#they did just kinda toss them into the world and say have at it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bi-writes · 3 months ago

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who to call to clean up after an "accident" than your sick and twisted military boyfriend? :D (dark!ghost x dark!fem!reader, 18+)

cw: dark!reader, dark!simon, horror movie vibes, graphic depictions of character death/murder, unhealthy relationship dynamics, one slip of daddy, smut, unprotected piv, simon "spit in my mouth" riley, reader and simon are kinda psycho :D

you've been so nice to her. really nice. you've let it slide off your back whenever she doesn't do her dishes. you pretend you don't notice when she borrows your shoes from the hallway and wears them out to dinner. you hide yourself in your room when she has her awful, loud guests over, and you have never once said anything about how she takes her sweet time in the shared bathroom in the morning and makes you late 2 days a week for work.

but this? this?

she needs to keep simon's name out of her fucking mouth.

"excuse me?" you say finally. your roommate is shrugging on her jacket to leave, her purse in her hand as she types on her phone, using it as a way to not make eye-contact with you. her long nails are tapping against the screen, and it feels like fucking drip water torture. "what the fuck did you just say?"

she sighs, irritated, rolling her eyes as she keeps tapping away at the screen.

"you're so dramatic, it was just a fucking joke."

"you know, i let a lot of things slide," you laugh, humorlessly, and you cross your arms over your chest as you follow her into the kitchen. "but you need to be careful what you say."

"i don't do anything except call it like i see it," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking at herself in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wall. "you need to just...go out more. man like that isn't gonna stay for long if you don't give him something to go for. he's bored, you know. when you have him over here all the time. and i've totally caught him peeking at me after i shower, y'know."

"well why the fuck are you wearing nothing but a towel when my boyfriend is here, anyways?" you snap. "he's trying to be polite, he's a guest. what if i wore a fucking towel when you had your guy friends over?"

she laughs, poking at the edge of her lip to fix the gloss of her pout. "trust me, honey, no one's looking at you in a towel."

you step back, a little shocked. she rolls her eyes again, sighing.

"i didn't--"

"are you kidding me?" you retort. "you're the worst fucking roommate in the world, and i put up with all your bullshit, and now you're going to go so low as to insult the way i look just to make yourself feel better?" you make your way around the kitchen island. "you don't wash your fucking dishes, you steal my fucking clothes, you're always late on your rent so i have to spot you--"

"you know what, just because i'm fucking happy, and you're not, doesn't mean you have to take it out on me!"

"i am happy, you sorry bitch!" you cry. "i'm so fucking happy, you're the only thing in my life making me constantly miserable!"

"oh, shove it up your ass, you ungrateful little shit!" she snaps. "you're just so fucking insecure and hate me so badly just because simon would rather fuck a girl like me than have to spend another minute with--"

the crack of cast iron against her head shuts her up. it dents the side of her head easily, and her face smacks against the countertop before she crumples to the floor.

it's so fast. one minute, she's yapping, high-pitched voice straining your ears. the next, she's silent.

and she won't say simon's fucking name again.

you watch with bated breath as she folds into herself, her head hitting the hardwood last, a slow puddle of blood beginning to grow under the tendrils of her hair as your eyes move to the heavy pan you're still holding in your hands.

fuck, that's a lot of blood. god, you thought she was just full of fucking air.

you drop the pan once the rush of anger leaves your chest. it thunks onto the ground, and your hands shake as you see the specks of blood that are on the back of your hands, sprinkled over the shirt you wear. it stains your bare legs, even your toes, and you don't even want to look at the spray of it along the counters.

you should be crying, you think. you should feel bad. you're trembling a little, but you think it's just the adrenaline beginning to fade and not the guilt you know is supposed to be racking your insides.

you turn your eyes back to her. her eyes are dull. she doesn't move. it's so quiet now, utterly silent, and you take a deep breath as you take in the silence that you've craved for a long while now. you make your way quietly out of the kitchen, stepping over her body before going for your phone that sits on the coffee table in front of the couch.

you keep your eyes on her as you put your phone to your ear. it rings, and you tilt your head to the side as the blood begins to spiderweb under the kitchen table.

"'ello?"

you blink, looking towards the door. you clutch your phone a little tighter to your ear.

"simon?" you say softly. "a-are...are you busy?"

he hums lowly, chuckling, "no' at the moment, swee'eart, why?" he asks. "mmm...missed y'r voice..." you close your eyes as you hear the buckle of his belt. you try not to picture your giant of a boyfriend leaning back on his worn couch and shoving his jeans low enough to fuck his fist. "tolk t'me, luv...tell me 'ow much ya miss daddy."

you clear your throat gently, willing yourself to ignore the soft squelch of what you know is his hand around his cock, to not let it distract you from what's more important. "uhm...i liked the flowers you gave me, simon. t-they were beautiful."

the sounds on the other end of the phone quiet. you hear shuffling, and then a few moments later, the clink of his car keys.

"tha' right, baby?" he asks, and you close your eyes as you hear the front door of his flat opening. he's already on the way, already coming.

"yeah," you sniffle. "really nice sunflowers."

a yellow flower. he huffs on the other end of the phone, breathing a little easier.

"good girl," he murmurs, and then the line cuts. you set the phone down, making your way back to the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. you watch as the blood continues to curl over the floor. you make no attempt to help her; you just swing your feet under you as you look at her spoiled outfit, just grateful she isn't wearing your shoes or one of your jackets. you would hate to have to throw something out that she got all dirty.

there's a curt knock at the door ten minutes later, and then it opens. simon shuts the door behind him, cracking his neck by moving it from side to side before narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip, blinking, forgetting suddenly why he is here when he looks so fucking good. he's got a sweatshirt on under his windbreaker, worn jeans tucked into his boots; you like these jeans, his ass looks incredible in them.

"wot happened?" he asks. you stand, remembering your place. your lip starts trembling, and simon's eyes soften just a little. he's wearing his balaclava, hood up over his head and jacket zipped up, shadowing any true expression on his face. his gait sounds heavy as he lets his hands out of his pockets, coming towards you. when he steps into the kitchen, his eyes dart towards your roommate who's still on the floor, laid out unnaturally just by the oven.

he lets out a low breath, clicking his tongue under the mask. you hold your breath as you wait for his reaction.

"bloody hell," simon mutters, reaching up and throwing his hood off. you wring your hands together nervously, your eyes beginning to sting with tears. you brace for the accusations, for the inevitable terror of facing the music. simon is military, for fuck's sake, why the fuck did you think turning to him would be a good idea?

"i...i-i--" you start, looking up at him, and he holds up a hand, taking the side of your face into his palm before smoothing a gloved thumb over your bottom lip. you blink in confusion, not understanding.

"'s olright, baby," he shushes you, shaking his head. "don't cry."

"simon, i--" you sputter a little, gripping his wrist gently. "i just--i couldn't do it anymore, she just--"

he pities you. maybe you can explain. maybe if you tell him a warped story of what happened, he can help you. he must know someone. he must have important friends, he must--

he uses his free hand to move his mask up over his nose, and you lean into him when he bends, kissing you warmly. your eyes flutter shut, and you shuffle closer as he kisses you sloppy, kisses you hot. you mewl as he slips his tongue into your mouth, licking over your teeth and humming low as he pulls away. his eyes are flashing.

mmm. love.

"hmm..." simon licks his lips, smiling a little. he looks over you, almost pensive, his eyes scanning over your face before he settles back on your eyes. it's tender, the way he looks at you. romantic. "let's get this off of ya."

he reaches for the large shirt you are wearing, pulling it up and over your head. he crumples it into a ball before tossing it on top of your roommate, nodding his head behind you.

it's then that you realize simon isn't going to do the noble thing. he isn't going to call the police. he isn't going to turn you in, make you explain, he seems uninterested in knowing what really happened. no, he already knows what happened. but that's not important.

his pretty, perfect girl got into a little trouble. and he's going to make this go away.

"go on, luv. take a nice shower, yeah?" simon turns you around and pushes on your back gently. you suck in a shaky breath when he fondles your ass, pulling on your panties gently. "mmm...take these off, too."

you slip your panties down your legs, handing them to him.

"they have blood on them, too?" you ask, wiping your face, and he chuckles lowly.

"nah," he shrugs, stuffing them into his back pocket after taking a little sniff. "these are just for me."

jesus fucking christ, there's really something wrong with him. there's something really, really wrong with him.

and something wrong with me.

simon looks you up and down, his eyes catching on your naked body for just a few moments before he nods his head again.

"go on," he tells you. "before i get distracted." you pause for a moment, tilting your head back a little as he reaches out and cups one of your breasts in his big hand. you bite your lip, swallowing back a heavy breath as he flicks his thumb over your nipple gently. "greatest tits 've ever seen," he mumbles, scrunching his nose under the mask before he lets you go. "yeah, go on, baby." it takes everything in you to walk away when you see him reach down with that same hand and grip his bulge through his jeans, adjusting himself as he turns back to the mess in the kitchen.

when you shut the bathroom door behind you, you hear shuffling in the living room. the coffee table scraping. the couch being pushed. the rustle of the rug you have there. he grunts a little, and you hear his boots track from the kitchen back to the living room.

you turn the water on hot. you decide to take a bath, not looking at yourself in the mirror as you sink into the tub and plug the drain. you make the water scalding, and it soothes your sore muscles as you rest your cheek against the edge of the tub and stare at the door.

you're not sure how long you stay there. long enough for the water to nearly slosh over the edge of the tub and for simon to swing the bathroom door open, seemingly done with his...tasks.

he's taken his sweatshirt off. just a black t-shirt tucked into jeans, and there's a slight pant to his breaths that tell you he's exerted some energy. you notice he has his gloves still on, but before he touches you, he takes them off and tosses them into the sink.

"move over," simon mutters, starting to undress. you look up at him as he undoes the button on his pants, shucking his shirt off and into the corner before dropping his jeans. the water swishes as you sit up, and you swallow hard when simon kicks his boots and pants off, his cock hanging heavy as his mask is the last to hit the floor.

fuck, he's so pretty.

he has no regard for his size. he simply steps into the tub behind you, taking a seat. he looks comically large in your small bathtub, and you squeak a little as the water spills over the edge of the bath and wets the floor. he hums as he feels the hot water on his back. you don't say anything as his hands start to turn the water a little red. you just look up, away, at him.

you shuffle between his legs, tucking yourself into his space. you can't help but look him up and down, admiring his naked physique. he's just hot. big arms, thick thighs, sunburnt tattoos and scars cutting across his face. he hasn't shaved today, so there's some stubble along his jaw, but your eyes focus a little too much on his girthy length, heavy as it sits on his stomach and leaks a little there. his fat stomach, all solid and pudgy, such a nice place for you to rest your hands.

"you did good today," simon says finally. you look at him, and he tilts his head to the side. his approval makes your chest warm. "callin' me like tha'. wot a good girl you are."

keeping quiet on the phone is what he doesn't add out loud.

you purse your lips, trying not to keen at the praise, but it's hard not to when he reaches over and slides his hand over your shoulder, thumbing at your jaw.

"i-i didn't...didn't know what to do," you admit, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you didn't know what to do, so you called him. level-headed enough to not do something rash and call someone else, no, you called him.

"mmm...tha's wot i'm 'ere for, luv," simon soothes you. "made such a little mess..."

you close your eyes. it's sick. deranged. fuck, it feels nice.

why don't i feel anything?

"i know. i'm sorry."

"nothin' ta be sorry about."

you slump into his arms, resting your cheek on his solid chest. you can feel his cock pulsing against your tummy, and you adjust yourself in the water, straddling him as you rest your chin on his pecs and look up at him through watery eyes.

you aren't sad. no. not sad at all. simon has shown you what he will do for the you. the lengths he will go. what he'll forgive just to take care of you. he's so capable, so understanding.

sick. twisted. mine.

"then i'll just say thank you," you mumble, grinding your hips slowly. simon hums, a wicked smile coming over his scarred face. he licks over his bottom lip, big hands gripping you by the fat of your hips as you grip the edges of the tub for stability. "say thank you to my big, strong man for taking such good care of me..."

he chuckles, his eyes lowering, watching your tits sway as you fit your pussy over his length and grind down on him.

"tha' so, baby?"

you nod.

"mhm," you whine. "how can i thank you, my big boy? how can i show you how grateful i am for cleaning up after me, hmm?" you bend at the waist, kissing him wet and warm, and he hisses as you suck his tongue into your mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, and normally you would curse him for it, but right now it tastes so much like him, and you lick around his teeth trying to taste more of that sweet nicotine.

"fuck--such a naughty little girl..." he snickers, reaching down. you sigh when he slides his big palms over your ass, forcing you to grind slower, the tip of his cock sliding through your folds leisurely. you grip the edges of the tub tighter, pressing down to give you more leverage to grind down harder. "make such a mess, oll the time..." you gasp when he presses into you just enough, the tip breaching your entrance and forcing you to squeeze around him, your cunt trying to suck him in. "olways needin' me ta pick up afta ya..."

you giggle, sliding your hands up his chest, gripping his shoulders for leverage as you sink down onto him. he grits his teeth as you do, his eyes focused on the way his cock disappears inch by inch until you're seated down in his lap, his length kissing deep and twitching excitedly. he always feels like a teenager again whenever you fuck--like you're the first pretty girl to ever wet his cock.

you cup his cheeks finally, smoothing your thumbs under his eyes as you bring his gaze up to meet yours. you swallow hard, looking down at him.

"i-i love you, simon," you breathe. he stills underneath you, his jaw clenching as he frowns just a little. you come a little closer, nuzzling your nose against his, your thumb falling to trace the outline of his torn lip. "i should've said it a long time ago...i-i..."

"heart's beatin' out y'r chest, luv," he mutters lowly. "'s olright...'m not goin' anywhere."

it's so disgusting. you should be fucking ill. you should be scrambling to the toilet, your breakfast halfway up your throat. you should be crying, emotional, begging simon to tell the cops that it was all your fault, because it is. he should've come here and made you do the level-headed thing and confess your terrible crime.

he shouldn't be here, sitting underneath you in your tub, cock-deep inside of you after helping you commit murder and then fucking clean it all up.

"what did i do?" you gasp, sitting up. you move to get out of the tub, but simon growls, putting two firm hands on your ass and shoving you back down on his cock, making you cry. "w-what did i do? s-simon, why don't i feel bad, why am i not sorry--?!"

simon tsks, feigning comfort. he juts his bottom lip out into a pout, mocking your little cries.

"oh, luvvie, don't start cryin' now," he chuckles. "don't start pretending like y'care."

uhm...

"simon--"

"no one likes a liar."

you're still trying to pretend, and he knows this. you're still trying to act how someone normally would react. someone normal, someone who thinks rationally, would never have picked up the pan in the first place. and even if they had, they would've scrambled, cried, picked up the phone and confessed, called an ambulance as they tried to get her to start breathing again, put both hands on her chest and tried to get her wake up.

but you didn't. you watched, unnervingly calm, as she stained the hardwood with her blood. you watched as her eyes glassed over, lifeless, and you watched as her insides began to paint the floor in abstract shapes as you gave it time to spread. and not once during that time, or waiting for simon, did you think to help her.

you didn't want to help her. and you certainly didn't think she deserved to get back up. maybe she hadn't done anything quite harsh enough to deserve death in someone else's eyes. annoying, overbearing, rude.

but it's hard to feel bad when she talked about simon. when she called him by his name. when you've seen her let her towel slip when he's in her vicinity, trying to coax him into her room when you're looking away.

you should've taken one of the throwing knives that simon hides in his boot and thrown it at her then, just for that.

"we're cut from the same bloody cloth, baby," simon says, almost accusingly. you grip the edges of the tub, trying to stand again, but he cants his hips and fucks up into you, drawing a frenzied moan out of you. you reach for his shoulders as he does it again, his tongue darting out before he licks a fat stripe over your pebbled nipple. "'s olright. 's okay, luv. don't worry. don't hafta get y'r hands dirty, swee'eart, i've got it."

"but simon," you whine, but all he does is shake his head. you don't have to put on this morality act for him. you don't have to pretend that you are sorry for something that you had every right to do, you don't have to explain to him why you aren't feeling the way you should be feeling.

simon doesn't care about how you should feel. he only cares about how you actually feel.

"she was in y'r way," simon grunts. "always bein' a bloody brat." he fists your hair and brings your mouth to his, groaning as you tighten around his cock. "'ow many times did she fuck ya over, baby, hmm? 'ow many times did she steal y'r fuckin' things, come outta the loo wearin' nothin' but her fuckin' knickers, yeah? 'ow many times?"

you kiss him, frantic, digging your nails into his pecs and dragging them angrily.

yeah. fuck her. fuck what she did to me, fuck the way she behaved, fuck her stupid face and her stupid attitude and her stupid little games.

"called ya names..." he's hitting your sweet spot now, making you cry from pleasure. your pussy feels so hot, squeezing him because you know he's right, and the way he fucks this time makes you think he really knows what you are and knows exactly how to get you there. "wot a fuckin' twat. deserved every bit o' it, baby."

you meet his eyes, dark and cruel. he's still moving, still holding onto your hips and drawing out little whines, but it's different suddenly, it's more. you nod, understanding.

simon is terrible. no good. his head isn't in the right place, maybe it never has been. you wonder, briefly, if this is what he does when he's at work, if these are the things that he's used to. maybe simon has been in service too long--maybe he doesn't understand that you aren't at war here, that you can't just kill and clean up, that you aren't in the field.

"she deserved it," you whimper, and he grins, all teeth, all mean.

"tha's it."

"she was such a bitch."

"fuckin' right."

"she got what was coming for her."

"nnghhh--fuck, baby, gonna make me fuckin' cum, tolkin' like tha'," he hisses. you practically smack him as you grab onto his scarred face, gritting your teeth as you glare down at him. his lips part, and you spit in his mouth as he fucks up into you, thighs hitting your ass with a wet smack that makes your head spin.

"and i'll get rid of the next bitch that so much as looks your way, simon."

the kiss is searing. hot, blinding, white noise fills your ears as he cums with you, stuffing you full as he cums hard, a pained groan leaving him as he collapses against the porcelain tub with a harsh thud. you follow him, chasing after him, kissing him between heavy breaths as you don't make any effort to move off of him. when simon opens his eyes, he can't help but smile.

he's never seen his reflection without a mirror.

#awwwwwwwwww thanks for taking care of me pookie #thanks for indulging my terrible mind and telling me its okay ;)#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts #dark!ghost #dark!simon

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artdcnaldson · 5 months ago

Note

in the sex lessons au, reader was definitely introduced to porn by patrick. i bet he also gave her massages that “required” her to take off her shirt and bra and always ended up with his hands on her nipple….

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (mutual masturbation, exhibitionism kinda, more manipulative perverts but that’s par for the course)

A/N: how did you know I eat this up. I wrote a 3 part Steve Harrington fic with this exact plot like…. This is my bread and butter simply. Unedited sozz

It was easy to succumb to temptation when it was just the three of you— holed up in Art’s dorm, hidden away from the rest of the world.

A few cans of beer, cold from his mini fridge, the warm press of your legs on top of Patrick’s, of Art’s chest against your back. There’s a movie playing on Art’s laptop— some shitty action movie he’d rented for the three of you.

“Have you ever watched porn?” Patrick asks you bluntly.

Your eyes widen in surprise. “What? No— websites like that give you computer viruses, and stuff.” Art laughs, his body shaking with it. You suppose it is a little childish, but you’re being completely earnest. “What? Doesn’t it?”

Patrick laughs, shakes his head. “If that were true I would’ve gone through a thousand computers by now.”

You grimace, toss an empty beer can at him. “You’re so fucking gross.”

But Patrick just laughs, takes another swig of his beer, leans forward curiously. “So… I mean, do you just use your imagination when you’re touching yourself?”

Heat burns in your cheeks, and you roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Well, how do you know what you need to imagine if you’ve never seen anyone fucking? Is it just sweet kisses and hand holding?”

You kick him and Art comes to your defense like the sweetest knight in shining armor. “C’mon, Patrick, leave her alone.” Art’s hand is splayed across your tummy— firm, warm, protective. Patrick pretends like he doesn’t hear him, leans closer.

“I wanna know what innocent little fantasies you get off to. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” It’s hard to resist Patrick when he’s so close, when Art’s so close, when you feel warm and dizzy all over.

You sigh softly, relishing as he presses his warm body against your side, so it’s Patrick and Art and you sandwiched hot between them. “You realize you’re being a major fucking perv, right?” You ask in a low tone, meeting his gaze through your lashes. He nods, and you’re so conscious of his hand between your knees as his eyes bear into yours. But he wants you to continue, so you swallow and go on. “I dunno, sometimes it’s not about a fantasy. It’s just about me wanting some stress relief, or, like, my body needing it and it’s too hard to ignore.”

Art’s fingers flex against your stomach and you take a slow breath. “But, I mean, I guess I fantasize about being desired, like, taken care of I guess,” you mumble, mortified that you’re admitting it.

Patrick grins, runs his thumb along the inside of your knee. “That’s so sweet.” You roll your eyes, take a long drink, and try to ignore the heat in your stomach. “Do you want to see what Art likes to watch?”

Art’s eyes go wide, and he shakes his head. “No, no, we’re not doing that,” he says firmly. Patrick brushes him off, ignoring his pleas as he grabs the laptop and pulls up his trusty porn site. You peer over Patrick’s shoulder, eyes going wide as he opens to the home page, to all the recommended videos.

Your jaw drops, just a bit, and you let your eyes rake over the screen. It’s all right there— flagrant. Pretty girls with dicks in their mouths, pussies, hands. Lewd titles, the preview videos playing brief glimpses of obscenity.

“Aww, Art, this is so adorable,” Patrick teases as he scrolls. “Girl best friend deepthroats like a champ. Morning lovemaking ends in creampie.” Art mumbles something against your shoulder, blushing so hard you can feel the heat emanating from his skin.

Patrick clicks the latter and it opens to slow, deep kissing. A mess of tongues, rife with need. You know it’s normal to watch, to an extent— a right of passage, or whatever. But watching it feels so voyeuristic, so invasive. Especially when you’re practically in Art’s lap, when Patrick’s hands are hot against your skin.

Patrick gets bored of soft kissing and wandering hands and skips five minutes ahead in the video. By the time the buffering catches up, they’re fucking onscreen, all slow and sweet. Still kissing, still holding hands. But you also see the way the man’s cock sinks into her, can hear the moaning, the wet sounds of her body taking him in.

Art exhales a shaky breath against your skin, makes you shiver. He’s hard, you can feel that clearly against you, and you know he’s provably fucking mortified over it. But he doesn’t move to turn off the video, doesn’t do anything. His hand twitches against your stomach and you realize he’s still holding you.

The video is short— too short, you decide. The man finishes, you get a close up of the woman’s pussy, of cum dripping from her entrance. It makes your face burn, makes desire burn equally as hot as your embarrassment. The video ends, and Patrick stops auto play.

“Art, that shit is so fucking boring.” It snaps your attention from the paused screen over to him, who seems completely unaffected. You might actually believe he was unaffected if he wasn’t visibly hard.

You peer over at Patrick curiously. “What do you watch?”

He smiles, like he’d been waiting for you to ask, and grabs the laptop. Art makes a weak complaint that Patrick is going to fuck up his recommendations, but is ignored. Patrick logs in to an account and opens a tab for liked and saved videos.

Oh. You lean forward for a better look, expression twisting between shock and interest and confusion and disgust. Patrick’s tastes vary widely— venturing into areas you hadn’t even known were sexual. It’s like he had thrown everything at the wall to see what would stick, and everything just stuck.

“Oh my god, Patrick,” Art mutters, equally as intrigued as you are. “What the fuck, dude.” Art steals the laptop, scrolling through thumbnails of feet and anal and gangbangs and piss and bdsm dungeons and girls in stupid fucking schoolgirl costumes.

Patrick grabs the laptop back roughly, scrolls and clicks. “This one’s good, it’s perfect for when you just want to cum fast. Art, I know you don’t have that problem.”

Art flips him off and looks at the screen, reading the title aloud. “One hour squirting and cumshot compilation. Could you be any grosser?”

“Yes, actually. Sorry I don’t watch your sweet lovemaking bullshit.” Patrick shoves him, then Art shoves him back, and suddenly the laptop is on the floor in front of you and you’re just watching while they squabble on either side of you.

The video is exactly as described— it skips all of the pretense, all of the build up. It’s just people cumming, over and over and over. Your body feels like a live wire as you watch, lit up all over.

You squeeze your thighs together, conscious of the heat and wetness between them. Patrick clocks it— of course he does. A smirk plays at his lips.

“Maybe it’s not so disgusting, Art. She likes it.” Patrick relishes in the hazy, innocent look in your eyes as you meet his gaze. Relishes in the embarrassment and the need. “It’s good, huh? Getting to watch?”

You nod and Patrick takes your hand, slips it beneath the waistband of your shorts. “Go ahead. You want to.”

You shiver, temptation itching down to your fingertips. Sensing your hesitation, Patrick spits into his hand, slips it into his own shorts. You manage to hold out a few more seconds before you let your fingers brush over your clit.

“C’mon Art, don’t be a fucking creep,” Patrick says, moaning as he works his fist faster. Art swears under his breath and quickly shoves his own hand into his boxers.

You’re all so close, bodies pressed together hot and firm. You can feel the way their bodies move with each stroke, the way their thighs tense as they instinctually buck into their fists.

You moan, head falling against Art’s shoulder. His hand splays against you, inches up, brushing against the underside of your tit. It makes you whimper.

Patrick grabs your face, redirects your attention back to the screen. “Keep watching, it’s getting good.” His voice is strained, affected.

He usually lasts longer than this when he’s in your hand or your mouth, but maybe the video really was that good. Surely it didn’t have anything to do with you, panting and writhing as you rubbed at your clit beside him.

For once, Patrick cums first— doubling over, groaning muffled into your hair. Then it’s Art, whining so pretty, pulling you closer, mouthing at your shoulder as he comes down. And then you, overwhelmed by the two boys on either side of you, cumming with a rush of wetness that ruins your already soaked panties.

You sit there panting as the video continues playing— obscene wet, lewd sounds, wanton moans. Art hits stop, shuts the laptop and kicks it away.

You wonder why every time you hang out with them, it always seemed to end like this. And you wonder why you don’t mind, not even a little bit.

#sex lessons au #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #challengers x reader #challengers fanfic #patrick zweig fanfic

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itneverendshere · 2 months ago

Note

I love pogue!reader and rafe sm. I’m so excited every time you post them ❤️ what if reader realizes she’s really falling for rafe and it’s getting serious so she’s tries to self sabotage and end it. She’s thinking he’s THE kook and she’s a pogue. It can’t last and she won’t survive that heartbreak. so rafe starts to panic but then realizes what’s she’s doing by ending it so he’s just like lol no nice try I’m not going anywhere

i would follow you home - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 3.1k

hope you enjoy, i love them too 🩵

It was mid-afternoon, that quiet lull between lunch and dinner when the regulars started to trickle in. And like clockwork, you were wiping down the bar, mindlessly watching the condensation drip from a glass of iced tea when you saw Rafe strolling in.

He always had that cocky walk, shoulders rolled back like he owns the place, which, you guess, technically he kinda did, or at least his dad did. Cameron Development Group practically built the country club.

He spotted you and the corner of his mouth lifted in that way that made your stomach flip. God, you hated how it still got to you.

After months of this—him swinging by the bar at the end of his golf games, lounging against the counter like it was no big deal, driving you home, saving you from the storms, letting you kiss him—your heart should’ve calmed the hell down. But no, here you were, butterflies fluttering in your chest, fingers tightening around the rag you were using to clean.

You tossed it on the counter and busy yourself with stacking glasses.

“Hey, stranger.” His voice was all smooth like he knew exactly what effect it had on you. And he did. You were still a shitty liar and he learned that fast.

You glanced up, trying to keep things cool, casual. “Hey yourself.”

He settled into one of the barstools, leaning forward, his blue eyes locking on yours. “You off soon?”

You shrugged. “Depends. Why?”

The truth was, you knew why. You knew exactly what he was asking.

He was wondering if you would have time after this—time to sneak off to that little spot by the docks where you'd been meeting up, where things between you had been getting more…a little complicated?

And that’s exactly why you needed to end this.

It’s not like you hadn’t seen it coming. You’d known for a while that whatever this thing was with Rafe, it was headed in a direction you couldn’t afford to follow. He was the poster child for Kook royalty. Born with a silver spoon and all that. Meanwhile, you were still just the bartender, a Pogue, barely scraping by.

It started simple—quick conversations after work, long talks on the drive home, those random texts at 2 a.m. that turned into hours of you two confessing things you’d never say out loud to anyone else.

You din’t know when it shifted into this—this weird gray area where everything felt more intense. Maybe when you all but kissed him when he picked you up after the storm. That had to be it.

Because you knew how this story ended. You knew what happened when a girl like you fell for a guy like Rafe Cameron.

Heartbreak.

And you wouldn’t survive that.

“I’ve been thinking,” You blurted out, suddenly very aware of the way his eyes were still on you. Too aware. You reached for a clean glass, filling it with soda water to distract yourself. “Maybe we should… I dunno, cool it for a bit.”

His smirk faltered. “Cool it?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged again, trying to seem nonchalant, even though your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. “I mean, this was fun and all, but let’s be real—”

“Be real?”

You nodded, not daring to look up from the glass you were holding.

“We’re not exactly from the same world, Rafe. It was bound to end sooner or later. Might as well rip the band-aid off now.”

Silence. For a beat, he doesn’t say anything, and for a second you wonder if you had done it—if you’d actually convinced him that this wasn’t worth it, that he should’ve just walked away and left you with at least a sliver of your heart intact.

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t like a mocking laugh, but it was still a sound you weren’t expecting. Your eyes snapped up to his face, and you saw that damn smirk was back. Only this time, there was something softer in his eyes, something almost… amused?

“Oh, I see what this is.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking way too pleased with himself.

You frowned, instinctively grabbing a towel and wiping the counter again, trying to distract yourself from the way his eyes were making you feel seen. Too seen.

“What?”

“You’re scared.”

Your stomach dropped. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted, standing up and rounding the bar until he was way too close, until you could smell the cologne clinging to his skin and the fresh grass scent of the golf course. He caged you in with his body, one hand gripping the counter behind you, the other reaching up to tilt your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You’re trying to push me away because you’re scared. But newsflash, sweetheart—nice try. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight, because damn it, he was right. He was completely, 100% right, and you hated it. You hated that he could see right through you like that, see all your fears, all the things you’d been trying so hard to bury.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

You didn’t know what to say because, deep down, you didn’t want to believe that it mattered to him. You wanted to believe that he saw you for more than just the girl behind the bar. But every time you let yourself get close, that voice in the back of your head reminded you that this wasn’t some fairytale.

“Rafe, you’ll get bored,” you mumbled, barely able to get the words out. “You’ll realize this was just… a phase. I mean, we’re friends, right? We can just… go back to that.”

“Go back to that?” He repeated your words slowly like he was testing them out. And then he laughed—this short, disbelieving sound that made your stomach twist, “You’re trying to run.”

“Am not.”

“You are.

“There’s nothing to run from,” You snapped, though even you didn’t believe that.

He was close enough now that you had to tilt your head almost all the way back to meet his eyes, and there was something so raw, so real in the way he was looking at you that you couldn’t breathe.

“Nothing, huh?”

“Nothing,” you managed to repeat, but the word came out more like a question than a statement. The self-doubt you’d been trying to ignore bubbled up, and you hated yourself for it.

He leaned in closer, and you could feel his breath against your skin. “If you think there’s nothing between us, then why does it hurt so much to even think about letting it go?”

His words hit a particular soft spot, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping. You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that you could walk away and be fine.

But the truth was, you weren’t fine. You weren’t even close to fine.

The whole time you’d been telling yourself this was just a fling, some wild phase that would burn out eventually—because that was what made sense. You weren’t supposed to fall for the guy who came from money and lived in a mansion on the hill, while you were still sharing a room with your sister in a run-down house, after yours got destroyed, on the wrong side of the island.

This was never supposed to be real.

“You don’t get it. You’ve never had to worry about—about someone like me not fitting into your life. You don’t have people looking at you and thinking ‘what the hell is he doing with her?’”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and his thumb brushed a light circle against your waist, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Who cares what people think? I’m not with them. I’m with you.”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him, stepping back just enough to put some space between you.

"No. No, it’s not that simple. You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to always be the one left behind. You’ll get bored, and then what? You just walk away and I’m the one left picking up the pieces."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t done.

"And don't say you won’t, because everyone does! I’ve seen this before. I’ve been through it. I don’t survive guys like you." Your voice cracked, and damn it, you hated how vulnerable you sounded, but it was too late. It was all spilling out now, all the fear you’d kept bottled up.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and instead of the cocky smirk you expected, there was something different in his eyes. Anger? No, frustration maybe. But not at you.

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep his cool. “You think I’m just some guy playing games, huh? That I’m gonna wake up one day and decide you’re not worth it?”

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself as if that would protect you from the way his words were hitting you too hard. “Isn’t that what happens?”

“No. Not with me.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do know that!” His voice rose, and you flinched a little, caught off guard by the intensity.

He noticed and apologized immediately, stepping closer, his hand reaching for yours but stopping just short. "I’m here, with you. Because I want to be. Don’t you get that?"

You hated the way he was looking at you, the way his words hit with brutal honesty you weren’t used to—it made you pause. Your eyes fleeted away, focusing on the floor because looking at him was too much.

"Just let me go," you whispered, "It’ll hurt less now."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and before you could pull back, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you in one swift move.

His hand cupped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes, and there was no escape from the intensity in them.

"No," he said, firm but quiet. "I’m not letting you go. You’re not pushing me away. I’m not leaving, no matter how hard you try to sabotage this."

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you shook your head, trying to argue, but then his lips were on yours, cutting off whatever weak protest you had left. The kiss wasn’t gentle or slow—it was harsh, like he was trying to make you understand something without words.

And damn it, you kissed him back. Because of course, you did.

Because despite everything you said, everything you feared, you wanted this. You wanted him. But the second you felt yourself giving in, you pushed him back, your hands pressed against his chest, trying to regain some control.

"Stop doing that," you snapped, breathless.

"Doing what?" He sounded just as breathless, but he didn’t step away.

"Kissing me like you can fix this. Like—like I’m just gonna believe you."

He exhaled sharply, his hands gripping your waist, keeping you close. "You don’t have to believe me now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll prove it to you, okay? Just stop trying to run every time it gets hard."

"I don’t know how to do this," you admitted quietly, your hands still resting against his chest, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

"I’ll show you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Just stop pushing me away."

For a moment, you let yourself just be there with him, your defenses crumbling piece by piece. You didn’t know how long it would last, or if you could even survive it, but maybe… just maybe, he was worth the risk.

But still, you couldn’t help but mutter, "You’re so stupid, you know that?"

His lips twitched into a smile. “And you’re still kissing me, again, so what does that say about you?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your lips twitched with a smirk of your own.

“Says I’m just as stupid as you,” you muttered under your breath, but the words lacked bite. Your hands stayed on his chest, fingers still gripping his polo like you were afraid to let go, like maybe if you held on tight enough, you wouldn’t fall apart, “Do you always go around kissing the saff?” You mumbled out.

Rafe’s hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you in closer. His forehead still rested against yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and steady, brushing against your skin. It was infuriating how easy it was to melt into him.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with the start of a grin, “Only the ones who can’t seem to stay away from me.”

You groaned, shoving him in the chest with just enough force to make him stumble back a step. “God, you’re insufferable.”

He caught your wrists before you could pull away completely, his grip gentle, keeping you close enough that you could still feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes. “Yeah, well, you seem to like insufferable.”

“Do I though?” You quipped, trying to sound indifferent, but your heartbeat was giving you away. You could feel it hammering in your chest, “Because I feel like this whole thing is a bad idea. You know, like ‘kiss the rich guy, ruin your life’ kind of bad idea.”

Rafe’s expression softened, and the teasing glint in his eyes faded. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You tried to play dumb.

“Talk like this doesn’t mean something. Like I don’t mean something to you.” His voice was low, but there was a seriousness in it that made your stomach flip. “We’ve been doing this dance for a while now, and every time it starts to get real, you act like it’s just… casual.”

Your throat tightened, and you tried to pull your wrists free, but he didn’t let go, making it clear he wasn’t letting you run again.

“Maybe it is casual,” you said, even though the words tasted like a lie. “Maybe we’re just two people having a good time, and that’s it.”

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that made your chest ache. “Nah. You’re not fooling me anymore. You don’t kiss someone like you kissed me just for fun.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “Rafe…”

“And you don’t look at me like that when I walk in unless there’s more to it.” His voice softened as his thumb traced light circles against your skin. “So stop pretending it’s nothing.”

“I should be working.”

But Rafe wasn’t letting you off that easy. “Yeah, you probably should,” he said, but his hands didn’t move, and neither did his eyes.

“So you’re gonna let me go?”

“Why’d you kiss me that day?” he asked, "I’ve been wondering.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the question. He was so close, and it was hard to think, let alone answer something that felt so…disarming like everything you’d been running from was waiting in his words.

"I don’t know," you groaned, suddenly feeling like a cornered animal. "I wasn’t thinking straight."

His fingers traced a slow line down your arm, sending shivers through you. "You sure about that?" His voice was quiet, like he already knew you were lying, knew you too well for you to hide behind that excuse. "Because it didn’t feel like just some random kiss."

You scoffed, trying to laugh it off, trying to keep your cool, but the sound came out shaky.

"It was— I don’t know, Rafe. It was just the heat of the moment, okay? The storm… everything." You bit your lip, avoiding his gaze because you knew he wasn’t buying it. "You saved me, and I guess I was—"

"Grateful?" he interrupted, his brow arching. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

You winced. "I didn’t mean it like that."

“Yeah, well, it sure sounds like you’re trying to make it seem like it meant nothing. Like you didn’t feel anything when you kissed me.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond right away. He wasn’t wrong. That kiss had meant something—maybe more than you were ready to admit to yourself, let alone to him.

“You can’t keep acting like you don’t care, because I know you do. You wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t.”

The way he said it, so certain, so sure of himself—it made your heart race even faster.

“Why do you care so much?” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Why does it matter?”

He frowned, like you had just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Because it matters to me.”

Your chest tightened at that, and you hated how much you wanted to believe him. "I don’t want to get hurt, Rafe."

"I’m not gonna hurt you." His voice was low, serious, like a promise, but you’d heard promises like that before. "I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care. I’m asking for a chance, just one chance. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest tightened as you stared up at him. He was serious. Like, really serious. And you were scared out of your mind because you wanted to believe him so badly. But trusting someone, letting them in? That was terrifying.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, finally admitting it out loud.

“I know,” he murmured, his forehead resting gently against yours. “But I’m scared too, okay? I want to be with you. So, please, just… give us a shot.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, your mind racing a hundred miles per hour.

You could still feel his lips on yours, the way he made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could let your guard down for once. And the truth was, despite all the reasons you’d been telling yourself to walk away, your heart was telling you to stay.

“Okay.”

His breath caught. “Okay?”

You opened your eyes, “Yeah, okay. I’ll give you a chance. Don’t screw it up.”

Rafe’s lips curved into that stupid, cocky grin, “I won’t. I promise.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead, you found yourself smiling back.

Maybe this was crazy, maybe you were setting yourself up for heartbreak or maybe you’d really found yourself a soulmate.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron au #rafe x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe x pogue!reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagines #rafe x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe fluff #rafe cameron universe #requested

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kithtaehyung · 4 months ago

Text

lollipop (3tan) (m) | myg

title: lollipop (m) | part one: summer bbq pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) | broken (pt. 2) rating/genre: m (18+) ; fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after the summer cookout ends, you say goodnight to your brother and his best friend. but the latter just had to have a lollipop in his mouth… and had to make you aware of it hours later. note: this is part two of the three tangerines drabble summer bbq! undisclosed whether these are in the main storyline or not, so it’s a standalone for now. note 2: also..... hope y'all read this in private :))) hahahah warnings: yoongi is the biggest warning, but reader almost inches him out here🤭, no joke we may need to form a new line for reader, kissing, hella kissing, a mirror makes an appearance.. 🫣, tense situations, tender moments, lollipop gets its own warning i’m so serious, cocky yoongi lolll explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: july 22nd, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 7.3k💀💀💀

explicit warnings: food play (just roll with it😂), oral sex (m/f rec), masturbation, the struggle to keep quiet is real, mirrors are involved lord have mercy, spanking, breast play, multiple orgasms, yoongi hands, choking, fingering, face f*cking, titty shotsss, a little bit of manhandling and roughness but we love it🤭🤭, aftercare and cute cute reader afterwards

—

It’s not long until you’re snuggled under your covers, every limb in your body relieved to be at rest. From getting ready, cooking for hours, to general host duties—all while trying to avoid sin in human form—you’ve completely exhausted your living battery.

But for some reason, sleepiness is out of reach.

Tiredness? For sure. But sleep seems to elude you, and you toss and turn before giving up and turning your television on.

It’s after you get through two episodes of something random and endless doomscrolling that you get a text.

From the last person that should be texting you right now.

And your heart slams on every brake it has.

Yoongi [2:37am]: You up?

Umm.

What.

Why is he asking you that? It’s quite possibly the worst time and type of message to receive right now.

Don’t overthink it. He probably just needs extra hands to drag your brother back to his room again.

You [2:37am]: mmhmm

You [2:37am]: you need me for something?

With a sigh, you rest your phone by your side.

The last time that happened was so long ago. Back when you were fighting off sickness and absentmindedly grabbing tangerines to snack on.

You wonder what that man wants this time around.

Yoongi [2:37am]: Haha nah

Yoongi [2:37am]: Just curious

Well that’s interesting.

Is he still in the backyard? Somewhere in the house? You knew he was staying over, but is he in the guest room with Jimin lying down like you are?

Why is that making your soul squeeze?

You [2:38am]: yeah i am. can’t sleep :\

After hitting send, you feel more awake than ever, staring at your ceiling changing hues from the light of your tv.

It kinda hurts knowing Yoongi’s the closest he could be tonight.

On one hand, you still remain feeling safer than ever, having all of them here. But on the other, you’d much rather Yoongi be right next to you, heart beating under the same covers and eyes covering you in moonlight.

He’s so close and yet…

So damn far.

Yoongi [2:39am]: Same.

Your arm slings right over your eyes.

How is one word from him enough to make your legs shift? That is something that needs to be studied, but alas, you would only be the subject if someone paid you for it.

What do you say now? You miss him so much it practically hurts? You want him to be lying next to you even though it’s the riskiest thing in the world?

Maybe start slow.

You [2:40am]: did you have fun today?

Shit, was that a little too slow? Abnormal? It’s not like you two have as much small talk as other people. Though you wouldn’t mind any type of talking with him at all, casual small talk just isn’t on the list of defaults.

When you check the next text you get, it’s hard to keep your phone from falling onto your face.

Yoongi [2:42am]: I’ll tell you if you open the door :)

Huh.

So much for starting slow what the fuck!

You [2:43am]: ???

You [2:43am]: front door?

Yoongi [2:43am]: Yours

There have been many times in which this man has made you speechless. Some just for being so heartstoppingly handsome; others for being the most considerate person you’ve ever met.

But this time?

You can’t even form all the reasons why you can’t form words.

You [2:44am]: ?????

Yoongi [2:44am]: 🤨

Yoongi [2:44am]: Feel like this is pretty easy stuff, doll

What is happening? What possessed your brother’s legitimate ride or die to stand at your door while still in the same house? When other people are also staying over?

You’re so close. He’s right there. You can see a slight shadow underneath the wooden frame and it’s making your stomach silly.

But you have to be sure.

You [2:45am]: is he asleep?

Yoongi [2:45am]: Yeah he’s out

Getting up, you already miss the warmth of your sheets as you tiptoe towards the only thing separating you from the man you’ve yearned for all day long.

Fuck. If this isn’t the worst decision you’re ever gonna make in your life.

But damn it, you already knew you were gonna let him in as soon as he asked.

After checking what you’re wearing before knowing it doesn’t matter, you open your door while fearing what it reveals.

And Yoongi slowly enters through the night—freshly showered, still studded with jewelry, and decked in clean clothes while dirtying your mind to hell.

Because of the goddamn lollipop in his mouth.

“What’s going on,” you whisper, knowing your brother could wake up at any second. Maybe. Possibly. Everything bad is always possible when you’re paranoid about it—especially since Yoongi is in your room! “What are you doing?”

Your secret wastes no time as he quietly shuts and locks the door, hair shifting down his head in damp waves as he takes out the sucker,

“This.”

Silent, he pulls you in slow for a kiss, melting you down with ease. When he presses you into one of your walls, you know the only thing propping you up is his pelvis molding with your front.

Already, your senses are on high alert, wondering how long Yoongi plans on staying because as much as you want him here forever, you still want him in one piece.

But it’s getting hard to concentrate on consequences and scenarios when this man is infiltrating your every thought. His lips feel like summer and his fragrance reminds you of spring, and you immediately know it’s that subtly scented body wash you picked to put in the guest bathroom.

Strange. You both have now used each others’ soap and showers. That has to mean something intimate, right? How many people can say that about one another and not look into it too much?

Well, he technically hasn’t used the shower in your bathr—

“You looked great today,” Yoongi whispers into your neck.

His kiss there renders you speechless for what seems like eons. Today. Uh huh. What were you thinking just now? “Thank you,” you finally sigh, relishing in the way he’s holding your side. “So did you.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean.. You always do, so. Nothing new there.”

Yoongi quietly huffs a laugh before tugging your hips. But he doesn’t say anything in return, and you wonder if he didn’t have an answer or just didn’t feel the need to.

So your nerves fill the space again. “Is it weird that I missed you? You were here the whole time.”

“Mm.” His kisses traverse up your shivering throat, and his raspy answer has your eyes fluttering shut, “I get that.”

Fuck, you can’t deal with him. “Is.. Is that so..”

“People miss me all the time.”

A snort. “Ass.”

Yoongi immediately laughs into your skin. “But they aren’t here now, are they?” When you don’t respond with anything substantial, he squeezes the side of your ass. “Are they.”

“No,” you hitch out. “But you shouldn’t be here, either.”

“Tell me to leave then.”

Shit. You can’t. You both know you can’t. You try so hard to stifle a moan when you feel Yoongi grip an asscheek, his lips finding your ear at the same time he gives a firm smack.

“Do it, doll.”

“I…” Fuck, he’s surrounding you and there’s no way no way out. “I can’t.”

“Good.” Yoongi then slides your hand from his side down to his legs, placing it on his very big, very hard length. “Cus I can’t fucking stay away from you.”

You grip him through his pants, pleased when he moans deep. “What if he wakes up?”

“He won’t,” your handsome rebel purrs. “Drank for hours.”

“You sure?”

“Course I am.” Yoongi slides a finger along the outline of your breasts. “He tried to keep up and lost.”

“Typical.”

He keeps doing exactly what you want him to do. It’s quite scary how well he knows your body now, but you’d also like to think you have a good level of knowledge with his.

Especially when you reach up to twist his nipple.

A groan mixed with dark chuckles has your knees shaking, and you prolong it by doing something else you know—or think you know—he likes,

“I think you’d like it if I kicked you out now.”

The volcano inside Yoongi rumbles. “Is that so?”

“It is,” you huff out in mock triumph, loving how his cock twitches against your hand. “Or am I wrong?”

He flicks his eyes to yours before holding a gaze. A look so telling, and full, and searing. When his mouth flicks upward, he admits,

“I’d love it.”

Laughing as softly as you can, you stop to simply hug him. Leaning forward until your head rests, feeling the most at home and happy hearing his own amusement vibrating through his clothes.

And just like that, you’re conflicted.

What the hell are you doing? Even though passed out and sloshed, your brother could still wake up. It’s not like he’s totally gone. And if he catches his best friend in your room? There’s no telling what damage could be dealt.

Actually, the damage could be told in gruesome detail.

But the way Yoongi’s filling the distance from today, you really don’t want to stop. In fact, you don’t even want to pretend to shoo him off.

So this is your first step onto a precarious, unpredictable tightrope. A step you are very okay taking.

“Babe?”

Shit, you got lost again. When you find your way back, Yoongi’s concern materializes at once,

“If you really aren’t down—”

“Fuck it.”

Your kiss digs into his face so hard you strike gold, rewarded with a growl so potent it disrupts your core. Lightning zaps through your veins at the hands squeezing your hips, and you buck with a desperation that’s been stockpiling all day long.

Sliding along the wall, you notice that Yoongi tastes like alcohol and sugar, and you wanna lick every crevice you can reach, drunk off his cockiness and audacity alone.

It’s no use fighting this. He’s really in your room, making out with you like a demon while the house is filled with your brother’s sleeping friends.

Fuck, you two could really get caught here.

The swirl in your belly keeps you on your toes, transforming your movements into sharp, hasty tugs on his clothes, hemlines, hair. You’re practically acting like you’ve never had him before and want to make up for all those missed opportunities.

Not like it’s any different every time.

But you’re quelled by a calm hand on your wrist. “As much as I like you like this,” Yoongi whispers across your cheek, “You can’t be too loud, baby girl.”

Your silent question must’ve escaped past your teeth. Because you hear a deep chuckle before shivers run down your spine,

“If you aren’t quiet enough I’m gonna fix that.”

Oh. Fuck.

“I didn’t even know I was talking,” you admit, body creasing in embarrassment and a bit of nervous laughs. Your grin cannot be contained by the fingers you slide up to cover it. “Oh, my god.”

“What?” Yoongi’s devilish look is even more potent in the flashing lights of your television. “You serious?”

When you scrunch in deeper admittance, he flashes teeth with a wider smile than yours. It’s a prelude to the way he launches your heartbeat, his scent mesmerizing and his fingers lethal on the back of your neck.

“Adorable.”

You groan into his swooping kiss, the rush of a thousand rivers carrying you to bliss. Breaths intertwined, the pair of you can’t seem to part until Yoongi accidentally shoulders something at his side.

Your mirror? When did you both travel so far that you got here?

He lets off with a pop to steady the wavering furniture piece, pausing to make sure it’s stable before looking at the movie playing nearby.

And you watch in curiosity as he backs further into your room, eyeing himself in the mirror while slotting the sucker back into his mouth.

God. How did you forget he was still holding that?

And why can’t you move even as he turns around, even as he glances at the tv, even as he sits on the edge of your bed?

Move. Walk. Do something!

In the end, you can’t.

Because Yoongi’s stare alone gives you first time jitters, like you’ve never even conversed or much less slept with him before.

How the fuck are you gonna get through the night?

Swallowing and shooting one more look at your door, you pad your way to him, knowing he sees your nipples poking through your shirt and assuming there’s not much else you’re wearing.

And he’s right.

As you stop at Yoongi’s knees, you watch as he gives the lollipop another slow suck, groaning at the red smeared across his tainted lips.

That’s it. It’s decided. There’s no way you’re making it out alive.

“Get up here.”

Obliging but unhurried, you mount his lap, your heart skipping at the way he enjoys your shirt riding up your thighs.

So that damn sucker is gonna stay in his mouth?

Min Yoongi is your enemy tonight.

Your nemesis, in fact. Even if he slides both free hands up your ass like that fuck he squeezes so expertly. Fuck.

It’s keeping everything in you to hide your moan, your head falling forward as he slightly lifts you to drop you onto his comfy sweats.

When he chuckles in your ear, your muscles lock. And when he pops the lolly out of his mouth, you crumble at his mercy. “You were lucky to be off-limits today, doll.”

“What…” You tense at another grip to your ass. “What do you mean.”

As you eye the silver around his neck, Yoongi’s smirk pours weight on your legs. “If you weren’t? There’s no telling what I would’ve done.”

You don’t think you’ve ever gulped so deeply. What toe-curling secrets is he hiding? Today could have gone a much, much different route depending on what he’d spill. “Tell… Tell me anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

The man below you huffs quick, and you watch the corner of his mouth lift at a dangerous angle. “Would’ve kept you in that bathroom,” he divulges, voice dragging across the rattled surface of your brain. “Bent you over the sink.”

Your breath hitches when he gets close, lips caressing your ear but words striking through your chest, “Just so you could watch me fuck you in that sundress.”

“Fuck.”

“Uh uh,” Yoongi coos, chuckle so, so deep. “Quiet, baby girl.”

“I just…” It’s already hard to think around this demon of a person. But it’s even more difficult when he’s got your ear in his teeth. “Wait.”

As he pulls away, the light of your television highlights his features. And you find that this specific, comforting look of attentiveness is what attracts you the most.

Now that you can think clearly, you remember exactly what you were gonna do. It’s simple but significant nonetheless.

Because your dress from today is in the laundry already. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have another one. Another very particular one he may remember, in fact.

“Go over there,” you whisper, smile wide as you dismount. “Turn around.”

When he wordlessly asks what you’re up to, a single finger presses against your lips before you assure, “Just trust me.”

The way his brows scrunch makes your cheeks hurt as you watch him get up and swivel, endeared by the casual lean on your wall and the lollipop stuck in his cheek. Just as his head falls in waiting, you slip into your closet, darkness getting even darker as you enter.

Due to an afterthought, you pop your head out. “No peeking in the mirror.”

“Uh huh.”

Satisfied, you go back to your lightless search.

You know exactly what you’re going for. It’s too easy for you to locate your chosen piece of clothing before stripping and changing as orderly as you can.

Okay. This is okay because you’re alone, right? No one else is here. Technically. Okay.

As you make your way out, a million nerves pop and fizzle under moonlight. The air surrounding your bare shoulders proves charged. Electric enough to send shivers down to your pedicured toes.

Composing yourself before you break, you softly catch his attention as you eye the sucker poised in his fingers,

“Ready.”

The moon waits.

Your breath follows.

And when Yoongi turns, you know you’ll never forget this moment. It feels exactly like the time in that restaurant long ago, but more potent. Shimmering.

Because you’re wearing the same sundress he witnessed you in on the night of Dom’s party.

And you’ve never been so delighted to see the stars in his eyes go dark.

You expect him to call you over. Whether with words or not, you’re gonna do whatever he wants—because it’s what you want… too…

Yoongi’s aura billows as he closes the distance himself. No words. No gestures. Just step by breath-taking step, air around him so charged and commanding that your knees threaten to buckle.

For reasons you won’t admit, your mouth can’t even create sounds. All you want to ask is if he likes the dress, or if he even cares you aren’t as dressed up as before.

Of course he wouldn’t give a single shit. But you can’t stop yourself from these thoughts just yet.

Swallowing, you stare as he rolls the sucker in his mouth, eyes in no other direction but yours. “You, umm. Does this one work instead? The other one is in the—”

Quick isn’t fast enough to describe what’s happening, your shoulders pressing into the nearest wall as your lips get consumed by lust and possession. Everything in your body tingles, and for a split second you wonder how Yoongi managed to swing you around so swift with barely a sound.

Stars fly from your eyes before they slip shut, pouring want onto his veins as he circles strong arms across your waist. Sparks erupt the scant distance between your hips and his, and you are once again reminded why you feel so high-strung.

There are so many people staying over. Not just Yoongi and Jimin. From what you can recall, at least ten people are passed out around the house, any of which could wake up for a bathroom break or something at any second.

And yet. You will not tell this man to leave. Truthfully, this is exhilarating and all you’re doing is ki—

“Get down there.”

Oh, fuck.

This is the new point of no return.

If you do this, not only will Yoongi be a goner, but so will you. Both of you would never, ever come back from this.

But that fucking lollipop…

Screw everything to hell.

Your smile grows with his, lip bitten in the throes of your newfound excitement. You already feel how rock solid he is through his pants, and you make it a point to stroke him on the way to the ground.

There’s so little room that your ass skims the wall, your chest the second part to slide along his covered length and causing him to groan out a curse.

Is there a shift here? Did you change the whole dynamic with one move? Maybe you’re the one with the power now.

“Look at me.”

Ah. Maybe not.

Obedient, you stare upward, catching the fire in Yoongi’s eyes as he gives the sucker one more pass in his mouth.

God, he makes it look so enticing. It’s just a piece of candy but you’ve never been this desperate to have one, too. Or be the one treated with his tongue like that goddamn does he have to make it seem so erotic?

With a pop, Yoongi releases the stick, lips shiny and tainted in the television lights. When he lowers it, you realize it’s descending—farther and farther—until it stops in front of your face.

And shivers overtake you.

“Suck.”

Well. You’ve never done something like this before. In all the relationships you’ve been in, you have never experienced anything like this. Much less in your own house.

Which makes your eyes flare and the monster in your belly rumble, fire hissing from its nose and prying your mouth open to do exactly what you were told.

“That’s my girl.”

Sugar coats your tongue immediately. Glowing, the heat in your core stokes embers, warning with each loll, each cave of your cheeks. You treat the candy so tenderly Yoongi will deny jealousy, and your lips pucker and puff with a sheen.

Are you glistening as much as his eyes? Are you causing him as much grief as he has put you through?

You damn well hope so. Yoongi isn’t the only one that’s gonna unleash his needs from the whole day.

So you keep sucking with closed eyes, swirling your tongue around the lolly and licking it just how you would his tip. It tastes like sweet rebellion, but also late nights with your friends. And with a fleeting thought, you know said friends would grill you if they ever found out this was happening.

Maybe Tae would just laugh his ass off.

Fuck, this is so unbelievably risky. Your door is locked, sure. But the guest room is still very much missing an occupant and one look in there and at Yoongi’s car in the street would cause an eruption.

Through the haze of your thoughts, you hear shuffling and a low droning grunt.

With one glance, you know Yoongi is crumbling. The shadowed promises under his bangs make you preen, and you remain on the precipice of anxiousness and glee.

“Keep that tongue out for me.”

Clearly, he doesn’t give a shit about risk.

So gladly, you oblige, flinching when the lollipop is replaced by something you’re much more familiar with, and your eyes bat on instinct as you know exactly what to do with this one.

When did he shove his pants down? Were you that lost in your sticky treat that you didn’t even notice?

Doesn’t matter. You feel his beautiful weight on your stained tongue and it’s second nature to pleasure. When you grab hold of his base, you give one more suck before popping him out of your mouth to lick down.

For someone that’s been shushing you, Yoongi’s groan is not quiet, and you pause just in time to see him grit his teeth with a nose scrunched to hell.

And his attention is sideways. What is he…

Oh. Fuck.

You can see yourself in your mirror on the other wall.

Is that… you? The one looking back with a visage so arousing your breath stops? If this is the person that Yoongi brings out you actually feel your confidence inflate like a parade balloon.

“So fucking hot.”

When you laugh in shyness, his eyes slide shut in agony as he rakes through his hair. Crumbling inside, you offer a compliment of your own,

“You’re so unfair when you do that.”

Yoongi has the audacity to grin wide as he grips his long strands. “This?”

“Ugh. Whatever.” You wanna smack that smirk right off his face.

So you keep going, loving the way his walls and defenses are back to shattering at your knees. From your inappropriate level of experience with his cock, you go for what you know. Licking his underside, swirling around the tip, sucking just the first bit, gathering spit all over before taking him in deep.

The smells around you coalesce into something potent. With the fruitiness of the lolly and the headiness of Yoongi, it’s pure bliss in your nostrils and you soak it all in. There’s no pause in your sucking, licking, tugging him rough. You’re giving it your all and feeling the effects between your legs.

Suddenly.

Huffs litter around your sundress as Yoongi yanks himself out, sticking the sucker in your mouth again while holding your head. And his smile puts devils to shame when he scoffs, “Unfair, my ass.”

You giggle, sliding the pop up and down your outstretched tongue before slowly pushing it in. When you watch one of his veiny hands grip his cock, your brain resets and rewires, prompting you to be a little bit more daring.

As if this whole situation wasn’t daring enough.

You coyly slide one of your sundress straps down your arm, slowly revealing the top of a breast before going for the other side. Not enough to show everything. But enough to give him a much better view from above.

And the sound you hear in response causes pulses between your legs,

“What the fuck.”

Satisfied, you ride this high of praise and keep diligently sucking on the lolly, watching him pump himself until you can’t can’t can’t take it anymore.

It all happens in quick succession, your hand outright slapping the lollipop out of his hand before grabbing for him, shaky fingers knocking into his slick ones before slipping his dick in your mouth.

“Shit—”

His scent captures your nostrils as he bucks forward, knocking your throat and causing your gag to hit the wall. When you keep sucking, Yoongi grabs your chin, chains swaying as he rocks in, out, in, out again.

Drool and spit cover your neck, seeping onto his fingers as he keeps them where he wants. Imagining how you look in the mirror makes you moan, and imagining Yoongi watching everything from his view makes your cunt leak onto your thighs.

Fuck you wanna watch, too. What does that say about you? You’re legitimately jealous that you can’t see yourself taking Yoongi so deep he’s cursing in strings.

When you choke, it’s disgustingly loud, so he has to pull out once again just to command, “Quiet.”

“Ye—”

He’s shoved back in before you can finish one syllable, back out after a single suck before he drives his point home, “Understand?”

“Y—”

Your words are pushed down your throat again, the intensity Yoongi’s exuding rolling your eyes back and shaking your muscles. Spent and unable to speak, you nod around him, and your arms are suddenly gathered against the wall until you’re fully flushed, held up by one of his strong hands.

“Good girl.”

You brace yourself for his complete control, dick sliding down your throat and pushing tears out of your eyes. Breathing through your nose, you keep your tongue flat, taking him in until your full body gag alerts him to pull out.

As soon as he does, you buckle straight towards the mirror, eyes bursting with shock as you drink in the man watching your heaving, shimmering chest.

“This is what you do to me, doll.” When you shift your attention upward, you gulp at his smile of pride. “Can you stand?”

“I…” Holy shit, he fucked the voice right out of you. “I think so.”

“Here.”

You place your hand in his, muscles in your legs stinging at the change in position. When you go slow, Yoongi lets you, and your lips curve tenderly at the way he kisses you at your peak.

“You almost made me come,” he whispers, chuckling when you watch his eyes. “Fuckin’ hustler.”

“You didn’t want to?”

“Not yet.” Winking, Yoongi gives you another peck before getting close.

As you look in the mirror, you catch the way he kisses along your neck, his hair tickling your skin and his arms bent as he holds yours. It’s almost enough to make you feel higher than royalty, now knowing what it looks like to be feasted on by a king.

“Promise me something,” he rasps.

“Anything,” you whisper in confidence.

“It’s your turn now.” Another kiss to your ear makes you flinch. “But if you’re too loud that’s all you get.”

Bold statement coming from the guy that couldn’t stay silent. But you’re far too gone to dwell on the past so all you can do is nod in understanding. You need this. After today? You really fucking need this.

Yoongi tucks himself back in his sweats before kissing your neck again, lips leaving a trail along the tracks left by your own actions. When he gets to your chest, he gets to unwrap another treat, slowly peeling your dress down to suck on a nipple.

You almost cut the whole thing short.

A hand flies up over your mouth, and you watch your face twist in anguish in the glass. Sparks tingle from where Yoongi slides his tongue, and seeing this man in action from another viewpoint launches you across the edge instead of right to it.

You’re gonna get yourself caught. There’s no way you aren’t crying out by the time he’s done but goddamn you’ve got to keep it toge—

Deft fingers rub your other nipple, causing your body to jump forward and Yoongi to chuckle into your chest. After he squeezes, you watch as he pops off your tit. “What’d I say.”

This is the hardest thing you’ve ever done!

You can only shake your head, hand still preventing your mouth to move and your throat stinging from suppressed screams.

“That’s what I thought,” Yoongi quips before kissing the rest of your dress downward.

And the fucker didn’t even look back at the mirror. Like he already knows exactly what he looks like or doesn’t care in the slightest. All he’s focused on is you and you alone, and you’re so enamoured that you watch his head below you, too.

Calmly and surely, Yoongi lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing along your skin and gripping you tight. When he lifts a brow upward, you nod downward, bracing yourself for him to notice something else you had planned to show.

Works like a sinful charm. His reaction could be felt better than seen.

Because as soon as he notices that you don’t have any underwear on, Yoongi pours out dark amusement before giving your cunt the deepest kiss it’s ever felt.

A mewl smushes into your fingers as you cave, eyes shutting so tight as he eats you out like a man starved and never satiated.

His licks hit just right, and the way he tongues you causes stars to pierce your eyes through. Over and over and over, Yoongi is merciless in how he pleasures, and your esophagus burns and burns and burns.

Both your legs quake as he slips a finger under his tongue, and your eyes fly open just in time to see yourselves in the mirror again.

Holy fuck.

You’ve always known this man was attractive. Overwhelmingly so, in fact. But seeing him on his knees and knowing it’s not a dream makes you so dizzy your brain can’t keep up.

Yoongi’s hands flex on your skin with each minuscule grip, and his hair bunches as he moves between your legs. Your thigh covers his face, but maybe that’s for the best, because you don’t think you could handle watching his tongue while feeling it inside.

“So fucking wet,” he hisses out before diving in again, and you use your other hand to grapple a chunk of his drying hair. “Fuck.”

Yes, keep going. He’s so close to making you come you squeeze even harder. By now, your whole upper body is burning with unreleased yells and your lower body is suffering just as much. He’s too good. Way too good for a quiet house.

You can’t hold it in. You can’t you can’t you can’t.

“Yoongi, please”—your legs start to twinge with want and pending release—“Gonna come, I—”

Everything snaps as soon as he reaches to grope your ass, tugging you forward to lick a spot that has you vibrating like mad.

And your orgasm is so potent that your knees legitimately buckle, your body slipping with no purchase before you catch yourself on the wall. Waves hit you from all directions and you let out one yelp before you feel a moist hand clamp over your lips.

Oh, he’s standing now. Oh, he’s fingering you. Oh fuck, he’s talking you through your orgasm and you can’t understand him but your body reacts either way.

“—another one for me.”

Your pulses wreck your body into angles, each one shifting into another as your mouth is still covered. Yoongi’s fingers prove fatal as he leads you into a second paradise, and you cry into his hand as you come into his other—harder, stronger.

“Just like that, doll, fuck.”

Tears stream down your cheeks again as you lift, soaring into the summer skies and leaping over sleeping souls. It’s too much to keep inside. Too powerful to not let out all at once.

“—this fucking dress.”

You don’t know what’s being said. Nor do you care. Your body is so spent from the vicious tempest and all the energy leaves you at once.

“Uh uh.”

What.

“One more for me,” Yoongi goads. “And you’re gonna watch this time.”

Your chest beats and beats as his fingers pump slow, and your head lolls to the side as you catch sight of your salacious act in the mirror.

Immediately, you know exactly why he said that. Watching the way his arms bulge with effort is encouragement enough to stay upright. With each thrust, you can see your dress hitching with your arches, and Yoongi dives into your neck to strike lightning.

“Baby—” You feel it. You feel a third wave incoming and its crest seems higher than the rest.

“Come for me,” he whispers, his dark bangs peeking from behind your neck in the mirror and his throat stretching out. “And don’t fucking scream.”

Fuck! Your hand grips your mouth so bad it will leave soreness. But water pulls you under and twists you like a ragdoll. Unlike the other times, this orgasm quivers your legs to the point where Yoongi teases. And he can’t stop praising you for being naughty, for letting him in here, for letting him destroy you while everyone’s here.

“I love it,” you whoosh out into his throat, voice cracked and chipped. “Fuck, I love it.”

“I know you do.” Another deep set of laughs. “You’re a problem.”

Head lolling forward, you slowly slip right into Yoongi’s arms before he helps you stand. “Come on,” he leads, walking you a short distance to your bed before chuckling at your cartoonish collapse.

Some moments pass. One, two, four or five more. Even the room seems to swim a little in your vision when you struggle to open your eyes.

Finally, after breathing hard, you can only manage a gravelly, “Holy shit.”

Yoongi laughs soft before wiping your forehead. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, chest heaving and heaving. “I’ll be good.”

Fingers still wisping across your face, he praises, “So beautiful.”

You finally calm your pulse before you slide your hand over his cock. “Did you come?”

“Nah.”

Looks like you aren’t done. “Mm,” you whisper, trying your best to prop yourself up. “Lie down for me.”

“You sure?”

You nod with heavy eyes, and he slowly occupies your bed while you caress him again. So smooth and so tender before squeezing just right.

It’s already almost enough because Yoongi throws his head onto your pillow. “Goddamn.”

When you slip his sweats down, you use willpower alone to consume him again. You will not rest until he’s fully content, too. With this in mind, your cheeks and jaw work overtime.

You want this, want this, want this. He gave you the world and then some, you can run on fumes to make him a mess. After all, you’re drunk off the pleasurable cocktail he just concocted with his tongue. This will carry you despite your functioning levels in the trenches.

“Babe—”

For a split second, you forget where you are. Your eyelids droop so low and your body twinges with aftershocks as you spit right onto his cock, sliding your lips along his pretty length before you feel him tug your sheets.

“Shit.”

He’s close. He doesn’t even have to tell you. You can tell by the way his body reacts and bends and folds, and you quickly decide what that means for you.

Because you could swallow.

But you instead make your way to the floor, commanding him before realizing just how authoritative and raspy you sound,

“Sit up.”

Right as he does, you pump him right above your exposed chest, shocking him so abruptly his low groan shakes your core,

“Oh, fuck—”

Hot, thick spurts land all over you, his release your only focus and not the pain in your knees from hitting the floor in round two. As his head rolls back, you watch with heightened pride, loving the way he looks lost in delicious, honeyed ecstasy.

And just like that, both of you are satisfied. Both of you got what you needed and wanted from this… hot summer… day…

There was a sound outside your door, further down the hall but fucking close enough.

And holy shit his cum is on your tits.

Holy shit holy shit this is the absolute last thing you should’ve let him do what the fuck what the fuck!

If anyone sees you like this you are both finished. Cooked. Banished.

You glance at the door, body locking and hands massive weights at your side.

One second.

Two seconds.

You’re fully awake now.

Four seconds.

Nothing else happens. Your ears strain wildly but you don’t hear any noises in succession, and you wonder if it was just a snore or something similar.

Sighing, you breathe out relief before peering straight up.

And the look you get in return is pure, primal hunger.

Yoongi’s never looked like this. Maybe he’s come close that one time before, but this is much different.

What is this? His pupils are magnified and his lids are lowered in fire, stoking the heat within you and clutching your cunt with his eyes alone. You’re so wet that you can come again if he so much as touched you. “Baby?”

Yoongi simply grazes your cheek with his knuckles. “Just want this in my phone so fucking bad.”

Oh. Well, fuck.

You blink at his shamelessness. But it makes you so exhilarated and shy that you resort to your default—cracking jokes. Of all the things he could’ve mentioned like the sound outside or possibly getting caught and dragged to hell he decides he wants your pictures in his phone. Right.

“Happy you painted me like Picasso?” You laugh before you can even finish, but so does Yoongi as he throws his head back.

Immediately, the atmosphere calms. “You heard that earlier?”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He is.” Yoongi helps you up and onto your bed before he asks, “Towels in your bathroom?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Under the sink.”

You watch as he goes to fetch them, heart pulsing extra hard at his consideration. When he bustles around in a room you use everyday, it’s surreal to witness. Both unnatural, but so natural at the same time.

He’s careful not to make loud sounds, gently closing your cabinets and coming back with a cloth he ran under water.

A sudden pang hits your chest and you have no clue why.

Is it because you’ll never see him in there again? Or is it because of the conversation you just brought up?

Maybe both. The convo from earlier today still rings in your ears, everyone hounding Yoongi about the scratches you left on his back. They were old but still very visible. You need to be more mindful of what you can and can’t do right now.

As Yoongi wipes your shivering chest, you ask something that’s been weighing on your mind, “Did I get you in even more trouble?”

He just looks at you before finishing his cooling task, raising straps back onto your shoulders. “Course you did.”

Ah. He didn’t seem bothered, but your apology follows him as he goes to pick up the abandoned candy from earlier. “Sorry. I didn’t think about it at the time.”

“S’ok. Hope you’re fine being some chick from outta town, though.”

Your chuckle hurts your throat on the way out. Not from disappointment, but from the very man you’re talking to. “I can deal with that. Is she nasty?”

It takes a bit for him to discard everything. When he comes back, he bends down to answer,

“So fuckin’ nasty.”

You giggle right into his kiss. Fully spent, your arms around his neck pull him in close, and his rough laugh makes your legs even weaker. “Can’t believe we just did all that.”

“Same.”

“Guess you like the dress, huh?”

A hand comes up to squeeze your thigh. “Dunno. Might have to see it again when the sun’s out.”

“Ass.”

“You get it.”

“Wow.”

Yoongi hisses amusement, shifting to lay beside you across your bed. When he does, light from the window hits him just right, and you fall silent at once.

So perfect. So unfair.

“I think this is my favorite,” you admit, not giving him full context. So when he wordlessly asks for it, you reach up and caress his cheek. “When you look happy.”

“I am,” he says after a pause. “Cus of you.”

You feel starlight in your own eyes. “I’m happy, too.”

For this, Yoongi doesn’t need to ask for more context at all.

The lingering fear of being caught is still there, but it’s not as present now. Maybe it’s because you’re both content again, but you don’t feel too stressed.

Did you want to get caught that whole time? Surely not when things were going down.

But what about now? If someone saw you lost in each others’ stars, would you care if they plucked you from the sky?

Staring into this man’s eyes, you can’t bring yourself to say you would.

“When will I see you again?” you blurt out of nowhere.

At this, Yoongi props his head up with an elbow. “When do you want to?”

“Tomorrow.”

His chest bobs with his laugh. “I’ll make sure to see you before I head out then.”

You nod, eyes shutting when Yoongi goes in for another kiss.

Another kiss is how you frame it. Because a final kiss is too painful to think about.

Yoongi has to leave. You know he literally cannot stay.

But facts and logic don’t make this parting any easier, and your heart breaks when he slips out of your bed.

It’s too soon. Yes, it’s also way past the time he should be in your room, but it’s too fucking soon.

Your chest burns. Sears make fiery ridges along your ribs until they overtake your heart, creeping closer and closer.

Until Yoongi bends to kiss you again, fingers slotting into yours and squeezing some liquid out of your eyes.

But his rasp gives you pause, “I did, by the way.”

Blinking, you feel him swipe at oncoming tears when you ask, “You did what?”

“Have fun.”

Oh. Wait, he’s answering the text you sent? You already forgot about that. Ages ago. “Good,” you say with a slight ghost of a smile. “It looked like you were having a good time. And I.. Really liked seeing you laugh.”

Yoongi just stares, thoughts and emotions skimming across his eyes. When you reach up to cradle his cheek, they then slip shut, brows dipping as he presses into you further. “You were the reason,” he admits with no hesitation.

Don’t cry more. Not now.

He gives you one more hug, and you cradle his head into your skin. “Good night, baby,” you whisper so softly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

When he does the same to yours, you wonder if his reaction was also reminiscent of tiny sparklers on a summer night.

“Night, doll.”

The steps he takes all stomp on your heart.

But you find solace in the hopeful future. One where you can stand next to him at summer barbecues, or host them with him, or just simply be anywhere with him.

But mostly, you’re yearning for a future where you don’t have to keep watching him leave through a door.

But come back through one.

fin. :)

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actiniumwrites · 3 months ago

Text

patches

synopsis: even though you’re both self-proclaimed enemies, they can’t bear to see you hurt. or in which, you show up at your enemies door all bloodied and bruised and they’re forced to take care of you

characters: xiao, gaming, alhaitham, and arlecchino x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, crying, enemies to lovers, some of them are kinda mean, extremely mild misunderstandings, probably swearing idk

notes: i’m in a massive enemies to lovers kick right now omg you guys don’t understand. this was also inspired by arlecchino’s voiceline from a heavy hit or something where she says, “wanted my full attention, did you?” she’s so fine i’m sobbing 😖

Xiao:

It was a relatively quiet night before you showed up at Xiao’s room at the Wangshu Inn. For the first time in a while, he had felt a semblance of peace. That was until the indistinguishable scent of blood forced itself in his nose and a weak knock sounded at his door.

Xiao opens it immediately. He doesn’t care to know who it is, but rather what they want with him at nearly three in the morning. No one ever bothers Xiao this late. Not unless it was serious.

“What do you—“ he starts harshly but stops mid sentence when he recognizes your face. You’re doused in blood, your clothes all ripped up. And god, you look so weak it almost makes him feel bad for you. “Get inside,” he grabs your arm harshly, but still manages to avoid all your injuries.

You start to speak, but your mouth is full of blood too. He can barely understand what you’re saying aside from a bunch of nonsensical, I’m sorries. And if your injuries weren’t enough to show it, the fact that you’re apologizing to him at all tells him something is seriously wrong. Most of the time you talk to him it’s a bunch of insults thrown back and forth, some even result in physical fighting. Neither of you have been able to get along for centuries, yet here you are getting patched up in his house.

Xiao remains mostly silent as he sets you on the counter and pulls out his medical supplies. First he cleans up all the excess blood with a cloth before tossing it aside and moving to work on the actual injury itself. You can’t help but watch him, feeling nothing but shame as you do. You couldn’t help it. There was no one else you could think to go to.

“You are unbelievably weak and irresponsible. It’s idiotic to think you could ever handle anything in this world, not even a few monsters,” he grumbles between stitches, “Pathetic.”

You just stare at him as tears well up in your eyes. You aren’t one to cry. In fact, you can’t even remember the last time something so bad happened that you did. But sitting here, terrified of the monsters that had you within an inch of your life combined with Xiao’s cold words made you completely shatter inside and out.

Quietly, you sob into your other half-cleaned arm, “I know. You don’t have to say it.” You begin to get up right after, mumbling about it being a mistake coming here but he pushes your knee back down before you can fully stand up.

Xiao looks up surprised from where he sits as he does, his hands drop the thread and needle against the counter. Without word, he stands up and furrows his brows. “I should not have said what I said,” he practically whispers, a twinge of embarrassment hitting him too. A darker look shades his gentle amber irises as he stares into yours, “I don’t entirely dislike you. As stupid as your actions may have been, seeing you injured makes me…upset.”

“They weren’t normal monsters,” you breathe out between the remaining sobs that still involuntarily leave your mouth. You know you don’t owe him an explanation, but you figured you could at least make it known you weren’t taken out by some random hilichurls. “I was down in the Chasm. Those…things weren’t anything like I’ve ever seen before. I didn’t even have time to react.”

Xiao nods and places the last bandage on your face, “You shouldn’t go down there by yourself. It’s too dangerous. The last time I was there I hardly escaped.”

“What do you mean?” you raise a brow, your interest suddenly peaked. Xiao wipes the remaining tears off of your face in silence before turning to walk away.

“Call for me next time and I’ll be there.”

Gaming:

Gaming and you had gotten off on the wrong foot when you first met each other years ago. As children, you always felt like he stole your spotlight and he never seemed to care. And as you got older, it never seemed to go away. You constantly bickered and loathed having to see each other whenever one another’s name was brought up.

Yet whenever you got hurt, he was always the first person you went to. Although normally, it was for small things like paper cuts and bruised elbows. Not for your face having a cut so deep you could barely see and an arm twisted out of place like today.

“Fuck,” you mutter as you bang on his door, hoping it was the right one. There was too much blood in your eyes. Every door in the village looks the same right now, and even if it is the right one, you aren’t sure he’s even home. “Please be home,” you pace back and forth. Gaming stopped asking questions years ago when it first started.

You were forced to go with him after a group of bandits had found and beat you up, taking nearly everything you had in your bag. Gaming had found you while on delivery, and like the sweet guy he is, he stopped and helped you even though you could both barely stand each other. He didn’t want to see you dead either.

You weren’t often hurt, but it became somewhat of a cycle whenever you were. You were a nice person, well liked by most, but you also enjoyed stirring up trouble and it often landed you in some pretty hot water countless times. You knew Gaming wouldn’t say anything to anyone or turn you away like other people would. And above all, you like the kinder side of him whenever he patched you up, which he was good at too.

“Gaming!” your fist pounds on the door again. It’s almost nightfall and a few villagers have begun staring. You almost go to knock again, but your body begins to give out. You mumble a few more curse words before the door opens and you fall forward, directly onto the very person you were looking for.

“Ow ow ow, oh my god my arm!”

“Sorry! Is that blood?! What happened to you?”

“I don’t know! Ask the guys who thought my joke wasn’t funny.”

Gaming picks you up off the floor in a state of panic and rushes you to the bathroom. Luckily for you both, his dad isn’t home to see all of this.

Gaming begins to wipe the blood off your face and examine the cut that runs all the way from your forehead to your cheek, narrowly missing your eye. “This is bad,” he says and begins rummaging through his drawers for medical supplies.

You scoff, “Yeah, you think?”

“You didn’t have to come here, you know. You should’ve gone to a doctor,” he bites back nicely. Sometimes you wish he would just be a little meaner to you. It was easier to hate him that way.

You quiet down and let him take care of your face, “I’m sorry. You’re the only one who I can actually trust to take care of me.”

Gaming hides a small smile while avoiding eye contact with you. Not that you could even see, but just in case. He’d never admit it, but he actually really enjoys when you go to him for help. He’s never resented you like you’ve resented him, but he never bothered to change it either. Somehow he hoped bandaging you up would make you change your mind about him.

“It’s alright,” he says softly, pouring disinfectant onto a small cloth and wiping the cut gently. You wince and he places a hand on your upper arm to silently comfort you, “If you want some good news, you don’t need stitches on your face.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, having always hated needles, “Thank god.”

“But you will have to see a doctor for your arm. There’s no way for me to fix that on my own,” he says bashfully, “I can maybe…take you if you’d like?”

You peer up at him, shocked at the question. Perhaps this could be a new start between the two of you, and you’re not so against it.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Alhaitham:

It’s pouring outside when Alhaitham hears banging on his front door. At first, he ignores it thinking it was just Kaveh forgetting his keys again and he doesn’t care enough to let him in. But the banging persists and then comes the faint sound of pained sobs.

He slams his book shut and groans as he gets up and trudges angrily to the door. He swings it open only to be met with the sight of you clutching your waist, barely keeping yourself standing as the rain envelopes you.

“Please,” you whisper weakly.

Alhaitham scoffs, “Really? I’m not a doctor, go somewhere else.” He begins to shut the door, and he almost does so successfully before you collapse on the floor, blood beginning to mix with the puddle outside his door. And there’s a lot of it.

The next thing you know, you’re in your least favorite scholar’s arms as he carries you to his room. He sets you on a chair and you take the time to take in what his room looks like. It isn’t much different than you expected, yet you never thought you’d see it.

“Don’t move. I don’t want you making any more of a mess than you already have,” he sneers, walking off to the bathroom connected to his room to grab out a small bag of medical supplies. When he returns you’re blankly staring ahead of you, barely conscious as tears start running down your face. It’s like you don’t even know you’re crying. Alhaitham stares at you for a moment in utter disbelief before snapping in your face, “Take your shirt off.”

“Huh?” you snap out of your daze, confusedly wiping your tears as you do so. A few sniffles leave your nose as you do so.

“Do you want help or not?” he snaps again, losing his patience with you. He’s beginning to seriously regret not leaving you on his doorstep. You quickly follow his instructions, taking off your shirt to reveal a huge cut stemming from one side of your stomach to the other.

Alhaitham’s eyes slightly widen in shock, and he almost can’t pull them away. For a brief moment, you even catch them soften but it’s fleeting and doesn’t give you enough time to register that maybe the stoic scribe really does care for you, even just a little bit.

You both sit in complete silence as he begins working. You catch his eyes every so often, but he quickly looks back down at the injury before either of you can speak on it.

“Who was it?” Alhaitham grumbles as he finishes wrapping it up, his arms wrapped around your waist. The feeling of his hands distracts you from the question.

“What?”

“The people that did this. Who was it?” he repeats it, more anger this time around. You shake your head and look off to the side.

“I don’t know. It was too dark to get a good look at them,” you try to explain, but Alhaitham doesn’t have any of it. You’re not sure why, but he doesn’t seem like the normal him. The guy that normally finds any and every chance to torment you.

He gets up and grabs the bag, noting something down on a nearby piece of paper and shoving it in the left pocket of his pants before angrily walking out the door of his bedroom, “I’ll be back.”

“Wait! Don’t go,” Your hand reaches out and grabs his. You pull back suddenly, not realizing how impulsive your decision was until it was too late. You go to mumble a sorry, but before you can, you find your hand back in his.

You stare at him in shock, but he just squeezes your shaking hand. “Stay here,” he says somehow both coldly and warmly at once, pulling the blankets back and gesturing to his bed, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Where are you going?”

“To deal with the people that hurt you.”

Arlecchino:

You wince as the door swings open aggressively, not expecting Arlecchino to open the door before you could even think to knock.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, squinting her eyes so as to scale you up and down. For a moment, they linger over your bloodstained clothes and the already bruising cuts that litter your body. You don’t notice the way they widen in shock for a moment, too distracted by the adrenaline wearing off.

You still manage to crack an arrogant smile and sarcastically mutter, “Couldn’t think of anyone worth patching me up but you.”

Without waiting for a response, you push past her figure and let yourself inside already knowing where the infirmary is. Although, you don’t make it two steps before your legs give out and your body tumbles toward the hardwood floors.

The clicking of heels stops from just beside you before a strong hand grips your arm and aggressively pulls you up, “Don’t dirty my floors. The children worked hard to clean those today.”

“Yeah? Well they can clean them again tomorrow,” you grumble and weakly attempt to push her hand off of your body. Arlecchino doesn’t budge, however. She instead drags you all the way to the infirmary and sets you down on one of the beds.

“Wow these are surprisingly comfortable. Didn’t know you had it in you to be so accommodating to all the children you like to hold hostage,” you tease to keep yourself from focusing on the pain. She ignores you and instead places a firm hand on your uninjured chest and slams your back against the bed.

Immediately, she begins working on all the little cuts and gently wipes all the blood away, saving your bigger injuries to be dealt with in a moment. For now, she didn’t mind if you suffered for a little longer.

“So,” Arlecchino starts after a few minutes of silence, finally deeming it worthy to have a real conversation with you, “was this your way of getting my full attention? If you wanted me to notice you, you should have just said something.”

“What? No! I got attacked, I wasn’t trying to ‘get your attention’ or whatever.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I really wasn’t,” you cross your arms and turn your head away from her, “I was scared, you know? I didn’t know who else to go to. Make fun of me all you want, but it’s the truth.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t say anything more after the conversation takes its turn. You’re glad she doesn’t, not wanting to engage in the horrible embarrassment you already felt from having to show up here anyway. She was the last person you’d want to have see your weakness, yet here you are covered in the House of the Hearth’s bandages.

When Arlecchino is done with stitching up your leg, she moves to your face and gently brushes away the blood. And cut by cut, she heals each one and leaves you feeling brand new again. You stare up at her for a brief moment, unable to look anywhere else when the red X’s in her eyes are so focused on you.

“So who did it?” She asks suddenly, her tone a little more caring than before. It almost shocks you, but then again, deep down you knew she cared more than she let on. No matter how much either of you didn’t get along, you always had her back. Even if she didn’t know it. You always liked the think that she had yours too.

You sigh and scribble down a few names on a nearby clipboard left by the bed, “That’s only a few of them…the ones I was able to get talking before everything happened. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding their leader though.”

Her eyes scan over the paper before she glances back at you and nods. She begins to walk away but stops at the doorway and calls out over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in the morning. My room is on the second floor, last door at the end of the hall. I expect to find you resting there when I return.”

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mintmatcha · 1 year ago

Text

one, two, and....

Hanamaki x reader x Matsukawa

cw: cisfem reader, threesome, PIV sex, squirting

a/n: I've been working on this forever and I think it's time to release it into the world. Originally it was supposed to have three different endings to choose from, so maybe one day I'll release the Snyder Cut With all three lol!

"I've been thinking of starting an OnlyFans."

You and Makki turn to your friend, sharing identical blank expressions. Mattsun doesn't crack a smile, eyes never leaving the television screen. With a few swipes of his thumbs, the dark-haired man has knocked your video game character off of the map with absolutely no mercy, forcing you to half heartedly return to playing.

"You kinda gotta be hot for that," Makki chides. He's been dead for a while now, so he just tosses his controller to the side. He's on the other side of his friend, leaning back away from the arm of the couch with a half-cocked smile.

"I am hot. Like, really hot," Mattsun replies, "And I have a pornstar cock."

A heat washes over your face and drains down your whole body. You can't deny it: Matsukawa Issei is hot. Like, really hot. Even in the low light, with only the neon flickering of the television illuminating the sharp angles of his face, he's beautiful. Heavy lidded eyes and thin lips that break into a troublesome grin-- it's almost tragic how beautiful he is.

You'd give your right leg for either of them to think of you as anything other than a 'bro'.

"Shut the fuck up." You're jamming the controller too hard and the plastic whines under the pressure, " 'Pornstar cock.' As if. You're such an asshole."

"Nah, that's true. He does have a massive cock." Makki nods, sticking his tongue through the gap between his canine and molar. He's cuter than his dark haired friend, with round cheeks that dimple when he laughs and round eyes that almost disappear when he smiles. It's a different type of hot-- an imperfect one that you crave all the same.

"Oh, you've seen his dick?" you ask, a bit sarcastically. They did play sports in high school; it's possible a penis popped out in the changing rooms.

"Duh." Makki puffs his chest, "We've had a threeway."

That's news. A sticky, dark feeling clings to your chest. It's wrong of you to want either of them, and yet you want both-- the idea that someone else beat you to it makes your stomach flip.

“It was a good one too.” Mattsun says. He doesn't even bawk, clearly more concerned with the game than this.

“Aww, it’s always good with you, babe.” Makki blows a kiss, with a flourish of his wrist, "That hand job? Phenomenal."

Your character dies in a blaze of color and lights, it's sad little noise soon drowned out by victory music. Mattsun tosses his controller to the side, pumping his fist in a rather calm victory. You quickly exit out of the game and let the opening screen loop, your mood soured.

"You guys are just fucking with me,” you grumble.

“Like I’d ever joke about sex.” Makki sends you a wink and you hate that it makes your cheeks a little hot.

“It’s the only thing he takes seriously," Mattsun agrees. They both elbow each other conspiratorially, sharing a laugh that might be at your expense. Mattsun’s dark eyes flicker to you and his wolfish smile grows toothier as he draws his gaze down, raking over every inch of your body. Oh, they are definitely lying. Your jealousy immediately drains from your body.

“Are you -?”

You interrupt Mattsun before he can even finish.

“Prove it then."

Both men turn in unison, Makki’s eyes wide and Mattsun’s narrowed.

“Prove you’re had a threesome,” you clarify with a shrug. Your voice is dripping with victory and you can barely keep the grin from your face.

“How can we prove that?” Mattsun laughs, “I didn’t take pictures.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Kiss each other.”

“What?” It's Makki's turn to laugh.

“Kiss each other,” you repeat, making a jerk off motion in the air, “You guys rubbed cocks, but you won’t kiss? Really?”

They share a quick glance, communicating silently between themselves with fleeting expressions and pointing chins. Mattsun suddenly scoffs, turning back to you with a raised brow. Neither of them say anything and you know you’re won.

“‘I’m going to start an OnlyFans,’” you taunt, “‘I have a huge cock.’ ‘I’ve had so many threesomes.’ You’re such bad liars.”

Makki moves first. He presses forward on to his hands, gripping his friend’s thigh as he leans in head first. He lingers in the lack of space he's created, nose brushing up against his friends. They share a couple of unheard words before Mattsun closes the gap between them with a lazy tilt of his head, lips just barely touching the others in the faintest of kisses. Before you can claim that a kiss that chaste doesn’t count, Makki moves again, swinging a leg over to straddle Mattsun in a practiced move. You gasp out loud as they meet again, mouths parted and tongue sliding against each other.

Then, it’s a tangle. Mattsun’s fingers are woven into strawberry blonde hair, dragging him closer to catch Makki’s lip in between his teeth. He seems to enjoy the pain; Makki’s hums of approval rumble so deep you can feel it resonate in your chest, filling the space between your ribs with a burning desire. Hands wander, gripping shirts and hips and the back of each other's necks, barely giving them space to pull in a breath. It’s pornographic, the way they grind into each other, rutting like dogs. If it's an act- it’s a good one. Through the thick fabric of his jeans, you swear you can see the outline of Makki’s cock against his thigh, waiting for attention.

You want attention too-- you're dripping for it. You push back into the arm of the couch and clamp your legs together, hoping to smother the want that's built there. Part of you wonders if they’d ever notice if your hand slipped down the front of your pants; they’re so lost in the moment that you think they’ve forgotten you exist.

Just as you debate it, hand on the buckle of your belt, Makki’s head snaps your way knowingly. The dark haired man doesn't stop though; Mattsun's lips immediately latch onto the base of his neck, sucking a hickey on to freckled skin.

“C’mere.” There’s a pitch to Makki's voice as teeth sink in right before his Adam's apple. "C'mere."

There’s no time to hesitate. Makki’s hand clamps around your ankle and tugs, sliding you closer and trapping your legs between the men’s bodies. You barely manage to remain sitting up and you almost immediately regret not falling over. Makki is too close, watching you with a hazed over expression that makes your stomach twist tight.

Somehow, Mattsun is unphased, eyes so heavily lidded that you can barely make out how they flicker to you. At least, you think he’s unaffected, until one of his fingers catches under one of your belt loops. They pull you closer together, folding you until you're angled awkwardly beside them, legs still trapped.

"I-" you start, a pant to your voice. Sometimes you forget how tall they both are, but right now you are very aware; they both tower over you, a hunger in their eyes you barely recognize. "You guys-"

"Dude," Makki's breath tickles against your cheek, "Shut up."

"Yeah." Mattsun agrees into the soft of your neck, sarcastic as always, "Read the room."

The chaos of both of them slowly envelops you. Makki's lips meet yours as Mattsun's teeth nip and all you can do is gasp as every nerve in your body flares. It's overwhelming to be the center of both of their desires, being tugged and pulled back and forth, someone's hands digging into the soft of your stomach, someone else unbuttoning your pants.

When you break away to breathe, Mattsun is there, catching you right where Makki left off. He kisses differently- lazier, slower. His counterpart kissed you so roughly your lips burn where his teeth once were; Mattsun approaches with a feather touch, barely enough to satiate your need for him.

Hands snake across your back and around to your tits, greedily cupping them through your shirt. Somehow, you've migrated, now straddling Mattsun's lap with Makki at your back. Your bra gaps and gives and Makki grumbles in annoyance.

“Issei,” You’ve never heard Makki use his first name before, “Unhook her bra.”

Mattsun finishes the kiss, lingering, savoring, watching with his deep, dreamy eyes.

“Do it yourself.” His voice is practically a sigh. You want to melt into him, sinking into him to slot your mouths together.

"You know, last week Issei over here told me how bad he wants to suck your tits," Makki whispers into the shell of your ear. A warm touch slips under your shirt and your bra suddenly feels loose. You lean back enough to give the blonde enough space to go back to kneading your breasts and this time his long fingers roll your nipple between them, "He's been hard for you for a while now.'

A twitch has started in your legs, trembling tight as the hot feeling inside you screws tighter and tighter. The way your jeans sit gives you nothing to grind against, not even the rock hard cock that's pressed into your thigh. It's thick -- much thicker than you expected.

"I wanna suck them too, obviously," Makki continues, "I wanna put my mouth everywhere."

He pecks your earlobe. "Wanna suck your clit while you struggle to take Issei's cock."

Mattsun hums in approval as he grabs your hips, tugging your hips impossibly closer, "If she can even take it."

That turns your core molten. They want you-- they want you the way you want them. You wish they'd keep talking and blab about all of their dirty whims and wants-

"Yeah," you breathe, "Yeah, I can take it."

Mattsun slips his hand from your legs and ghosts them up to your waistband. The open button of your jeans makes it easy for him to slide in, dipping down under your panties. His fingers are wide, brushing against the cleft of your pussy delicately.

"She isn't shaved." He talks like you aren't there, looking over your shoulder to his friend.

"Oh, I like that," Makki chirps. The ministrations haven't stopped; he's still rolling and squeezing and pinching, watching for what makes you wiggle and gasp. He finds a good motion just as the heel of Mattsun's palm grinds against your clit. Those massive fingers waste no time, forcing their way inside you. The suddenness stretches you tender.

All three sensations combine and suddenly your brain is fuzzy-- your eyes can even stay focused. It's too much, it's not enough; you squirm and you can't tell if you're trying to get away or get more.

"Oh shit," Mattsun chuckles, scissoring his fingers side to side. This time you yelp-- mostly out of surprise -- and that spurs him on further. "There's no way you're fitting me. Fuck, I don't know if you'd fit Hiro."

"You're making me sound shrimpy."

"Shrimpier than me."

"I'm not shrimpy! Dude's like, inches longer than the national average. I've checked."

"You named your cock Dude?"

"Oi, it's a good-"

You cut in, voice flat. You love them both, but the quips just aren't that sexy when you're those horny, "Please stop doing-- that--" Oh, your voice is broken/, "You're killing my orgasm."

"Oh shit, you gonna cum?" Mattsun realizes, grinding back down again. That sparks something in you again, but not quite as bright, but your body cramps at the thought of not chasing it. "You that sensitive?"

"Love an easy girl," Makki chirps.

"I was going to-" You shook a glance between them, both sheepish and grinning- "until you guys opened your mouths."

"Aw, does that mean the threesome is off?" Makki says that as he's lifting your shirt up. You help, letting him strip your top bare.

"No," you admit in a low voice, "I wanna keep going.”

They exchange a look and you swear they are mentally high fiving each other. You wriggle off your pants and they both sudden spring into action, afraid of this moment passing by.

"You should ask Hiro to fuck you first." Mattsun pulls his own shirt off, "Let him stretch you out nice and good for me."

"Nah, fuck Issei first," Makki is quick to say, "I like sloppy seconds."

You don't have to think about it.

"Mattsun."

You're too greedy to wait.

Mattsun dips his thumbs under your panties and gently lowers them as he dips his face into the crook of your neck. There’s a surprising amount of stubble on his face- more than you’ve ever noticed before- tickling the softest softs of you. “These are really cute by the way.”

You clearly weren’t expecting to get dick today; you’re in your full coverage, full butt panties, the ones that hang out in the back of your drawer and digs a bit too much into your hips. “Really?”

He tries to bite back his smile, tongue poked deep in his cheek as he helps you off of the couch and onto the floor. You can’t help but wonder the last time these guys vacuumed as you watch the brunette lay down, urging you on to this lap with gentle hands. You end up on his thighs, just low enough that the lump in his pants is right above you.

"Yeah. They’re like, I dunno, homey. Comfortable. " He runs his hand up your sides. The other man doesn’t join; Makki just scooches the coffee table over with his foot to clear a space for him to watch. His palm is pressing into the noticeable swell on his pants as he watches, eyes flickering between the two of you. Suddenly, your least favorite pair of underwear is your favorite. You can't help but preen and pose, arching your back and cupping a tit coyishly.

"You just gonna sit there and watch?" you tease, even though your heart is racing, “It’s not really a three way without you.”

"Hey, this is free OnlyFans content! I’m gonna enjoy it!” He jerks his chin towards his friend, "Plus, I wanna see your reaction.”

Your eyes roll themselves at that. You turn back to Mattsun, waiting for him to laugh or tease, but he just watches you back, an overly cocky smile smeared across his lips.

“Are we really going to pretend your cock is that big?” You let your fingers trail down his bare chest and hope he can’t feel like them tremble. God, you can see it kick through the denim. It’s getting harder and harder to tease him now that they both know you want this.

“You’re so right,” Mattsun’s voice drips with sarcasm, “I’m tiny.”

He finally pops the top to his jeans and snakes them down. The light blue pattern of his briefs does nothing to conceal the growing sticky stain that's formed on the front. Most of his length is still hidden under the denim, but the bit you can see is….

Fuck, that that cannot be a cock. Maybe a fucking TV remote.

“So fucking small, huh?” You realize you’re making a face when he starts laughing.

“What a shame,” he continues as he frees the rest, “Hot guy with a micro-- you should pity fuck me or something.”

It’s pretty. That’s the fucked up part about it. The head is a soft pink, glazed wet with precum, fading into a surprising tan color. It’s thicker than your wrist, with a single vein down the underside and would be perfect to drag your tongue across. Mattsun gives himself a single, slow pump, pulling a perfect droplet of clear liquid from his slit. With the other hand, he takes your wrist and pulls your touch to his, letting you grip his length. Your thumb and middle finger barely connect.

“Hey, Issei?”

“Yeah?”

Your fingers pulse, testing the firmness. There’s some give-- he’s not even fully hard.

“You were right, this is a pornstar cock.”

Mattsun rolls his eyes and gives you another toothy grin. His legs spread wider, therefore spreading yours too- so far that your labia slips free from the short fabric of your panties. The damp skin feels cold against the air, but the heat of anticipation is making you sweat.

“I told you.” Makki chimes in. You hadn’t realized that he had moved until his voice was rumbling against the fat of your ass. He’s the one who’s spread Mattsun’s legs, crawling in between them on hands and knees to press kisses against your back. “You gonna take it?”

You’re not sure you can. It’s a comical amount of dick, but your pride won’t let you back out. “I’ve taken bigger.”

“Oh yeah?” Your underwear digs further into your skin as Makki tugs it to the side and completely frees your cunt. “‘cause it looks pretty small back here.”

With a squelch, two fingers slip easily into you, reaching and curling deep. A moan hits you like a punch, crumpling you at the waist. Hands on Mattsun’s shoulders, you just brace yourself as Makki eases out and pushes back in, this time a bit slower.

“Are you sure you aren’t a virgin?” He wriggles for effect and your body clenches around him in response.

“Oi, lemme feel.” Mattsun’s hand pushes through the petals of you. Just as you think Makki’s going to pull away to give Mattsun space, the stretch grows more intense; two sets of hands are crammed into you, knuckles brushing against each other, and it makes your vision starred.

“Oh-” Your voice hollows out on you, “My god--”

It’s all you can do to take it, letting them squelch and move and prod asynchronistically. It’s clumsy and strange and honestly a bit weird, but your body seems to disagree; excitement is literally dripping from you, running down your thighs and smearing across their hands, popping and slicking and practically leaking. They’re treating you like a toy, you realize, exploring instead of trying to please you.

Someone's talking. Your brain tries to fight through the fog of pleasure to figure out what's being said, but the pulses and twitches of pleasure running through every muscle in your body are simply louder. Everything inside you is teetering towards the brink in a way you're never felt before. It's not like any other pleasure you've ever felt-- it's internal, it's uncomfortable, it's----

And everything lets go. You're cumming, you think. You realized your eyes have been closed this whole time, too absorbed in what's happening inside you.

"Ohmygodohmygod." It's been your voice this whole time. When you finally come down, you realize the two have gone still, just watching you.

"Damn." Makki whistles low."Do you always squirt?"

Oh, you burn with embarrassment. You tey to close your legs but there's two men in between them. "I've never done that before."

"That's so hot."

“Fuck,” Mattsun is trying to angle your hips with one hand and adjust his cock with the other, angling for your hole, “I’m gonna cum so quick, it’s gonna be embarrassing.”

Trepidation turns your stomach. You're wet all the way down your thighs, but Mattsun is a monster-- it's going to ache no matter what.

"Go slow, okay?"

"Aw, you'll take what I give you." Mattsun rolls his eyes with a smile, running his cock head through your folds. His cock slips and misses a couple times, prodding where it shouldn't be.

"You're embarrassing me," Makki whines, "Let me fucking do it."

Two fingers spread your pussy lips open wide. You can't see, but the strawberry blonde must be holding his friend's cock now because it immediately finds where it wants to be; the head catches against your opening and sinks in ever so slightly. You have to will yourself to relax and not fight the intrusion-- even though the stretch is wild//.

"Hey," Makki taps your thigh and you realize you're shaking. The pleasure and the discomfort are different sides to the same coin- both make your toes curl and your breath hitch as Mattsun sinks deeper and deeper.

"You have a pornstar pussy, baby." A finger runs over where your body meets cock and you can feel how taut you're stretched. Your body pulses at that realization and it rips a groan from the man under you. "It's so sexy to see you get ruined like that."

"Oh, it feels so fucking good too," Mattsun gasps. He looks so good like this, with pink cheeks and sweat touched hair. His pretty lips are pressed together with effort, trying to hold himself steady and he carefully gives you more and more.

Fuck, you swear you can feel him in your guts and he's not even halfway in. Your toes are curling from the pressure alone, but you refuse to make any noise about it; you’re not going to stroke his ego anymore. You can handle him putting it in-

"I'm gonna eat your ass-- is that cool?"

Makki doesn't wait for a reply. The sloppy wet prod of his tongue against your skin is the breaking point. It feels strange and wrong in the most delightful ways and your body absolutely betrays you again; your head is absolutely swimming as you bump and grind into both men, taking more cock than you can handle as Makki defiles you-

“Yeah, squeeze tight,” Mattsun is jerking his hips up, driving into you with short strokes, “Holy shit, girl, you’re gonna make me look fucking stupid-- squeeze, that’s it--”

“I'm going to fuck you the second Issei is done with you, I swear to god--”

That sounds good to you. That sounds very good. You hum a little agreement, and Makki just laughs.

Hands are pressing down on your hips and you swat at the brunette in panic-- only to realize it’s not his hands that are rushing you. Makki, as he sucks and slobbers, is urging you down faster and faster, trying to get your hips against his friend’s. You try and obey, letting him greedily force you down, but a sharp twist of a cramp slowly starts to twist inside you.

“Hiro--” Mattsun sucks air through his teeth, eyes screwed tight, “Hiro, youch, she’s full. I’m touching her cervix.”

Your hips feel like they are miles away from Issei’s. Holy shit. Holy shit. It should be illegal to be that long. It hurts, it makes your insides twist--

But, damn, you kind of like it.

You press up on to your knees and sink down again, locking into the gentlest of rhythms. The aching slow movement is enough to make your body spark, electricity thrumming through your core and up your spine. The man under you can only watch, those puppy dog eyes wider and wetter with every stroke. Eventually he starts moving with you, bucking up into your cunt hesitantly.

The two loudest, most annoying men in your life are now silent, too focused on you to do anything else. All three of you just sort of click into a groove, grinding and bucking and loving and squeezing, your body coiling tighter and tighter, every muscle twitching and tense with need-

Somehow, you don’t cum first. Mattsun’s hands are suddenly everywhere, gripping your ass and rolling your nipple under his thumb. He fucks up into you hard and that sharp cramp returns, followed by a familiar pooling, wet warmth right against your deepest parts. You can feel the throb of his cock as he unloads, giving you every fucking drop he can. Issei’s lips are parts with effort, teeth marks imprinted on his lower vermillion. There’s almost a haze to his eyes, caught in his pleasure and still looking for you.

“Oh, shit-” he hisses mindlessly, “Oh, fuck, shit--”

It’s dripping from you and down Makki’s chin.

“You on birth control?” Issei asks weakly, all tension drained from his body.

“It’s a bit late to ask that,” Makki chimes in. The thinner man pushes you forward, shifting your weight onto your hands. Like this, Issei’s softening cock can’t stay in- it slides out with a dribble. Mattsun is now so much closer now, his face nearly nuzzling yours. Your eyes meet his, dark and tired, and you’re struck by the urge to kiss him properly.

You’re then struck by the sudden sensation of being stuffed.

Despite their teasing earlier, Hanamaki is //not// small. He's not inhumanely big like Mattsun, but you're aware of every inch, pressing almost as deep as before. The squelch of cum being displaced from you is loud and disgusting, but all three of you reveal in the sound.

“God, I love a fresh fucked pussy,” he coos. “You’re gaping and messy, baby.”

Where Mattsun moved slow, Makki does not. He's rutting into you hard, pushing you into Mattsun's chest. The man below you kisses your cheek with a laugh, clearly enjoying the faces you're making. You're wet down to your knees, smeared with a mixture of bodily fluids, and it offers no resistance for Makki as he enjoys himself.

It's like you're a toy, being used just for him pleasure, and you're body can't get enough.

“You gonna cum?” Mattsun asks mockingly. He just enjoy the sight, watching your tits hang against his chest. You almost say no, even though you're dangerously close to the edge again. “Ah, don't rush yourself. Hiro can last all night if you need it.”

“Hm, I'm just trying to give you some time to recover before round two,” Oh, you hate that he doesn't even sound phased, “I'm pacing myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Mattsun says.

Makki thrusts even harder, accenting his words. “How else are we supposed to go all night?

1K notes · View notes

ma1dita · 9 months ago

Text

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace.

“Holy shit, you scared me!”

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed.

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose?

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.”

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, Trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.”

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape.

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.”

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill.

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco.

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you)

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning.

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for.

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans?

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist!

Gods.

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow.

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, Trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—with you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before.

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan imagine #percy series #luke castellan angst #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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n3ptoonz · 11 months ago

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BEGGING you to make more sub mk men content 😭 they're always dom in all the other hc's and it's refreshing to see something that's my cup of tea lol

oh? like this? throws this post behind me like a bouquet toss earthrealm guys here

mk1 hcs: how the outworld guys react to you riding them

y'all sure do love headcanons LMFAOO

i always try my best for most of the outworld cast cause i'm truly an earthrealm girly, but i got yall. yall really challenge me 😵‍💫

Shang Tsung

This sly mf. He thought when you suggested riding, he'd be the one watching you writhe, but it's quite the opposite. Little did you know it was all an act. A fib; fairytale. He wants power, of course, but in the bedroom it's entirely different

Nothing will get him to submit fast than treating him like a common harlot. He's in desperate need of hair pulling, degradation, maybe even act like you're trying to kill him. He's into that shit! He's an aggressive man, so he should be treated as such

I'm talking fully dog this man out while you ride him. It'll drive him mad and make him crave it. Hell, slap him around and call him names and his gasps, groans, and deep whimpers will clear the air in no time! If you add small weapons to the mix or like a role play thing it's ON

He's literally the meme "don't bully me i'll cum" so do with that what you will!

Rain

Rain sexy ass...OOF. That smug "i am a demigod" attitude is punted out the window when you ride him. One single stroke of his hair and a caress of the jaw and just like that he's a slut!

Give him praises. He wouldn't handle degradation too well. On the outside he appears to have his shit together and doesn't have a care in the world about anybody else but his studies (and you), but he likes to be taken care of

If you want to be rougher or if he asks you to, really just pull his hair/give him love bites. idk it might just be me but i just wanna bite him sooo we're gonna say he likes bites! He's also super handsy but mostly when he's close

He's not very vocal but when he is i can see him as the kinda man that like...purrs, if that makes sense? If it don't i say he's a grunter and from groan city: population him

Reiko

Reiko has a hard time being submissive, but you just make it a little easier for him. You kinda have to coax him into it before every time you get intimate because he's made it clear he can do both and wants to try submitting more to the person he loves

It was your suggestion after a long time away for a mission. Poor dude was stressed da hell out! He's like Rain, a sucker for praise. Now that i'm really picturing it he'd prob be down to smother his face into your chest cause like, that's hot to him

When he's feeling particularly spicy definitely tie him down so he can't pull free no matter how much brute strength he uses. Hold his face and never break eye contact, he's all yours! If you call him any name that has the word "strong" in it he's like puddy in your hands

Prime grunt man here. He ain't whimpering unless you deny him of something, even then it goes from a coarse tone to soft

General Shao

Siiggghhhh 🙄 Shao likes the riding position the most. That's all thanks for coming to my Ted talk

LOL JUST KIDDING😹 He would appear like he's incapable of submission but like, this is YOU we're talking about. And he'd do anything for you. Literally.

A little birdy told me he loves when you grab his horns. Grab his horns. Grab them and make him look at you. This unbreakable wall of man yearns to be conquered by someone like you. Someone who dared to challenge him and never back down? By the Gods he has a breeding knk whether you can have kids or not. oh yeah, he'd beg. plead. he's gasping for air like pls just don't stop riding him LMAO he needs his mind off taking the throne for a few hours

whimpering little bitch which eventually turn into growls and grunts. takes a bow

Reptile

Syzoth is so subby I literally cannot picture him dominating a soul. Ashrah got that man on hold fr but anyway this about you

Typa dude to tear up when you ride him. You just look so damn good, and you make him feel so damn good. Dizzy eyes that he can barely keep open; I feel like he'd go brain numb from how fast he feels pleasure

I'm talking like because he's not originally human he's more sensitive. Now hear me out guys...two dicks....AHEM. DONT SHOOT THE MESSENGER!! Both his dicks are very sensitive OHHHHHHHHH Reduce him to a sobbing, stuttering, gasping, mess. He needs it, wants it, loves it. It's up to you if you'd ride him in his og form ya nasty. He'd also have a tendency to leave bite marks on you like your chest, neck, and shoulders

Mister whimper over here there's nothing else he does but whimper and cry jesus almighty somebody give this man a HUG (hug him while you fuck him dumb/busts)

Havik

Banging my head against the wall rn lemme tap in...ok we here let's go.

Another kombatant who peruses power, but also very much attracted to it. He definitely likes to be dominated. He'd be into some real kinky shit too i know it. Literally all the above he don't wanna think about SHIT

He would thoroughly enjoy being completely helpless at your disposal as you ride him. He likes degradation more than praises but if you do give him the kind of praise that inflates his already massive ego. shoot down his arrogance while also maintaining it he fucking lives for it. he likes being choked or slapped too keep that in mind

This bitch growls and that's it. bro ain't got the lips to really make different sounds LMAO?? get yo fuckin dog bitch!!!

Baraka

You might be insane but we love that haha...! Monster fucker certificate checked at the door i understand i do

Absolutely no degradation here DO NOT!! Mf might start crying or give a monologue either way, steer clear. Be nice to him!!

He likes to be held, and he likes holding his partner. If this was confident Baraka from the previous timeline I'd say he likes fast and crazy over slow and romantic but that's not the case. Be immersed and in the moment with him, he clings onto the human interactions he got stripped from him 😞

Growls but that's mostly bc he deadass don't have lips either LMFAO😭

a/n: tearing my skin off rn I DID IT GUYS I DID IT TELL ME IM GREAT😎author likes praise too.

#n3ptoonz #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat #smut #mk smut #shang tsung #rain mk #rain mk1 #mk havik #reptile mk #syzoth x reader #general shao #shao khan #mk reiko #baraka x reader #shang tsung x reader #rain x reader

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the-artist-grimm · 8 days ago

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I'm in love with this everything that you got going on here. Could we learn more about Nona and their relationship dynamics with Anthea as their first follower, with Narinder after the betrayal as their caretaker, and in general with the rest of the cult?

The Lamb, Anthea - While Anthea can be scared of Nona at times (cause the woman is very good at making you feel like a little kid when scolding), they respect and appreciate her greatly, and view her as an extremely strong person. Despite having met Nona at the worst time of the woman’s life-she’d just watched her children and grandchildren be slain and was about to be sacrificed herself, once freed from her ropes and introduced Nona immediately took to helping the lamb. She was an integral part to assisting Anthea in setting up the plans for the cult alongside Ratau, and took on multiple roles from first aid, to cooking, to layout planning and so on till they had more hands. While not a mother-figure per-say, she is akin to the a grandmother Anthea never had.

Nona in turn respects Anthea as well, this little lamb who saved her arrived as this small, blood-soaked thing who despite it all still gave her a reassuring smile and held out a hand to help. Anthea’s idea to make the Cult more of a safe place for those who’d lost everything appealed to her, and while Nona isn’t always fond of how merciful Anthea can be, she does see the benefit of that hope-like she may be a bit of a bitter old lady now, but it’s nice seeing this little ewe not let the world turn them. The Lands of the Old Faith have always been cruel, so seeing someone who just...isn't is refreshing. She does, however, dislike how much Anthea neglects themself-she’s the only follower to see past Anthea’s smile early on, and while she doesn’t push because that only makes Anthea close off further, she does try to remind the lamb to take it easy.

Narinder - Narinder initialy did not like Nona. Like he knew of her from Anthea and via watching through the crown, but actually being under her care? He was tossed to her under the assumption from Anthea that he’d be violent, when in reality all he wanted was to lay down in a corner and go die from the guilt, remorse, shame, and grief. He blamed himself for everything and wished to be left alone, yet instead Nona forced him to wake up, eat/drink things, help around the house, forcibly taught him to cook and clean and garden and mend clothes and help her with knitting, until slowly he realized just what she was doing-he wanted to do nothing and just sink into his despair, yet by forcing him to do things, she was keeping him from spiraling/getting lost in his head. From there while not fully ok he did find himself growing to appreciate her, and after everything, finds her a grounding presence. He wouldn't admit it, but she kinda reminds him of what he thinks a his own mother could've been like, had he any recollection of her.

Nona had wanted to hate Narinder, but she’d already realized during the final battle that things weren’t so black and white with the situation-this god she’d assumed was fond of her lamb based on their stories, who was a good father to his kits, who’d been abandoned by his own kin, who in the brief moments she overheard him talking to the lamb via the crown was very obviously enraptured by the lamb via the way he spoke to them, for him to just ask Anthea to sacrifice themself was out of place. And once Aym died and she saw how grief-struck he’d looked, heard how he rasped out Anthea’s name, watched as he reached out a trembling hand to the Lamb's collapsed, wailing form not to hurt but to comfort, she realized there was more going on. And Narinder’s clear remorse and guilt after being put into her care was further proof of that.

Nona kept him from spiraling because she didn’t want him to just give up, since while Anthea was beyond her reach to help because of how distant they’d made themselves and how tightly they'd bound their smile to their face in their grief, Narinder was possible to work with so long as she played things right. She could help him, and through that, possibly help Anthea too. She also begrudgingly grew fond of him as more of his personality began to show, as while a little stubborn at times and awkward socially, he was soft-spoken and polite, and never complained even when he wasn't as keen on helping around the house. He made her motherly side kick-in full swing to where even after everything she does appreciate him stopping by her house to help out-not that she'd say that to his face though.

The Cult - The residential grumpy old grandmother to everyone. She can be scary sometimes, comforting in others, and a bit frustrating when she won’t let the younger members goof or slack off, but overall she’s this grounding presence a lot of them need. Most of the cultists are decently young (the youngest prior to the twins' arrival were only 18, most were between 18-27 with a few other elders ) and have lost their own parents and families, so she’s someone a lot of them turn to for more parental advice, with her sharper edges being more of a reassurance of her strength rather than a turn-away. She'll complain about you bothering her when showing up at her door at 3am shaken from a nightmare, yet drag you inside and force you to sit on the couch under a quilt while she makes tea regardless.

#crimson angel au #ask #cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl amdusias #cotl lamb #crimson angel au lore #cotl narinder

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sleepyangelkami · 8 months ago

Text

PERVERTED I c.grimes

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 3.3K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you and carl had been best friends for as long as he can remember but lately he's feeling new emotions towards you, ones he doesn't think are too good for a girl like you. as if the world had been listening to his sins, they let him stumble upon your panties, left idly in your laundry basket.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, pervert!carl, innocence kink, corruption kink, masterbation, dom!carl, sub!reader, dirty talk, wet (day)dream, kinda manipulative carl, upskirting, aged up characters, use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

series masterlist

you still remembered the day you sat in your dad's farmhouse, surrounded by your family when you heard blood curdling screams from a man out front. you were young then, maybe just after turning eleven when you escaped out the front door, seeing a man carrying what appeared to be his son in his arms, covered in blood.

that was the day you met your soon to be, best friend.

over the years, you and carl grew close. some would say you were best friends, that was what you'd say too. you grew up with all older sisters so you didn't really have anyone your age growing up. not until you met carl and you knew you could trust him with anything. he always told you so. told you that you need no one if not him.

eventually you landed yourself in alexandria. with everything that had happened back at the farmhouse, then at the prison, then the death of your dear sister beth, maggie decided it would be best if you went to live with her and glenn. so that was exactly what you did.

alexandria was unlike anywhere you'd ever been your entire life.

it was blissfull, peaceful.

carl loved alexandria too. it had everything he could possibly need. his own room, his own comics, posters... you. he'd been sitting idly on his bed, flipping through a comic book and not so much as taking notice to the absolute mess in his room. he usually got like this on weekends, letting the room go absolutely horrid with a mess. he knew by any minute now you'd come stalking through the door, brows furrowing at the untidiness of his room.

knock !

ah, there you were.

carl tried to fight back his smile as he tossed the comic book to the side. "come in!" he yelled, flipping himself onto his back as he'd been laying on his stomach.

with no surprise, you stalked through the door. your lips were pressed into a smile as wide as anything, pretty white dress sat across your figure. it made carl remember just how innocent you were to the world around you. you had no idea of what thoughts ran through men's minds when they saw you. he had an overwhelming fear to protect you from it. but if he did, he wasn't too sure if he could protect you from him, too. "hi!" you practically beamed as you came in through the bedroom door.

"hey." situating himself up on the bed. "how was work?"

you worked in the kindergarten near your house. you'd always liked kids, having a certain bond with them that no one could quite explain. you liked taking care of them, you liked playing with them. judith was one of the many you took care of. of course, you were only eighteen so you didn't take care of them full time, you worked with another one of the staff members. "good!" seating yourself on the bed. "i got off early so i helped carol with her pie."

carl couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. his little baker. "that's good, baby."

baby.

to some, that would seem absurd to call your best friend. it would seem like the time of thing that you'd call your girlfriend or your boyfriend. that was what your new friend ron had told you when he'd heard it himself. that night you asked carl if it was odd, if the names he was calling you truly were weird. nobody else called you those names but you supposed you'd never questioned it for how long he'd been doing it. he'd shrugged his shoulders, telling you not to listen to ron and that it was, in fact, normal but if ron or anyone else had called you such names that you should tell carl immediately.

you'd only nodded your head, brain sort of scrambled.

"are you still okay for tomorrow?" you questioned, eyes scanning his face.

every saturday was the same. he'd come over to yours or you'd come over to his. tomorrow was scheduled to be your house, carl was supposed to come over and you'd have your saturday sleep over, filled with movies, junk food, really anything a teenager could get their hands on in an apocalypse. "'course." he practically scoffed out.

it was a tradition, one that could never be broken. "okay." you grinned, eyes flickering across the room before your smile slowly faltered. "carl, your room's a mess!"

carl only groaned in response, picking back up the comic and landing it on his face. he began arguing, telling you to leave it but you were already beginning to clean around the room, shocked by the state it had been in.

knowing he couldn't convince you to stop, he peeled the comic book off his eyes to take a look at you. and that was when he saw it. you bent down to pick up something that had been tossed idly on the floor. he watched as your skirt rode up, giving him a view of pretty pink fabric, covering what he so desperately needed to see.

instantly, his eyes widened slightly.

he'd thought about you like this before. it was only natural for a boy who grew up with you by his side for what felt like his entire life. he had you looking up at him with those doe eyes all the time not to mention the way you paraded around in dresses and skirts as if no one could see.

he slipped the comic book down onto his crotch, covering his obvious hard on. perhaps he was the problem. perhaps the problem was the way his eyes stared at the place he should have been looking away from.

but his feelings had been so... strong lately. it was like something had snapped inside of him and he couldn't stop thinking about it. about you.

more importantly, the sounds you'd make as he slammed his dick inside of you, or how wet you'd get over the simplest of things.

after all, he was your best friend, he'd seen you in many ways. he'd noticed it before, when he was touching you a little too much and suddenly you couldn't get comfortable, the smallest of whimpers leaving your lips as you cuddled into him, thinking the feeling would go away.

he knew exactly what he'd been doing.

his day dreams were cut off by rick entering the room, without knocking. that was how he always knew when it was you at his door, the only one in the world who knew how to knock.

you'd gone home some time earlier, leaving him with his impending thoughts. he'd tried not to think about it, about you, truly. but the way he'd seen your pretty panties lining your clothed pussy earlier had practically sent him over the edge.

"hey." rick walked inside the room, glancing around. "your room looks clean." clothes folded away, nothing thrown on the floor, no cups or dishes sat on the desks. "so i take it y/n was here."

"yeah." carl sat up against the headboard of his bed. "did you need something?" because rick didn't just make his way to his room for no good reason. i mean, he was a busy man.

he scratched his beard. "yeah, was gonna ask because a couple of us are going on a supply run tomorrow and i was wondering if you wanted to come." tomorrow. saturday. you and carl's night.

he contemplated.

the way his mind had been moving lately, perhaps it wasn't the greatest idea to have a sleepover with you just yet. he needed some time to himself, to cool off. he didn't know if he'd be able to control himself if you cuddled up against him the way you usually did, your legs hooked around one of his, sighing softly when you had no idea what he was doing to you.

maybe it would be better off if he called tomorrow night off. it was only one saturday, right? "yeah, yeah sure lemme just run over to y/n's and let her know."

rick was somewhat curious when it came to you and carl. you always looked so happy next to him, big eyes lighting up while he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. he'd also seen you two going through the trenches, even when carl was covered in mud and blood, some walkers, some human, some even his own, he'd still pull you aside, grasping your arm and holding you to the side, making sure nothing got to you, not even one of the group members. he wondered sometimes, just what was going on between you two. sometimes, he thought you guys were dating in secret, behind his back which he wouldn't be all too angry about. but there was a longing look in his son's eyes, one that told him he didn't have her to himself, not yet.

"oh, well if you have plans―"

carl was quick to cut the man off, picking up the jacket you'd folded and left on his chair. "no, no it's fine." slipping his arms in the holes. "she won't mind."

he wondered if you would.

surely, you were bound to be upset. you loved the saturday sleepovers. he'd imagine that you'd give him those doe eyes, showing just how upset you were but you'd shrug it off with a little smile, telling him to be careful. you always wanted so desperately to please him. he could see this, he adored you for it.

across alexandria, carl knocked against your front door. he waited momentarily before doing the same thing again. when he received no response, he made it his business to slide the unlocked door opened. he called out for glenn and maggie across the hallway, receiving, yet again, no response.

then his feet made it towards the stairs. he found himself walking around until finally, he stood in front of your open bedroom door. "sweetheart?" he called out, this time much softer.

from the door at the end of the hallway, he heard the response. "one minute!" the yell was from you, behind the door. "'m in the shower!" you had this weird thing about you where you showered multiple times a day, scrubbing your skin raw. sometimes you thought you'd never scrub off the mud that covered you from when you lived on the roads. carl noted that when he'd see your arms slightly red after the shower, not from the hot water. but he never mentioned it.

"okay!" he yelled back, now suddenly aware of the running water. "I'll be in your room!"

he heard a muffled 'okay' from behind the door before entering your room.

the walls were baby pink, everything else being a mixture of white and pale colours. what could you say, you were a sucker for pastels.

the room was like it had always been. he'd been in there a thousand times before, whether it was for a sleepover, for a mere five minutes to pop in when he was on his break or reading a comic book to you while sat perched on your bed, or holding you while you cried.

the point was, carl knew you through everything in your entire life. this room was practically his too. the same way his own was practically yours.

one thing was for sure, there was enough of each other's clothes in the other's room for it to be considered one another's.

speaking of clothes, his eyes snapped over to the basket of clothes that sat idly on your bed, waiting to be thrown in the wash. he assumed that's what you were going to do when you were out of the shower.

his eyes caught a glimpse of one of the shirts he owned. he knew you took it. rolling his eyes, he picked it out of the basket, stepping backwards as a couple pieces of clothes left.

"fucking idiot." he mumbled before picking the pieces up, placing them back inside the dirty basket. then his eyes caught that familiar pink cotton material.

he swore he held his breath.

the panties you'd worn earlier, clad across the part he so desperately wished to see. he couldn't help the way his hand reached down before standing up. every other piece of clothing, he'd tucked back into the basket. but this particular piece of clothing, he held it for a moment.

was it so wrong? to think of your innocent best friend in such a way? had you ever... thought about him like that?

questions swarmed his mind before you entered the room.

he spun around, tucking the garment into his back pocket. he used both his hands to lift the flannel back over his jeans, making sure the garment couldn't be spotted at all, even if someone had looked from behind.

"you okay?" you questioned, now dressed in a pale yellow shorts and a large sweater. it was getting dark outside, he noticed. probably your pijamas.

he watched as your hair dripped onto the floor beneath you. "yeah, yeah, i... needed to talk to maggie about something." he didn't know why he was lying. he really did need to tell you something but his mind was in scrambles, thinking of the piece of fabric in his back pocket, he couldn't possibly respond right.

"oh." you faltered slightly. "well, she's not here but―"

you frowned at how quickly he cut you off. "that's fine, i'll just tell her tomorrow." he crossed your bedroom, passing you to walk out the door.

you followed in confusion, wondering why he'd been so eager to run away. "well, i'll tell her you came by." wondering what was up with him at all. carl never acted like this.

suddenly, the boy swung around. "no, no don't tell her." waving you off. your brows were knit together in utter confusion. "i don't think i wanna talk about it with her anymore so... night!" practically racing out the front door and slamming it in his leave.

you stood stumped at your front door, confusion evident in just your eyes. "night carl..." mumbling before turning around, wondering what all of that had been about.

the sun had set when carl finally took the garment out again.

he knew it was wrong, he had to know. at least subconsciously, anyway because he waited until everyone else in the house had fallen asleep until he took them out. at this point, he'd been dressed down to just his boxers. it was late, time for the sleep he knew he wouldn't get. not when that image of you, bent over, was burned into his mind.

the mere thought had his hand inching downward while his other held the pretty panties in his hands. he stopped himself.

this is wrong. he thought. so fucking wrong.

but he felt so tempted.

the panties sat in his hands were the same ones you'd wore today, the same ones he'd seen you bent over in. he couldn't stop thinking about it, whether his hand continued down or not.

what you didn't know, couldn't hurt you.

surely, you'd never find out about something like this. he was safe, for now. his hand inched down, tracing just beneath his boxers before pulling out his length. he felt himself groan at the mere touch. he'd been hard since you left, it hurt. and he knew if you were here, you'd do anything to make sure he wasn't in pain.

even if he meant the blasted thing he was about to do.

his hand wrapped around his dick, he breathed out before pumping it once, then again, then again. "fuck." he breathed out, his head falling back and his mouth falling open.

he'd touched himself a thousand times before, for as long as he could remember, his mind always traced back to you. it was impossible to escape your grace. but there was something about holding your panties in his hands that made him feel even better.

as wrong as it may have been, he couldn't stop himself now.

if he was going to do it, he was going to go all in.

aimlessly, he used his other hand to prop your panties against his cock. they fell so loosely around his length causing him to groan. with his right hand, he held onto the panties before pumping his cock over and over again. he groaned, loudly enough before practically shoving his face in the pillows beneath his head.

"fuck, fuck, fuck..." his hands were big, long slender fingers wrapping around him. he could imagine you trying to take it. he'd imagine he'd have to coax you, gently running them up and down your thighs before pushing them inside. you'd be so wet, gushing over his fingers.

then he imagined you taking his dick, an impossible task.

he could imagine your pretty virgin hole, so tight. he couldn't even imagine you taking your own fingers let alone his dick. your walls would be so tight around him, clenching as he pulled every last moan out of you. you'd whine and writhe against him, it all becoming too much too quick.

and he wouldn't care. "take it, take it." carl mumbled into the air of his bedroom, eyes shut and imagining you while his hand never stopped its constant attack on his own dick. his hand sped up, so quick that he could barely breathe. "hah, good girl." his voice breaking, slightly higher pitched. "my good girl, mhm, good girl." breaths falling from his lips like chanting prayers.

it was wrong, to think of you like this. he knew that but he was too damn perverted.

he'd imagined what he could have done this morning, you bent down and picking something off the floor. he could have grasped your hips, holding them in place and peeking the skirt of the dress above your hips, getting the view he really wanted.

he'd imagined peeling the fabric of your panties away, getting a view at what he needed the most. the same fabric that was sat around his cock.

he couldn't stop the noises that left his lips, trying so hard to stay quiet but the way your panties felt against him was enough to have his hips rolling even if they hadn't wanted to. it was like you were there in front of him. he could ram into you as he pleased, holding your hips close as you sat on top of him. but he'd do all the work, of course, anything to coax those little whines out of you.

the many times he'd pulled at your hair for a reaction or rubbed your thighs gently, every murmur of a whimper that would leave your lips. he imagined it a thousand times louder now.

he couldn't help himself, flipping over so he was sat propped up on his knees but his hips thrusting forward into the little material.

the head of his dick hit against the mattress with every thrust, your panties wrapped up in his fingers and his cock.

he felt a sudden familiar feeling build up in his stomach. "fuck, baby, feel s'good." practically pussy drunk by now, despite the fact he hadn't even touched your pussy yet. "shit, jus' like that, c'mon, sweetheart."

"please, carl!" he could hear your whiny voice now. "touch me, please, please."

your voice, albeit in his head, was enough to send him over the edge.

he came with his eyes closed and mouth open, a moan falling from his lips. not just any moan, your name. he felt creamy liquid gush out of his dick, landing all over the pink panties that lay in his hands.

he thrust his dick over and over until he ran dry. then, he collapsed with a pant. his lungs were burning, they were raw and his head fell against the linen pillows. he barely so much as glanced down to your stained panties that wrapped around his fingers.

one thing was for sure, he needed to get to this damn saturday sleepover. fuck the run.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

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mochinomnoms · 25 days ago

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hrng… trey birthday fic…

I’m not gonna lie, for awhile, I didn’t really like trey. i didn’t dislike him, mind you, but he was just kind of there. but all of a sudden, my brain was just thinkin about trey. like i’m just chillin at home, and i’m just thinking about trey. he’s just so…

and then you posted the birthday fic and godDAMN

Mochi, you are a genius. I am a buff trey truther. mans would have hella arm muscle and I will not accept any less. sorry i just keep thinking about trey now. he would have the biggest breeding kink its not even funny

anyhow, if you have more trey I would LOVE to read it especially if it’s about him being a pervert

i’m so normal i promise

as always, have a wonderful day ^^

-🦷

AAAAAA TY!!! I'm so glad that you're seeing the appeal for Trey he really is an underrated character!! I got that eldest daughter syndrome and Trey as a character feeds into that ngl.

I also had a crush on Peeta from The Hunger Games when I was a kid and I was remembering a bit where it was pointed out that as a baker, Peeta was actually hella strong (he could toss 100 lbs flour bags over his shoulder), so it would only make sense to me that Trey would be similar.

I image he would have a bit more of a sleeper build, so it's not obvious how strong he is until he's actually doing something physical (like fucking me—). None of the sprites do him justice in that regard, but this very specific panel from the manga does do things to me:

aaaaaaaaa big strong arms to hold you in~

Trey is also kinda silly in the fact that he canonically is really bad at flirting, or at the every least being suave/romantic. Poor ghost bride, getting her eyes compared to grapes...

He did say that it was cause he was put on the spot, which is partially true. I like to think that he's the type to just say something flirty or romantic without meaning to.

Think of an old married couple where one of them will casually drop a compliment like it's the most natural thing in the world. That's how Trey is, and he doesn't even realize it! It's very sweet, and it's very easy to fall for of course!

I, of course, have other thots as well tehehe~

He absolutely has the biggest breeding kink (no this isn't just copy and pasting my own kinks into my favs, wat you talking about?). He grew up with a happy family, and had a bit of a taste of what parenthood is like while taking care of his siblings.

He wants to replicate that for his own family, no doubt, but it's not exactly those reasons that he's so into breeding you. No, it's the, forgive him for the silly comparison, look of your hole absolutely stuffed like a éclair (which I've seen several people on here ask of him YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE).

The sight of you swollen, twitchy, and full hole is sooooosososososoooooo yummy, and he has the excuse that he has to make sure his seed will take to keep filling you! It's not until after when your belly is swelling with a baby that his pregnancy kink kicks in...but perhaps that's another discussion for another time.

My last thoughts for just this moment are that Trey maaaay have a slight bit of an oral fixation. He likes seeing your mouth on his dick, he likes to open your lips with his cum still resting on your tongue and running his fingers over your teeth, and he reeaaally likes to have you bite down on his neck and admire the teeth marks. Not enough to bleed, mind you, but enough that he could take a picture and then compare the marks to your actual teeth later on in fascination. It's only a little weird, indulge him won't you?

#mochi asks #🦷 anon #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader #highly suggestive #!breeding kink #!pregnancy kink #!oral fixation

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starry-bi-sky · 11 months ago

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the idea of the whole school of Casper high judging wes´s flirting skills and then being horrified that they still somehow kinda work is gold!!

also i feel like somewhere in the future someone in the batfam will ask baby dami how he got the "demon" name since hes a clone and hes just going to look the person in the eye and say "my brothers pet stalker gave it to me"

"MY BROTHER'S PET STALKER GAVE IT TO ME" that's now the only way Damian refers to Wes - that and 'Weston'. And just imagine Danny walking into that room in that moment as he says it, and then perking up and going "Oh are we talking about Wes?" and he walks over to ruffle Damian's hair and affectionately goes, "and he's not my pet, Dames." But he doesn't deny the stalker bit.

(And you know if Wes was there he'd be denying it up and down that he's a stalker - he's an investigator. A detective! Quit calling him that!) And the batfam present all exchange slightly concerned looks with one another and someone -- lets go Dick or Tim or Bruce, goes "Stalker?"

Danny just waves it off with a huff and goes "it's not that serious, don't worry i've got it handled" before changing the subject to something else. Or talking a little bit more about wes without bringing up that he thinks he's a vigilante (which he is).

and also yesss imagine the first time dany goes to bother wes during the middle of lunch and danny says something mildly tame compared to what he normlly does because wes is with a bunch of friends -- maybe he decides to do the "hey Weston, I heard you spreading rumors about me being Phantom?" thing, and he's wearing this bewildered smile

all of Wes' friends are giving Wes this LOOK like 'way to go genius, you got his attention, now what?' and instead of Wes stammering or backtracking, instead he doubles down on it. All of his friends are looking at him like Velvet from Trolls 3 when Veneer revealed that they were phonies. Just utter betrayal.

just. just this face. the entire table is making that face at Wes as he (to them) fumbles the bag so badly that he may as well have tossed it into a gutter. They all watch as Fenton is weirded out by Wes, and the two of them have this back-and-forth with Fenton poking holes at Wes about him being Phantom and Wes just keeps saying he is Phantom, and he should stop denying it.

When Fenton finally leaves, Wes' best friend turns and thwacks him hard in the shoulder and hisses at him what the hell did he just do? He didn't just miss the basket, he missed the entire damn court entirely! he threw the ball into the stands!

And Wes hisses back at him that he has no idea what he's talking about. Wes' friend calls him an idiot. A big dumb idiot. And then Fenton goes and bothers him in the hallway a few days later. And everyone else?? Flabbergasted.

And then it keeps. happening. Fenton keeps?? approaching Wes? And he sometimes he seems vaguely delighted by their conversations, like Wes is saying some of the funniest things in the world? -- and okay, maybe it is funny that he keeps getting accused of being a vigilante, its funny in a weird way. And Wes looks completely annoyed by his existence -- and you know what somehow this tracks because Fenton was dating Valerie for a time and she was completely annoyed by him when they first met. Maybe Fenton has a type???

Either way, nobody knows how to wrap their head around how Wes's cringefail "flirting" techniques are working. By all means, Fenton should be hating this guy because he keeps accusing him of being his parents' worst enemy (self-proclaimed by the Fenton parents), but instead he just appears bewildered but mildly entertained by Wes' antics.

#dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc #clone^2 #danny fenton is not the ghost king #sO ngl i had this finished and written like. the day it got sent in i just didn't post it because i had nothing to say in the tAGS #and i have my best thoughts in the tags /j

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 4 months ago

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pinch me

the wistful wyvern, chapter eight

a/n: i can’t believe this is the last chapter… this whole series is the thing that i’ve let myself go the most crazy with and not held back, so it’s kinda bittersweet when it comes to a close. it’s hard to say goodbye and let go of something you put so much work into, but it’s incredible to finally share the ending with you all so you can enjoy the story in its entirety.

summary: the wrestling was playful as you slowly shuffled further into the sparse cluster of trees. Giggling and shrieking, your back eventually collided with the trunk of a tree and Bucky pinned your hands above your head.

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, smut, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, forced proximity, violence, injuries, kissing, oral, dirty talk, impact play, size kink, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, protected sex (a fantasy birth control tea commonly used by men), creampie, time jump

word count: 2562

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“You know, it’s still not too late for you to apologise, we can both just go on our separate way,” you shrugged as you dodged the blow thrown by one of the bandits still on his feet before you.

“Fuck you, you cunt!” he simply spat back.

Blinking a moment, your head tilted slightly as you breathed out, “alright then,” and then clocked him in the face, making him stumble back, clutching his battered nose.

One of the outlaws in the grass then lifted himself back up onto his feet behind where you stood and charged at you, raising the dull axe in his grasp up to attack.

He only managed to nick your arm, and though a small cry did tumble out of your lungs, only a second passed before your fingers wrapped around the hilt of the weapon and you bashed the blunt side back against the bloke, knocking him back onto the ground.

“You good?” Bucky’s voice found your ears and you glanced over to see him wrestling with his own half of the dubious group.

“Oh yeah,” you smiled and tossed the rusty axe further down into the field that unfolded on the side of the road, “I’m great,” before whacking your elbow over the dirty-mouthed man who stumbled back towards you, blood dribbling from his nose.

Barely looking at his own opponents, the corners of your partner’s lips curled up as he purred, “that’s my girl.”

You had started by giving the highway robbers a generous out, stating that a fight between you two wardens and the eight of them just wouldn’t be fair. If they’d let one of you sit that one out and only fought either you or Bucky, then perhaps it would have evened the playing field just a bit more.

Yet, they didn’t heed your warnings and ended up losing in the blink of an eye.

“You guys should really consider a career change,” you said as they all laid dazed and bruised on the ground, “or at the very least get better at this one.”

As the pair of you went through and kicked their weapons far enough out of their reach, Bucky cast a glance at the boulder of a man curled up on the ground and clutching his arm.

“Hey buddy,” your fellow warden called, “try and keep that elevated till you see a healer.”

“Fuck you,” he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

“You were the one that fell on it,” his arms raised up before he looked to the other bandits, “guys, can you please make sure he gets that checked out?” and after they grumbled in agreement to help their stubborn friend, Bucky exhaled, “great,” and turned to grasp Echo’s reins, the black stallion only a few paces away from the aftermath, “well, have a nice life!”

“See,” you uttered as the pair of you began to walk off, tugging the horse along, “I told you we shouldn’t have taken this road. I was a criminal, I know what roads are hot for highway robbers.”

“Yeah, well, you were always smarter than me,” he chuckled, then smirked in your direction, “isn’t that what you used to say whenever I’d let you win during training? That I might be stronger, but you’re smarter?”

“You did not let me win,” you gasped, immediately defending your recollection, “I always won fair and square!”

“Hm,” he hummed as he let his gaze dance over the patchy cluster of trees that began to bloom on the right-hand side of the dirt road, “you sure about that?”

“Oh really?” your head cocked as you smiled back at him, “you wanna fucking go, Barnes?”

“Why not?” he reached out to tickle your waist, “just had a little warm-up, didn’t we?”

As Bucky let go of the reins, Echo simply dipped his head down to graze on the long grass below.

The wrestling was playful as you slowly shuffled further into the sparse cluster of trees. Giggling and shrieking, your back eventually collided with the trunk of a tree and Bucky pinned your hands above your head.

As you gazed back into his blue stare, the laughter began to fade from you both as another instinct entirely took over.

Tilting his head, Bucky captured your lips and kissed you fiercely. His fingers, enclosed around your wrists, flexed as your lips parted in a giddy groan and made way for his tongue to slip past and catch a taste of your own.

When his grip eventually loosened around you, his fingers floated down to weave within your hair and tilt your face to deepen the hungry kiss.

Then, as your hands had started scraping down the cool iron of the partial chainmail on his torso, the tiny loops grazing your skin gently, he pulled back just enough for you both to catch your breath.

“Drop your drawers, snow,” he commanded playfully, nuzzling his nose softly against your own.

His head tilted slightly so that his forehead rested against your own, and he shared your breath, as your fingers desperately soared to fulfil his demand. Undoing your pants, you swiftly shimmied them down till they were kicked off into the wild grass.

After stealing another kiss from you, a smile then spread across your face as you watched Bucky sink down to his knees before you. Planting pecks across your thighs, his gaze flickered up to capture yours as his lips danced up to your right hipbone.

“Please don’t make me beg,” you chuckled and ran a hand through his brown locks.

“But you sound so pretty when you do,” he smirked. The closer his peppering pecks got to your centre, the sloppier they grew, “just as pretty as when I do this,” he then closed the distance and flicked his tongue teasingly through your folds, dragging a whimper out of your throat.

Thankfully, he only kept his cruelly light licks to a minimum before he lapped at you properly, swapping your squirming jolts out with a trembling rocking as he savoured your slickness swiftly soaking his short beard.

Throwing your head back against the tree trunk, your fingers tangled in his hair as he enclosed around your clit. As your gaze fluttered down for his stare to capture yours, a warm rumble vibrated against your pearl as his eyes crinkled up and he smiled against your pussy.

“O-oh, just like that,” you uttered breathily as your fingers combed through his locks before finding purchase in them, “feels so fucking good.”

His broad palms curled around to your bottom and groped the curve a moment before one of his hands slid down your thigh and plucked it off of the ground, hooking it over his wide shoulder and thereby drawing you that much closer to his greedy tongue.

Tilting your hips slightly, his sloppy efforts only managed to wander down to your other hole for one kiss before everything unravelled inside of you and you came all over his face.

Standing back up to his full height, Bucky ducked down to steal a brief kiss from your breathless lips, letting you taste yourself still freshly lingering on his tongue, before fervently spinning you around.

Bracing against the tree, you peeked over your shoulder as his fingers hastily undid his trousers, his heavy lids staying glued to your backside.

Silky moans seeped out of the both of you in unison when he slowly buried himself in you. Melting down against your spine a moment, you felt the reassuring weight of his head against your shoulder, panting against your tunic, as his girth settled inside of you, your cunt dripping around him, begging for his movements to pick up.

“Fuck, I love you,” he hissed as he dragged his cock back out, just till the memory of him remained before slamming back inside, harshly enough for you to lose your breath.

His presence dissipated from your spine as he straightened up. One of his hands trailed down your back, bending you over more, before it settled parallel to the other around your hips.

Scratching against the dark bark, you whimpered every time his thrusts concluded with a teasing tap against your puffy pearl from his heavy sack.

“Shit,” he groaned loudly, “your little pussy’s gripping onto me so tight,” in awe, he glanced down at how snugly your cunt was clinging onto his cock, “does it feel good, baby? Does your pussy like being stretched out by me?” he landed a few electric slaps to your ass, “because it sure fucking feels like it… gods, she’s creaming all over me, turning my dick all fucking milky…”

“I–, I–,” your fluttering moans found their way out your throat as your fingers left the tree and reached back to blindly grab for him.

“What?” he swiftly captured your searching hand in his and slowed his efforts just enough for you to think, “what is it, snow?”

Your brain was all jumbled, so all you managed to mumble was, “…kiss…”

Curling his burly arms around your form, your brows crinkled up as he then slipped out before guiding you back around to face him.

Planting his lips to yours in a soft and slow peck, your molten arms slid up to wrap around his neck.

“Is this better?” his nose ghosted against your own, “huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded lightly, your features nuzzling against his as you did.

“You good?” his gentle exhale seeped into your bones.

A soft smile then tipped up your lips as you uttered, “I’m phenomenal…”

Mirroring your own grin, he captured your lips once more before he plucked your left leg up off the ground. Sweeping his tip through your glinting folds, he nudged at your clit long enough to make you wiggle in his grasp before he dipped down to your drooling entrance and slowly slid back in.

“Ah,” you gasped and your head tilted away from his a moment as he split you back open for him, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, I love you,” his grip dented your flesh as he settled back into a silky pace, pumping in and out of your creamy cunt, “o-oh, fuck!”

Picking your other leg up, he lifted you into his strong arms and your ankles swiftly hooked around his frame.

Sloppy symphonies of your skin clapping against each other resonated every time he lifted you off his cock, dragging you over every detail of his fat girth before slamming you back down on it. The sounds echoed throughout the surroundings, dominating your attention rather than the wistful birdsongs that your lustful ears filtered out.

It didn’t take very long of him carrying you close and fucking you nearly through the tree that scrapped at your spine, before your body went as tight as a bowstring taking aim, and shaky profanities leaked out past your panting breaths as you tumbled over the edge.

Bucky’s mouth was hot on the side of your neck as you clambered around him, your pussy completely choking his throbbing length, and a gravelly groan rumbled against your skin as he swiftly emptied himself in your haven.

With his load dripping down onto the tall grass as he continued to cradle you in his arms, his softening girth stayed buried in you as you caught your breaths.

“See?” his heavy exhale fanned across your cheek as the side of his head rested against yours, “told you I used to let you win.”

“Oh,” you playfully chuckled, tilting your chin enough to find his hazy gaze, “you think you won just now?”

“Yeah, I clearly did.”

“Did you though,” you cocked your head, “or did I just let you?”

His eyes then narrowed to a squint as he sucked in a breath, “…rematch,” he declared, “as soon as we get home.”

“Really? You wanna wait–, what, a whole hour?” you guessed the time reminding till you arrived back to Borün.

“Yes, I wanna wait a whole hour,” a sly smirk crept up on his face as he slowly inched in closer, “one hour and then I finally get to throw you around in my own bed…”

FIVE YEARS LATER, ON THE THIRTIETH DAY OF SUMMER 863 PR

“Pinch me,” you murmured through your grin as Bucky’s kisses nipped down the column of your neck.

“What,” he smirked against your skin, clearly assuming you wanted to heat up your impromptu make-out session, “right here?”

Your glance flickered to the rest of the topiary garden, that sprouted in the centre of the great castle that was Fort Borün, and hoped that the pair of you were tucked away well enough in the semi-secluded corner for the other guests, who were up at the palace to round off the annual summer solstice festival, not to notice your intimate activities.

Not taking his lewd thought to heart, you went on and uttered, “it must be a dream, being here with you and in this beautiful place,” the smile on your lips grew wider as you reflected on the way your life looked now. Growing up you’d never dare to let yourself imagine anything like this, being so safe and at peace, living in a comfortable little cabin by the sea with the love of your life, “you my husband and I your wife…”

Tilting his head back up to be at your level, he caught your glinting eye and reassured you, “you’re not dreaming, snow,” one of his thumbs then swiped a few times at the hold he had on your waist. Leaning back in, his lips then tilted back up into a devilish smirk as he asked, “but can I still pinch you?”

As his fingers tightened around you and he leaned back down to seize your lips again, a giggle bubbled out of you and your palms swept up to his chest to keep him at bay, “not here!”

And just then, as your husband’s kisses began to bloom across your skin once more, burning so hot you nearly gave in, a pair of tiny footsteps echoed throughout the courtyard.

“Uncle Buck! Uncle Buck!”

Turning around, both of your glances fell upon the little princess that appeared around the central fountain.

“Cora, isn’t it well past your bedtime?” Bucky cocked his head gently.

“Papa promised I could dance one last time and you never gave me all of yours!” Cordelia demanded with a raised finger, “you still owe me one.”

Sucking in a breath, he nodded lightly, “I did promise you five, didn’t I?” and his gaze flickered up to spot the king as he caught up to his daughter.

Catching the tail end, Steve’s brows shot up, “she made you agree to five?”

“Well, I don’t know how to say no to that face,” the fellow warden beside you shrugged and gestured down to the little girl, “I mean look at her!”

Letting out a soft sigh, the king then tilted his head as a light plea flowed out past his gentle smile, “Bucky, please just dance with my daughter or she won’t let me tuck her into bed.”

Taking a step further away from you, Bucky then smiled down at the princess, “your highness,” and offered her his hand, “shall we?”

Snatching it up, a bright giggle then billowed out of the little girl as she dragged him back inside.

#lea’s writing #eflorr au #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #winter soldier smut #bucky barnes fic #sebastian stan smut

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communicationthroughlyrics · 4 months ago

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Watch The World Explode, From Underneath Your Glow

It was supposed to be a relaxing night with your wife. People forget things, that happens. But the way people look at your wife? Well, that drives you insane.

A/N: Hello friends, thank you all for your continued support and kind words. I appreciate it! As a thank you, a ONE-SHOT, smutty lil' thing with an Intersex Reader. Much love y'all!

TW: Intersex!Reader, P in V sex, jealous/kinda anxious reader, and just some sex that I desperately need to dish to someone 😅

Word Count: 5.1K

I Wanna Take You Home

There was a faint smell of perfume as you crossed the threshold to your shared loft. Tossing your backpack off to the side, you shrug the blazer off your shoulders, hanging it up behind the front door. The space was eerily quiet, which was unusual for a weekday evening. You could've sworn that Lizzie said she would be home tonight when you got off, but it doesn't seem like she is.

"Lizzie?" you call out, waiting for a response as you stand in the middle of your living room. The only reply is the soft ticking of the clock on the wall, echoing through the open-plan space. The loft's high ceilings and large windows normally filled the apartment with a comforting warmth, but tonight they only emphasized the emptiness. You glance down at your phone, seeing it's already 6:42 PM. You start to walk to your bedroom, recalling the conversations over the past week that would tell you where she may be.

Perhaps she got held up at work again or went to meet friends without mentioning it. You decide to call her, quickly pressing her contact photo, a photo that makes you smile at the memory. You had gone to a pumpkin patch to pick out some of the orange orbs for Halloween decorations. Her laughter had been infectious as you both tried to find the perfect one. She had walked ahead of you, oblivious to you fishing out the device from your pocket, and snapping pictures of her as she twirled and skipped through the field. The autumn leaves were a perfect backdrop as her blonde hair swirled around, a bright smile on her face as her eyes finally landed on you.

The line rings, and just when you think it's going to voicemail, she finally picks up. You can tell she is laughing, her voice having familiar breathiness, before hearing her speak through the line.

"Hi baby," she began. "Did you just get home?"

You nodded even though she couldn't see you, the question echoing in your mind. "Yeah, I was expecting you to be here," you laughed a little, walking around the living room, and rubbing the back of your neck. "Did something come up?"

Her laughter trickled through the speaker, and you felt a pang of annoyance. "Oh babe, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot to text you. I'm at that restaurant on the corner of 12th and 47th. We had some last-minute changes to the project we've been working on, but since we got them all worked out, we are officially done and celebrating."

You leaned against the wall, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. "It's okay," you lied, trying to keep the edge out of your voice. "What time do you think you'll be back?"

"Well, we're just about to order some food," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "But I'm not sure, there's a bunch of people here. You should come, I want to introduce you to everyone."

Your eyes scanned the empty kitchen, the fridge barely holding a few takeout containers. "Okay," you respond, typing the restaurant name into your phone to get the GPS directions there. "I'll be there in 20. I love you, babe."

"Love you too," she says, and before you can ask anything else, the line goes dead. You let out a sigh, tuck the phone into your pocket, and head to the bedroom to change into something more dinner casual. You opt for a shirt you know Lizzie loves- a coppery, silk button-up that shows your tanned skin underneath. After slipping on a pair of loose-fit tan linen pants and some black loafers, you grab your keys and head out the door.

You muss your hair, ruffling it slightly and making sure it looks how you want it to, before pushing the brake pedal to the floorboard and starting the car. The engine purrs to life and you pull out of the garage, navigating the familiar streets to the restaurant. The evening air is cool and crisp, hinting at the coming winter, and the streetlights cast a warm glow that makes the city feel alive. You park and head inside, the buzz of conversation and clinking of glasses growing louder as you approach the large group in the private room in the rear of the restaurant.

As you enter, Lizzie spots you and waves, her eyes lighting up. She stands, and you take in her effortless beauty. The black blouse she chose was tucked into a heathered, almost canvas-like skirt that hugged her hips tight. The black heels she wore clicked through the restaurant as she began weaving through her colleagues with a grace that was as mesmerizing as it was frustrating. She's surrounded by a sea of faces you don't know, all of them looking at you with curiosity. She kisses you on the cheek, and you catch a whiff of wine and something else - a scent that isn't quite her perfume. "Everyone, this is my wife," she says, her arm around your waist, pulling you closer. "This is Y/N, the one I've been telling you all about."

You force a smile, feeling a bit like an intruder in her professional world. The introductions are a blur of names and job titles, none of which you can remember. They all seem friendly enough, though you notice a few lingering glances from one of her colleagues, a man with piercing blue eyes and a cocky smile. You try to ignore the knot in your stomach and focus on the conversation, sipping the wine someone hands you. The room is a whirlwind of chatter and laughter, but it feels forced as if everyone's playing a role in a play you don't know the script to.

As the dinner progresses, the stories get louder and the drinks flow more freely. You sit next to Lizzie, trying to engage in the conversation, but she seems more absorbed in the banter across the table. You can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the ease with which she interacts with her work friends. You've never felt particularly welcome in this part of her life, always the plus-one at work functions and the one left out of inside jokes. The blue-eyed colleague keeps looking over, his gaze lingering just a beat too long.

The server brings out plates of food, the aroma of garlic and butter filling the air. You take a bite of the pasta, hoping the carbs will help soothe the discomfort in your stomach. The conversation turns to the latest office drama, and Lizzie leans in, recounting a story with animated gestures. Her hand lands on your thigh, and you give it a gentle squeeze, hoping to remind her that you're there. But she doesn't seem to notice, her attention fully on her colleagues. You begin to feel a familiar pit of jealousy and anger in your stomach, you don't like to be ignored. Especially when there is someone who is practically eye-fucking your wife from across the table.

The blue-eyed colleague, whose name you've already forgotten, tells a joke that has the whole table in stitches, except for you. You've heard it before. It's not funny, it's just a play on words that only people who don't know any better find amusing. You manage a polite chuckle, trying not to let your annoyance show. But as the laughter dies down, you catch his eye, and he winks at you. It's subtle, but it's there. The wink sends a cold shiver down your spine, and you take a sip of your wine, trying to wash the feeling away.

"Lizzie, dear?" You lean in, trying to get her attention. She turns to you, her face slightly flushed as she is now onto at least her 4th glass of wine.

"Yes, my love?" She purrs, her eyes a bit glazed over as she leans into your chest.

You swallow hard, willing the anger to stay at bay. "Could I talk to you for a second?" You ask, your voice calm but firm. Her face drops slightly, but she nods at you.

"Of course," she says, before she follows you out of the room, her stumble slightly exaggerated as she stands. You lead her to the quieter bar area, where the music isn't as loud and the lights aren't as bright. You lean against the polished wooden counter, the coolness of the marble seeping through your shirt.

"Is everything okay?" she asks, her eyes searching your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "Well, yes, I would say 'OK' is an adequate way to describe everything," you start, keeping your voice steady. "But I just wanted to talk to you about something."

Lizzie's expression shifts from tipsy cheer to concern. "What is it?" she asks, reaching for your hand. You pull your hand away from her, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Actually, it’s a couple of things," you begin, your voice a tad shakier than you intended. "One, why didn't you tell me about this dinner? I would have liked to be included from the start."

Her eyes widen, the concern deepening. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. It just came up, I didn't think it would turn into this," she gestures vaguely to the noisy room behind her. "But I'm so happy you're here now."

You nod, acknowledging her apology but not letting it dissolve your feelings entirely. "And two, while you say that you wanted me here, and you're happy that I came, I cannot help but feel like you wouldn't have invited me had I not called, and you haven't been the most attentive since I got here." You let the words hang in the air, watching as the color drains from her cheeks. She goes to speak, but you stop her. "And lastly," you begin, glancing over to the room where her colleagues were all seated, laughing and clinking glasses as thier banter grew louder. "Flirty Mc Blue Eyes has been practically eye-fucking you all night. Is there something I need to know about, Elizabeth?"

Her hand flies to her mouth, a gasp escaping her lips. "What? No, no, it's nothing like that. I swear, he's just a flirty guy, it's his thing." She tries to laugh it off, but her eyes dart back to the table where the blue-eyed colleague is watching the exchange with a smug look. "Baby," she steps towards you, her arms wrapping around your neck as her fingers work through your short hair. You look into those green seas that you find so much comfort in, seeing nothing but genuine honesty within them.

"You have nothing to worry about, darling." She purrs into your ear, standing on her tiptoes to reach. Her breath was warm, tickling the shell of your ear and sending shivers down your spine. "He's just a colleague. You know I only have eyes for you. Do you want me to prove that to you?"

You feel your anger and jealousy shift to desire and arousal at your wife's words. You feel a growl echo through your chest at her words. Leaning down to her ear, you whisper, "Those better not be empty words, baby girl." She shivers in your arms, and you can feel her breath hitch as you pull her closer. You kiss her neck, feeling her pulse quicken under your lips.

Lizzie pulls away, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "Now, let’s go be social, shall we?" she says, taking your hand and leading you back to the table. As you sit down, you notice the blue-eyed colleague's gaze lingering on the two of you, his smug look replaced with something resembling annoyance. You decide to make it your mission to show him that she's yours and you're not just some forgotten plus-one.

The conversation turns to the upcoming office retreat, and you listen intently as Lizzie's voice becomes more animated. You lean in, whispering sweet nothings in her ear that make her giggle and blush. You make a point to touch her frequently, your hand resting possessively on her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns that only she can feel. The tension between you two is palpable, and the blue-eyed colleague's glances become less frequent, his smirk fading.

Deciding to test the waters, you lean over, resting your lips against Lizzie’s ear. "You look stunning tonight, doll," you murmur, your voice thick with desire. She giggles again, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she nods. You nuzzle your nose under her ear, right by that sweet spot you know she loves. "Makes me want to take you home and rip that skirt right off of you." She shifts in her seat, her hand flying to your upper thigh, squeezing it tightly. You press a lingering kiss to her pulse point before pulling away slightly. "If you’re that beautiful in those clothes, you must be beautiful out of them, right?"

The room is a blur of conversation around you, but the only voice you’re tuned into is hers. Her hand slides up your thigh, sending a bolt of heat straight to your core. "Oh, baby," she whispers, her breath hot against your neck. "You have no idea." Her eyes dart to her colleagues, who are still deep in conversation before she leans in closer. "But then again, you only think you know what’s underneath this outfit."

The tease sends your mind racing, and you squeeze her thigh in response. The night wears on, and the alcohol loosens everyone's inhibitions. You watch as Lizzie laughs at every joke, her hand sliding higher up your leg with every touch. It's a silent battle of wills with the blue-eyed colleague, but you're winning. He tries to rejoin the conversation, but she's focused solely on you now.

The teasing touches and remarks continue throughout the dinner, she has finally made her way up to the apex of your thighs, rubbing your member through the loose fabric of your pants. "Someone is liking this," she whispered, placing a kiss on the shell of your ear. "But don't get too excited, I'm not sure if we're going to be able to leave just yet." You bite your bottom lip, trying to compose yourself as the heat builds between the two of you.

You continue to think when you finally get an idea. You scoot back as subtly as possible, excusing yourself to the restroom. You walk down the darkened hallway towards the lavatory, thankful that the majority of the dinner rush has left. You look back over your shoulder, ensuring no one has followed you. The bathroom is empty, the soft lighting casting a warm glow on the tiles. You enter a stall, lock the door behind you, and pull out your phone, typing out a quick message to Lizzie. You feel like you're back in high school.

-Meet me in the restroom. 2 minutes. -

You smile as the text goes from delivered to read, indicating she knows what to do next. Not even 30 seconds later, you hear the door creak open, and her heels click on the tile floor. She locks the door behind her and you can feel the anticipation thick in the air. She opens the stall, and you take in her flushed cheeks and smoky eyes. Without saying a word, she straddles you, her skirt hiking up around her waist. You groan as she grinds herself against you, the fabric of your pants the only barrier between you two.

"Oh, baby, no panties?" you groan into her ear, nipping at the side of her neck as she whimpered and rocked on your lap. She smirks, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Thought you might like that," she whispers, her hand reaching down to unbuckle your belt. You tutt, swatting her hand away. Her eyes dart to yours, a mixture of lust and confusion.

"Home," you growl, standing with her legs still wrapped around your hips. She whined at the thought of having to wait, her eyes misty with passion. You give her a quick, hard kiss before setting her down and exiting the stall. You wash your hands, fix your shirt, and glance at her in the mirror. She straightens her skirt, fluffs her hair, and fixes her lipstick. The sight of her doing this in such a public place sends a thrill through you.

"Good thing you chose loose pants," she giggled, leaning into you and stealing a kiss, grasping firmly on your throbbing length. The sudden stimulation causes you to gasp, allowing her to push her tongue into your mouth, quickly overtaking and dominating a very sloppy, passionate kiss. She pulls away, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Come on baby, let's go."

You nod, leading her out of the bathroom, and glance at the table. "Should we say goodbye?" you ask, a wry smile on your features.

"No," she smirks back, quietly working through the main dining room of the restaurant. "I just want you."

Her words are music to your ears as you both sneak out of the bathroom. You can feel the tension between your legs, a stark contrast to the casual air you're trying to maintain as you make your way to the exit. The cool evening air hits you as you step outside, and you immediately feel a sense of urgency. You lead Lizzie to the car, the engine purring to life as you drive off, the city lights blurring past the windows. The drive home is a battle of wills, both of you fighting the urge to rip each other's clothes off.

As you pull into the garage, the tension is palpable. You can't even wait to get to the bedroom. You press her against the car, kissing her hard, your hands roaming her body. She gasps as you pinch her nipples through her blouse, her hips bucking against yours. You can feel her wetness through your pants, and the thought of her being this turned on because of you is intoxicating.

"Oh darling," you growl in her ear as your body presses her against the passenger door of the car. "I am going to destroy you for tonight." She gasps, her breaths coming out in short pants as she nods, eagerly anticipating what is to come. Your hand reaches down to lift her skirt, sliding your hand between her legs to feel her heat. She is soaking wet, and you can't resist sliding a finger into her, watching her eyes roll back in pleasure.

"More," she whispers, her voice needy. You comply, adding another finger, curling them just right to hit her g-spot. Her legs quiver around your hips, and you can feel her beginning to lose control. You pull away, suddenly turning and walking to the elevator doors. She stumbles after you, her heels clicking against the concrete floor.

Once inside the elevator, you push her against the wall, your mouth claiming hers in a fiery kiss. Your hands roam over her body, tugging at her clothes, desperate to feel her bare skin. The elevator dings, announcing your arrival at your floor, and you break away, smirking as you pull her out into the hallway. She stumbles slightly, her eyes glazed with lust.

You unlock the door and push her inside, the loft bathed in the soft glow of the living room lights. The quiet starkly contrasts the restaurant's buzz, and it feels like the perfect playground for your desires. You slam the door shut, spinning her around to face you. Your hands trace the curves of her body, the fabric of her blouse feeling like sandpaper against your fingertips. You rip it open, buttons flying everywhere, and she giggles, her cheeks flushed with excitement as her eyes darken to forest-green seas of lust.

Her skirt follows suit, landing in a pool around her ankles. Your kisses become more frantic, more possessive as you devour her neck and collarbone. She arches her back, pushing her breasts against your chest, her nipples pebbling with need. You reach behind her, unclipping her bra and letting it fall to the floor, revealing her perfect, perky breasts. You take one in your mouth, sucking and biting the sensitive skin as she moans your name.

Her hands are equally busy, unbuttoning your shirt and sliding it off your shoulders. Her nails trace the lines of your abs, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You lift her, her legs wrapping around your waist as you carry her to the bedroom. The room is dimly lit by the moon shining through the windows, casting shadows across the bed. You lay her down, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her, sprawled out before you, bare and beautiful.

You kiss down her chest, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her breasts before moving down to her stomach. You can feel her tense with every touch, her breath hitching as you reach her bare waist, nipping and licking above where she needs you the most. She's begging for you, her hands tangled in your hair, guiding you where she wants you. You look up at her, her eyes hooded with desire, and smirk as the smell of her arousal slowly invades your senses.

"What do you want, baby?" you husk at her, not quite willing to give in until she tells you.

Her eyes flash with something primal and she growls, "You know what I want."

You kiss down her body, your tongue tracing the path of your fingers, until you reach the juncture of her thighs. You hover there for a moment, feeling her pulse against your mouth. "Tell me," you demand, your voice low and commanding. Her legs we shaking as they tried you close around your head, but you were forcing them to stay open.

"I want you," she whispers, her voice trembling with need. "I want you to taste me, to make me cum."

With a growl of your own, you give in to her demand, pressing your mouth to her pussy. Your tongue flicks out, tasting her sweetness, and she arches off the bed, her hands gripping the sheets. You lick and suck, exploring her with an intensity that makes her toes curl. Her legs tighten around your neck, and you can feel her getting closer, her moans filling the room. You love the way she tastes, the way she feels against your tongue. It's intoxicating, and you know you could spend hours doing this. You take the opportunity with her back off the bed to push yourself upwards, effectively lifting all but her head and arms off the bed, wrapping an arm around her hips while one supported her ass.

You pushed your tongue into her wet walls, slurping and licking at all of her arousal as she writhed and mewled in your grasp. Her moans were urging you on as you explored every crevice of her pussy. You could feel her getting closer, her juices becoming even sweeter as she neared her peak. You sucked hard on her clit, flicking it with your tongue in a rhythm that had her breathless and shaking. Her legs tightened around your neck, her heels digging into your back as she begged for release.

"Please, baby..." she moaned, as you leaned back, pulling her with you as her back came into contact with your front. You could feel her shiver as you continued to probe her entrance with your tongue. You took her clit into your mouth, sucking and biting gently, while you slid two fingers into her, curling them in that magical way you knew she liked. She bucked her hips against your mouth, her cries of pleasure echoing off the walls. You could feel her getting closer, her muscles tightening around your fingers. She was wiggling and moving you both around, desperate for her release.

Her orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing over the shoreline of your senses as she screamed out your name. Her entire body tightened, her pussy pulsing around your tongue as she came hard. You didn't stop, keeping the rhythm steady as she rode out her climax, her heels digging into your shoulders. It was a sight to behold, one that you never tired of. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream as her body trembled in your arms. You pulled away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you let her back down on the bed. You crawled up, resting between her legs as you kissed her passionately.

She moaned as she tasted herself on you. Her hands were everywhere, clawing at your back, pulling you closer as she kissed you with the same desperation she had felt moments ago. "I need you inside me," she gasped, her hips rocking against yours. You could feel the tip of your throbbing member poking at her wetness, and as she kept rocking against you, she began to tease herself with your length.

With a groan, you pulled away from her kiss, sliding down to position yourself at her entrance. You looked into her eyes, watching as she bit her bottom lip, her pupils blown wide with desire. You pushed in, inch by inch, her walls clenching around you like a tight fist. She was so wet and ready, and you felt yourself get lost in the feeling of her heat surrounding you. "Fuck," you breathed, as you reached the hilt, her pussy stretching to accommodate your girth.

She arched back in a silent scream, her hands blindly searching for you as they came to rest on your breast, thumbing your nipples as she lay back down. "More," she begged her voice a breathy whisper that sent chills down your spine. You didn't need any more encouragement. You began to thrust into her, your movements slow and deliberate at first, feeling every inch of her tightness. She was so wet, so warm, and so incredibly tight around you. It was like sliding into heaven.

Her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you deeper into her with every stroke. You could feel her nails digging into your back as she moaned your name, urging you to go faster. You obliged, your hips moving faster, the slap of your skin against hers filling the quiet loft. Her walls were tightening around you, contracting as she neared another orgasm. You leaned down, your teeth grazing her neck as you whispered dirty words into her ear.

"You're mine, Lizzie," you said, your voice gruff with desire. "Say it." You nipped and sucked at the column of her throat, leaving a trail of marks that would need to be covered if she goes to the office. But you didn't care. It was childish, but you wanted everyone to see your marks.

"I'm yours," she breathed, her voice was a sweet surrender that was music to your ears. You thrust into her harder, feeling the tension in your balls tighten. She was so wet, so hot, and she felt so good around you. You could feel yourself getting closer, your rhythm becoming erratic.

Her nails raked down your back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Again," she begged her voice a whimper that sent a shiver down your spine. You didn't need to be told twice. You picked up the pace, hammering into her with a fierce passion that left her panting and whimpering your name. Her walls tightened around you, squeezing you in a vice-like grip that was both painful and pleasurable.

"I'm going to cum," she screamed, her legs tightening around your waist. You could feel her pussy spasm around you, and it was all the encouragement you needed. You thrust into her one last time, feeling the warmth of her orgasm as it washed over you. You followed her over the edge, your release filling her up. You collapsed on top of her, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath.

You lay there, your heart pounding against her chest, your cock still twitching inside her. You kiss her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath your lips. "Fuck, Lizzie," you murmur, your voice still thick with lust.

She giggles, the sound is music to your ears. "That was... intense," she says, her voice filled with awe. "Maybe I need to get you jealous more often..." she teased, tracing her fingers over the red, angry welts from her nails on your back. You can't help but smile, feeling a swell of pride at her admission.

"Don't push it, darling," you murmur, kissing her forehead. "Or I might just have to take you in public." You both laugh, the tension of the evening dissipating as you lay in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of your passion.

You roll over, looking into her eyes. "I love you," you say, your voice earnest. She smiles, her eyes sparkling. "I love you too," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. You can see the truth in her gaze, and it fills you with warmth.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths and the distant sirens of the city outside. You kiss her softly, savoring the taste of her lips. Your hand finds hers, your fingers interlocking as you both lay there. "I'm sorry for being such a jealous prick," you admit, feeling the weight of the evening's tension lift from your shoulders.

She giggles, stroking your cheek with her thumb. "It's okay," she says, her voice soothing. "It's kind of hot, actually."

You can't help but chuckle at her response. "If you say so." You lean in for another kiss, feeling the love between you stronger than ever. The sound of her laughter, the feel of her skin against yours, it's all intoxicating. But you know you can't stay here forever. You roll off her, pulling her into your arms. "We should get cleaner up, get some rest," you murmur, your voice lazy with satisfaction. She nods, snuggling closer.

You both get up, a little wobbly on your legs, and make your way to the bathroom. The cold water from the faucet is a shock to your system, but it helps to bring you back to reality. You clean up, and she watches you with a smile on her face, her eyes roaming over your body. You look back at her, the love and lust warring in your gaze. "Ready for round two?" you ask, a wicked smile playing on your lips. She nods, her cheeks flushing with excitement. She grasped your semi-erect member, slowly pumping it as her eyes darkened.

It was going to be a long night.

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