#there's so much noise in my brain and i can't make it shut up

[purplelea]

.

[tojirights]

I absolutely love your Alastor smut! Is there anyway you can make one where your Vox’s ex and Alastor decided to somehow show off to Vox how much reader loves his c*ck more?? A special broadcast maybe?? Please keep up the great work!

a/n: i love vox but if there's one thing i love more, its making him feel inferior to alastor 😍 this is soo good. REQUESTS OPEN! 🩷

tags: 18+ smut nsfw!

vox thought alastor couldn't get any worse, there was nothing that shit-for-brains demon could do to enrage him more. that was until valentino told him that alastor had a new pretty little thing hanging on his arm. "he WHAT?!" vox's voice cracks from the sheer force he puts behind those words. valentino snickers, watching vox run to his security room.

and there you were, locked arms with that fucking deer demon, walking down the street. you looked absolutely enthralled with that fucker! "you've gotta be fucking kidding me..." he growls, static filling his vision. as if alastor can sense that they're being watched, he winks at the camera and pulls you down a more secluded path. vox puts his fist straight through the screen before pacing around the room. it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before his ears pick up that voice, that shitty radio voice.

"good evening viewers!" alastor begins, making vox's head spin around. the tvs were blank, just audio playing through them. he's about to smash the rest of them when something catches his attention. he swears he hears a familiar noise, your noises specifically. then he hears you panting, and blood rushes to his groin first and then his face. "thank you for tuning into a very special late night broadcast." alastor's voice sounds... breathier.

"what the fuck is-" vox mutters to himself before his eyes go wide. "o-oh god." you moan, sounding far too sexy. and enjoying yourself far too much. "yes alastor, fuck. that's so good." your whines play out, filling the room and vox is just about to lose it. "is alastor fucking your ex?" valentino leans against the doorframe, a smug look on his face. "you’re so tight, my dear. your cunt was made for my cock just as i was made for radio." he laughs to himself, his hands finding your hips as he fucks you over his desk.

this little plan of his was working just as intended. he asked, of course, if you'd be interested in ruffling your exes feathers a little bit and you agreed. this special broadcast was only being shown directly to vox through his security. not a single other soul would be able to hear you but vox. it sent a certain chill up your spine, knowing that he was definitely listening. every thrust of alastor's cock presses you harder into the desk, bruises sure to form later in the evening.

"that's kinda hot, yknow-" "SHUT UP VAL." vox feels as though he's about to implode, anger coursing through him in a way he's sure he's never felt. "i am going to finish him. both of them. they won't live this down."

valentino covers his mouth to stop from laughing. "it sounds like they're about to finish each other." and he was right. your breathy little moans are a dead giveaway. "please, please your cock feels so good. g-gonna cum." vox paces the room, plotting your downfall but his cock is hard as a fucking rock in his pants.

"such a good girl, you are. you sing so pretty my dear." alastor grunts, pressing the head of his cock up against your cervix before he feels you clamp down around him. with every pulse of youe orgasm, alastor follows. "cum alastor, p-please fill my pussy." you gasp, riding out wave after wave of deep pleasure. vox should turn this off, he should walk away but he can't make his feet move.

and after alastor finishes deep inside of you, filling you to the point of it leaking down his cock, he lets out an almost sinister chuckle. "thank you my loyal viewers for tuning in for this one of a kind show! we hope you thoroughly enjoyed."

the room is silent after the broadcast ends. that is, until velvette clears her throat. "was that alastor fucking your bitch?" she raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading over her lips when she sees vox's face.

"no one talk to me. i have business to attend to." and with that, vox disappears, leaving valentino and velvette to themselves.

"bold move, i gotta hand it to him."

[gguk-n]

hey could you maybe write a lando x reader where when it was clear that lando lost the championship the reader just comforts him but he is distancing himself from her but she doesn’t give up on him so pls a happy end ❤️

established relationship, not very angsty, short

My World Champion

Things had been rough between the pair for a few months. With the mounting pressure on Lando to perform had left him pushing all those close to him away. He wasn't very happy with it but he felt like maybe he could focus better. The person who had to deal with the brunt of Lando's distance was his girlfriend, Y/N. They'd been together for a while and friends for longer. They just got each other like no other but lately Y/N felt like she didn't know Lando as well as she used to.

Y/N did try to bring up the distance. It was Azerbaijan, "Lan, don't you think we barely talk" Y/N spoke slowly, trying to start a conversation with her boyfriend who was sat across from her on the sofa. He didn't bother to even look up, "What's there to talk about when I'm busy trying to win a championship. Let me focus" he huffed. "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought we could spend some time together" Y/N trailed off. "We are sat together right now. How much more time do you want to spend with me?" Lando sighed and finally looked up from his laptop. "I just" she felt her voice die in her throat. 'I don't remember the last time we kissed Lan' her brain thought as she got up and left the room before another fight ensued.

It was during the winter break when things were starting to look up. Lando had just won the Singapore GP, he was more attentive and present; they even cuddled the whole day. Y/N thought that she had her boyfriend back. Oh how wrong she was because as soon as they were back on track; Lando was back to square one. The Austin loss hit deep, making Lando double down on strategising and spending every waking hour with the team or thinking about Formula One. It was like he forgot Y/N existed or for that matter himself. She would sit there and stare at her boyfriend who looked more and more like a stranger with each passing day.

Things had become rocky between them. She felt the divide growing with each passing weekend. Mexico wasn't any better. But Brazil landed a huge blow to Lando. He shut down, he stopped talking to anyone and spent all his time scrolling on his phone. There was nothing she could do without Lando walking out or shutting the door on her face. So, she sat and waited. She would cook his favourite food or leave out his favourite snacks to munch on. But she didn't make much break through on him; as he still chooses to stay reserved, opting to carry the burden alone.

It was after the Las Vegas quali, when Y/N noticed the light begin leave Lando's eyes. All she could offer were words and cuddles but Lando had put up a wall between them. The bed seemed too big for the two of them with either on each side. She stared at the space in between them wondering when it had gotten this big.

After the race, Y/N sighed a sigh of relief. The Championship battle was over and that meant she got her Lando back. She saw glimpses of him when he congratulated Max and couldn't wait to jump into his arms. But it was like Lando was back, just not for her.

That night, they spent it like any other, on either side of the bed. But as Y/N tried to fall asleep, she felt the bed shake. On further inspection, she saw Lando's frame quietly shaking from the sobs as he tried to not make any noise. Her heart hurt watching him, she slowly scooted over causing Lando to stop crying for a moment. She wrapped her arm around his torso and buried her head in his neck. "I love you, my world champion" she whispered causing Lando to turn around. His face was streaked with tears which she carefully wiped off. "I don't like it when you cry" she muttered and pecked his lips. "I thought you fell asleep" Lando mumbled. "Can't sleep without my cuddles" she quipped. "But, I'm not the world champion" was all he muttered, remembering her first comment. "For the world, no. For me, always" she smiled. Lando searched her eyes for anything, but all he found was undeterred love. "And you're not angry?" he asked. "No. I'm happy to watch you compete for the championship because I know, sooner or later you'll win it. Just waiting for that day" she reassured. "I'm sorry for being a dick. I was just" Lando spoke before she cut him off, "over whelmed. I know. But you didn't have to do it all alone. What am I here for?" she spoke tenderly. "I love you" he whispered kissing her for the first time in a long time. "I love you too, muppet" she whispered back. He looked at her for a long time as his hands pulled her closer, running along her frame; "What would I do without you?" he asked. "Crash and burn" she chided. "Agreed" he mumbled pulling her in for another kiss. "You alway know how to make me happy" he mumbled in between kisses. "Only when you listen to me. Otherwise you're Mr Grumpy" she chuckled. "I promise not to be Mr Grumpy anymore" he laughed kissing her again. "Next time I'm grumpy, kiss me. I think all my worries melt away with your kisses" he said pressing her against him. "So, the next time you start an argument, I'm gonna kiss you" she said cupping his cheeks. "Best way to end an argument" he smiled pressing their foreheads together. "I won't disagree" she kissed him again, making up for all the lost time.

[lilithandherharlots]

Too shy to tell you

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

Miguel hides your heals in hopes of making you forget you ever owned a pair...he confesses about his theft during a hot and heavy night of sex.

Warnings: This might be interpreted as possessive or an unhealthy bond. Though its supposed to be just a very shy and respectful Miguel who let's loose during sex.:]

Authors note: I am not a writer!! This is my first time righting fanfic.. like.. ever!!! So don't attack me. Though honest, constructive criticism is something that I would love to hear. Sorry if there are spelling mistakes. Also, I don't know how to put proper description..... enjoy!!!!

:::

"Miggy?" I call out to my boyfriend who's currently towering over the coffee machine, waiting for it to brew.

"Yes, my love?" He responds with a look over his shoulder.

"Have you seen my black pointed heals? I can't seem to find them."

"No. Have you checked by the door?" He was lying.

He was lying. He was lying, and he didn't feel bad about it. The truth was he had stuffed them in the highest cupboard of the laundry room. He knew you couldn't reach it. He liked it that way. He couldn't let you open it since he had stuffed at least 4 pairs of heals in there.

"No miggy, they aren't here." You say after checking everywhere by the front door.

"Idk what to say, baby... we have to leave soon. Just throw on a different pair and I'll buy you some new ones later."

He was a liar... and he was damn good at it... until he wasn't.

:::

It was 2am. This insanity started hours ago, but Miguel's stamina wouldn't let down. Your soft moans could fuel him till sun rise, and he would love to do this forever. But unlike him, you have limits. Limits to your ability to stay strong, or at least keep yourself up right. But he doesn't really care. Your begs for a break won't succeed with a constantly starving man like him.

"One more round, please baby... please. I need you." His desperate begs caress your tear stained cheeks as he whispers them softly, leaning over you and filling you with sloppy thrust.

"Miguel- please.. It's too much.." You whine as you try to pull away, gripping desperately onto the sheets.

"Last one.... I promise..." he lies.

He said the same thing the last 4 rounds. If he could have it his way he'd continue. But he knew you couldn't keep going for much longer, so he used this opportunity to tell you what he couldn't bring himself to say otherwise.

"I lied..." he confesses. Watching your tits bounce with every rough trust, keeping himself busy while you tried to form a reply. It took you a while, but you managed to let out a soft hum, waiting for him to explain himself further.

"I took them. Your heels.. I fucking hate those things.." he thrust get faster as he says it. Hoping to make your brain foggy enough to not remember his confessions in the morning.

"I like your height, so why do you wear those weird things?" His heart felt lighter as he told you.

"I like that your height forces you to get on your tippy toes every time you want a kiss from me.. and even then, I have to bend over to reach you.... I like that you rely on me to reach those high shelves. Every time you ask me, you grow as red as a rose...."

You can feel his movements speed up. You can barely hear him... your mind fuzzy from pleasure. Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin felt like white noise at this point. The dim shadow of his frame covering you completely.

"You're so small under me.. your body falls any way I bend it..." At his point, he was just speaking the first thing to cross his mind.

You didn't hear him, and he knew it. Seconds later, you feel his weight shift, the mattress by your head sinking under his heavy hand as he leaned in and whispered.

"Please don't take that away from me."

His words were demanding. He felt exactly what he said. Even though your eyes were shut tight, you knew his eyes were locked on you. His breath heavy, as if he just confessed a dirty secret. He kinda did...

"Promise me.... Promise me you won't wear them and I'll help you cum."

As tired as you were. You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. So you give in.

"F-fine... I promise."

"You promise what?" He smirked hearing your whiney voice.

"I promise I won't wear the heels!!"

The pleasure he got from you saying that was immense. He shifted his weight once more as he changed your position like a marionette doll. Spreading your legs apart. His hands wrapped around your thighs, and his claws dug into your skin. The stinging pain of it was a wake-up call, causing you to gasp for air.

This position caused him to go deeper. The sticky mess from your previous rounds was being pushed out of your aching hole. The sound of his hips hitting your ass grew louder with every precise thrust. They got louder and louder until they stopped. Your thighs had clenched closed as you hit that high you were chasing. And you took him with you. Tightening around his pulsing cock in a way that made him fill you to the brim once more.

He watched your body shake. Your hips jerking forward. He would usually take that as his sign to keep going, but your fucked out face was telling him you couldn't take another thrust.

"You did great my love..... my little angel~" He cooed gentle praises as he rubbed your claw marked thighs.

"I'll buy you the cutest flats."

:::

A thing he didn't know.. is that you lied, too. His secret cupboard was emptied, and your heal collection was restored... and yes.. he pouted in silence.

The end

[beelmons]

Could you maybe write a blurb or fic where Spencer just goes completely feral over how loud reader is in bed 🥵

a/n: im almost certain this is not what you asked for but i got this plot idea and hjhhhhhhhdhf

They say good couples share bad habits. This had become true in the six months you and Spencer had been together. The bad habit in question was being reported to the police for excessive noise by his really bitter neighbors.

Now, what kind of noise could a quiet FBI agent and a simple person, such as yourself, make, you may ask? Well, that would be the obnoxiously loud moans and cries that you used to let out during sex.

"Fuck, fuck!" you would have said more, but the fact that your knees were touching your breasts as Spencer had you in a mating press had scrambled your brain beyond the skill to speak.

He himself could only smile at the fact that your moans had overpowered the sound of moist skin lapping together. He loved when you were so loud, nay, he loved when he fucked you so good you had no choice but to share it with the world.

You could feel his entire shaft bury itself within you, the sensation of his testicles against your ass just serving as confirmation of the fact.

His member was tinted a vague white, the thing with Spencer is that you never understood where he got such stamina from. The speed of his thrusts were proportional to the decibels of your whimpers, the louder you yelled, the more eager he used to get.

Smack! A loud banging noise distracted you a little, causing you to shut up for a second. Spencer, however, did not give in to the sound of the door being pounded, eyes still on your flushed face, cock still hitting the deepest ends of your pussy.

"Can you please shut the fuck up?!" a stranger yelled from outside his apartment door "Come on man, shut your whore up! it's been two hours!"

You brought your hands to your mouth, trying to fight back the noises that you were making out of embarrassment.

"No, no." Spencer lowered his speed to talk "What are you doing? I need to hear you."

"Your neighbors can hear everything!" you barely whispered.

"They should be thankful." he reached for your wrists to open the path for your mouth again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips "I bet he touches himself to your moans." he bucked his hips forward slowly, and a whimper escaped you "Yeah, those delicious little sounds you make. Takes a simple exhale to have me rock hard, couldn't blame him if the way you screamed made him cum in his pants."

His narrative had gotten so filthy, so unlike him, a facade that you only saw whenever he knew he had you at his mercy, the sort of information he could only get by the sounds of pleasure he loved so much. Without your permission, your walks ended up clenching around him, aching for his previous pace to take over again.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" he smiled in your direction, his forehead touching yours "I would normally be jealous, but you feel so good I can barely think straight."

"Spencer..." you muttered in a begging tone, a much lower one compared to what he liked.

"What was that?" his hips began to pick up their pace once again "Speak up, baby, he can't hear you."

"Spencer!" your tone began to raise once more as the thrusts became faster.

"That's good." he praised "Let's show him what my little whore can do."

[almond-tofuuu]

His good girl ❄️

Zayne x fem reader smut

Warnings: PiV sex, some dirty talk, nipple play, praise, use of pet names (good girl, love, baby, angel), office sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it ppl), improper use of an evol (ice ice baby 🧊), sex against a wall/door, light mentions of biting/marking, little bit of cervix fucking, tummy bulge (he's big, trust me 😉), creampie

(lemme know if I missed anything)

You really weren't sure how you ended up like this, in fact you could barely remember your own name, all you could focus on was Zayne. His hot mouth leaving wet kisses on your shoulders, cool fingers pinching your sensitive nipples, and his thick cock pounding into your drenched cunt, his strong arms the only thing holding you up as his rough thrusts pin your body against his office door. What had started out as a simple lunch date with your boyfriend had now turned into something scandalous.

You'd never thought Zayne to be one to mix work and pleasure, but something about the way he was gripping the plush of your hips so tightly, sure to leave bruises for you to admire later on, pulling you back to meet every snap of his hips as he drove his deliciously thick cock into you over and over again, told you he was enjoying this as much as you were. With a particularly harsh thrust, Zayne's cock reaches even deeper inside you, hitting the spongey spot deep in your pussy that had you arching your back, cunt clenching tighter around his length as a high-pitched whine was forced from your throat.

"I thought I told you to be quiet love, what would all my colleagues think if they heard my little angel making such sinful noises?" Zayne whispered lowly into your ear, his voice was husky and soft but there was a quiet dominance to his words. "you need to be quiet for me, baby, you can do that can't you? You can be a good girl for me and keep that pretty mouth shut, right?"

You nod your head, desperately wanting to please him, wanting to be a good girl for your loving boyfriend who was fucking you so perfectly, biting your lip to stop any more sounds escaping as your cunt continued to flutter around his cock. Suddenly Zayne's movements slowed, pulling his cock out of your throbbing pussy until only the tip was left in, his icy fingers harshly pinching the nipple of your left breast.

"You know better than that, angel, come on, use your words. Or have I already fucked you dumb?"

A pathetic whimper left your throat as you tried to buck your hips back into his, your cunt aching to feel full again, but Zayne's firm grip kept you in place, small ice crystals forming, a warning to behave.

"You know the rules, angel, use your words. Are you going to be a good girl for me? Or do I need to stop right now, and it would be such a shame if I did because I've been aching to feel this pretty little cunt cum all over my cock.... But only good girls get to cum" his tone is as icy as his evol, sending shivers down your spine as you swallow down the desperate whine threatening to spill from your lips. Tears burn your eyes as you squeeze them shut, your brain struggling to form any coherent thoughts.

"I'll be g-good....please Zayne....'m gonna be good... please, need to cum" you hiccup out between sobs, your mind turning to mush as your cunt clenches around nothing.

"There we go, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" Zayne whispers softly, lips trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, your skin igniting under the feeling of his tongue and teeth marking you, branding you as his.

"Now keep that pretty mouth quiet for me, love"

With that he's slamming back into you, his cock burying itself deep in your pussy, hitting your cervix with every harsh thrust of his hips, forcing your body further into the door. You bit your bottom lip hard, the tangy taste of iron flooded your mouth as you fought to keep quiet as Zayne continued to pinch and pull your nipple with one hand, the other moving from your hip to press down on your stomach, feeling the outline of his cock as he roughly pounded into your gushing cunt.

"Ngh you feel that, Angel, feel how deep I am... You're taking me so well, always such a good girl for me, perfect girl with the perfect little pussy" Zayne's praises went straight to your cunt, working you closer to your orgasm, clenching harder around his cock that was taking you so well, forcing it's way inside you, making you feel every delicious ridge and vein as Zayne moulded your cunt to his shape. Feeling your high approaching rapidly, you try to warn Zayne, hands reaching out behind you blindly as your fucked-out brain is unable to form any words. Zayne, ever the observant physician, notices your struggle, hands grabbing hold of your wrists and pinning them to the door in front of you.

"Are you going to cum angel? I can feel you clenching around me... Ngh, it's okay.... You can cum, baby.... You've been such a good girl, go on and cum for me" Zayne urges you on, voice straining as he approaches his own release. With one hand he keeps your wrists pinned above your head as the other hand moves down to rub circles on your clit, working you closer to the edge.

"Come on, baby, want to feel you cum, need to feel my good girl squeezing my cock.... Please baby, cum for me, cum on my cock angel"

Zayne's skilled fingers on your clit and husky words of encouragement are all you need to push you over the edge, your back arching and cunt milking his cock as you're hurtled into an intense orgasm. Zayne isn't far behind, hips rutting into you erratically as he chases his own release, thrusting a few more times before his hips stutter and he burries his cock deep inside you, coating your cunt with his warm cum. Exhausted, your body slumps forward against the door, unable to hold yourself up you're grateful for Zayne's strong arms as they wrap around your waist, his forehead resting against your shoulder as you both come down from your highs. The room is quiet apart from your panting breaths and the hammering of your heart. After a few minutes, Zayne slides his softening cock from your spent pussy, taking a second to admire the way your cunt clenches around nothing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and the mix of both your cum dripping down your thighs. Leaning forward to press a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades, Zayne speaks softly against your skin "I apologise if I was a little too rough with you, love, you did so well for me" another loving kiss is pressed to your forehead, your eyes closing as you begin to drift off in the safety of your boyfriends warm embrace.

"Rest now, Angel, don't worry, I'll be right here when you wake up"

This is my first time writing smut so feedback is appreciated 😙

[plasticferal]

hey queen! can you pls do an angst story with chris. where they get into an argument and chris said things he never meant. then he apologizes to her afterwards. ( basically angst to fluff)

damsel in distress | chris sturniolo.

i added my own twist to this ask. it's my favourite prompt so thank you! 18+ protective!ex-boyfriend chris x fem!reader. fighting, touches on themes of unwanted attention, mentions of alcohol, explicit language. reader discretion is advised. p.s inspired by the unreleased olivia rodrigo song 'prison for life'.

the house is filled with familiar faces and strangers. a small gathering turned into a full blown house party from the moment the word got out. where the sturniolo triplets are, a flock follows. you sigh, pushing and shoving your way through the unwanted crowd.

all you want is to make it into the kitchen, miraculously being the only place no one wants to linger. the last person you need to see right now is your ex lover. chris is standing ahead of you, leaning on the kitchen counter, alone in the room. you shut the doors behind you, needing to escape. even if it means with him.

“if you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked." he speaks smug, before taking a sip from his red solo cup.

“i'm not in the mood,” you dismiss. you open the fridge, eyes scanning the shelves but nothing calling your name.

you know you're not actually looking for anything, you just don't want to look at him. the entire night has you shaking with anger. from the mess in your home, the lack of care everyone is taking, the noise complaint you know you'll be getting later, and worst of all, that one guy who won't leave you alone.

you've never seen him before tonight, you don't even know his name, but all he's done is make you uncomfortable. try to dance with you, try to give you drinks. he brushes your waist every time he walks past.

all of your friends have been encouraging you to go for it, to get over chris. and honestly, you consider it for a moment. just to finally move on, but you can't bring yourself to. at least not with some random creep.

the break up is still raw. he tells everyone it was 'mutual' but it was a part on your request. he'd never throw you under the bus like that. he knows why you made your decision, he's never questioned it.

chris feels like it's unrequited love. although, you haven't lost any love for him, no matter how much you try to push him away. he has every right to despise you, but he doesn't.

every time you close a chapter with him, you find yourself in a sequel. it's like you're re-reading different stories, but the ending stays the same. your heart wants him, your brain wants to hate him.

"what's wrong?" he asks, sensing you're genuine in your frustration.

"nothing." you refuse to let him know what's happing in your world, let alone your mind. you don't need to let in him anymore, even though you want to let it out. he's the one person who could just sit and listen to you for hours on end.

"alright, just askin" his words trail off into a hush. he switches the tone, not wanting the conversation to stop.

“your friends are nice” he speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone, because if anyone knows how to kick you while you're down, it's him.

"you would think that" you scoff, implying that you've seen them throw themselves at him all night. him pouring them drinks, smiling and frothing over the attention he's receiving.

"the fuck is that supposed to mean?" his temperamental side seeps out, and you grow only more irritated.

"chris, can you get out please?" you huff, hands crossing over your chest. an unintentional way to seperate yourself from him, a metaphorical wall being put up.

"such a party pooper. you really gotta let loose, relax a bit." his words come out a lot more nasty that you hope he meant them, and it makes your face hot.

you give him the benefit of the doubt and think he's speaking with resilience, at the fact you keep shutting him down.

"i wonder why we ever broke up." you reply sarcastically, a fake smile on your face. he rolls his eyes, finishing off his drink and letting out an audible "ah," like a child finishing a juice box.

"i haven't seen you all night, y/n" his voice softens, and it becomes clear he's speaking for the sake of talking to you. he always wants to talk to you.

looking at the counter quickly to place his cup down, he looks back at you, tilting his head to the side slightly. he's not being horrible to you, he never has been. he's still in your life whether you like it or not, despite your hostility.

"sorry. i'm just tired." you lie. he knows it.

"your poker face isn't very good. i learnt that the hard way," he bounces his eyebrows, biting the tip of his tongue, eyes a bit wider as he stares at the ground and you can tell he's having a flashback.

you chuckle at the reference. the one time he caught you faking an orgasm didn't end very well, and he's been able to catch you out ever since. he's never been afraid to pull you up on your own fibs.

"sorry, again." you hug your body tighter, avoiding his eyes. he pushes himself off the counter with a stretch like hum and walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"stop apologizing, you sound like matt," he rolls his eyes lightheartedly, and you let out a small laugh. that's always his intention, to make you smile.

"c'mon princess, let's get you a drink. seems like you need it." he nods toward to the door, rubbing your shoulder enthusiastically.

you let him try to fix your mood, because god knows you do actually need to stop stressing. you can't control what happens, just how you react. that's what chris always used to say when you were together.

feeling safe in his embrace, he security guard style moves you through the party. he hollers "excuse me!" and "coming through!" and everyone just listens, parting like the red sea. he's not the biggest guy in the room, but he sure is the most assertive. especially with you under his arm.

when you finally get to the drinks table, he makes you a vodka lemonade, saving the rest of the can for himself to finish off. it's not the most thrilling drink, but enough to keep you settled. ease the tension a bit. plus, it tastes good. no harm, no foul. as chris is mixing the liquids into cups, you feel an unwanted hand snake up around your hip.

"there you are. are you hiding from me?" your stomach drops at the voice of the mystery man towering over you, and you look ahead to watch chris's eyes snap up instantly.

chris lowers the cups, holding his eyes on the man behind you. you watch as he kinks his neck and his jaw tenses, taking a step closer. you shake your head at chris, holding a hand up subtly to tell him not to come any closer.

turning around, you stare up at the man. his breath reeks of liquor, and his shirt is drenched is sweat. it makes you sour your face and tense your entire body.

"i don't know what you want from me, but it's not gonna happen. i think you should leave." you speak sternly, trying not to let your voice shake with pure nerves. not even liquid confidence could help you right now.

"the party's just getting started," the man smiles, stumbling toward you in what you think is an attempt at a hug, but you begin pushing his body away from yours with a shove.

"dude, she doesn't want you. walk away." you hear chris's direct voice over your shoulder.

the last thing you want is negative attention on chris in a room full of people who would spread the news like wildfire. you never want that for him.

"it's okay, i got this." you dismiss chris in the nicest possible way, but you're being serious.

"come on, we'll have fun," the man hiccups through his words, mumbling them and tripping over toward you again.

"get the fuck away from her." chris's breath hits the back of your neck as he moves even closer to you.

"christopher, i'm serious. stop." you speak through grit teeth, so people can't read your lips, as he lingers next to you.

you try to be as inconspicuous as you can in your rejection to his advances, but he won't give up. the man appears more annoyed, and he grabs your wrist with a tight grip.

"let go of me." you grab the mans hand, trying to pry his grip without making it obvious.

you’re shaking at the thought of attention drawing. not for you, but for chris. eyes are already on you, being his ex. it's not what he ever wanted for you either. if he could make it all disappear, he would. it becomes more difficult when chris notices, and this time, has no intention of backing down.

"i'm not gonna repeat myself, back the fuck up." chris walks around your body, face to face with the guy who has a hold on you now.

"please, chris." you beg, voice quivering.

you know his temper can change in the blink of an eye. him and matt both have that in common.

"she doesn't need your help, pretty boy." the man splatters his words, a malicious smile on his face as he leans toward chris, almost nose to nose.

chris smiles criminally, flashing his teeth.

"you're right," chris puts his hands up in defence, a downward smile on his face as he chuckles darkly, taking a big step backward.

there's a feeling of relief, and intense fear as he actually does start to back away. but you know chris. unfortunately, it's unavoidable.

you try to catch his eyes, and speak through a begging stare without using words. he looks at you with sadness, and you mime the words, 'please don't'.

the moment the man tugs your wrist as if to leave with him, making you wince with the grip he holds. you regret your counteraction instantly, because chris reacts viscerally.

he flares his nostrils and squeezes his nails into his palm, balling up his hands by his hip. his knuckles are turning white.

before you can get pulled away, chris lunges forward with a tight fist, throwing a strong, perfectly aligned punch to the mans cheekbone. it throws the man to the ground in the blink of an eye, relieving the pressure on your skin. you stumble backwards, out of the line of fire.

chris steps heavily forward, shoving a foot into his ribcage before straddling his legs, completely overpowering him. the man projects forward to swing and hit chris's mouth. chris doesn't even flinch, like it was painless. you watch chris raise his arm up again to pummel down onto the now defenceless stranger.

the surrounding crowd gasps and yells, clearing the space that chris has created with his actions. iphone cameras flash, making you feel sick. the whispering and gossip you can already hear pounding in your head is overwhelming.

you feel so futile. chris is too in his own world to even realise the repercussions. you're not saying the guy didn't deserve it, you have no care in the world for him. you care about the aftermath.

in a fantasy world, a daydream, a fairytale even, this is attractive. a knight in shining armour, fighting for his lady. a world where there are no consequences, or social media, or fear. a reality chris has suddenly forgotten about.

he looks natural doing it, too. the veins in his arms so prominent, his tight mouth and huffed breaths as he gives it everything he's got.

you're frozen in shock, watching chris pelt another punch into the man, and you want to pull him off, you know you need to, but all your body can do is watch. watch the two men roughhousing and exchanging blows, chris taking every hit with pride.

you're numb to the feeling, screaming in your head.

appearing out of thin air, nick and matt are in your line of vision, hiding the chaos ahead of you. his brothers move into action before anyone else needs to.

they've obviously been summoned, but there's a part of you that believes they could just sense it. like they telepathically knew chris was getting himself into trouble by the lack of surprise they express.

nick grabs chris by the collar of his shirt, pulling him off. matt grabs his wrists, to stop him from using his fists. the fight comes undone, finally, but chris is disoriented. he spits onto the man as he's being escorted into the kitchen by his brothers.

your eyes burn with tears that refuse to fall, and matt sweeps your hand up, guiding you with them in a hurried manner. matt is trying to snap you back to reality, but it's just white noise.

chris hits his palm aggressively with frustration against the door frame of the kitchen as you all walk through, and you take a deep breath to compose yourself. your eyes are still welling as you choke back a sniffle, and you're not sure if it's shock, hurt, or anger anymore.

you're in a trance as you walk over to the freezer. your body is in autopilot, moving without you even knowing. you grab a frozen bag of vegetables out of the tray.

"so fucking stupid," you say nastily under your breath, slamming the door shut.

walking over to chris who's sat up on the ledge of the sink. you throw the packet at his chest, and he grabs it, questioning you for a second before matt walks over and shows him to place it on his bruised and red raw knuckles.

the room is filled with tension.

matt is biting his nails, you're leaning against the closed door, and nick finds himself squatting on the floor.

"what the actual fuck was that?" nick is too stunned to even yell, he just speaks aloud.

"i asked you not to, chris. i could have handled it myself." you shake your head, vision blurry as you stare vacantly ahead. you want to lash out at him, but for some reason you can't.

"yeah, it really looked like you had it under control." he crushes the frozen packet harshly against his hand.

"we'll leave you two alone." matt cuts through awkwardly, shooting nick a warning glare.

matt knows it's not his place to go off at chris right now. he'll do that later.

"but-" nick begins, and matt snaps toward the door. you hear nick sigh, knowing he would love nothing more than to stay and listen to you tear into chris. alas, they both leave promptly, matt flashing you a sympathetic smile on the way out.

you can hear from the other side of the door, both nick and matt are hustling trying to kick everyone out. it’s a weight lifted off your shoulders. the literal mess being left behind is the least of your worries now.

you're alone with chris in the kitchen again, the second time not being anymore pleasant than the first. you blame yourself fully for dropping your guard, even if for a second.

“i begged you not to, chris.” you repeat with a stern tone, laced with betrayal and genuine hurt.

he’s silent for a moment, staring at you from across the room with no emotion on his face. you know he feels terrible, he doesn’t have to show it. or tell you.

“did you think i was just gonna stand and watch?” he rebuttals.

“i would have preferred that, honestly.” you don’t understand how he can’t grasp the intensity of the situation.

"did you want him? go back out there then." he's bitter, pointing at the door. you roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

"chris," you start. he keeps talking.

“because i’m sure he’s still laying on the floor. go ahead. he might have a hard time talking now, though.” chris shrugs, speaking in a provoking manner.

“you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges." you apprise.

“he should feel lucky i didn’t do worse.” he takes another step toward you, presumptuous in the way he carries himself.

"you've done a lot of stupid shit, chris. but that," you raise your hand as you speak, laughing in shock.

"that was unbelievable." you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking yet another deep breath.

"you know what's unbelievable is how you haven't even thanked me once" he ignores your words and bites back with irritation, face growing more twisted with upset.

"thank you?" you repeat, jaw dropping. you step toward him this time. you feel dejected trying to get him to understand.

"thank you for what? for causing a scene? for putting yourself in danger?" you step forward again, feeling like you could drive your heels into the ground beneath you.

"you're acting insane" he brings his hands to his head, tugging at his own hair with despair. his words sting, despite the back and forth arguing.

"you're the one that lashed out on that guy with no consideration for anyone else around you. that's insane" you speak with physical gestures unconsciously.

you're trying to reason with him, but with the state he's in, it's like trying to put a brain in a statue. you examine him, trying to search for his eyes but his body won't keep still, twisting and moving around.

"fuck, okay, i get it! i get it, y/n. you're not happy with me. you never fucking are apparently," his words trail off and he waves you away, turning his back to you. he sounds desperate for it to end.

you want to scream at him at the top of your lungs, and quite frankly, you could. your face burns and steam is about to shoot out of your ears.

"you don't need to protect me anymore, chris."

"i saved your ass out there." he speaks with his hand, four fingers direct to your chest. his words are like salt being rubbed into an open wound.

"saved me? that's a fucking stretch. your brothers saved your ass, because you don't think before you fucking act!"

"this is about YOU, y/n! what i did for you!" he slaps the back of right hand into the palm of his left.

"i'm not some damsel in distress that you need to sweep up and put in a tower, chris"

"yeah well at least in a tower you can't attract trouble." he speaks as if it's your fault, and of all the things he's just spit out, that's by far the worst. the most menacing and cut to the bone tone he's used.

"that was low, even for you." you huff, emotions at an all time high.

your breathing feels tight, but instead of reacting, you force yourself to seperate your emotions from the reality of the situation. you're both feeling very intensely, and expressing it the same way.

in hindsight, you could have redirected some of your emotions, but you also wish chris would take back some things he's said. there's no excuses.

chris re-collects himself and turns toward you again. he shrugs his shoulders, like he has nothing left to say. no fight left.

the closer chris is standing the more prominent his face is, and more specifically, his busted open lip.

you gasp in a mix of being upset, and shock. it feels like a piece of your heart is breaking off, seeing his delicate, pale skin so sore.

"your lip, chris." you exhale, stepping toward him.

he flinches when your hand raises to touch his face, and you know now that you've acknowledged it, it's hurting him. neither of you paid any attention to it amongst the turmoil.

"come here." you sigh, pulling his arm, bringing him over to where the paper towels are, in the corner of the sink.

tearing a white square into your hands, you rinse it under cold water lightly before squeezing the saturation out, leaving a damp cloth in your hand.

turning into chris's body, he looks down at you. he's still at last, and looks like he has no thoughts behind his now seemingly innocent eyes.

you cup his cheek gently, to turn his face downward. you bring the towel up to his lip, wiping his stained chin and mouth. he lets you, and doesn't even wince. he visibly gives into your touch. he's content.

"i need you to promise me you'll never do something like that again." you pull back, folding over a clean side and then wiping his lip softly, trying not to cause him pain.

"i can't promise that." he speaks in a whisper, as if he doesn't want you to hear his word.

with his lip no longer being red, you toss the damp and crumbling paper into sink, making it a problem for another time.

"why?" you look into his eyes, wiping your hands on your shirt.

his blue eyes are big but blameless, pupils dilated. holding his stare as your arm lowers.

"because if anyone lays a hand on you again, i'm going to prison for life." the piece of your heart that broke off earlier reattaches at his words alone.

chris's much shorter hair is spikey around his ears, and wet at the ends, turning dark brown from his sweat. you caress his messy curls, tucking it over the curves of his ears and taming the wispy strands. you hold his head in your hands, tiling him up and your mouths are inches apart.

"how hard did he hit your head?" you ask against his lips. he chuckles, genuinely.

he's an idiot, undeniably. but the gut wrenching, lawless love he has for you makes him that way. his low, smooth laughter, makes your heart skip a beat.

"i mean it, y/n."

"but i know, i know it was stupid." he admits.

"yeah, it was." you agree, shaking his head around slightly.

he grabs your hands with his own, engulfing them and holding them in his palms. he squeezes your hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

"i'm sorry." he speaks on your skin.

"like really fucking sorry." he strains his head back with remorse, making his adam's apple more prominent, and he swallows hard. like he's swallowing his guilt.

"i said some nasty things. i wish i could take them back, y/n. i really do."

"i know, chris."

"no, you don't. i'll apologise to you everyday for the rest of my life if i have to. i've been horrible tonight."

"chris, enough," you hush him, the calmness in your tone making him understand you hear him. loud and clear. you need some time to forgive, but you absorb his words.

"i don't know how you didn't smack me in the mouth." he jokes, and you giggle through your breath.

"there's still time," you joke back. and he knows it by your tone.

"i could never bring myself to do that. as much as you deserve it." your banter eases the pressure, and you feel chris squeeze your hands in his again.

you rub your thumbs over his knuckles, looking at the little purple marks forming. he notices your face drop with stress, and he slips his hands away, moving to your hips instead.

"hey, i'm fine. i don't care what happens to me, i just need you to be okay."

"i am okay," you reply. he drops his face with a look that expresses he doesn’t believe you. you give a light eyeroll, and small smile.

"i mean it, i swear.” you raise your pinkie finger to him, to keep your promise. knowing it’s the only way he’ll actually believe you.

chris smiles, weak with his bruised lip, and wraps up your pinkie with his own, wriggling your hands around.

"i'm always gonna want to protect you." he pulls you toward his body. he's so warm, and radiates a magnetic energy that makes you want to collapse into his arms.

you know you don't need him to, but deep down, you would like his protection. his unconditional love. selflessness.

"i'll be sure to send you love letters in jail" you grin up at him, and laughs from the chest.

his voice is like a scratched record, fatigue taking over his body. you swallow hard, all of your senses coming back. he feels so real standing in front of you all of a sudden, like it's not just a dream you're about to wake up from.

"stay the night." you speak mindlessly.

chris brushes your hair from your face, cupping the back of your neck lightly to pull your forehead to his lips, kissing just above your eyebrows gently. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, pulling you tight to his chest in an embrace.

"i'll stay forever if you ask me to."

this is the feeling he fights for. requited love.

[heehoonies]

messy

description: literally just a heejake pwp threesome

work count: 5k

warnings: dom!heeseung, switch!reader, sub!jake, member on member (heeseung and jake are boyfriends and act as such), pussy drunk jake, cock drunk jake and reader, subdrop, fluids (jake drools a LOT), dacryphilia, spitting, mean dom and soft dom heeseung, dp, cumming untouched, overstimulation, creampie, cum eating, squirting, multiple orgasms, orgasm delay, degradation, praise, breeding kink, pet names, puppy as a term of endearment, fluff. they're in love idk what to tell ya!

* only minimally proof read! excuse any mistakes bc im too damn tired to proof it all *

a/n: dedicated to my bff @sjyfave who gave me the pairing to work with. i'm popping my smut cherry with this one! i hope y'all enjoy, it's literally just pwp so i hope it suffices as my (semi) return to writing hehe

heeseung really shouldn't be enjoying this this much.

jake is acting like he always does, hanging off of heeseung’s tall frame as they stand beside the bed, waiting for you to pick a movie for the night. but as he watches jake’s eyes twinkle as he looks up at him, heeseung can't ignore the way he urges so desperately to see them flutter shut. heeseung imagines all the ways he could cause that, his cock twitching beneath his sweatpants at the imagery of jake lying, pliant and needy beneath him, shaking from the desperation of waiting ever so patiently to be touched.

you glance over at them from your spot on the bed, the lack of noises coming from your boyfriends strikes you as strange, with jake’s giggle being a commonly heard noise in your apartment. you see jake staring up at heeseung, eyes shining at the mere thought of simply being around him. the sight brings a smile to your face, seeing jake’s pure adoration for the faded cherry red haired man shining through his gaze.

jake and heeseung have always been this way. jake’s smiley, bouncy, puppy-like behavior increasing tenfold whenever he's around heeseung. jake loves heeseung, and heeseung loves jake. when heeseung discovered your love for jake that mirrored his own (feelings that he had only recently begun exploring as beyond platonic, once you expressed similar feelings for your shared best friend), it was a no brainer to ask jake to join your relationship.

and he made the perfect addition to your relationship. jake’s hyper personality works well with two partners, the two of you are thankfully able to keep up with his energy as a team. jake is the sunshine beaming through the blinds on a summer’s morning, brightening the lives of everyone around him. jake makes both you and heeseung happier than you’ve ever been, and in return you give him the love he deserves but has never received. and you can’t help but wish that you had infinite amounts of love to give him, it never feels like enough for your bright eyed, bushy tailed boy. you would give him the whole world if you could, and most days you wish you could, doing practically anything to keep the sparkle in his eye.

if you could read heeseung’s mind right now, you’d hear similar sentiments in his brain, wishing he could give jake whatever he desires, and hoping that he is enough for him.

heeseung can see jake’s clingy nature rapidly evolving into something he knows all to well - jake’s insatiable sex drive is kicking in and beginning to take over his entire body. jake holds him tighter, pulls him closer, practically trying to crawl into his skin (heeseung wouldn’t mind jake crawling into his skin, if he’s being honest.)

you hear a small whimper and glance back over at them from where your gaze had zoned out on the television.

“what is it, jakey?” you hear heeseung’s voice quietly ask, watching as jake just continues to stare.

okay, maybe he should be enjoying this. because heeseung always enjoys toying with his boyfriend, the way jake doesn’t even bother to hide his quickly reddening face or his growing hard on from him. heeseung knows jake like the back of his hand, and right now he needs attention.

jake doesn’t respond, prompting heeseung to hold the side of his face, thumb running gently across his cheek. “tell me what you need, puppy.”

jake’s entire body is buzzing with anticipation and pure want. wanting heeseung to touch him further, wanting be sandwiched between the two of you, needing so deeply to be shaking and sweating from the overstimulation you both constantly provide him with. he shivers at the thought, dick swelling further in his sweatpants, poking more into heeseung’s inner thigh. the closeness of their cocks makes heeseung’s twitch once more, overcome with the need to capture the two in his large hand. if only jake knew the restraint it took for heeseung to stand still like this, urging jake to make the first move.

jake opens his mouth to speak, nothing coming out but a small squeak as a small smirk envelops heeseung’s lips. he doesn’t move, watching as jake’s gaze drifts lower and ghosts a hand over his cock. heeseung nearly jumps at the sudden touch, grabbing jake’s larger hand and holding it up by the wrist, bringing it up between them, their gazes meeting on the limb held in the air before settling back on each other. “use your words, angel.”

you watch silently, shutting the TV off and tossing the remote onto the side table and shimmying yourself closer to them, perching yourself on the edge of the bed, legs hanging off the side. heeseung glances back at you, amusement twinkling in his eyes alongside a glimmer of discomfort from how painfully hard his dick sits in his basketball shorts. you reach your hand out, gripping jake’s hip lightly from behind him.

“tell heeseung what you need, baby boy.”

jake whimpers at the nickname, one that’s only used when you and heeseung both know he’s very needy. you feel your own wetness grow in your panties at the sound, waiting until you can pounce on the energetic boy standing in front of you. but you wait for heeseung’s lead first, knowing that you’d be in trouble for making the first move. heeseung loves playing this game, teasing jake within an inch of exploding, knowing how it makes both you and jake feel. he loves the way you take control with jake but still yield to him, and loves watching the two of you come undone simultaneously, the sight often times spurring him into his own orgasm shortly after. watching the sight of two pairs of eyes fluttering shut, rolling back, bodies shivering and shaking, fluids spilling everywhere; knowing how jake will watch with hooded eyes and a sleepy gaze after two orgasms as heeseung collects cum from all three of you just to force jake to suck it off his slender fingers.

jake knows if he doesn’t say anything, heeseung will drop his hand and leave all three of you unsatisfied, barring jake from touching himself at all.

“please kiss me,” jake pleads, “please, heeseung.”

heeseung smiles lightly before obliging, capturing jake’s oh so plump lips between his own. jake slots his lips against heeseung’s in return, hands unmoving even as heeseung drops his wrist in favor of gripping his free hip roughly. your lust begins to take over, needing to feel someone’s hands on you in the moment, and the noise that slips from your mouth causes heeseung to pull away preemptively, lingering close to jake’s face.

“you’re working our girl up over there so easily, pup.” heeseung watches jake glance back towards you, smiling as he can feel jake’s already impossibly hard dick get even harder at the sight of you with blown out eyes, watching in awe as your two boyfriends kiss. you didn’t mean to make a sound, wanting to watch a little longer and hold back your need to be touched if it meant being able to witness the two men you adore loving on each other. “bet she’s so wet for you, jakey.”

the tips of jake’s ears get redder than before, if possible, as he can’t take his eyes off your wide eyes and hard nipples poking through your (jake’s) thin t-shirt. “pants off. now.” the authority in heeseung’s voice leaves no room for argument and you can already feel that you’re absolutely soaked, panties sticking to your core as you try to tug them down.

“look at that,” heeseung taunts you, reaching down to sit eye level with your pussy before blowing on it. “baby’s soaked, jakey. look what you did to our girl.” he glances back at jake, watching as his hands shake slightly, holding himself back from pouncing on you instantly, waiting for heeseung’s instructions. jake tears his gaze from your dripping core, looking up at heeseung for permission. “clean up the mess you caused, jake.”

jake falls over himself, landing headfirst in your pussy. he sets an insatiable pace, licking a long stripe all the way up to your clit before sucking it harshly. your body reacts in tandem, back arching as you look down at the way he devours your pussy. he wastes no time, slurping up all your juices before dipping his tongue inside. the sensation has you fighting to close your legs, but a hand from your side holds one open. jake is rutting against the floor like a dog in heat, the friction from the carpet and his sweats doing little to help the untouched dick between his legs. the drool from his mouth is falling down past his chin, soaking you even further as it slides all around your dripping cunt and spills out onto the floor.

“is our jakey making you feel good, angel?” your heart stirs at the nickname, tearing your gaze from the man between your legs to look up at heeseung, a soft smile on his face. you nod earnestly, “yes, feels so good, hee.”

“be a good girl for me and keep your legs open.”

you nod again as heeseung captures your lips in a kiss, his lust beginning to take over as he bites on your plush bottom lip, hard but not hard enough to draw blood. the painful sensation shoots right between your legs and you moan into his mouth. jake moans beneath you, tongue still buried deep inside, and the vibrations make you whimper. heeseung dips his tongue into your mouth with fervor at the opportunity, his free hand reaching down to pinch your clit harshly between two fingers. jake pulls back and licks heeseung’s hand, the pressure on your sensitive clit doubling as you lurch forward, losing connection with heeseung’s lips. he chases and recaptures your lips in another kiss, his fingers getting harsher before moving to slide two fingers inside of you. he curls them just right, hitting your g-spot instantly. you moan against his tongue as jake follows his fingers, licking over heeseung’s hand as he drools all over them, dripping down past the back of his hand and over heeseung’s wrist. heeseung nearly chuckles at the action, knowing jake is a drooler, but continues his onslaught against your g-spot, prodding the spongy wall with his skillful fingers and rubbing your clit with his free thumb. the hand on your thigh grips harder, and the pain only further fuels your desire. your body tenses suddenly, an orgasm about to crash into you.

heeseung smirks as your lips stop moving against his, eyes fluttering open to watch you come undone on jake’s mouth and his fingers. “go ahead, princess.” at the sound of his permission your orgasm hits, body seizing as you stare at heeseung, eyes rolling back as cum gushes out of you, onto heeseung’s fingers. jake never ceases his actions, slurping and licking still as cum coats his face, still incessantly humping the floor. you reach down and attempt to push jake away, heeseung uses his hand that was on your thigh before to grab your wrist, halting your actions before bringing it to his own clothed, neglected cock. he removes his fingers from your pussy, reaching up and shoving them harshly past your slightly parted lips. you suck on them instantly, eyes fluttering open as your thighs shut around jake’s head. your tongue swirls around in tandem with jake’s, not halting his actions as your legs clamp his head in place, doing the exact opposite of what you need right now, eyes brimming with tears from the overstimulation.

“you can take it,” heeseung tells you, “take it, baby. let jakey make you feel good.”

more drool and cum dribble down jake’s face, surely making a stain in the floor that heeseung will clean in the morning. his dick is impossibly hard in his sweats, begging to be released, yet he continues licking and sucking and prodding into your already spent pussy.

heeseung smiles at the tears that are now streaming down your cheeks, removing his fingers from your mouth after you’ve sucked them clean of any fluid. he smacks your clit with the wet digits, your body jumping at the action. he chuckles at your reaction to the pain. heeseung thinks you look so beautiful like this, writhing and squirming under jake’s tongue, wetness sliding down your cheeks and landing on your t-shirt. he loves seeing you lose control under him and jake.

“jakey,” jake doesn’t respond, and heeseung moves his stare down to the boy between your legs. “jake.” he repeats, opting to grab a handful of his hair and yank him off of you, your back falling onto the bed once no hands are on you.

jake tries to lean back in, and heeseung is marveled once again by how absolutely pussy drunk jake is right now. heeseung knows jake would eat you out for hours if given the chance, never halting his actions even when you cry and beg for mercy. heeseung thinks jake would live with his head between your legs, if only you’d let him. little does he know if you could, you’d let him settle in there for all of eternity.

jake’s gaze moves up to heeseung, loving the pain in his scalp that comes with the harsh tug of his brown hair.

“you best remember who’s in charge here, puppy.”

his warning sends a shiver down jake’s spine, nodding incessantly in order to please heeseung, jake only ever wanting to be a good boy for him, and for you.

“get up on the bed,” heeseung lets go of jake’s hair, pulling away to take his own shirt off and toss it somewhere in the room. jake obeys instantly, sitting on his knees next to your lying down figure. jake leans down and plants a single kiss on your cheek, his plush lips soaking up a few tears still sitting on your skin. jake’s hands roam your body, grasping at your tits and fondling them in his large palms. heeseung watches intently, shedding himself of his basketball shorts and tugging upwards on his cock a few times. jake moves to straddle your waist, grinding down on your exposed cunt as he gropes at your boobs underneath the fabric of your shirt. he holds you up in order to take off your shirt quickly before returning his hold to your flesh, burying his head between them. you groan at the feeling as he begins to drool once more, rutting incessantly against your pussy, still fully clothed, sucking and licking and biting on your tits. he chases his own high, and heeseung can see how close he is. he holds back, watching as jake drools all over your upper body, loving the mess he makes before jake is stilling suddenly, cumming completely untouched inside his sweatpants. his head never once rises from your chest, slobbering everywhere and leaving no expanse of skin untouched by his tongue and full lips. you think he looks adorable, becoming drunk on loving you right after being pried up from between your legs, where he was pussy drunk not even moments before.

heeseung lets go of his hard dick, watching as jake never even feels an ounce of shame for cumming in his pants like a teenage boy, continuing to drool everywhere. you coo at him, holding his cheek in your hand before pulling him up into a sloppy, warm kiss. spit spills from the corner of his mouth as your capture his velvety lips in your own, slipping your hand beneath his pants and grasping at the base of his cock, stroking upward with a quick tug. jake whimpers, and you push further against his mouth, shoving your tongue past his lips as you continue to overstimulate him from two points.

“what a needy puppy we have here, y/n.”

you nod, pulling away from jake to stare into his blown out pupils, “such a needy boy, isn’t that right baby?”

jake nods intently, “so needy,” he whimpers, practically already fully hard again from your constant strokes of his overstimulated dick.

heeseung lowers himself onto the bed, lying back against the pillows perched against the headboard. “take off your pants and come here, jakey.” jake pulls away from you, tugging his pants and boxers off before coming to sit on heeseung’s thighs, staring down at his boyfriend casually resting against the pillows. you crawl over to sit beside the two of them, arousal growing between your legs once more at the thought of being able to watch again. “i’ll take care of you, puppy.”

heeseung surrounds both of their dicks in one hand, beginning to jerk the two of them off at once. you groan at the sight, reaching over to tug jake’s shirt up and over his head. you toss it aside, taking one of jake’s nipples between your fingers and pinching harshly.

“ah— y/n—” he gasps out between needy pants, never tearing his eyes from where heeseung holds both of them in his hand. “more— please more—”

you shake your hand, snaking your other hand down your body, drawing lazy counter clockwise circles against your clit. “you’ll take what i give you, baby boy. got it?”

he nods with earnest, moaning loudly and mumbling incomprehensible words.

you continue tweaking his nipple between your fingers, eyes returning to the show in front of you. you reach forward, licking from base to tip right where their cocks meet. heeseung moans loudly, stirring an equally as desperate moan to slip from jake’s bitten lips. you reach beneath them to grasp heeseung’s balls, squeezing them lightly and watching for his reaction, pleased when he groans and dips his head back, eyes fluttering shut.

“so sensitive, hmm, heeseung?”

“watch who you’re talking to.”

your pussy drips as you abuse it further, dipping your hand between your folds before smearing your arousal on both of their dicks. jake lurches forward at the sight, letting out a tiny “fuck—” that affects both you and heeseung. jake’s reaction stirs something in you, patience giving way, despite the enjoyment you derive from simply watching. you need to feel full, and you need to feel full now.

heeseung’s eyes flick over from his hand to your face, shaking his head, “god, you’re a fucking menace. you’re gonna get it, you know?”

you nod, knowing your punishment would arise soon enough, not caring enough as you whine out to no one in particular, “need you inside,” you grab heeseung’s hand to halt his movements. heeseung lets your interruption slide, letting go of his grasp on his and jake’s cocks before sitting up, tugging you with him. he pushes jake to lie down, “flip around,” he instructs, to which jake instantly obeys.

heeseung picks you up and manhandles you down onto jake’s rock hard length. you hiss at the pain mixing with the pleasure, loving when heeseung uses you and jake to make each other feel good. you love relinquishing control to him, and jake loves it doubly so, allowing the two of you to boss him around like a toy, knowing he’ll always get his release if he’s a good boy for you both. jake groans at the feeling of your walls suck him right in, “fuck- so fucking tight-” he pants, “oh my god—” he glances up at heeseung, tongue lolling out as his brain shortcircuits from the feeling of your pretty pussy that he loves oh so desperately fluttering around his length, drool slipping out of the corners of his mouth as he pants.

“god, just as tight as the day you met her, isn’t she, jake?” heeseung degrades you, shoving you down to lay against jake’s chest before inserting three fingers alongside jake’s dick, pumping in and out to prep you minimally as his other hand continues to yank you up and down along jake’s aching length. you fall further onto jake at the intrusion, “tight like a fucking virgin even after having two dicks to stretch her out, isn’t that right? our baby’s just a needy slut, jakey, taking all that we give her.”

you nod profusely, open mouth panting against jake’s chest as he squeezes his eyes shut. heeseung grips your hips, prodding his tip inside with a tight stretch that reverberates through your body. jake holds your hip gently trying to ground you before taking his second hand and shoving two fingers into your mouth. “greedy y/n,” he whispers between his own pants and gasps as heeseung pushes further, relishing in the feeling of your walls paired with his boyfriend’s cock sliding in alongside his own.

“too fucked out to even speak, hmm?” heeseung pulls all the way out, leaving just the tip in before sheathing himself in you to the hilt, the three of you all groaning at the action. your mind begins to feel fuzzy, unable to focus on anything as you continue to swirl your tongue around jake’s fingers as if it were his dick down your throat, shoving deeper and deeper until you gag and spit dribbles around them. heeseung can feel jake’s cock twitch at the sight, knowing your boyfriend loves it absolutely filthy and messy. “she can take it,” heeseung assures jake who continues his assault on your mouth as heeseung continues to rail into you, balls slapping against your ass as you squeeze tightly around he and jake’s lengths. heeseung reaches over you, shoving a thumb into jake’s mouth, who mimics your actions of sucking on the finger diligently. after getting it sufficiently wet enough, heeseung snakes down to reach your clit, beginning his relentless assault on the hard bud. you clench around him with his action, “fuck, your pussy is a dream. bet you’d love to be stuffed full twenty four-seven, never a moment without a cock inside one of your holes.”

“god, you’d love that so much— i’d never leave you alone, between jake and i, we’d keep you plugged up all hours of the day.” heeseung rambles, more for his own desire than either of yours, knowing both of you are nearly gone. the thought of stuffing you full every hour of every day making his need grow further. “fuck, my perfect girl. this pussy was made to take us, wasn’t it? made to be a fucktoy for jake and i—” heeseung’s eyes flutter shut at a particularly tight drag of your walls and jake’s sticky dick against his own, “one cock will never be enough for you, pretty girl, will it? you’re absolutely insatiable.”

“eugh—” you mumble around jake’s fingers, mind going numb as heeseung fucks you out of your own brain. jake’s beginning to tumble into the same space, and heeseung smiles as he watches jake’s eyes cross from a pointedly sharp shove back into your pussy. jake can feel their tips touch inside, the realization wholly erotic to him and spurring him further into a liminal space where only you and him and heeseung exist, and nothing exists but the pleasure and pain that heeseung provides. “both of you take me so well, my sweetest angels, always needing heeseung to help you cum. so desperate for my cock, you’d do anything for it, wouldn’t you?” heeseung chuckles lowly, glancing between the two of you, fucked out of your minds and unable to even move on your own, the degradation mixed with praise barely registering in your mind. “two cock drunk little whores i’ve got here, hmm?” jake nods, not sure what he’s agreeing to, just hoping to please heeseung.

“‘m gonna c-cum—” jake sputters, looking to heeseung for permission. “almost there, pup, just a little more—” heeseung continues his assault, his thrusts slowly moving you higher up on jake’s chest until he tugs you back down, burying jake’s dick all the way to the hilt once more. “f-fuck— hee— i c-can’t—” jake stumbles out, the pressure building in his tummy as his orgasm threatens to spill.

“yes you can, and you will.” his tone leaves no room for disagreement. he notices the tells from your body, knowing you’re still gagging on jake’s fingers below, your hands grasping jake’s biceps as you brace yourself to cum. heeseung pinches your clit, and that breaks the dam, fluid rushing out of you all at once. heeseung watches as it gushes out of you, grabbing jake’s chin and tilting it up first and ordering him to open, before spitting inside the cavern of jake’s mouth. he closes jake’s jaw to make him swallow, which he does with a loud moan that heeseung feels vibrate against his hand. he directs jake’s head down now for him to watch, too. jake groans once more, long and drawn out at the sight of you squirting. “heeseung, please—” he whimpers.

“go ahead puppy,” jake cums, a long burst and heeseung thinks jake’s never cum this much in his whole life. heeseung persists with his thrusts, never once stopping even as you cry out from around jake’s fingers, on another plane of existence entirely but still able to feel the way your cunt begs for mercy. he watches as he pushes jake’s cum back inside of you, ramming deep into your cervix. tears leak out the sides of your eyes, the sounds escaping your mouth indicating the same. jake withstands the oversensitivity of his cockhead as heeseung makes a point to drag against it with every push and pull of his own dick. “god, and now you’re crying? pathetic. you’re getting what you wanted, dumb slut. take what i give you.”

“jake, turn her head towards me,” jake obeys, and the sight of your cheeks covered in wet tears and your mouth still stuffed full of two of jake’s huge fingers makes heeseung cum on the spot, shooting deep inside you. he doesn’t move until he’s fully spent, and even then he sits still within you. jake begins to pull out and heeseung allows him, seeing the boy about to slip fully into a subspace from the entire overwhelming experience.

heeseung thrusts a few times back into you for good measure, watching the combination of everyone’s fluids slipping out of your gaping hole, sliding down his base and onto his balls. he groans, slowly pulling out before taking his fingers and shoving it all back inside. “gonna keep you plugged full til you’re pregnant, angel. would look so good with our babies in you. swelled up belly and you’d still be able to take us both at once.” he presses kisses all over the expanse of your back slowly, the sweet action contrasting the next words to leave his mouth, “naughty angel disobeyed heeseung, so this is her punishment.”

you’re beginning to somewhat return to this realm, pulling off of jake’s completely spit covered fingers and looking back at heeseung, “‘m not naughty,” you pathetically whimper, pulling a smirk onto heeseung’s face in response. “yes you are angel, touching without permission, getting me all worked up when you know i was loving on our puppy and trying to make him feel good.” heeseung removes his fingers from where he has you plugged up, shoving the fingers into jake’s mouth. even when he’s subbed out, he sucks diligently, slurping up the mix of everyone’s fluids until heeseung’s fingers are clean. “you took your punishment well, my bratty girl. and you make our puppy and heeseung cum.”

without heeseung’s hands to hold you up, you fall down away from jake, leaving room for heeseung to lie in the middle. he steps into the bathroom and wets a cloth, returning with it to clean the two of you up. he wipes the drool from both you and jake, cleaning faces and stomachs and inner thighs and fingers and any other place jake, or you, had dribbled spit onto. he’s gentle when wiping you, and especially delicate when cleaning jake’s now soft dick. if he left that cum inside you any longer, the minute jake regained his senses he’d be diving in headfirst to suck the mixture right out of your abused hole.

“my two beautiful angels, you did so well my babies.” he places a kiss on each of your foreheads before tossing the cloth in the hamper in the corner of the room. heeseung takes his place between the two of you, and you curl in to cling onto him in your post orgasm haze. “‘m so tired,” you mumble, laying your head against his chest. jake has his back to the two of you, and heeseung wraps a hand around his waist, splaying his hand against his lower abdomen.

“hee—” jake calls as he’s slowly recovering from the subdrop. “yes, baby?”

“i love you,” jake mumbles, bringing heeseung’s hand up to his mouth to pepper it with kisses.

he replies honestly, without a second though, “i love you too, jakey,” he rubs against your shoulder, lulling you further into dreamland, “my well behaved boy, did so well for me puppy.”

the praise seems to settle into the nooks and crannies of his brain, saving the phrase among all the other memories of when heeseung has reassured him. that he loves him just as much as you, that him being added into you and heeseung’s relationship did not make him any less loved. and jake never hesitates to express the same sentiment to you, knowing how inside your own head you can get sometimes. heeseung turns his head towards you, who will knock out shortly after settling your head further against his pectoral.

“did well for me, pretty girl,” he presses a kiss to the side of your head, pulling you closer with the strong arm that’s wrapped around your shoulders. “such a good girl, i love you.”

it’s left unsaid, but you love heeseung, and you love jake. heeseung adores the pair of you, the two of you constantly keeping his hands full. and jake’s heart swells knowing that he has two people in this world that love him unconditionally.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Objects in Motion

Part 1

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

A/N: My very first A/B/O fic, that I started a while ago, and just decided to post.

It all started after finding out how much that lovely coat Billy wears in s1 costs.

Warnings: Masturbation, omega in heat.

You’re often overwhelmed.

It’s the hitch of your breath when your feelings are too big for your body, or the way your throat hurts with all the words that go unsaid.

There are not enoughs and there are too muchs and hardly any moments when things are… just right.

The coat in your hands is soft- ridiculously so, the label offers you an explanation- 100% cotton. You can't help the way your hands tighten on the material, as if you’d fight off anyone that tried to take it from you. Like for the first time, just right isn’t just a far away idea, it’s here, in your hands, against your chest.

How had you ended up here? Curled under your bed sheets, pillows all around you, clutching this lovely black coat to your body?

Today had been very overwhelming, your phone had pinged, alerting you to your impending heat, reminding you that you needed to pick up supplies. 

Your heats were formidable too, always too hot or too hungry or too needy. There was never a part of you that existed within the realms of fine.

At least until now.

When you were clutching this delightful black coat in your hands, bringing it up to your nose so that you could catch a whiff of the bewitching scent. 

It's bergamot at first, followed by notes of citrus that makes your eyes flutter shut. Delight spreads out inside you, fanning at the flames of your desire- your heat coming on faster as your nose lingers on the scent. You catch hints of pepper at the very end and it prompts you to take another long inhale.

Based on the size of the coat, your mind formulates an idea of the size of the person that wears it. The very thought causes you to clench your thighs together.

You didn't mean for this to happen, you'd only gone to pick up your silky PJs from the dry cleaners, designed specifically to be worn during your heat for maximum comfort on your skin. The delicate, gossamer material demanded special care, but you were very glad to have been gifted them some years ago.

You'd just picked up your item, when your nose had zeroed in on a scent that had made your body perk up curiously. It was the first time your senses had streamlined onto one thing, where throughout the day you'd had a number of difficult sensory encounters, leading you into wearing a beanie and noise cancelling headphones and the biggest jacket in your closet in any attempt to feel less things. The scent had made your brain ache for more, demanding you follow what your body had accepted- that this specific scent brought you absolute pleasure.

Even through the garment bag it was stored in, it had activated dangerous thoughts in your hindbrain, and before you could even look around for cameras, you'd reached over the counter and swiped the garment bag when the girl at the front desk wasn't looking. It had been tucked to your chest and smuggled out of the dry cleaners without even a moment of guilt.

Realistically, you wouldn't be in that much trouble anyway, omega behaviour was usually forgiven, even if it didn't make sense. No one would lock you up for swiping a men's coat, especially not so close to your heat.

You have a few hours left, and you use it to make sure your food supplies are easily accessible. Your heats tended to run on for five days- higher than average- which means that you were in a lot more danger of starvation and dehydration.

You wonder if he would take good care of you. Your mind spinning back to the owner of the coat, having already made up some basic idea of him.

You knew his designation, by scent alone, but you were too afraid to admit it to yourself, worried about the consequences of having stolen a coat from someone like that.

Would they be mad? Probably not, you were sure with a scent like that, they were used to omegas swarming around.

The thought made you unreasonably jealous, for a person you didn’t even know.

.

Your heat hits you in the early hours of the next morning. 

You wake with a whine, sitting up, thighs damp with your arousal. You reach for the pills on your bedside table, taking them quickly and swallowing down some tepid water, before lying back. They would help you go back to sleep until morning alleviating some symptoms of your heat. You turn, finding the coat lying beside you. You take a deep breath into it as you fall asleep.

.

You can’t focus on anything as you pump the slick pink dildo in and out of you. There are tears streaming down your face, desperate for much more than you could ever give yourself. 

You bring the coat up to your nose, crying harder as the scent wraps around you.

“Alpha.” You pant into the soft material, imagining your fantasy version of the owner. 

You take a deep breath, envisioning him here with you, presumably large body curved over yours, taking up all the air around you, smooth skin available for you to scratch and claw at, his scent glands on display and eager for your mark.

“Alpha.” You beg again, into the loneliness of your apartment.

.

The coat becomes a centerpoint in your nest.

On day three when it’s fully finished to a satisfactory level, an arrangement of pillows and sheets all around your bed, you tuck the coat in beside you, delighted at the way the material feels on your flushed skin.

The scent is strongest at the collar, where it's probably rubbed on his neck often, brushed against his gland when he turns to examine something.

You groan, mouth watering for a bite of him, whoever he was.

There’s a lot of buttons and buckles on it, and your hindbrain is somewhat obsessed with what you think he looks like wearing it, probaby commands any room he walks into. 

The label at the back says Burberry, and though you're not very familiar with the brand, the clean stitching and soft material tells you that it’s definitely got to cost more than what you pay for your own coats.

You sigh, stripping out of your PJ’s and opting to slide into the coat itself.

A groan slips from your mouth, the material feels coarse on your oversensitive skin, but you welcome it as you feel his scent engulf you.

A fresh wave of arousal coats your thighs, and you can’t help inching your hand down between damp thighs until you find your swollen clit.

.

On your knees now, face down into your bed, you bite down on the collar of the midnight black coat.

Your eyes roll back into your head, muffled grunts as you pump your overstimulated cunt to the brim.

You rub your face into the collar, arching your neck so that your scent gland rubs against the coat, a low whine at the severe taboo thought of rubbing your gland against a stranger's.

It's frowned upon, but the very thought of it is what brings you to orgasm just a few moments later. 

You struggle for air, hair tickling your cheek as you huff, some of it clings to the saliva at the corner of your mouth, some of it is caught in the tears that smear your cheeks.

You want- like never before.

.

When your heat is over, the guilt kicks in.

You know better than to wash the coat yourself, only wiping gently at the interior in hopes of wiping off any lingering traces of… you away. You think about getting it dry cleaned yourself but you’d used the last of your money on the alleviator pills to help with your heat symptoms. You wouldn’t get paid until the end of the month.

Finally, you rummage through the pockets, checking to see if anything had been left behind by the owner. You find a crumpled napkin with someone’s number scribbled on, leaning in, you take an experimental sniff and draw away from it in disgust as the scent hits your nose.

You almost put it back, but you figured it was crumpled anyway, probably meant for a bin in the first place- so you put it there. Searching again and you smile when you come across a tub of lip balm, opening it and giving a little sniff of the inside. There’s no scent to it, and you curiously swipe a bit onto your finger and smear it onto your lips.

You begin to get a sense that the person this coat belongs to, has very refined tastes, and after a quick search, your eyes widen in shock when you discover the lip balm costs near fifty dollars.

Which is how it starts- an itch at the back of your head that tries to warn you of the possibility that the coat in your possession costs more than you’d initially thought.

You let out a slow breath, typing in the information stitched onto the label and your eyes bulge out of your head when you finally see the price of the coat sitting in your lap.

Three thousand.

The coat you stole had cost nearly three thousand dollars.

You look down at the item in betrayal, the scent of its true owner just barely clinging to it. 

You take a deep breath, pushing your phone aside as you begin rummaging for a box capable of returning such an expensive item.

Thankfully, you know where to return it to, as the name and address had been hooked to the garment bag.

Delivering it is another difficult task on its own, but you manage, having to call in a few favours and explain in lengthy detail to the courier that your package wasn’t dangerous in any way but you’d rather not deliver it yourself.

Luckily, you’re able to convince them of your cause, the urge to help an omega in distress working in your favour.

.

It’s nine a.m on a Saturday morning when Billy comes home from his run. 

He’s fishing for his keys in his pocket when he notices that there’s a box sitting in front of his door.

He pauses for a moment, looks at the item, before stepping forward to examine it.

There’s a card on top- one of those printed ones you can get at a convenience store- light blue sky and a panda holding onto a handful of bamboo stalks. 

There’s an “I’m Sorry,” printed on, and then something added in below in pen.

‘From a very apologetic Omega.’ It says.

His eyebrows twitch in amusement, he brings the card up to his nose to catch a whiff- the scent of light, floral perfume fills his nose. 

He’s aware his coat had been stolen, he’d seen video footage of the crime itself, watched as a small hooded frame had reached across and nicked his coat before it could be cleaned. The dry cleaners had sent him the footage when they’d explained what had happened.

He’d thought it had been gone for good, deleting the only copy of the footage and moving on. He could afford to replace one coat. 

This though, was interesting, it seems like the omega had felt some sort of remorse, and had returned his coat to him.

It was sweet, he found himself smiling as he reached down to pick the box up, cradling it under one arm and flipping the card open as he enters his apartment.

He huffs, feeling a little sorry for an omega that couldn’t afford a dry cleaning bill, then again, the cost of the coat would definitely bring up the price a lot more.

‘Dear Alpha,

                   I’m so sorry I took your coat. I tried to clean it as best as I could, but I couldn’t afford to have it dry cleaned for you. It’s wrapped tightly to protect you from the scent on it. I'd suggest not opening it, and taking it to be cleaned as soon as you get it. I’m very sorry.

P.S. You have a very nice scent.’

Curiously, he tugs the box open, finding that the garment bag has been folded carefully and wrapped in plastic wrap. 

He sniffs the box experimentally, searching for any hint of a scent, or any indication that the package could be dangerous.

All he gets is more of that pleasant perfume that he figured was doused in the box to protect him from the scent.

It only makes him more curious.

Billy grips the plastic wrap, and very carefully tears a little hole into the plastic, breaking the seal.

His body goes rigid. 

He feels his pupils dilate, his hindbrain roaring to life as he catches the scent of an omega in heat.

His omega.

He rips the plastic furiously, fumbles with the garment bag and rips the zipper open. His eyes scan the coat, as he takes one long, slow breath.

The first scent he gets are apples, and then light notes of vanilla, but under it all, is the kick of pheromones, that sticks like honey on his tongue.

He takes another deep breath, groaning as his cock swells, pulsing to life, begging to claim the owner of such a delicious scent.

There’s so much of it, filling his space with sweet notes of frustration, yearning and unfulfillment. 

His omega, needing him.

A growl tears from his chest, something inside of him collapses like an avalanche, only increasing with time, decimating his thoughts and leaving a feverish burn under his skin.

He tugs the coat open, groaning, the tart smell of cunt clings to the inside of his coat, telling him that his omega wore his coat naked.

Desperate little thing, he thinks, as he dips his hand into his joggers, fingers wrapping firmly around his cock, squeezing in an attempt to force his orgasm away. He groans, the grip around his cock rewarding him with pleasure, and he can’t help pumping himself, trying to ease the desire inside of him.

He leans in, nose pressed to the collar of his coat, where the scent is strongest, where his omega must have rubbed their little scent gland vigorously against his coat,

Sweet, delightful, his cock aches for a cunt he’s never seen, his mouth yearns for skin he’s never touched. All he has, is the honeyed scent of an omega’s heat, and the screaming inside of him that demands he claim what his body knows is his.

His grip on his cock tightens, his vision blurs, head full of thoughts, ideas of a little omega under him, sobbing as they take his cock repeatedly, begging for more with broken cries.

He doesn’t stop until he comes into his hand, only then, does his thinking sharpen.

He puts his coat in bed beside him, he hopes the sheets will absorb the smell, so that he can have his little omega with him while he sleeps. He wakes with an aching cock, and the coat clutched tightly against his chest, struggling to remember fading dreams of little omegas that beg nicely.

He doesn’t get out of bed until he’s come twice into the palm of his hand.

.

He searches for days. 

But when he’d deleted the footage from the dry cleaners, he’d gotten rid of any hope of tracing his omega’s movements, and chances of finding an address. 

She doesn’t leave any record of one, always opting to pick up her items herself. 

At least he’s gotten that, a basic description, a height, an idea of her complexion and the colour of her eyes.

It was too vague to work with, but it was something he could think about before he went to sleep at night, with his nose buried in his coat, breathing in the scent of her, desperate to find the omega that had stolen his coat and unintentionally taken his heart.

He studies the card too, learns the handwriting, growing more and more desperate for his little omega.

Billy knew he wouldn't stop looking, not until he found the person who'd opened up a nest of possibilities in his head, giving him something he'd never had in a very long time.

Hope.

.

.

.

Part 2

[erwinsvow]

my heart swells at the thought of shy!reader kinda being overstimulated emotionally during rough sex with rafe and so she’s in doggy but reaches to hold his hand just to feel some affection from him☹️

this actually made me bark

when you could keep your eyes open, you were staring at the wood of rafe's headboard, watching the way it was slamming against the wall and the repetitive thudding that filled your ears. if rafe wasn't fucking you so hard that you were close to losing your mind, you'd be worried someone in the house can hear the two of you.

your mind, always overactive even in times like this, wanders. first you allow yourself to get a little concerned someone can hear you, so you get quieter, shoving your head into rafe's pillow to muffle the moans leaving your mouth. then you worry someone can hear the headboard, the slap of skin on skin.

even when the pleasure is so overwhelming, building up tense and low in your stomach, entire body feeling like it's aflame when rafe grips your hips and slaps your ass in between thrusts, you still feel your mind wandering, slipping further and further away.

you want it to shut up, so you close your eyes, head resting on rafe's pillow again. you try to focus on your boyfriend's groans, the way the noises coming from him make your toes curl and a fuzzy feeling overtake your brain.

"yeah, fuck, kid, keep takin' it-"

he's saying something, and you stupidly wonder if he's been talking to you this whole time. you'd been too busy thinking about nothing to realize. you tune in, realizing what rafe's saying is a little bit of the opposite of what you usually hear from him.

you turn your head a little, opening your eyes to look back at rafe. he's still slamming in and out, his eyes focused on where the two of you are connected. rafe's always handsome, almost overwhelmingly so, but especially like this, when he's so focused on pleasure he's not as mindful of what he's saying.

"y'like that, huh? yeah, you wanna watch? like the little slut you are?"

"oh-"

it comes out low and quiet, a little sound that lets him know you're paying attention. if possible, his grip on your hips gets harder, fingers digging into the plush of your ass while he pushes down on your arch, increasing his pace. it's too fast now, too full and the stretch too much. you squeal into the pillow, eyes getting crossed while rafe's words ring around your head.

"fuck, good girl. my good little whore, aren't you?"

"um-" he keeps going, and you don't want him to stop. you try to shift around but he's holding you so hard moving feels impossible, so you settle for what you can move, lifting your arm to rest on your back, hand reaching out for him. "rafe, hand, please-"

you can't see his face, but you feel the weight of his hand on yours, before he pulls out and flips you over. you fall onto your back with a quiet yelp.

"you okay?" he asks, hovering over you. you feel empty, feel your pussy clench around nothing. then you feel bad—you hadn't meant to make him stop.

"s-sorry, rafe, i didn't mean stop, i just wanted to feel close to you-"

"was inside you. what'd you mean closer? you okay?" he repeats, and you feel your face flush, everything going warm.

"yes, yes. i'm fine."

"you sure?" you nod, looking up at your boyfriend. he moves your legs while you lay back, lifting them with his arms and lining himself up. and then he puts his palm flat on yours, fingers interlacing while he pushes inside. he fucks you like that—both your hands holding his, slowly and somehow still rougher than before, and even after both of you finish, he doesn't let go. you fall asleep with fingers intertwined with his.

[unclewaynemunson]

@bigskyandthecoldgun made this very big-brained post about the perfect miscommunication potential of Eddie's heart monitor betraying his feelings for Steve while he's recovering. @mostrizzaward asked me to write it and how could I say no to that :D

The first time Steve sets foot in Eddie's hospital room is terrifying. Eddie is as pale as a dead man. He has dozens of wires attached to his body, that are connected to just as many machines and monitors displaying complicated graphs, all softly beeping at varying intervals. Everyone in the room talks in soft, grave voices and all the nurses and doctors have matching serious frowns on their faces.

But what seemed to be impossible happens on a dreary Wednesday afternoon in April: Eddie opens his eyes for the very first time since he passed out in Dustin's arms. Steve is at work when that happens, but rushes to the hospital as soon as he can, and suddenly Eddie's room seems a lot less terrifying than before. Because Eddie is grinning at him from his bed, even though he's still pale and weak. He's not only alive, he's awake. It's a goddamn miracle. His wide grin is familiar despite the big scar that has marred his cheek. Fuck, Steve doesn't think he'll ever be able to put into words how much he missed that smile.

Eddie rasps his name as a greeting and Steve comes closer to the bed. But then, something weird happens.

The machines around Eddie's bed are still beeping, but there's less of them now. The electronic symphony of noises has been reduced to a duet of two different beep patterns that are clearly distinguishable from each other. And one of them speeds up rapidly when Steve leans over the bed in an awkwardly angled attempt to give Eddie a hug.

“You okay?” Steve asks, worried. He wonders if he should call for a nurse.

“Yeah, man,” Eddie mumbles. His eyes flash towards the monitor in question for a second and a blush creeps over his white cheeks. He seems ill at ease; Steve can't quite put his finger on it but there's something weirdly awkward about the whole thing. He seems otherwise fine, though, so Steve decides no nurses will be necessary.

He clears his throat and takes a seat in the chair next to the bed. For a moment, he wonders why he's even here. They weren't exactly friends before all of this happened. It would be perfectly normal for Eddie not to want him around – and yet here he is, visiting him in the hospital like it's the most normal thing in the world. What is he even doing here?

But then, Eddie starts talking about how his uncle was with him when he woke up and gave him this book he's been wanting to buy for ages.

“He cried, Steve, I've never seen him cry in my life, but he was bawling, I'm not kidding!”

Despite his animated tone, Eddie's voice is still weak and his eyes keep falling shut even while he is talking. Steve knows that he shouldn't overstay his welcome and let Eddie rest, but he finds himself too captivated in how alive Eddie is, even though his whole presence – his loud voice, his broad arm gestures, his expressive face – seems a little bit toned down. So when Eddie tells him with a vague gesture to his nightstand that he tried to read his new book, but found himself too tired to focus properly, Steve finds himself proposing to read it to Eddie before he even realizes what he's doing.

And then the weird thing happens again. Eddie starts smiling at the exact same time the heart monitor accelerates.

Steve chooses to pretend like he doesn't notice. Instead, he takes the book from the nightstand and flips it open on the first page. He starts reading aloud, but he can't really keep his attention on the words that come out of his own mouth. He can't help but feel like he made a mistake. Is the heart monitor signaling to him that his presence is making Eddie uncomfortable? Shouldn't he have left Eddie alone to rest when he started getting tired? Why the hell did he ever think it'd be a good idea to read to him in the first place? He's never been a good reader, and certainly not a performer like Eddie. So he awkwardly stumbles his way through the words on the pages, in no way able to keep up with the complicated plot and no doubt failing spectacularly in the use of voices and appropriately ominous pauses and whatnot. Whenever he glances up from the pages, he finds Eddie leaning into his pillow with his eyes closed and a faint smile around his lips, only to find out he's lost track of where he was when he directs his attention back to the book in his hands.

It doesn't take long until Eddie's breathing becomes audibly deeper and evens out. Steve softly closes the book. He allows himself a few moments to do nothing but stare at Eddie's face and be grateful for the absence of a breathing tube between his lips, showing that he's only sleeping this time. Then, he gets up and tiptoes out of the room.

***

The weird thing with the heart monitor keeps happening every time Steve visits Eddie. It happens when he greets him, when he starts reading to him, and especially whenever he helps him adjust his position in the bed he's still chained to. Every time they touch, every time Steve gets close to him in any way, like clockwork. And every time, it's paired with some kind of physical reaction on Eddie's part: a blush on his cheeks, a somewhat forced chuckle, or sometimes even a badly concealed flinch, away from where Steve's hands are touching Eddie.

Steve pretends not to notice it, for Eddie's sake, but it can only happen so many times before he has to face the clear and obvious truth here: his presence is making Eddie extremely uncomfortable.

One part of it still doesn't make sense, though: Eddie actually asks him to read to him or to help him sit up or lie down again, and the next thing he knows, Eddie will suddenly be avoiding his gaze and that goddamn heart monitor will make it sound like Eddie is trying to break a sprint record instead of lounging in his bed, and he'll recoil from Steve's touch like he doesn't want his hands anywhere around him.

Steve muses over Eddie's odd behavior for days before he comes to the only logical conclusion: Eddie is actually repulsed by him and is too polite to tell him the truth. It's the only explanation that makes sense. It's just like what Steve realized so clearly that first time after Eddie woke up: they weren't friends before this, so why should they be now? Steve has no business being at his bedside all of a sudden, and Eddie doesn't have the heart to be mean to him and spell that out for him.

He can't even blame Eddie for it. For most of the time they've known each other, Steve was a major asshole, everybody knows that. Sure, they're twenty now and Steve has moved past high school stereotypes when he got close to Robin, but still... Those stereotypes made up everything about who they were, how they were perceived and who they interacted with for four whole years of their lives – six even, in Eddie's case. Eddie doesn't have any reason to want to let that go like Steve did.

He would never admit it to anyone, but the conclusion he reaches breaks Steve's heart: he should stay away from Eddie. Eddie has every right not to like having Steve around and Steve certainly doesn't want to add to his discomfort. He has been through enough, Steve wouldn't want to make this whole long and painful process of recovery even worse for Eddie by imposing his unwanted presence on him.

It doesn't matter that Steve has started to look forward to his hospital visits like they're the very best part of his week. It doesn't matter that Steve's heart starts racing for whole other reasons than Eddie's whenever they're close, whenever they're touching or whenever Eddie is smiling that beautiful smile of his. It doesn't matter that Steve wants nothing more than to keep reading to Eddie even though he still doesn't have a clue what that stupid book is about. None of it matters, because that's simply the price one has to pay for being an asshole and a bully in high school.

It doesn't matter, because there are way worse things than the guy you've developed feelings for secretly harboring a grudge against you. He still has Robin, he still has his little nerds, he even has Nancy back; as a friend, this time, which is honestly better than things ever were between them. He has the knowledge that Eddie survived and will be getting better with each passing day. Maybe he can start dating again, find a cute girl with blue eyes and blonde hair who doesn't remind him of the one person he can't be around, and it'll all be fine again. It doesn't matter.

Update: there's now a sequel post :D

[nanamis-bigtie]

impromptu rendezvous

↬ hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader ↬ masterlist // ao3 version // commission info

cw: smut, friends to lovers, reader has breasts, vagina & is rather feminine, drunk sex, piv sex, creampie, sex on couch, long-term platonic relationship goes romantic really quick summary: through the years of close friendship you have never felt anything romantic towards hanamaki…but have you really? you feign being drunk to escape an overwhelming party and when he takes care of you, you can't bring yourself to refuse his help. instead, you keep the game rolling until you find yourselves alone in your apartment word count: 4.8k a/n: commission for lovely @antique-remains ❤ thank you so much for your support and trust, i loved working with you and your ideas!

"My, my, aren't you a good wife?"

Matsun's sarcastic comment has Hanamaki's eyebrows twitch with irritation, but he doesn't stop nor retort. He's had his good dose of alcohol too, shoelaces of your boots tangling between his fingers as he's kneeling on one knee between your legs, leaning slightly to the right. It puts strain into your own knee but you don't mind; you like the weight of his body and its warmth, especially now, your mind foggy and overwhelmed. It's familiar and personal, great comfort amidst the chaos and noise, and the crowd filling the apartment a little much for your limits.

You didn't hate the party—no, you were always looking forward to Matsun's—but it strained you far past what you expected. You didn't make it easy for yourself either, pouring too much into yourself and too fast. And tomorrow's morning classes be damned, you were ready for even more, but Hanamaki was right there, with his overshielding that was sometimes getting on your nerves, but so needed right then. Gently but firmly, he moved your glass away and excused you both from the company. Soon, you've been herded towards the hallway, packed into your jacket, having your purse shoved under your arm, and sat down for him to deal with your boots.

You're not that drunk to not be able to take care of yourself but once he's dropped to his knees, you've felt it's best to keep your mouth shut and just let him. Wouldn't be the first time either and you know better than to argue against his care—but you can't pretend you don't like him like this now, with his flushed cheeks between your legs, eyebrows knit in focus and their little twitch at Matsun's teasing behind his back. The urge to thread fingers through his hair is real and persistent; you know how soft it is, and you know the smell of his shampoo would linger on your fingers for quite some time but, again, you're not that drunk. Such a move would be shameless even for your long and close friendship, and feigning daze right under Matsukawa's nose could as well be a straight confession of feelings.

Nothing could escape those knowing eyes, even what you haven't dared to admit to yourself. No, it's better to play stupid and limp, and to nibble on your bottom lip, watching Makki on his knees for you, letting him dart you up and wrap arm around your waist once he's dressed himself, ready to lead you outside and to your apartment.

"You're gonna be okay?" Matsukawa is dead serious now, holding the door for you two and lingering there even as you make it past the garden and pavement to your Uber ride.

"We've been worse," Hanamaki scoffs, no offense taken though. "Get back there and don't drown yourself in beer."

"Sure. Don't break your legs or something."

Your place is only a couple of blocks away but in your current state it would take forever to get there on foot. You would still try though, too dazed to think of a ride, but what do you have Hanamaki for, if not for being your brain in times like these? It would be enough to pack you into the car and trust the driver with the delivery, but he took a seat next to you and let you lean against him.

Matsun's not there anymore to judge and tease you so you grow bolder, as bold as you can in presence of a bystander right under your nose. The crook of Hanamaki's neck is tailored for the shape of your head; you nuzzle up there and close your eyes, to ease the dizziness caused by car's vibrations, yes, but first and foremost to soak yourself in his scent. It's duller under the lingering smell of the party, of the crowd, smoke and that sharp, teasing aftertaste of beer and vodka, but you can still catch a glimpse of him. His cologne is subtle but persistent, like him, but there's the shampoo and shower gel combo you will always recognize after countless times of finding it in your own bathroom after he's spent a night on your couch. 

And under that, deeper, there's him, the natural scent of his body, embarrassingly familiar for the distance you, despite everything, still keep.

It's the scent you've known for the longest and, in prospect of over ten years of your friendship, it's so funny how offensive you found it at first. Always in a hurry, from volleyball club to precious hours reserved for friends, barely squeezed into his tight schedule, he skipped a shower here and there, and as he never smelled bad to you, for some reason it irritated you how much he stood out for your nose and how it distracted you.

You've drilled a habit of keeping his hygiene always on point. But now, in the confines of the small car, with the rough edge of his jacket nuzzled up to your cheek, you wish you could smell more of him, if only a little.

Friends, even the best kind, don't cram their noises into their necks during their shared Uber ride, the sobering part of your brain is trying to point your attention to that, but you ignore it. And Hanamaki doesn't mind it, even wraps his arm around you shortly before you reach your destination, way too late for your liking. But the hold soon returns, first helping you out of the car, then keeping you straight up the stairs and into the elevator, finally leading you to your door.

"Even a blind person could rob you," he mutters, fishing the keys out of your pocket with ease. The lock clicks open with half of a turn, and he sighs, concerned and amused alike.

"Shut up," you mumble, hanging on his shoulder more than needed. "No one has robbed me before."

"Fortune favors fools, eh?"

"You're calling me stupid?" You withstand when he's trying to push you past the threshold—well, as much as your wobbly legs can, heels not helping your case. You're having a taste of upper hand only because Hanamaki lets you, you know it from the playful flickers in his eyes; he's squinting and tilting head to side as you're pulling him two steps back into the corridor—just for him to set you into your prior position with a single pull.

"I'm calling you drunk and too light-hearted." He's finally done and tugs at your arm until you lose balance—and fall straight into his arms, then over his shoulder as he's tripped you, and picks you up with ease.

"I'm gonna scream!" You kick and wiggle, but he knows your tricks too well to let you slip out.

"Sure, scream, princess." Covering you with one arm, he shuts the door behind your backs. "Show me what those little lungs can do."

You're carried into the living room, then thrown onto the couch, seemingly with no care for your state, but you know Makki could be far less gentle, if he really wanted to pay you back for your little games. Your mind is fuzzy more from hanging over his shoulder than the landing itself—but still not fuzzy enough to stop you in your tracks. You shamelessly stretch legs, one foot playfully slotted in his hand; he rolls his eyes but undoes the boot, then the other, then helps you out of your jacket and carries everything to the hallway.

He's mapped your apartment better than your current, overly absent roommate has, and you're ready to bet he's actually spent more time here than her through all those years of crashing on your couch. In no time he has a bottle of water and painkillers for you, a heated blanket is pulled out of the cabinet and thrown over your legs, he even helps you with your skincare duty, bringing you make-up removal wipes.

"You could have carried me straight to bed." You didn't want to sound whiny or disappointed, but it does come across as so; you curl your shoulders, unsure of his next move and for the first time since what seems forever unable to read his expression. Hell, you're unsure of your intentions and reason behind the weird longing, your mind free of thoughts, just waiting for his reaction and feeling weirdly shy, as if you were stripped naked and left for his judgment.

Hanamaki indeed seems to judge you, his head tilted to the side just a little, eyes narrowed much like a cat's a moment before the final pounce. He often does so, an old habit of analyzing the court before a move rubbing off on every aspect of his life, but you haven't paid any particular attention to it until now, when his focus is piercing you inside out.

He can strip you of your confidence like no one, years of your friendship a blessing and a curse alike.

"That's a forbidden territory," he finally settles on ignoring the topic, not dwelling on but not quite letting it die right here and now either. "I ain't that much of a pervert to walk into some girl's bedroom just like that. Especially with a girl ripped to the tits."

"I'm not some girl to you, ain't I?" You huff and pout. "Haven't you said I'm almost like a sister?"

For a moment there's a weird look in his eyes, maybe pain, maybe disappointment, but it's quickly replaced by his good old teasing demeanor, "I wouldn't walk into my sis' bedroom either. Sorry, you either sleep here or crawl there on your own. Good luck."

Hanamaki makes a beeline for the door, ready to slink off but when you call out to him by his name, he immediately freezes and looks over his shoulder, as if you pulled on an invisible leash around his neck.

"You're not staying?" You shimmy into one corner of the couch, leaving the other half for him. "We can order Chinese. And— And maybe watch something. On Netflix or—"

"You are aware how it sounds, right?" He says but he's already throwing his sneakers and jacket off, closing the distance between you in a few wide steps. Couch dips under his weight as he's thrown himself straight at it with a loud groan, your side bobbing under you as a result.

You barely hold a yelp in your throat. Why are you so tense suddenly? You've already been way closer than on two sides of the same couch, the distance between you now wouldn't be anything weird even for people who barely know each other.

When you think about it now, your sobering mind slowly connecting the right puzzles, there is some emotional distance between you two lately. You can't pinpoint when exactly it's started; you've been slowly tiptoeing away from each other, building an invisible, thin veil in between. There's still comfort and familiarity you don't share even with your female friends but it's not the same as it used to be.

For a try, you dare to straighten your legs and rest them on his lap. Makki doesn't budge but palpably lingers with the next move; finally, he cups your feet between his big hands and massages them. You don't really need a relief for them but it's a little ritual you two have developed since you've started wearing high heels.

"Chinese then?" You draw a circle with one foot, playfully avoiding his touch.

"I won't fit a single thing more," he makes a tortured face just at the thought. "I've drunk too much."

"You don't look wasted."

Hanamaki snorts and throws head back, his face out of the range of your vision. You watch his Adam's apple bob when he swallows his laughter, your mouth dry in a way you've never felt for him. Or maybe you have but it's been easier to brush it off without alcohol clearing your mind with a sadistic precision. You're stripped bare by your own chain of bad decisions, nowhere to hide and no way to pretend anymore.

"Neither do you." He tickles the sole of immobilized foot and holds you through the spasm, merciless despite the tenderness of his hold. "You're not that drunk as you try to act, hmm?"

His fingers trail along the side of your foot and ankle, then up your shin, towards the sensitive area around your knee, a thin layer of your stocking in no way able to protect you from incoming tortures. He keeps you on the edge, fingertips hovering over the point you know it will have you scream, cry, and beg—or worse, if he tickles you for too long.

Warmth creeping straight into your core has nothing to do with this anticipation though; it's intense but not rapid, and you take it for alcohol running in your veins at first, at least until immense need for being touched overpowers everything. The urge to squeeze your thighs and trap his hand in between is strong, anxiety squeezing your lungs even stronger, the mess of thoughts and emotions in your head devastating.

It feels...wrong, to react to his touch like this. You're holding the blame for alcohol messing with you, despite being called out on it and despite your body sobering up with each draft of air. No, it surely has to be the drunkard speaking through you, otherwise you would have to admit—

(To admit it feels wrong, but you need it, you need it so bad you might cry, if you won't get it from him.)

Hanamaki grazes the ticklish spot, impatient for your answer, and this time you can't hold a yelp any longer. It's dangerously close to a moan, your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet but he only cocks an eyebrow, waiting, either missing your reaction or ignoring it.

"I had enough," you admit in a whisper, afraid the trembling of your voice will betray you. "Needed to get out but explaining it all to Matsun—"

He chuckles, amused and understanding. Matsukawa could be a pain in the ass with his overzealous nosiness and you surely were drunk enough to find it troublesome.

"You could have at least told me." He tickles you again, forcing you to laugh and jerk up. His hand slides towards the inner side of your leg and doesn't budge from there. 

You don't move, either, a little ashamed how easily you caved and accepted the crumbs off the plate. Warmth in you is pulsing, not a wave anymore but the first flicker of fire that's bound to explode if you won't extinguish it right here and now.

"Didn't want to sit here all alone." You throw head back, saving yourself at least the torture of his gaze looking for yours. You wish you didn't throw the blanket on the floor as soon as he threw it at you, you could hide under it and soak back into your excuses and lies.

"You could have told me that too." Hanamaki is unwavering, his thumb rubbing circles into your stocking. "Instead of playing... Whatever it is. Dragging me here like some drunk rando you keep tabs on, letting him seduce you."

You can't read whether he's teasing you or being dead serious—and it's terrifying. The last thing you want is to hurt him, to have him reject you and close the door not only to whatever is happening between you two now but also to your cherished friendship. You love him, as who doesn't really matter. You need him more than just the physical craving, peaking after months, if not years of repressed yearning. 

You would never forgive yourself, if you lost it all because of drunk carelessness.

"What if I said I wouldn't mind being seduced by you?" You finally break, all cards on the table. Keeping you both on the edge is the worst outcome, you would rather take the ultimate rejection than toying further with his trust and creating distance you two would never close again.

He sucks in breath through clenched teeth, a few seconds of silence unbearable for your poor, fluttering heart. Weight of his fingers against your thigh grows, he nearly sinks them into your flesh before he speaks, his voice so tense it's almost breaking, "Please tell me it was you who said it, not booze messing with me."

"I wouldn't mind being seduced by you." You repeat and adjust your position, looking straight at him now against the urge to hide your face in your hands. Embarrassment is not a word you two share in your dictionary, but the vulnerability of the moment drives you insane, each passing second feeling like burning hot liquid metal poured straight into your heart.

You watch him wipe his face with a free hand, watch his chest bob with a deep, desperate breath. Eyes closed shut, Hanamaki collects racing thoughts; you see his eyebrows twitching in intense focus, a small bead of sweat dripping down his temple. It lasts a few heartbeats, it feels like hours, surely for the both of you, years of experience in reading each other no relief on this completely different ground.

"You have no idea how many times I've dreamed about it." When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and guttural, speaking straight from his core and stripped bare. "Since the last year— Fuck, I don't know for how long, maybe from the beginning... I feel like I always wanted you—"

He hides face in both hands now and groans, frustrated with his own helplessness and tongue tied with the remains of a drunk haze. Both of you have lost the majority of it at this point, though, at least at the mental level.

"I suck at confessions." He finally admits the obvious and you both collapse into giggles in relief. "I'm much better with my hands."

They're both at you again, exploring your legs with more punch to it. Makki follows the seam of your stockings, up and under the hem of your dress until he reaches the lacey welt and toys with them. He takes his time stripping you of them, teasing and testing, relishing in the feel of your bare skin slowly revealing itself for him.

His fingers are warm, but you still shudder when he cradles your ankles and glides up your calves. You spread your legs for him, but he doesn't reach further, for now satisfied with little twitches and goosebumps covering your skin. He's making you pay for your little lie, you realize with an impatient mewl, and he wouldn't mind having you pull the rope towards yourself, but you let him have his way. You feel guilty, after all, for the quirk of tonight and the silence of numerous months. He can have this moment of triumph.

He's bored with it faster than you thought.

"C'mon, baby girl," he tosses your legs away and pats his lap, a faint teasing smirk on his lips.

You don't need to be told twice.

You roll your dress further up and straddle him. Not until now you realized how tense and hot and heavy you've been, your starved and sensitive pussy twitching just at the brush of his jeans. Thin layer of your panties could as well just not exist, you grind on him for relief—irregular, sharp moves of hips, soon cut by both of his arms wrapped tight around you.

Makki kept himself in shape, you note with satisfaction feeling his muscles tense against your waist. You know of his gym routine, of course, but it's a whole different world when you can touch and appreciate him in his whole glory. You sink your hands under his t-shirt, trace his abs and chest to your liking as you lean for a kiss, at first shy, then sliding your tongue in with ease.

You've imagined it before, but the reality is nowhere close to your fantasies. He's good, he's so incredibly good despite the aftertaste of everything you've poured into your throats before and the clumsiness of the first shared kiss. You're ready to drown in it, forgetting about the whole world, even about the dull pulsing between your legs—if not for his hands relentlessly at work, one kneading your ass, the other unzipping your dress and sliding it down your shoulders.

"Can I?" Hanamaki whispers against your lips, his eyes half closed and glossy. He traces the clasp of your bra and undoes it immediately as you nod.

Dress is rolled down your waist, bra—thrown behind the couch. Makki leans back to see you better, mouth slightly agape at the sight. He squeezes your breasts with both hands, feeling their shape against his palms, swallows hard.

"You're so hot..." He mutters, close to choking on his own words.

You press into his touch, chase the closeness as you grind against him with the right rhythm and pressure now. He welcomes you with a needy groan, his face shoved into your neck, sucking and nibbling, and even daring to bite.

"I'm sorry," he kisses a beeline towards your chest, hot breath grazing your perky nipple.

"You're not sorry," you pull him closer, fingers threading through his hair.

"Yeah, I'm not."

Makki's tongue is divine against your skin. He sucks on your tits with fervor, at first tries to tease, but quickly forgets himself, encouraged by your breathy moans and nails scratching his scalp. He's soon answering the rhythm of your hips too, the front of his jeans bulging, surely tight for his hardening cock. It takes you a few tries in the confines of his hold, but you finally open his belt and zipper and help him out of his briefs.

He groans in relief but doesn't stop sucking, just bucks into your hand when you give him the first, testing stroke. You follow the wordless request, build up a decent rhythm for him even if he doesn't make it easy for you with the work of his lips and fingers. Holding you firm with one arm, he reaches between your legs and returns the favor, fingers toying with your slit.

"So wet for me already?" He tries to tease, his voice on the verge of a needy moan under the relentless ministrations of your hand. His eyes roll into the back of his head as you swipe your thumb against his sensitive tip. "Fuck, that's right... Right here, baby."

You love the way it rolls off his tongue, this casual, endearing pet name he's sometimes used before just to fuck around with you. It's sweet and desperate, drenched with need as he's rutting into your palm, for a split moment forgetting about you and mumbling it again into your breasts once catching himself on being sloppy.

You're honestly no better, losing your mind whenever his fingers toy with your entrance. You want him inside, so badly it tears you apart, but you know you're going to forget yourself as soon as you get what you want. His cock pulsing in your hand doesn't make it easy for you, it's like a torture at this point, torture you want to—have to—endure for him. One finger in, two, three—you clench your teeth and squeeze him tighter in your hand, on the verge of begging him to ruin you, fighting against it, soaking in immense pleasure of having your slick walls caressed exactly how you need it.

"Not gonna— Fuck, last long if you—" Hanamaki peels himself off your chest, puts everything he still has in him into pushing his high away. "Lemme— Lemme take care of you first."

He guides you to lean against him, hands against his chest, hips angled to reach your sweet spot better. Focused on self-control, you missed how he's been relentlessly looking for it, testing, observing, attentive despite his own need trying to take over.

"T-there..." You help him as much as your trembling thighs let you, arching your ass into his hand. "Don't stop now."

"I won't."

Toes curling and pleasure turning your body into spasm, you almost lose the perfect balance at the crucial moment. But Makki is there for you, holding you close and right, helping you ride your high until the last delicious second. You slump against him, blessed, exhausted but nowhere close to being full; you mewl with protest when he pulls out of you.

Makki cocks an eyebrow, surprised and hopeful at the same time, "Do you still wanna—"

You glance down at this dick, beads of precum glistening at its tip, and put the last ounce of power left in you into lifting your hips once again. He mutters something about lack of protection, neither of you listen, sanity all gone with a single swipe between your folds.

"Gonna be slow—" You can see in his eyes how much it costs him, to be mindful of your weakened, overstimulated state instead of throwing you on your back and fucking you stupid. You would take it, you would take everything, but his restraint tastes the best now.

He keeps his word, filling up inch by inch, holding you to ease strain for your trembling knees. Before your head falls into the crook of his neck, you catch a glimpse of his expression, blissed out from the simple pleasure of your wet pussy squeezing him tight. He whispers your name like a prayer, cradling you close and fully impaled on him, savoring the moment before you force your bodies to move again.

You start first but you can bounce on it only a few times before he has to take over, holding your hips for you. He stays true to his promise; even when his arms start giving up and his upward thrusts grow sloppy, he stays gentle and sweet—as much as a man drunk of you can when chasing his high. 

There's no rhythm to it, more than anything you just sway together, but just being full of him is enough. Thighs flush to him, you soak into him, chest to chest, your face in the crook of his neck, his breath heavy and moist in your ear. He throbs deep in you, close to release since the moment he's sunk into you, but stubborn to endure a little more, for another thrust, for another frantic budging of your hips, for another twitch of your pussy around him. He struggles to praise you for it too, his voice dying on him whenever he tries though, leaving him with just a string of groans and pieces of your name in between, over and over again.

He's trying to say it one more time when it finally hits him. His arms tremble and he sinks you onto his cock one more time, spilling his seed deep inside. You hold him through it, nails digging into his shoulders through the t-shirt, almost crying in your own overstimulation. 

Hanamaki wraps himself around you as well, soaking into your dry sobs, one hand soothingly petting the small of your back.

"You did so well, baby," he rasps into your ear, kissing the trail of sweat next to it.

You did so well—like back in high school when you broke your dominant arm and struggled to take notes with the other. When you got drunk for the first time and he held your hair as you were leaning over the toilet. When you broke and cried after a hard exam in your first year. When you finally got rid of your horrible ex.

He's praised you so many times before. But none sounded as sweet as the one now, in his embrace, breathing in air full of his scent, sharing the warmth of your sweaty bodies.

Still connected, you lean together to the side and collapse into the couch. It's uncomfortable, especially for Makki and his long limbs, but you both have reached your limit, and even a risk of being eventually caught by your roommate doesn't prompt you to move.

"You were right, should have carried you to the bedroom," Hanamaki sighs heavily against your neck and cradles you closer, as away from the edge as you both can fit.

"I'm always right," you chirp with confidence and prompt yourself for a pinch or nudge you would get in return, but he just laughs and guides your head to rest in his palm.

"Let's leave regrets and consequences for tomorrow." He says after a moment of silence, long enough for you to think he's dozed off. His lips are pressed close to your skin, his voice barely audible. "I don't wanna think of anything else other than you finally in my arms."

[karlachismylife]

Your writing scratches my brain in the same way that those head massager thingies scratch your head

Lol I got a shiver from thinking about that thing, oooh~

Thank you so much!! I'm so glad it does, I hope I'll be able to keep up ^^ Appreciate you a lot <3 Now I'm thinking about task force 141 and the head massager.

Gaz is sitting on the couch, watching one of the endless list of the series he actually keeps up with, relaxed with a cup of hot chocolate in his hand. As you sneak up on him from behind, careful not to slip in your socks, he doesn't reveal if he notices you, but he does - because as soon as the wires of the massager with little beads on their ends bury into his short curls, he hums appreciatively and almost closes his eyes. His head tilts to give you better access and allow him to keep watching the show from under his fluttering dark lashes, and if he could purr, he would, you think.

"Feels good, baby," his voice does sound like a purr, actually. After you get a little tired of melting your man into putty and stop, putting the device away, Kyle tilts his head all the way back to look at you upside down with a smile, and reaches his hand to pull you in for an inverted kiss over the couch backrest. "Although I still prefer your hands. Sit with me? There's a cute dog in this episode."

After you settle between his legs, he makes sure to give you a nice scalp massage too, kissing the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around your midsection afterwards.

When you sit across Price with that thing and scratch your scalp while you read through your book, he immediately notices and puts his work papers down, pushing his reading glasses down to the tip of his nose with a puzzled look.

"What are ya doing, sweetheart?" He sounds a little too confused and curious to not snort at it. Instead of straight up answering the question, though, you just lean over the table and carefully place the massager on the crown of his head, watching out for his reaction. His blue eyes stay focused on you sharply despite the smile slowly blooming on his face and crinkling little crow's feet in their corners, but after the first two test rubs through his thick hair you already notice that steel focus wavering, until John gives up and lets his eyes shut close completely. Even his face relaxes, that bright smile dimmed in favour of a blissfully out of it expression, and you actually feel butterflies in your tummy as you watch blush creeping up his face up to the round cheeks and the tips of his ears.

He actually hogs that little "brain whisk" as he calls it, and you catch him using it on his beard with an even more blissful look on his face more than one time.

Ghost actually looks at the poor wire thing with so much distrust that you can't even laugh at him - you've seen him eye some other self-care devices with same expression, like he's not entirely sure whether it's really just a massager or a tourture device. Or a sex thing. Or all three combined. He side-eyes you the whole time as you taunt him with it, delighted by the unease this huge man exudes from such an innocent thing - even though you clearly see the corner of his scarred mouth curling up after a couple minutes. "Keep tha' bloody thing away from me, eh?"

When he finally lets you push the spider legs of this thing over his head, freed from a black hood, he freezes. You actually feel all his muscles get rigid, little goosebumps of tension on visible patches of his skin. The only noise he makes, though, is a disapproving grunt when you try to get the massager away, so you reluctantly push it up and down again, confused by Simon's reaction.

What surprises you even more, though, is that after you tune out because of the repetitive movement, you suddenly hear a nasal snore. He bloody fell asleep under this thing's spell. And rest assured, he'll be bringing it to you like a dog with a toy, when he wants to get some sweet pre-nap scratches.

As soon as Soap notices the massager in your hands, he snatches it from you and tries to use it on you with a little too much force, leading to you squirming and kicking your legs as he promptly catches you in a headlock. It's only after several bites into his meaty forearm and a threat to kick him out to the couch for the night that he lets you go, proceeding to immediately hand you the torture device with the most pleading eyes you have ever seen.

"Please, bonnie? Ah cannae do it tae meself right, come on, Ah need yer help. Pretty please?" When you inevitably crack and agree to indulge him, Johnny drags you over to the couch and plops himself on the floor between your legs, his own crossed as he settles comfortably and locks his hands around his ankles. His reaction to the scratching his priceless, body hair standing up - even his mohawk seems to fluff up a bit - and his jaw going slack to the point where he's almost drooling on his own chest.

It's an adorable sight, really, just like all those pups on social media that go stupid as soon as the magic whisk touches their fluffy heads. You lean over to give your human puppy a kiss and tease him, but instead... "Johnny, for fuck's sake, did you really get hard from this thing?!"

Hyena shapeshifters!141 bonus: the boys absolutely love to get headscratches with this massager in their hyena form. Sure, it sometimes catches in their manes or even ears, but they just melt into fluffy spotted puddles, drool everywhere, whining and purring to the best of their abilities. Ghost definitely brings it to you in his teeth to ask for some relaxation, since this thing turns his thoughts off; Price for some reason has a tendency to sneeze when you use it on him in his hyenaform; Gaz still can't help his playing reflexes that make him try and catch your hand with the "toy" in it; and Soap shamelessly puts his fat spotted butt out, because he loves getting scratches on it just as much as on his head.

[sweetenerobert]

keep fuckin’ quiet

1.1k / dbf!joel miller x male reader

summary: you can’t keep quiet, joel has to find ways to keep you silent

warnings: +18 MINORS DNI, pwp, age gap (22/40s) sex in a bathroom, slight suffocation (joel covers your mouth from moaning) dbf!joel, daddy!kink, kissing, creampie, joel has a dirty mouth, spanking,

a/n: I was sick when I wrote this, and somehow wrote this shit at 3 am (from where i am), @janaispunk thank you for letting me be the most chaotic and delirious person while I was writing this 💗💗💗

a/n 2: was this me writing this out of boredom because my brain can’t sleep, yes! also thanks to @strang3lov3 for the graphic, love you queen 💗💗💗

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You noticed beads of sweat from the man behind you, littering his forehead through your squinted eyes. Hands planted hard and rough on your bare hips. You were bearing your teeth in an attempt to keep quiet. Your dad was just a few feet from the bathroom, and any sudden noise would distract him from the TV.

The pseudo-uncle whom you’ve known your entire life was fucking the daylights out of you; keeping your hands to yourself around him was hard; you were eager to know what rested under the extra cloth in his jeans that rested where his cock lay. He was hesitant, but even paper folds with enough pressure pressed.

“Ya’ fuckin’ got what you wanted? You like this big dick deep in you son?”

“Yes! Oh, I love it so much,” You whined.

Joel was trying his best to fuck you as soft as his hips drew closer to you with each thrust, but he wanted to see you squirm under each thrust, tried to stretch you out, and leave a mark on you that he never wanted to forget. But he couldn't do that with each thrust as heavy breathes and light moans were escaping with each push of his cock.

“Keep quiet, son. Your pop’s is right outside.”

“I can't help it, Joel. You're so fuckin’ big.”

A light smack came across your ass but still caused you to wince and your ass to sting. “No cursing, son. I shouldn't have to punish my good boy.”

“Punish me, daddy! Teach me a lesson!”

“You asked for it, son, but keep fuckin’ quiet, or I’ll pull my cock out of that tight pussy of yours.”

Joel’s hips have a mind of their own as his cock jackhammers deeper in your ass, thighs clapping against your ass. The volume of your moans starts to elevate as Joel keeps hitting your G-spot.

“Shut y’mouth, son,” Joel grunted. “Y’want your dad to hear us?”

“N-no! I love your cock so much.”

“Such a dirty whore, y’gonna be daddy’s good little whore?”

Joel’s forearm wrapped around your neck, and you felt his chest on your back; hearing your dad’s best friend call you a whore made your cock twitch and made you want to cum. Your hands grab the sink, bending the material under you as you feel Joel stretch you out.

“Y’look so fuckin’ addicted from my cock, son. Look at yourself.” You complied with Joel’s command and looked at yourself. You saw a beast behind you; it wasn't Joel anymore who was behind you; he seemed unrecognizable. His eyes darken, his teeth bared, his grunts in your ear. Joel was becoming an animal in heat, and you were the reason why.

Focusing your eyes back down at the sink, you suddenly feel your chin grabbed and forced to look back at the small mirror and see you and Joel again. “What do ya think you're doin’? Y’wanted this cock so bad, I’ll make sure y’have it.” Joel’s lips press up against your ear, and his mustache and beard tickle the curves of your ear, causing shivers to crawl all over your spine.

The man before you, hips’ kept pushing deeper, and his pace was picking up with each thrust. Slight moans keep leaving your mouth, and you can't help but feel how Joel makes your body go into overdrive.

He couldn't compare to the guys you’ve been with in the past; Joel knew what he was doing to leave a mark on you. He knew how to pleasure a partner, and you were glad that you got to experience what it was like. Your hands rested on Joel’s thighs to help soften his thrusts, up to no avail.

“Son, y’getting too loud again.”

Ignoring Joel, moans kept slipping through your teeth; even with Joel’s firm but not tight grip on your throat, Moans kept leaping out of your mouth. Suddenly, Joel plants his hands over your mouth to help muffle your moans.

Heavy breaths were replaced but covered your moans. Each moan was replaced with a heavy breath covered with a groan or cry that Joel’s cock gave to you. His pace wouldn’t stop, and your moans wouldn’t stop shooting from your mouth.

The floor creaked from outside the bathroom; you both couldn’t tell if it was the house settling or your dad outside, but whatever it was, it made an unsettling feeling crawl up Joel’s body. The cries escaping your mouth through his thick fingers made Joel make a rash decision.

Lightly pulling on your chin, causing you to bend backward to look up at Joel. Quickly moving his hand from your mouth — a groan escapes your lips; Joel’s plump lips connect to your soft ones. They didn't block out the cries escaping you, but they suppressed them the best they could.

Joel’s hands were on your neck, not tight, but to balance your head. Eyes shut on both you and Joel as you gripped his arms. You felt your hair pressed on Joel’s flannel-covered chest; with each thrust, you could feel Joel’s heart bump against your head. A line of precum was escaping the hardened tip of your cock; it was hurting not to cum, but kissing Joel helped suppress that hurt feeling.

Feeling Joel back away from your lips, you open your eyes to look at him, an upside-down sneer on his face as your vision fixes from the darkness it was in moments ago.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby. I’m gonna cum; you want me to —”

“Gimme your cum, Joel. I want it all.”

Planting his lips back on yours, each of Joel’s thrusts started to become animal-like; he became the animal in the heat with each thrust and push; you could feel Joel’s cock twitch inside you. He was about to explode with each thrust of pleasure he gave you.

Removing one of your hands from Joel’s arms, you grip the shaft of your cock and start to stroke yourself. The buildup of cum from your base slowly began to rise as you felt it slowly crawl the shaft.

“Fuck, baby. I’gonna cum,” Joel grunted in your mouth.

“Me too, Joel.”

With a few pushes, a groan escapes Joel’s lips as you feel his warm cum swim inside you. As Joel was cumming, lines of cum escaped your pained mushroom tip. Your dick started to go flaccid in your palm as you heard the squelch from your ass as Joel slipped his cock out of you.

But his lips didn't move from your mouth; as your body turned, Joel’s lips stayed on yours. Your body pressed up behind the sink when your nails were trying to dig into it earlier. His rough hands on your waist as your hands find his face, his coarse but soft beard in your hands.

The electricity in the kiss died down as Joel rested his forehead against yours, noses intertwining together as you both just enjoyed each other.

“T’was the best fuck I ever had.”

“Best fuck for me, ever.”

“Thank, angel.”

“No problem, Joel.”

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

Make Me ft Toge

Fuck, the surrounding air is sweltering, severely contradicting the bright breezy temp but Toges so damn dizzy he can barely remember what day is. Spread out on the florest floor with you writhing on his lap, trunk of the tallest tree digging into his back as you sensually grind on his chub.

The nimble fingers at your waist squeeze firmly, the sultry rhythm of your curvy hips making his balls buzz pleasantly. Toge couldn't give a fuck that the Kyoto Exchange Event begins any moment; the only thing on his mind is you and the filth spilling from your pretty lips.

"Please To, pleeeease. Use your cursed speech on me, baby. Make me do whatever comes to that pretty lil head." You moan into his neck.

Messily sucking and biting at his throat and chin between desperate words. And although your man attempts to keep his stubborn facade, opting to shake his head at your wanton plea, you can tell your constant begging is wearing Toge down.

"You promised you loved me, that you'd do anything to make me happy. Well.. I'm not happy, honey. And I wont be till you strip me of my will and fuck this pussy like you really wanna."

Quiet pants evolve to hungry huffs as you whisper the nastiest shit and tug on the short platinum strands at his nape. Violet eyes screwed shut from the feeling of your tits pressed againsthis chest, head falling back against the tree with a small thunk.

"M-mustard leaf."

You grin at Toges stuttered denial, seemingly still trying to fuck you through your lil black squort. Roughly humping you against his clothed erection, using your waist to yank you against him over and over. Its a coin toss on who's to blame for the big wet patch forming bewteen yall on his dark slacks. Shouldn't be too much longer now. Perfect.

"But whyyyy?"

"Shake sha-,"

"I know you want to." you interrupt, while sliding under his button up, swiping over his sensitive nipples as a distraction to swiftly pull out his cock.

"Make me get on my knees for you, To. Wouldn't have to worry about my pesky little gag reflex if you ordered me to take it." Licking into Toges mouth, melding your lips in a steamy wet kiss as you lightly rub a finger along his sticky dick slit.

"Y/nnnn.." His hips buck, groaning loudly into your face, nut startin to build prematurely.

"Do it, force me to take it all the way down this time. Make a pussy out my throat and put that cum straight in my tummy, baby."

Oh no, oh shit. Toges so embarrassed but you're bout to make him buss in his pants like a teenager. His brains fried to mush when your pretty brown hand grips his flushed dick and strokes. Yet he still tries to save face, tensing his gut, hoping to keep the powerful orgasm rushing up his cock at bay.

"Hnnng, ohhhh! Ah, y/nnnn- fuckfuckfuck!"

It's like your puppet on strings, your free hand immediately yanking the seat of your squort to the side, absolutely no conscious thought as you impale yourself on his pulsing girth. The snug warm clutch of your cunt is your boyfriends demise, silky insides milking his cock for all its worth. Loud whimpers rival feral groans, both your bliss echoing in the trees.

"Haah, oh God- Tooogeee, w-wait. Love this- mmm- but your big dicks gonna ruin me. C-can't take it all like this, baby."

Regardless your body continues to obey its commander, shaky hands scratching strong shoulders as you fuck your fluttering pussy up and down his gushing girth. Toge can't help that his heavy head lolls forward, eyes narrowed to slits, staring blankly where your creamy fat lips continuously swallows the thick globs of gooey cum. Shuddering at the sight, your airy tone finally registering in his pussy drunk brain.

"Ahhh, uhn- okay sweetheart, okay. Get off."

Attempting to order you off his throbbing cock, the last of his load slowly oozing out deep inside you, muddied mind not expecting you to misinterpret his words again.

"Ohhh myyy fuuucking God! Mhn, Sto- ah! Uhn, uh, uhn.."

The most gorgeous noises Toges ever heard spill from your lips as your limbs move on autopilot. He's in a trance watching you shift from your knees to tip toes, slamming your pussy down his overstimulated length from tip to base. Quick pace never faltering one hand sliding under your bottoms to rub at your achy clit.

"To, T-toge! Ahn! Mnh, mm mm. Help me, baby, 's too much too fast! Haah, can'tcan'tcan't. Stoooop!"

Your tummy lurches from how deep he digs, head rolling on your shoulders when your hips adjust without your permission, jabbing the tip of his dick into that ridged spot that makes you see stars. Words jumbling till your pretty pleas come to an abrupt halt, mouth open in a silent scream as the pressure in your gut threatens to burst.

"But you're fuckin me so damn good. Mmm.. That's it y/n/n, just. like. that."

Toge never stops telling you how good you're doin, each word accompanied by a erratic thrust, so lost in you he forgets tonspeak in his usual code.

"Spit in my mouth."

Your pussy feels like it's vibrating when without a thought you do just that, pulsing intensely from the vulgar act and thorough pounding. His cock thumps against your gummy walls as he swallows your unique flavor.

"Mmmh mmh mm, the taste of you.. Drivin me fucking crazy.."

But since your man's so sweet, he takes pity on his vulnerable little flower and puts it all to an abrupt end.

"Cum."

It's unfortunate that a precise jab to your special lil spot already had you beginning to convulse in his lap, so the extra motivation from Toge is overpowering. Your ears pop and ring, stomach churning with the pressure of your orgasm. Vision spotting as you cum all over your boyfriends cock, his repeated praises of 'good girl' barely audible due to the rushing in your ears.

"Salmon. Shhh, salmon roe. Breathe." He soothes your quivering and hiccuping breaths. Warm palms sliding down to cup your ass cheeks as he lays you on your back, rigid shaft still tucked inside your wet heat.

Perspiration running like a river from Toges temple how tight your coochie clamps around him uncontrollably. But somehow he ignores his dick spasming in overstimulation, focused on gently talking you down from your overwhelming high. Caging you to the forest floor, leaning down to slowly kiss your plump glossed lips softly. Both of you too preoccupied to notice the invisible barrier spreading over the school.

[ronearoundblindly]

Not In Front of the Fish...

Jake Jensen x roommate!Reader follow up to Watch the Fish (see previous or JJ Masterlist)

Summary: You've caught Jake doing something he shouldn't, but there's no reason you can't string him along...and along...and along until the line snaps.

Warnings for smut (many references to masturbation, protected sex), horrible puns (yes, hello, I'm Ro, welcome!), heavy innuendo, trolling this poor boi as hard as humanly possible, taking the lord's name in so much vain, kinda *aggressive* foreplay, aftercare, fluff, and whipped!Jake (deserves a warning because I sure as sh*t wasn't prepared 🫠).

Blame @bigtreefest...or thank Essie, ya know, whatevs! No beta, we die drowning in the fish tank. MINORS DNI. And yes, @whiskeytangofoxtrot555, the glasses stay on 🤭 Y'all may not realize this but I myself am an ultra-awkward nerd, so I identify with Jake's struggle and yet would absolutely, endlessly tease this mothaf**ka.

"Hey, Jakey. Whatcha doing?"

Well, thank fuck he's not still hard standing there with his metaphorical dick out, the last image from your laptop's screen seared into his eyeballs of some woman taking a load in her open mouth.

"Need me--" you steadily lick vanilla ice cream off a spoon, some caught at the corner of your wide open lips "--for anything?"

He stares. He stares so intently he almost falls over. Apparently, he's leaned into his staring.

"My help, perhaps?"

Your tongue rolls across the edge of the refilled spoon.

He thinks maybe he'll cry if you keep this up, but for the love of Christ, please keep this up.

"No," he squeaks. "Just..." Must you be wearing short-shorts? Is it essential that your tank top dip so low? "...saying 'hi.'"

His hand flings out in a wave, five fingers managing to point in eight different directions because he can't commit to any sort of normal human movement.

"So... Hi."

Some ice cream drips off the spoon down your chin and to your chest.

Jake is not here right now. Jake has died.

"Sure." You wipe up your mess and keep eating. "Sweet dreams, big guy. You look ready to hit the sack after a long...satisfying...shower." You let the spoon dangle from your mouth while brushing past him, which you have to do. You have to touch him because Jake can't fucking move for the life of him, and he swears to god you made your hand sweep across the front of his hip.

He jolts to follow the contact before overwriting his hind brain. His hand slaps the wall as he catches himself trying before collapsing into a begging puddle at your feet.

He should tell you. He'd rather die.

He should admit what he's done, admit what he wants to do, but when he stops pinching his eyes shut for strength, Jake turns to find you bent over in the doorway.

"Hello, sweethearts," you coo to the fish, "what would you like to do this evening? Maybe watch another movie?"

You wiggle your butt and make this happy sort of popping noise that Jake can't unhear.

Fuck, is this a thing he's gonna have to deal with now? Listening to you watching porn? His mind instinctively scans your room for a glimpse of any toy you may have left out. He's dying, yeah, but dying to know what they look like, if he's bigger than whatever you bury inside you now.

"Jake," you repeat in a breathy way that has him swallowing his tongue. You've stood back up, holding a bowl with oozing white liquid that teeters close to the edge as it melts.

His dick could top that off in jiffy if you'd like.

He coughs. "Yeah, uh, what?"

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Fuck me, every muscle, bone, and braincell in his body screams at once.

All he manages is an anatomically-correct impression of a fish. No sound comes up from his desperate lungs. He flees to his room.

He hears you shut your door just as he shoves down the shorts he threw on and grabs a squirt of lotion from the bottle nearby.

Too many images speed through his brain all at once, cum and cream, sex and porn, your open mouth, your presented ass, that peek of cheek beneath soft fabric, the shadow along the seam where the material ran right through your folds--probably, at least, he's filling in gaps wherever he pleases--and the breathy sounds of 'Jakey' 'need me' 'help you' 'satisfying,' and 'anything.'

"Fuck me," he growls out in earnest, sparing no trick to get himself off as fast as possible. Maybe if he's quick he won't learn exactly how hot he finds all this. He already relies on you as the voice in his head.

It's like you're right there on the floor with him, cupping his balls and whispering in his ear.

So hard for me, huh? So heavy and in need of attention. Why did you wait to fuck your fist, Jakey? Had to hear me? Think of this dick filling me better than any toy...

He gasps and groans, shoving his face into the nearest side of mattress to muffle the carnal sound.

It puts his ear right next to his discarded headphones.

"Daddy was so rude just then, huh? I know. He's shy. He'll come see you tomorrow. He just needs to be all alone in his bed when he's tired. I know, I know. It makes mommy sad, too. She doesn't like to be all alone, but that's why I have you. Look at the camera and wish daddy goodnight..."

Oh, fuuuuuuuuck me, Jake wails into his sheets when he hears the sound of you blowing a kiss through the speakers.

Poor thing doesn't know you're torturing him on purpose, but at least he came...with his bare knees aching on the hardwood floor of his room and the nosepiece of his glasses digging into his eye sockets as he buries his shame in his bed.

You suggest he have the fish in his room for a while, like shared custody, but then he knows you would have access to listen to him via the livestream.

If he tells you you have to mute it every time, you'll know he might not have. If he refuses to keep the feed up or the camera functioning, you'll be suspicious of why. If he says fucking anything against your very thoughtful and adorable idea, it'll be a cold day in hell since he will endure all forms of torture just to see your elated smile as the tank is finally setup between his closet and his bed across the room from his desk.

The keystrokes from his work are too faint for the camera's microphone, and he proceeds to wear headphones for music, take calls outside, and never touch himself in his own room for weeks. Ok fine, two, he makes it two weeks.

Deprived of hearing you, which he grew rather dependent on, and needing to inconspicuously lengthen his showers, Jake is a mess.

Why didn't he record anything? Why would he??? He was supposed to get himself together like a man and either ask you out or get the fuck over it.

He even watches (but mostly listens to) porn through his headphones without touching himself in an attempt to fade the memory, but then you show up at his door, asking to visit with the 'kiddos' and checking with the Marauders if 'daddy' is treating them well.

He's not gonna make it, man.

You settle on his bed to read for a while because why the fuck would he say 'no' to you, and this is the part that does Jake in the most: his sheets smell like you after and turning in his desk chair to find you accidentally asleep in his bed just... He can't.

He's unwell thinking about how sweet you are, how fucking horrible he's being by fantasizing about you this way, how if he just had the balls to crawl over to kiss you, he'd--but he doesn't. He just gets worse.

He gets real messed up horny one evening when you're out at some fancy event with friends.

You leave wearing this dress that practically had him on his knees the way it molded to you and yet draped so smoothly in places. He thinks of his mouth molded to you that closely and his body laying so smoothly over yours.

Damn it. He has to do something. He goes into your room, and it's not that bad, he just picks up a t-shirt, that's all. He's not the world's worst perv or anything. It's not underwear, for god's sake, but on a fluke (because he has no idea how long he was in there) he climaxes at the sound of you yelling 'I'm home' from the kitchen and scrambles to the bathroom with his gym shorts wrapped around his thighs, hand still catching spurts of cum as he for sure doesn't calm down, with milliseconds to spare.

Thank fucking god you're slower to climb the stairs in heels.

He takes it back. He is the world's worst perv.

Your t-shirt mysteriously disappears until he can sneak it back into your laundry.

He runs out of floss and absently searches your drawer for--oh my god.

OH. MY GOD.

That...is a large, veiny dildo you have there. Oh fuck.

Jake slams the drawer shut without thinking.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just...just gotta put floss on the grocery list."

"Use some of mine," you call out casually.

"It's fine!" His voice was too high and he answered too fast, but if he's not mistaken, you have now invited him to poke around in your things.

He feels slightly less pervy...and a hell of a lot hornier.

It reaches a point where coming in the shower isn't enough.

He falls asleep ok but wakes restless and craving friction. There's want and then there's need, and Jake fucking needs this or he'll never rest.

He goes on as quietly as possible, thinking that getting up, going to the bathroom, and turning on the exhaust fan will make far more noise than humping his sheets and biting his pillow.

The fish tank glows as usual at the foot of his bed.

Look away, kids, Jake thinks and immediately doesn't know whether to be sick or laugh. Daddy is gonna fucking die like this.

He knows it's pathetic. The entire thing has been pathetic from start to finish, but he's just too tired and too het up to care.

A few whines escape the insulation of his pillowcase. He misses the gentle patter of footsteps down the hall.

There's a soft knock followed by "Jake?"

God damn it. The one time he gives in, and he's already ruined it.

He tucks himself up into the band of his boxers which is not exactly subtle but can't be helped. Jake rolls out of his bed, finding his glasses in the dark to crack open the door with his body strategically behind it.

"Yeah, what's up?"

He can't make out a whole lot in the low light, but you don't say anything. Your arms are spread out to hang on either side of the frame, making your (again) very low-cut tank top his only focal point.

Well now he's sorta worried this has absolutely fuck-all to do with his problem. "Are you okay?"

"I...I thought..."

Your voice is soft and timid. It makes Jake want to wrap you in his arms, but he's still worried that you'll say you heard him and it's not okay and he's gross and this is all way, way out of line.

He holds his breath to better listen.

"I hoped you would have needed me by now."

What. Air rushes out of him like he's been tackled.

Sorry, WHAT?

"What?" the question finally falls out as he leans intensely again, shifting so the door doesn't slam in your face, his bare chest and lower half now visible as much as they can be. "You...what now??"

Your arms fall and you step forward. It looks to him like you move with trepidation, that your head is lowered in embarrassment, that somehow you're shy about your confession. Maybe you are, but only the tiniest amount compared to him.

"Tell me if I'm wrong, Jake." You slap one hand to his chest with a crinkling noise, and he swiftly moves to take the wrapped condom. "Tell me if you don't want this," you continue, lowering your voice and hand until your thumb grazes the exposed head of his cock.

Lightning strikes and super-charges his need.

"But if you don't th--"

He'll be damned if you finish that thought. Jake scoops your jaw into one big hand, angling you just-so, barreling you both into his door as it swings into his closet with a wobbling bang. He's clumsy and his grip goes everywhere to bully you flush with his body yet not drop your timely offering.

His kisses are feverish and sloppy. By the feel of you groping at his back and shoulders, you're not mad about it. He fumbles with the wrapper behind your back. It takes his attention away for a few seconds.

"I prepped for you," you whisper hoarsely. "I'm ready."

Jake has no legs at that point and takes you with him in a heap to the floor. While stripping away his boxers, he realizes his naked ass is high in the air of his room.

All he can see in his mind is fish pressed against the glass, staring, judging. Gah, not here.

He maneuvers into your hold again and says, "hang on," crawling to the hall runner so the 'children' won't see. No, he can't make it any further because his length is snuggled between your fucking thighs and somehow the hallway is a fucking mile long to your room. No, he's not immune to your whines from where your head is tucked in the crease of his neck.

Here's fine.

As gracefully as he can, Jake collapses onto you, collecting the noises he missed so much directly from the source.

For being made of such little fabric, your shorts are in his way, and he's genuinely annoyed to have to lift from you again, even though it's necessary to discard them and necessary to get the now-open condom rolled along his aching cock.

His glasses are already smeared from haphazardly exploring your skin. If Jake couldn't see before, he's all but blind now. The only garment close enough to try and clean them is your tank top, but he ignores it because it's still dark. He needs to feel you more than anything else in the world.

Lightly, your fingertips flicker down his abs and lead him to close the gap between you.

Jake groans as he lines himself up and easily notches into your welcoming heat. As aroused as you are, he still edges himself deeper and deeper in barely-controlled strokes, grabbing the railing at his side for leverage and stability.

He grunts instead of articulating how magnificent you feel. He moans instead of voicing what an utter blessing it is to finally fuck you. He gasps with the rolls of your hips because you taking control while beneath him just...unravels him.

This was too long coming, and he wasn't prepared.

Jake's apology for being fast to finish perches at the tip of his tongue when you cut off his words and the last of circulation to his brain.

You shake and pant, mewling 'yes' and his name, while your body squeezes him like a vice. He's being pumped to completion without moving another muscle, and, good fucking god, he has to hang on, falling to his forearm, keeping his open mouth hovering over yours.

Jake thinks maybe he just drowned and got brought back to life.

Right there, in his face are your precariously covered tits, nipples rock hard and taunting him. He doesn't care what his dick's doing anymore; he wrenches a strap down your chest and lavishes your plush flesh with attention.

Too long coming and in no way prepared... Neither were you.

Your hands brace his head, fingers buried in his short hair as you wiggle and hump at his semi-stiff cock inside you. Jake hisses in over-stimulation but doesn't stop you. He swears he will never, ever stop you.

His attentions on your breasts slow but he can't seem to let you go for a long time, long after your legs fall away from him, limp and twitching.

A pair of goodbye pecks is his parting gift before Jake nuzzles up the column of your neck and takes what little breath you've regained, curling his arms around you as his tongue curls with yours.

When he adjusts again, he realizes how sore he's getting from kneeling on the floor, and sits up to help you, too.

"Let me get--I'll just--"

Jake can almost reach a towel inside the bathroom from this position with his long arms, but he's sure to warm up the tap and trash the condom before returning to gently wipe you. He may have made a quick pass at his lenses in there as well.

You look dazed and delightfully sated, basking in the streak of light from the bathroom, leaning on your palms like you're on a beach somewhere.

"Fuck, you're stunning," he says without thought.

He...lingers a while to clean you up, overtly mapping these bits of you he hasn't seen yet.

"What took you so long?"

Jake tosses the towel up into the sink behind him and manhandles you into his arms.

"I might've ruined everything." He starts to lower you into your bed, but you don't release your arms from around his neck. "You could've kicked me out."

He's not going to argue. He won't say 'no' to you.

"Come here, you dork. You can't keep me waiting anymore."

Jake climbs into the cramped, cozy space with you, mentally noting that a bigger bed is definitely on the shopping list.

A/N: I am strategically leaving out my thoughts on the next morning for now because I'm just too excited, eeeee!

[Next part: Feed The Fish]