It was when his fingers filled her pussy and his the heel of his palm smacked against her clit as he fucked her in both holes that she new she couldn’t stop her upcoming orgasm. 

“Yeah- uh-huh, just use me. I’ll be good, I’ll be so, so good for you Daddy. They’re yours, I’m yours. I’m yours, I promise- Oh, fuck.” She sobbed, feeling his fingers quicken on her clit. “I need to cum. I need to cum, Please, please let me. You can keep fucking me, Jus’ let me cum. I’m so good, I’m your good little slut.”

“Y-yeah.” His mouth fell open and the moan was loud and slightly shaky.  “Cum for me. Cum for me, pretty fucking girl, I’m gonna cum in you. Let go, It’s okay- Give it t’me. Give it.” He demanded, his mouth shadowing her own as they inhaled each other’s pants. They were glistening and sticky with sweat, sloppy on the thighs, lips swollen and marked up in the most animalistic way and they’d never been more in tune with their bodies- or each other. 

Y/N couldn’t stop herself as she got permission, his pulsing fingers getting one specific spot inside of her and his cock filling her ass over and over again sending her over the edge. White flashed her vision as she shuddered in his arms, a unfamiliar scream leaving her throat. Gushing around his fingers, she squirted a little stream of liquid down his hand. Both holes clenching, her body unsure if she should push herself closer or pull away, she sobbed out his name. “Harry- Harry, oh my fuck-” 

The combination of many things had led to his own orgasm, but it was particularly his real name that had him pushed to his limits. His own pathetic moan of hers followed, pulling her mouth to his own as he kissed her messily. Each pulse of his balls added another stream of cum inside of her, thighs twitching as he felt some of his strength draining along with his cock. He was in slight disbelief how intense he felt it, his toes feeling damn near numb as he tried to snap back into caretaker mode as he unwound his hand from her hair and slowly leaned her down to lay on the bed. 

“Oh, baby…” He whispered, peppering kisses to her cheeks. “Fuck, sweet girl… what the fuck are you doin’ to me?” A laugh of disbelief left his swollen lips, nudging his nose against hers. Y/N let out a weak noise of acknowledgement, melting right into the bed as he laid on top of her. Doing his best to keep his weight from squishing her, he tried to gain some composure with deep breathing. He’d fallen into a different headspace there, and it had been quite a while since he had done it. Forever, really, for that certain brand of it. It wasn’t just a dominant headspace, but one that felt something for the girl he was inside of. More than what was allowed. At this point though, he didn’t particularly care about the logistics of it. 

There was no way he wasn’t going to make this girl his. Ethics be damned. 

“Angel? Y’alright?” He whispered, getting a grunt from her. “Yeah? I’m gonna have to pull out in a few seconds so I can get the stuff to take care of you. I’ll be slow, and come right back.” It wasn’t like he wanted to go anywhere from her, If he had it his way he’d be inside of her 24/7. But he needed to take proper care of his girl, and aftercare was something he simply wouldn’t skip. 

“No.” She whimpered. “Don’t want you t’go.” The words were muffled together, like her lips weren't working that well, and it made the man smile. She was well and truly fucked out. This time, though, it was mutual. 

“I have to, sweetheart. Don’t want you laying in all this filth. Sticky, aren’t you?” He knew he was. It was worse for her, considering she had been double stuffed with his cum today. Internally, he was very happy about that.

“A little.” She huffed, turning her head and eyeing him. “I don’t wanna move. I don’t think I’ve got bones, Daddy.” The whisper made him smile, knowing that she was still in that space. He’d work her out of it, make sure she was all clean and boneless while feeling safe. 

“You’ve got bones, love. Daddy jus’ fucked you pretty good.” He smoothed the sweaty strands of hair from her face. “Do you need something before I go n’grab the stuff to make you feel like you’ve got bones again?” 

Her face turned a little more, lips puckering out. “Kissy, please.” 

When he’d look back at it later, he would pinpoint that as the moment all the defenses around his heart broke. There was no more denying it. She had him. Hook, line and sinker.  

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Pt 2- the birth

the mha boys holding their newborn for the first time

requested by @thrivingaintmything tags/warnings- pregnancy and childbirth, aged up (post-canon) nothing overly negative, super corny, this will probably be continued characters- izuku midoryria, katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, denki kamanari, ejirio Kirishima, fumikage tokoyami, koji koda, mezo shoji, tamaki amajiki, hanta sero, tenya iida 

izuku midoryria

izuku’s hands shook slightly as he cradled the tiny bundle against his chest. The delivery had been long and exhausting, but he hadn’t left your side for a second. Now, as he stared down at his newborn, the reality of it all was still sinking in.

The baby made a small noise, and Izuku’s breath hitched. His instincts kicked in, and he adjusted his hold, gently rocking back and forth. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft but steady. He was tired—more exhausted than he’d ever been—but there was no room for that now.

He was already overthinking, cataloging every piece of advice he’d read about newborn care, every tip he’d received from friends. But when the baby settled against him, breathing evenly, he allowed himself a moment to just feel. His hand brushed over the baby’s head, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

“Welcome to the world,” he murmured, his heart full and his mind finally quiet.

katsuki bakugo

Bakugo was quieter than usual, his explosive energy tempered as he paced the room, rocking the newborn in his arms. It was strange, feeling something so small and fragile in his grasp, but he held them with a surprising gentleness, his movements careful and precise.

He hadn’t left your side since you went into labor, but now that the baby was here, he found himself even more on edge. Every sound the baby made, every shift in their tiny body, had him on high alert. It wasn’t fear—Bakugo didn’t do fear—it was more of an intense need to protect.

He refused to hand the baby off to anyone else, his jaw set in determination. When the baby fussed, he’d bounce them gently, muttering under his breath about how “stubborn” they were, but there was a softness in his voice that hadn’t been there before. When you looked at him, he’d grunt something about needing to be strong, for both of you, but the way he cradled the baby said everything his words couldn’t.

shoto todoroki

Shoto held his daughter with a steady hand, his eyes focused on her tiny face as she blinked up at him, her mismatched eyes—one blue, one the colour of yours—mirroring his own heterochromia. He sat beside your hospital bed, the room filled with the quiet sounds of her breathing and the steady beeping of the machines.

“She’s so small,” he murmured, mostly telling himself, his voice low and calm. He didn’t say much, but you could see the wheels turning in his head, a million thoughts running through his mind.

He was meticulous in how he held her, careful not to let his temperature fluctuate. You noticed how he glanced at the thermostat in the room more than once, making sure the temperature was perfect for her. It was just like him to worry about things like that.

When she started fussing, he didn’t panic. He gently rocked her, his movements precise, almost methodical, as he figured out what she needed. When she finally settled, he gave you a small nod, as if to say, “I’ve got this.”

There was no grand declaration of love or overwhelming emotion—just a quiet, unspoken resolve to do things right, to be the father she needed. As he cradled her, you could see the determination in his eyes, a promise that he would protect her, no matter what.

denki kamanari

Denki had always been the life of the party, the one with the jokes and the energy, but now, holding his newborn, he was struck silent. The delivery had been intense—he’d been a mix of excitement and nerves, trying to keep the mood light, but now all that energy had drained away, leaving only awe.

He stared down at the baby, a goofy smile spreading across his face. “Hey, little one,” he whispered, his voice almost reverent. He wiggled a finger near the baby’s tiny hand, and when the baby grasped it, Denki’s grin widened. “You’ve got a strong grip there. Just like your mom.”

As the baby squirmed, Denki rocked them gently, the reality of fatherhood sinking in. “I’m gonna be the best dad ever,” he promised quietly, his usual bravado tempered with genuine sincerity. 

Denki was a mix of exhaustion and excitement, his eyes wide with wonder as he held the baby close to his chest. “Look at this little spark,” he whispered his shit pun, his voice filled with awe. The baby was calm in his arms, tiny fingers gripping his shirt, and Denki couldn’t stop smiling.

He was clumsy at first, struggling to figure out how to hold the baby without feeling like he was going to drop them. But once he found his rhythm, he was all in, doting on the newborn with a tenderness that surprised even him.

When the baby cried, Denki’s initial reaction was panic—frantic searches through baby books and quick Google searches on his phone. But after a few trial-and-error attempts, he figured out how to soothe them, usually by softly humming a rhythmless tune he made up on the spot.

ejirio Kirishima

Kirishima was all nerves and excitement as he held his daughter, his hands surprisingly steady for someone who had been pacing the room only moments before. He looked down at her, a grin spreading across his face as she grabbed onto his finger with that weird strength that newborns often have

“Look at that grip,” he whispered, his voice full of awe. “She’s gonna be tough, just like her mom.”

Despite his usual upbeat nature, he was careful, his rough exterior softened as he cradled her in his arms. You noticed how his eyes flickered with concern every time she made a noise, ready to jump into action if she so much as whimpered.

When it came time to change her, he didn’t shy away, though his hands fumbled a bit with the tiny buttons and straps. “I’ve got this, I can do this,” he muttered under his breath, his face scrunched in concentration. It wasn’t perfect, but he managed, and when he was done, he looked up at you with a wide grin, proud of himself for getting it right.

His enthusiasm was infectious, and despite the exhaustion, you found yourself smiling along with him. There was no doubt in your mind that he was going to be a great dad—determined, loving, and always ready to tackle whatever came his way, just like he tackled everything else in life.

fumikage tokoyami

Tokoyami cradled the baby in his arms with a quiet reverence, his usually stoic face softened by the sight before him. The room was dimly lit, Dark Shadow hovering nearby, unusually subdued as it peered curiously at the newborn. Tokoyami glanced at the spirit and whispered, “Gently,” as if reminding both himself and his companion of the delicate life they now cared for.

He moved with careful precision, every action deliberate as he rocked the baby in a soothing rhythm. His usual brooding nature was still present, but there was a new lightness to him, as if the weight of fatherhood had given him a deeper sense of purpose.

When the baby cried, Tokoyami didn’t panic. He approached the situation with the same calm he brought to battle, analyzing what the baby needed and responding accordingly. Whether it was a feeding or a change, he handled it with a quiet efficiency. In the stillness of the night, he would hum low, calming melodies to the baby, his deep voice resonating through the room. He wasn’t one for grand gestures, but his actions spoke volumes.

koji koda

Koda was a bundle of nerves as he held the baby for the first time, his large hands surprisingly gentle around the tiny, delicate body. He had been quiet throughout the delivery, not out of lack of emotion, but because he was overwhelmed by the gravity of the moment.

Now, with the baby cradled against his chest, he was in awe. He didn’t say much, only murmuring soft reassurances, both to the baby and to himself. He was naturally nurturing, and it showed in the way he instinctively rocked the baby, his movements slow and deliberate.

He had always been a man of few words, and this moment was no different. He didn’t need to speak to express the overwhelming love and protectiveness he felt. It was there in the way he held her, so gently, as if she was the most precious thing in the world.

A small bird fluttered onto the windowsill of the room, chirping quietly. Koda glanced at it, then back at his daughter, his shy smile growing. He had always been more comfortable with animals, but as he sat there, he realized that he had never felt more at peace than he did now, holding his little girl.

When the baby fussed, he’d mumbled quiet, high-pitched words, the same way he did when talking to animals. It worked, the baby quieting as they settled against him. He wasn’t overly confident, but he was determined to be the best father he could be. He knew he had a lot to learn, but he approached it with the same gentle determination he brought to everything else in life.

Koda didn’t need to say it out loud—you could see it in his eyes, the quiet determination to be there for her, to protect her with all the strength he had.

mezo shoji

Shoji held his daughter carefully, all six of his tentacle arms prepared for anything with practised precision as he adjusted her swaddle, making sure she was comfortable. His eyes, usually so calm and composed, were filled with a quiet intensity as he looked down at her, taking in every detail of her tiny features.

He was a man of action, not words, and this moment was no different. He didn’t need to say anything to convey how much he cared—you could see it in the way he moved, the way he held her with such gentle strength.

She fussed a bit, her tiny fists waving in the air, and Shoji immediately shifted, one of his hands reaching out to gently rock her. His movements were smooth, almost instinctive, as if he had been preparing for this moment his entire life.

When she finally settled, he looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours. There was no need for words—the connection between the two of you, and now the three of you, was stronger than ever. He gave you a small nod, his way of saying, “We’re in this together.”

As he sat there, holding his daughter, Shoji couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. He knew that this was just the beginning, and he was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.

tamaki amajiki

Tamaki was hesitant at first, his usual anxiety heightened by the sheer responsibility of holding their newborn. His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted the blanket around the baby, his expression a mix of awe and fear. “she's.. so small,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

But despite his nerves, Tamaki was surprisingly capable. Once he got over the initial shock, he found himself falling into a rhythm, his natural sensitivity making him attuned to the baby’s needs. He wasn’t the most confident, but he was gentle and caring, always making sure the baby was comfortable.

Tamaki sat in the corner of the hospital room, his daughter cradled carefully in his arms. He was quiet, more so than usual, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear. He had always been nervous, but this was a different kind of nervousness—a deep, bone-shaking fear of not being enough, of not knowing how to handle this new responsibility.

She was so small, so delicate, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was going to mess something up. His hands shook slightly as he held her, his mind racing with a thousand worries. Was she comfortable? Was she too warm? Too cold?

When she started to fuss, he froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He glanced at you, panic in his eyes, but you gave him a reassuring smile, reminding him that he wasn’t alone in this. Taking a deep breath, he gently rocked her, his movements hesitant at first but gradually becoming more confident as she began to settle.

Tamaki’s anxiety didn’t disappear, but as he sat there, holding his daughter, he felt a small spark of something else—something like hope. He wasn’t sure if he could do this, but he was determined to try, to be there for her in every way he could.

When she finally drifted off to sleep, Tamaki let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and determination. “I… I’ll do my best,” he whispered, you couldnt tell if he was promising you or himself, but it was still a promise

hanta sero

Sero was all grins as he held his daughter, his easygoing nature shining through even in this moment of overwhelming responsibility. He looked down at her, his eyes wide with wonder as she blinked up at him, her tiny hands grasping at the air.

“Hey there, little one,” he said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. He still couldn’t quite believe that he was holding his daughter, that this tiny person was his.

He sat cross-legged on the floor beside your hospital bed, his daughter in his arms, gently rocking her as she slept. The usual grin was gone, replaced by a look of quiet focus. He hadn’t said much since she was born, too wrapped up in making sure she was okay.

You noticed how he kept things light, making little jokes to keep the mood relaxed.

“You’ve got her smile,” he commented, glancing up at you with a tired but genuine grin of his own. He shifted slightly, adjusting her in his arms so she was more comfortable.

Sero wasn’t one to overthink things—he just did what needed to be done. When she started to squirm, he didn’t panic, just adjusted his hold and softly whispered to her until she calmed down. It was natural, almost instinctive, the way he moved, his usual laid-back demeanor tempered with a new sense of purpose.

As the night wore on, you caught him humming softly to her, a quiet tune you recognized from when he used to sing to you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real—just like him.

tenya iida 

Tenya had been the picture of control throughout the entire birth—focused, organized, and completely in command. But now, as he stood by the hospital bed, holding his newborn daughter, there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

He was gentle, cradling her with an almost surprising tenderness given his usual precision. He looked down at her, and for a moment, the disciplined, determined hero you knew was replaced by a new father, unsure but filled with a quiet determination.

“She’s so small,” he said, his voice low, almost in awe. You saw him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

He didn’t fumble—Tenya never fumbled—but there was a carefulness in his movements, as if he was afraid of doing something wrong. When she stirred and let out a small cry, he immediately began to soothe her, his hand gently rubbing her back as he whispered reassurances.

Throughout the night, Tenya was a constant presence, attentive and thorough. He checked on both you and the baby regularly, making sure everything was just right. There was no grand gesture, no sweeping declarations—just Tenya, being there, steady and reliable, just as he’d always been.

izuku midoryria, katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, denki kamanari, ejirio Kirishima, fumikage tokoyami, koji koda, mezo shoji, tamaki amajiki, hanta sero, tenya iida 

[dirtyvulture]

Envy and Venom

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4190

AN: Randomly came up with this idea, it's a little different than my other stuff, but give it a read. :)

DAY 1

“You couldn’t have picked a better person for the job,” you tease, gripping tightly onto your father’s hand as the sea of flashing lights fifteen feet away practically blinds you. The reporters call out for your attention but you ignore them, pausing in the awkward, hand-holding pose with your father so the photo can be plastered across the front page of news outlets around the world. 

“I trust you. Don’t ruin what I’ve started,” your father says, grabbing onto your shoulder and pulling you into a tight embrace. “And please try to keep your…escapades…a little more under wraps, okay?” he whispers into your ear. 

“I’ll try, Dad,” you say, but it isn’t really your fault that the public was so interested in what goes on in your bedroom. Then again, you hadn’t exactly been trying to be subtle when you were fucking your secretary against the penthouse window of your apartment, but people should try to mind their own business more. 

Your father pushes you back and the two of you turn in unison to wave at the crowd once more. 

“Congratulations!” you hear them echoing. “To Envy Industries’ new CEO, Y/N!”

***********************************************************************

Naturally, to celebrate your latest achievement, you host the party of the century, inviting other world-renowned millionaires, fellow tech company gurus, actors, singers, celebrities, and pretty much anyone else who fit society’s thinly-veiled description of “famous.” You initially show up with two models you had already spent the afternoon with, but you weren’t interested in stringing them along and were excited to find some new target to chase after. 

The first hour alone is spent wading through faces you recognize from online but have no personal connection with, and you have to pretend that you’re grateful when they take enough interest and ask about the future of your company. 

“We’ll probably stick to the production of GPUs for a while,” you say, yelling to be heard over the music and rumble of people. “We just signed a huge contract with Tesla, so we’ll be supplying all the hardware they need for their next products. They have a big need for AI software, and we’re one of the few companies that can build exactly what they need.”

“Wow, that’s very impressive.” The short-haired blonde woman suddenly throws herself at you, her nails digging into your bicep so hard you can feel the prick through your burgundy silk jacket.

“Thank you.” You’re not sure you’ve ever seen this woman before in your life and you wonder if she even understood half of what you were saying or she was just trying to get into your pants.

“I’m Carol, by the way. Do you want to get a drink?”

“I would never say no to a drink.” You let Carol lead you to the bar (that you are footing the bill for) and she orders for you, picking an old-fashioned cocktail for you. A decent choice, but if she had read your interview in The Chief Executive Magazine, she would have known that your favorite drink was actually a vodka martini. You join her at an empty table.

“So, what do you do for a living?” you ask out of politeness, taking a sip and letting the whiskey burn your throat.  

“I’m an influencer,” Carol says. “I have one-point-seven million followers on Tik Tok right now. I mostly post fitness routines or travel vlogs. And I also stream video games on Twitch.”

“Ah.” Now it’s your turn to act like you’re impressed when you have no idea what she’s talking about. 

Carol drones on about her next project, which involves a collaboration with another influencer you’ve never heard of. Your eyes scan the people walking by, looking for a new object of infatuation. It doesn’t take long until you make eye contact with a beautiful, redheaded woman, her voluptuous body hugged by an emerald green dress. Immediately, your heart rate spikes as you scan her up and down, not predatorily, but admiringly. The neckline of her dress plunges down to her belly button, a tasteful hint of her cleavage showing through, highlighted by a long  silver necklace with a thin gold bar tassel. 

You perk up, smoothing your hair back and puffing out your chest like a proud pigeon when she starts walking over.

“Congratulations,” the redhead says. “Your family must be very proud of you.”

“My dad didn’t want to give it to me,” you admit, completely oblivious to Carol’s pout as you instantly give your attention to this new woman. “But I convinced him the company would be in good hands.”

“I bet.”

“Can I get you a drink?” you ask, desperate to keep around for the conversation (and perhaps more).

“I should be the one treating you,” the redhead says. She takes the cocktail out of your hands and brings it to her lips. “Hmm. I didn’t think this was your taste,” she notes. “How does a vodka martini sound?”

You know instantly this is the woman you’re taking home with you tonight. “That sounds delightful.”

***********************************************************************

You ditch Carol without a second thought and follow the redhead back to the bar, where she picks up two vodka martinis. She brings you to a private booth, sitting so close to you that your knees are touching hers. You can almost feel her body heat through the fabric of your clothes. 

“To Envy Industries’ long and prosperous future,” she says, raising her drink in a toast.

“Cheers.” You clink your glass to hers and drink half of it in one long sip, smiling in satisfaction. “I didn’t catch your name,” you say.

“Natasha.” It sparks a familiar memory, a name you’ve heard before. But she’s so intoxicating that you give it no second thought. Natasha is one of the most gorgeous women you’ve ever seen in your life and you can’t believe she’s sitting here talking to you and you alone.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you say, formally offering her your hand. She shakes it, and you gently bring her hand up to your lips to kiss her knuckles.

“Likewise,” she says, crossing one perfectly toned leg over the other, her foot nudging the back of your calf. “Not to eavesdrop, but I overheard you mention a contract with Tesla. Say what you want about that company, but you can’t deny the evidence that they’re one of the highest valued companies in the world. I wouldn’t be surprised if Envy Industries is soon up there with them.”

“Exactly.” Your interest in this woman skyrockets, because you know she isn’t bullshitting you. She isn’t like Carol. She knows what she’s talking about. 

“We’ve been trying to strike deals with the automotive industry for years,” Natasha goes on, “But you’ve beat us to it. And now that you’ve partnered up with Tesla, you’re basically unstoppable.”

“Not quite,” you correct, now unable to stop yourself from unraveling the schemes of your company’s next five years. “Our research on artificial intelligence is just getting started. We just applied for ten new patents within computing technologies and we’re on track to absolutely dominate the market for discrete graphics processing units by the end of the year.” 

Natasha grins at your enthusiasm and you feel yourself blush in embarrassment. You know the media often labeled you as stupid, reckless, irresponsible, unfit to lead, and constantly bashed your sexual appetite, but you were all those things and a technology genius. Your father had built this company from the ground up, but you had been there alongside him the past six years. While everyone classified your promotion to CEO as nepotism, you felt you had rightfully earned it. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” she comments.

“Well, it definitely wouldn’t be wise for the new CEO to be giving away all the secrets, now would it?” you chuckle, even though you’ve definitely already said more than you should’ve. 

“Your success is no trade secret.” Natasha turns her whole body to face you. The attention she’s giving you is almost more than you can bear. Your heart pounds against your chest. No woman has ever made you this excited before. “But if you want, maybe we can go somewhere a little more private, where you can share whatever else you’d like.”

“Hmm.” It was rare for another woman to be so bold with you. But you’ve never lusted after another woman like Natasha before. Arousal heats up in your stomach as Natasha leans forward, resting her hand on your thigh and squeezing it teasingly. Her breath fans over your face and you can smell the vodka and her cherry lipstick. You lean forward to meet her, moving like you’re in a dream, fireworks sparking in the back of your head the moment your lips touch. 

Suddenly, you’re overcome with the carnal desire to drag this woman up to your penthouse and have her squirming underneath you, crying out your name as she comes undone.

“Um, would you like to…” You can hardly think straight. “My room…apartment…is upstairs…if you want to…”

“Show me the way,” Natasha says, standing up and offering you her hand.

***********************************************************************

Your brain is swirling in a fog as you follow Natasha to the elevator. You don’t even register any of the people you pass, fully aware of the fact that someone will report this headline to the National Enquirer, at the very least. But all the worries of the future disappear the moment the elevator doors close and Natasha throws herself at you, her legs hooking around your narrow waist and her heels digging into the small of your back. Your hands support her supple bottom, squeezing in appreciation as her lips crash against yours in a desperate frenzy. 

You stumble into the wall, smashing your hand onto the top floor button and feeling the elevator start to rise, but not fast enough. 

“Lucky me,” Natasha pants between kisses. “Getting to go home with the newly-christened CEO of Envy Industries.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight,” you respond, heat rising between your legs. “Of course you were coming home with me.”

Natasha glows with the praise and pulls your head into her chest, where you instinctively lick and nip at the flesh of her exposed breasts and she keens at the attention. When the elevator doors open again, you stumble out with her still in your arms, your feet automatically taking you down the path to your apartment. Thankfully, your apartment door opens automatically when your key card is in range, so you’re able to kick it open with your foot, without having to put her down.   

You carry her straight to the bedroom, dropping her on the freshly-changed sheets you had housekeeping put on after you were done with the two models from earlier. You can hardly remember your time with them and your body is practically vibrating in anticipation like you haven’t had sex in years. You crawl on top of Natasha, lowering yourself to kiss her again, this time with more passion and her arms snake over your broad back, pressing your body against hers.  

“I need to get you out of this dress,” you pant, desperate for skin-to-skin contact with her. 

“You first,” she says, releasing you as you sit up, yanking off your jacket and throwing it to the floor. You’re annoyed at your choice of shirt, a white button-up that has way too many buttons, as you impatiently pop them off one at a time and remove your bra. Natasha watches you with hunger in her eyes and you’ve never felt more proud to reveal yourself to another partner. The daily, painful 2-hour visits to the gym and strict adherence to a customized diet showed in your chiseled physique, your biceps bulging like you had baseballs under your skin, your perfect washboard abs, and your thighs were sturdier than tree trunks. 

“Fuck,” she mutters, reaching up to run her hand across your abs like she can’t believe you’re really in front of her. “I could look at you all day.”

It’s a common reaction most people have, but it definitely heats you up more when it comes from Natasha. “Your turn, gorgeous.” 

She sits up and turns around so you can access the zipper of her dress. You sweep her hair to the side, stealing a kiss to her neck because you really can’t help yourself. Natasha hums in appreciation and you lower her zipper slowly. Her dress pools at her waist like a glimmering green puddle. She isn’t wearing a bra so your hands immediately gravitate to cup her breasts, and she arches her back against your bare chest. 

“Are you gonna fuck me the same way you do to every girl you have in here?” she asks, placing one of her hands over yours and guiding it down her stomach, where your fingers part through her soaking folds. 

“If you want me to,” you say, pressing deeper into her and she whines at your touch. “But I’ll give you whatever you want.” Normally, you enjoy being in full control in the bedroom, but you are absolutely willing to give that up if it pleases Natasha. 

She suddenly pushes your hand away from her center; you can still feel traces of her stickiness on your fingers. “Do you have a strap? I want to ride you.”

Your stomach flips at the thought of her on top of you, grinding down on you until she finishes. Her heaving bosom in your face for you to suck and kiss while she enjoys the orgasm you gave her. 

“Yeah, let me grab it.” While you launch yourself off the bed to go fishing around your nightstand drawer, Natasha nudges her dress to the floor and delicately removes her long necklace, settling back comfortably on your king-sized bed while she waits for you. You take off your pants and pull the harness over your waist, turning back to the mouth-watering sight of her naked and ready for your taking. Her body is toned and curved in all the right places: clearly, she respected her body as much as you did to yours. There are few things you love more than a woman who takes care of herself.

You climb back onto the bed and Natasha pounces on you while you’re still getting into position, holding onto your biceps to pin you down. You catch sight of her glimmering wetness as she drags herself along your abs, pressing back against your cock until it rubs against her butt. You reach over to grab the bottle of lube always present on your nightstand and squirt a generous glob onto your strap, not that it looks like Natasha will need it. 

“Look how wet you are. You’ve been waiting for this all night, sweetheart?” you tease, your hands running up and down her sides. Natasha takes you by surprise when she shoves you back against the headboard.  

“Shut up and let me fuck you,” she growls, her voice dangerously dropping an octave. Natasha lifts herself up to line herself with the head of your cock and slides down in one move. The slick noise as it fills her is downright sinful. Your big hands wrap around her tiny waist, guiding her to bounce in an aggressive rhythm as the two of you watch your cock disappear inside of her. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” she moans, throwing her head back, red hair spilling over her shoulders. “That feels so good.”

“Look how well you’re taking me,” you praise, your hips jerking up to match her rhythm. Even though you can’t necessarily feel it, you swear her pussy is clenching around the toy, greedily sucking you in and requiring physical effort to pull out. Your own clit is throbbing as the toy bumps it every time Natasha slams down on your thighs. 

“Deeper, babe. Go deeper,” Natasha begs, moving her hands from your shoulders to the headboard, grabbing it so firmly you hear the wood crack. You change the angle of your hips, punching them up to satisfy her command. The bed frame creaks and shakes; you know your father would be unhappy to hear he has to order you a new one so soon, but you can’t be bothered to care right now.

“Fuck, right there. That’s it,” Natasha moans, rolling her hips with such fluidity it makes your stomach clench. She looks down at you, admiring the flex of your muscles as you do your best to please her, a singular bead of sweat running over your collarbone and sliding down between your breasts. 

“I’m close. I’m almost fucking there,” she warns, her hips beginning to lose their rhythm. But you keep your intense pace, until your abs are cramping and you’re certain there are bruises on your thighs. Your own arousal burns like a ball of white-hot fire and you so desperately want to make this woman cum you will gladly ignore the ache of your own orgasm for hers. 

“You’re fucking me too well, baby. I’m gonna lose it,” Natasha pants and the praise almost breaks your control. She throws her head back as she finishes and you bury your face in her heaving chest, tasting the sweat on her skin and sucking one of her nipples into your mouth. Her hand abandons the headboard to tangle in your hair, yanking almost painfully at your roots while you feel her cum spill onto your lap. She pushes your head away once she’s done, your lips parting from her nipple with a string of saliva, and lifts herself off your cock. The two of you are panting in unison, while you’re still fighting the simmer of arousal in your gut.

“Hmm, that was nice. Do you normally let your partner finish first?” she asks, resting her hands on your chest again. “I didn’t think you were the type.”

Your face burns in embarrassment because she’s not wrong. “Um…no,” you admit, knowing full well you could lie, but you feel like she’ll be able to see through it.

Natasha smirks. “Such a gentlewoman with me,” she says, bending over to kiss you, this time much more softly than before. 

“Only for you,” you murmur back, shocked at how whipped you already are for her. 

“You want me to help you finish?” Natasha asks, pushing the strap aside to brush her fingers across your hot center. Your hips jerk off the bed, almost launching Natasha into the air. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she giggles, climbing off your lap and helping you pull the strap off your waist. You’re practically frozen in anticipation, watching with bated breath as Natasha scoots herself down the bed and lowers her head between your legs.

You melt at the feeling of her mouth against your center, perfectly hot and wet. Your back arches off the bed when her tongue glides through your folds, lapping up the mixture of body fluids like it’s some kind life-saving elixir. 

“Shit, baby, that feels amazing,” you moan, burying one of your hands in her red tresses, motioning with your hips that you want her deeper. She obliges by wrapping her lips around your clit and giving it a few hard sucks that have you seeing white stars behind your eyelids. You let go of her hair, afraid you’ll tear it out and grab onto the Egyptian cotton sheets tightly. Her tongue pushes into you and you swear you convulse around it, already leaking into her mouth when she’s only just started to go down on you.

Natasha’s arms wrap around your powerful thighs, trying to force them apart as you close them around her head. You don’t mean to put her in awkward, even dangerous position, but you can’t think about anything other than the pulsing in your center, soothed and encouraged by the heat of Natasha’s mouth. You dig your heels into the mattress to prevent yourself from bouncing across the bed at the rocking motion your body had adopted to maximize your pleasure. Every time her tongue slips into you, the muscles in your stomach contract so sharply it almost hurts, and when she laps at your clit, the stimulation is so great you feel immediately dizzy.

“Natasha,” you pant, unable to hold out any longer. “I’m gonna…Please let me…” 

She presses into you with even more enthusiasm than before and your body seizes as you release yourself into her mouth. Natasha eagerly collects all your slick, her red lipstick smeared on the insides of your thighs.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moan, feeling your high is going to last forever. But just the sensations start to fizz, you realize Natasha still has her iron grip on your legs, keeping them spread apart.

“I want another,” she demands, in a sultry tone that almost pulls the second orgasm from you right there.

“Natasha,” you whine, fearing you are too sensitive to deliver her wishes. You twist your body back and forth, half-heartedly trying to free yourself. But Natasha won’t let you, lowering her head to your heat and taking what she wants. Overly stimulated, every muscle in your body goes rigid as fireworks of pleasure, bordering the line of painful, explode inside of you. Natasha’s tongue somehow reaches even deeper than she had the first time, the tip pressing against your front ridged wall and you lose it for the second time in minutes.

“Oh, fuck!” you cry, your back arching off the bed but Natasha holds your waist down, determined to not let a drop of your essence go to waste. Your head is spinning and your body is like a live wire of excitement, twitching and trembling until you have no more energy left and and you melt into a limp mess.

Natasha kisses up your abs, between your breasts and licks at the column of your sweaty throat. Her lips finally connect with yours and you can taste a hint of yourself mixed with hers. You can’t wait to taste her straight from the source, but it’s going to take a bit of time to find the strength to move after two back-to-back orgasms. She wraps her arms around your torso, nuzzling into the side of your chest and inhaling deeply.

There is a long, but not uncomfortable silence as you two of you find your breath.

“I’m not letting you leave until you sit on my face,” you finally say. Natasha looks up at you with a satisfied grin.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she says, crawling up so she can do just that.

***********************************************************************

The moment Natasha made eye contact with you, she knew you were done for. You were far too predictable. She knew exactly the kind of woman you chased after. She knew what she needed to say to catch your attention, to convince you that she deserved a private moment with you.

You were too easy.

When you were so busy looking at her lips, trying to figure out when the right moment to kiss her was, you didn’t notice her take your phone out of your pocket, plug a flash drive into the charging slot, and return it back to your pocket in record time.

As you carry her in the elevator, your face buried in her breasts while she slips a tiny audio recorder into the pocket of your blazer. Through the fog of pure lust for you, Natasha struggles to but succeeds in making a mental map of your apartment. Where your office is, how many computers you have.

After numerous orgasms, she’s sufficiently fucked your brains out and cuddled with you long enough for you to pass out into an impossibly deep slumber, she gets up and heads into your office. She doesn’t need more than five minutes to hack into your devices and steal all the data saved on them. She chuckles to herself at how easy the task is; if she had known it would’ve been this simple and enjoyable, she would’ve come after you a long time ago.

Natasha gathers all her things and excuses herself from your apartment without a good-bye.

***********************************************************************

DAY 2

When you wake up the next morning, your mind a haze from the absolute debauchery that occurred the previous night. You rub your eyes and roll over, finding yourself naked and alone in bed. There is a deep soreness in your body, in almost every muscle, and some you haven’t felt for a long time. Natasha’s scent of vanilla and cherry lingers, but she’s nowhere to be found.

“Fuck,” you grumble, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. It’s been blowing up with notifications, which is a little unusual, but you assume it’s mostly from friends still congratulating you on your promotion. You open a text from your best friend and work partner, Tony.

From Tony: You fucked up, dude.

He included a link to a TMZ article. You click on it, half-wondering if it’ll send you to some troll site. The headline reads:

New CEO of Envy Industries Y/N spotted getting cozy with Black Widow Corp. heiress Natasha Romanoff 

Everything clicks to you now.

“Oh, fuck.”

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AN: Click here for Part 2!

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