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charliemwrites · 7 months ago

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Part 1

Finally finished this! I think I put way too much pressure on myself to get this just right and it gave me some major writer's block. Anyway, please enjoy!

Content: Wet dreams, Somnophilia (sort of), Identity Porn, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy (through dreams), Uncomfortable Situation, Pushy/Predatory behavior (brief)

“Bad dreams again?”

Drowsy and sluggish, you blink at your aunt. She’s as sleek and coiffed as always, pressed business attire and shiny hair. Shoulders back, spine straight. A woman people respect and heed without question.

Your mother’s voice whispers in your ear, that lovingly patronizing tone. See how professional she looks, dear? Isn’t that nice?

It’s not Aunt Katie’s fault though. She does look professional, and it is nice. It suits her.

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “They’re not bad, really. Just… intense.”

She hums, elegant fingers tracing the edge of your borrowed desk. “They can’t be very good if they’re keeping you up.”

You’re tired enough that you almost correct her a second time. The problem is that the dreams are too good. You wake up panting, sweating, halfway to – well. You’re not about to discuss the finer points of a kinky wet dream with your CIA aunt. Besides, it’s silly to get so defensive of something that affects you seemingly negatively.

“Maybe,” you reply, rubbing at your heavy eyes. It feels like you’re trying to look through clear jelly.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Aunt Kate suggests.

You frown, a pang of guilt striking your empty tummy. “No… no, I’m okay. It’s not even lunch yet.”

She smiles at you. The same fond smile she’s always graced you with, on holidays and birthdays, whenever she could escape the secretive walls and red tape to be with family.

“You’re already ahead on paperwork. You’re not a bad employee for getting a little sun.”

Your eyes flick longingly to the door.

Apparently, the government doesn’t believe in things like windows or sunlight. Your little desk is at the very end of a long, half-empty hallway in the middle of a concrete cube and drowning in awful blue fluorescence. You can’t even bring yourself to drag a plant to this crappy little island because you’d feel too guilty putting it through this.

“Okay… maybe just for a few minutes,” you allow.

Her smile widens as she nods for you to follow. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. I think the dogs will be free for some enrichment.”

Well, that certainly gets you out of your squeaky office chair.

Honey sunlight drizzles over your neck and shoulders, dripping syrupy-slow down your spine. It diffuses through your chest, chasing away the artificial chill of the office. The sleepy haze retreats like frost melting from glass.

You sigh into the fresh air, ignoring the tang of gunpowder lingering on the breeze, and turn your face to the sun. Summer is coming to an end, the heat broken into mellower warmth. There won’t be many days like this left before autumn bites down and shakes the leaves from the trees. A shame you’ll likely waste most of them in your administrative prison.

The dogs stretch out in the grass around you, tongues lolling and eyes bright, keeping you company. A furry bouquet of black and tan in the manicured grass, their ears and tails like stalks to strange plants.

You bury your fingers in Zeus’s coat and get a fuzzy white tummy for your efforts. He’s a young and handsome thing, the newest addition to the K-9 unit, still a bit fluffy around the ears. You try not to think of how that will fade and harden, just like the older dogs in the unit, just like his human counterparts. Just scratch at that itchy spot by his ribs and smile when his hindleg kicks.

Friga stands and stretches on your right side, leaning her shoulder into yours. Then picks her way around the others to sniff at Zeus. Offended by her interruption, he flails onto his stomach and nips at her, one big forepaw thumping the ground.

She goads him into playtime, and you watch with the older pack members as they begin to romp. They tumble and grumble around you, heedless of bumping into any of the others. You laugh, bright and loud—

The back of your neck tingles.

You glance around, not even sure why. Until you see a figure across the field. He’s standing by the track where about two dozen men are jogging. Recruits, you guess. But he’s not observing them or barking orders. No, he’s clearly turned to face you. It’s too far to make out any features, apart from what seems to be an unusual haircut.

You quickly glance away, surreptitiously trying to determine if the man’s attention was on something else that happened to be in your direction. But there’s little else but you and the dogs in this field, the kennels noticeably off to the left.

Then again, someone sitting in the grass with half the K-9 unit is a bit unusual. He’s probably trying to decide if it’s something that needs investigation. You hope it’s not.

Still, you can’t shake the discomfiting sense that he’s looking at you.

You ignore him until it’s time for the dogs to go back - but that prickly feeling of being watched never subsides.

That night, in the guest room of your aunts’ house, the dreams take on new life.

It starts as it always does. A dark room. A lush bed. Silky sheets. Moonlight seeping through blinds like smoke. And him.

He’s behind you. A broad body so solid you’d think he was a wall if not for the heat. It’s so intense this time, like a wildfire raging out of control, crawling from his skin beneath yours. You sense more than feel the big hand around your jaw. Rough fingers clutch at the plush of your thigh. Hot breath fans across the back of your neck, rippling shivers down your spine.

There’s a voice in your ear. No words you can discern, just a thunder-deep rumble with smoky edges. Stubble scrapes the delicate skin of your neck and catches in your hair.

A thick, heavy cock is buried deep inside you, kissing the entrance to your womb. Your pussy twinges a sweet-sharp ache with each deliberate grind of his hips. He’s spreading you open to get as deep as he can, throbbing balls pressed up tight to your sopping entrance.

Your own hands are all but useless. One twists desperately in the sheets, the other clutches at the meaty swell of his ass. Pleasure upends anything like sense or thought, even hazy dream logic. There is just this man fucking you like he owns you, two of his fingers in your drooling mouth, petting your tongue. A ring clicks against your teeth.

“Found you,” he whispers.

You jolt, eyes flying open. The powder blue ceiling of your borrowed room greets you. You’ve kicked the cotton sheets into a tangled mess around your ankles, tiny shirt ridden up your chest. Your panties are soaked.

The taste of metal lingers behind your incisors.

It’s a busy day. For once, you’re free from the confines of your sad little nook. Aunt Kate must have taken pity on your sorry state the day before and has procured busy work. Files that need hand delivery, or physical reports for you to gather. You don’t care if it’s just something to get you out of the office, you relish the stolen moments outside between buildings.

If there’s a downside, it’s the glances you attract. Everything about you projects civilian, despite the access card prominently pinned to the lapel of your blazer. It draws curious once-overs at best and suspicious scans at worst – or speculative appreciation at the very worst. Every time a fresh-faced recruit or overly decorated middle-aged man lingers as you pass, you hear your mother’s voice again.

Don’t you know what those military men are like? Practically animals. I couldn’t possibly let you be exposed to them.

It’s long ingrained to keep your eyes forward, head level, and try to keep your hips from swaying as much as possible. You’re grateful for whatever bit of paperwork you can clutch to your chest, just to hide your figure and have something to do with your hands.

You’re picking up some personnel files from the infirmary, smile brightly at the receptionist as she passes them over. Mallory is only a couple years older than you, and she’s been working here a year already.

“Lunch in the mess today?” she asks, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“As if you even need to ask,” you tease. “Noon?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She blows you a kiss as you leave, counting the number of files to be sure you have them all. Your eyes skim over one of the names, a white label on the folder fin. “MacTavish, J.” in blocky typewriter font. You shuffle them back into a neat stack and pivot for Aunt Kate’s office.

You’re not in the moonlit bedroom this time. A half-moon grins down from a starry sky, wearing smoky nebulas for lipstick. Beneath you lays cool grass and soft earth, rich and loamy in your heaving lungs. Petals blooming in the dark kiss your overheated skin, little relief for the burn in your veins.

The change in scenery is almost as dizzying as the man between your thighs. Almost.

But it’s not the dew-saturated breeze that muddles your bewildered thoughts. It’s the hot, wet, clever tongue lavishing your drenched pussy. He licks in broad stripes from your aching hole to your throbbing clit, only ever pausing to indulge a slow suck to the bundle of nerves, before resuming that hypnotic circuit.

One thigh is hooked over a wide shoulder, your heel dug into the flexing muscles of a broad back. The other is spread by a big, calloused hand, giving him unfettered access to the softest, neediest parts of you.

You mewl desperately, hand darting down to his bobbing head. Your nails scrape shorn stubble, eliciting a gravelly groan that sends electricity up your tingling spine. It’s nothing compared to the growl you earn when your fingers twist into the longer, soft strands at the top.

For the first time, you’re able to voice more than helpless moans and wanton whimpers.

“Please,” you sob softly, “please.”

You feel him smirking, a wicked curl against your fluttering cunt. Then he focuses the tip of that awful, dexterous tongue on your clit, flicking in purposeful little strokes.

M-A-

“S-so close,” you whine, hips twitching. He pins you flat, pace never faltering.

V-I-

You shudder as your pussy clenches and spasms, finally, finally—

You wake with a sharp sound, head spinning. Your orgasm washes away like the tide, leaving disappointment and exhaustion behind. You nearly scream into your pillow as you press your thighs together. Still half asleep, it even feels like you have beard-burn.

You’re in line at the mess with Mallory, listening to her complain about some rude colonel that just had to share his opinion about her acrylics. She does the best impressions, and you’re grinning and laughing as the two of you shuffle through the options. You’re reaching for a scoop of rice when the conversation behind you catches your attention.

“—came in a couple days ago.”

“The whole squad?”

“With Braveheart himself.”

A snort. “You better not let MacTavish hear you say that. He’ll—”

“Helloooo?” You blink at Mallory, who arches her brows and waves a bagel at you. “Want one?”

“Oh, uh… sure, why not,” you answer.

“Atta girl!” she cheers, tossing it in the toaster. “Carbs for days.”

You giggle but can’t help glancing behind you. The two men have already moved on though. Not that it was any of your business – or anything interesting. You’re not sure why that caught your attention. Men are just loud, you suppose, snatching a couple to-go packets of cream cheese.

As you’re leaving the mess, you happen to glance over your shoulder. A pair of sharp blue eyes catch yours from one of the tables. A group of men, just about to sit. Mallory tugs your shirt to keep you from clipping the doorjamb and you hurry after her.

There’s heat at your back. Not from a body this time, but a fire burning low and hot in a hearth. No, the body is in front of you this time, filling up your watery field of vision. Peachy skin and coarse dark hair, an old scar slashing across a sharp hip, miles of lean muscle.

Not that you have much opportunity to ogle with tears blurring your sight. The fat cock bullying the back of your throat makes it hard to do anything but choke. You dig your nails into a thick thigh and pull back, writhing your tongue along a puffy vein as you go. The leaking head rests on your drenched tongue as you catch your breath. Smoke and leather and musk saturate your lungs, cloud your empty head.

He smells so good; you don’t even like cigars.

A rough thumb caresses your cheek, a silent request for you to continue. You can practically feel the lust-drunk moans vibrating in his chest – so deep, they’re barely audible over the crackling fire.

You hiccup as deep a breath as you can manage and swallow him down again. He’s silky on your tongue, you sigh softly through your nose as the blunt head flirts with your gag reflex. You slacken your jaw despite the ache already crawling into the joint. Even then, your teeth scrape the base a bit, but that only makes him twitch against your soft palate.

“Look here, love.”

Your lashes flutter as you try to focus your gaze, scrolling your eyes up his body. Most of the details are lost either in the haze of desire or the vagary of dreams, but the blue eyes that greet you are sharper than real life.

You jolt back to consciousness with a dry cough, the scent of him still haunting your senses. You stumble to the restroom for water. Don’t even realize that you’re glancing in the mirror over your shoulder, expecting someone to be there, until you realize you’re alone.

Oddly bereft, you trudge back to bed and try to focus on the clean soap smell of your aunts’ detergent.

In moments like this, it’s hard not to blame yourself.

Not because you’ve done anything wrong, or even feel like you have. It’s because the situation is so frustratingly out of your control that it’s almost easier to tell yourself that one decision or another would have avoided this outcome. A sharper response, a frown instead of a smile, a different walking route.

(There’s also your mother’s voice, always. Saying to be smart, to pay attention, to not “put yourself” in a vulnerable position. You silence that voice viciously this time.)

Still, the fact of the matter is, there’s no personal choice you could have made to keep Corporal Callahan from cornering you in this supply closet. You just wanted a box of tissues.

“Look, I know you’re Agent Laswell’s niece, but I don’t see why we can’t go out because of it,” he reasons. As if that’s the reason you’ve been trying to gently dissuade his attempts.

“It’s not that—” you begin, shifting. He’s standing too close, but you refuse to back yourself any deeper into this tiny space. The doorway is right there, he’s just taking up all of it.

“Then just say yes,” he chuckles. His tone is all smooth and easy, meant to be charming maybe? “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking.”

Except you’re not asking, you think with helpless frustration. The sharp words get trapped behind your teeth, cutting up the roof of your mouth. Your heart is beating so hard and loud you can barely hear his “romantic” overtures.

“I’m not really…” You’re not even sure what to say this time; you’ve already told him you’re not looking to date. He’d said some vaguely predatory line about changing your mind.

In the absence of a finished statement, Callahan takes the opportunity to continue cajoling.

“C’mon,” he sing-songs, “I’m not letting you out of there until you say yes.”

You pry your jaw open, about to agree to it just for the sake of getting free. Deal with the fallout later.

There’s a rush of air and suddenly the doorway is empty. You briefly see Callahan against the opposite wall, face blank in unpleasant surprise. Then a big body blocks your view of him. Broad, bunched shoulders and thick thighs. A shock of brunet hair shaved close at the sides and long at the top. Your entire body locks up.

“You come near her again, they won’ stop findin’ pieces of ya, aye?” A growl, low and rough, Scottish accent thick. You shiver.

Callahan stutters something, a few garbled syllables through a strained and winded voice. You think you might hear “captain” in there somewhere. The bigger man shifts, you hear a muffled thump – Callahan hitting the wall again, you think. Then, with seemingly no effort, your savior tosses Callahan to the side like trash. He stumbles, catches himself.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid.”

Callahan flicks one last frightened glance your way then hurries off, proverbial tail tucked between his scrawny legs. You don’t even watch him go, eyes glued to the stranger’s muscular back. He rolls his wide shoulders, cracks his neck, and finally turns.

Familiar blue eyes pin you in place as he steps closer. The scent of cigar smoke and leather teases your nose.

A voice you’ve known for months rumbles in his chest. “Found you.”

Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #hades and persephone inspired #soulmates #john soap mactavish #captain john mactavish #kate laswell

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luvrxbunny · 1 year ago

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gullible

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Breeding

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, a lot of body descriptions, reader is on the curvier side, some grinding/dry humping, male masturbation (barely), ovulation, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 4.7k

A/N: lets say spider society is funded by the most rish spider-people and thats what the dinner was for. also this is long asf- i blacked out im so sorry

It’s a formality. This whole dinner party. It’s something Miguel gets invited to every year and every year he dreads going to it, having to play posh in order to get some extra funding from the higher-ups. Although, he doesn’t mind too much this year because he’s bringing you.

He’s fidgeting, and complaining about his collar when you come out of the bathroom, you’re asking him if you look okay and he knows his answer before he looks at you. He knows you look good, he tells you so before turning to you and only reassures you upon gazing at the outfit.

This dress is new, and you’re worried your tummy might be too big for it so you’ve thrown a coat over to hide it. Miguel knows what the coat is really for but doesn't mention it, not wanting to risk making you so uncomfortable you change out of everything. He compliments your new perfume instead, winning a confused smile from you. You’re fidgeting with the coat on the ride to the venue, saying that it’s itchy and you’re getting too warm. He suggests you take it off but you gently refuse and stop complaining.

He gets dragged away from you the moment he walks through the door. He hates leaving you alone at these things, he knows you don’t socialize well and he knows the men here want a taste of you. He’s anxious to get back to you for the entire hour these deep pockets talk his ear off. He hasn’t been listening, he’s thinking about you. He’s almost overwhelmed at the love he has for you, he’s never felt this way before. He’s missing you even though you guys are in the same place, even though he’s only been away from you for an hour. He can’t get out of there fast enough, shoving the doors of the conference room open and searching for you immediately.

When his eyes find you, they find that you’ve already taken your jacket off and you’re socializing with an entire group of people. They’re conversing with you comfortably. You bring a smile to his face as you laugh at someone’s joke. His eyes rake over your body, finally taking in your true outfit.

It has him stiffening in his pants. You’re wearing a dark red pencil dress, the same color as his suit. It hugs your curves perfectly, doing justice to your plush thighs, your ass and showcasing the curve of your back. His favorite part though, is the way it hugs your front. Your boobs look great, sure, but it’s emphasizing the little pooch that sits at the bottom of your stomach.

You hate it, saying it makes you look fat, that you wish you could get rid of it… but in Miguel’s eyes? It’s just proof you’re the perfect woman to mother his children. He came to this conclusion before he even knew about your tummy. He had seen your wide hips, your care toward others, how good you are with children, and decided he wanted you.

Once he got you to date him, to fall in love with him, he found out about your little belly fat. You’d been sucking it in as much as you could whenever you were around him, sometimes wearing higher pants than necessary in hopes of the jeans pushing your stomach down. It broke his heart to hear you so insecure but there was also a little flame igniting in his stomach.

The flame never left. He didn’t tell you about it, but every time he noticed your belly pushing against your tank top, or a tight shirt, whenever he felt your soft tummy on his hard stomach- through the t-shirt you insist on wearing while he fucked you- the fire raged brighter. He added it to the list of reasons you’d be an amazing child-bearer. He’s obsessed with the protective fat over your womb.

He watches you cover your stomach with your arm as you laugh, not even realizing you’re trying to hide his favorite part of you. He’s walking over to you before he plans out what he’ll say. He just stands beside you, inhaling your sweet perfume, and waiting for you to feel his presence, it doesn't take long. You turn to him with a surprised smile and give him an excited hug. “Miguel!”

His heart expands at your excitement upon his arrival, he wraps an arm around your waist and presses you against him. Your voice is muffled as you speak to him. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” He’s not listening though.

To any outsider, it looked like Miguel just really missed you, when in reality, he was making sure you could feel what you do to him. You let out a pretty sigh into his ear once you feel his bulge press into you. Your eyes are on his as you pull away, searching them for a reason as to why he’s hard but all he’s too busy taking in every piece of you.

You’re both lost in your own world, you don’t realize the people you were talking to have moved on from your conversation, talking with some other people now and leaving you and Miguel to your moment.

His hands are resting on your hips before one slides behind you, pressing his open palm against the small of your back before the other presses against your lower stomach, right over your uterus. Miguel can feel your stomach tense under his hand as you suck in, tightening your muscles but Miguel just tuts and tilts his head at you, disappointed. “Don’t do that, cariño. I love her.” Your gaze is on the floor as you listen to him, he sounds drunk, his voice is distant and hazy.

His head is cloudy with fantasies. He can see your stomach, how it would grow and swell as you create his child inside you. He thinks about how beautiful you would look with your womb stuffed full of him. He swears she’s calling for him- your womb- begging him to fill her up, paint your walls white until his seed takes, maybe a little more after that just to be safe.

You can see his thoughts racing, you can tell he’s working himself up, you just don’t understand what is doing this to him. His hand on your stomach is making you a bit self-conscious, but your muscles have been too tight for too long, and they give out. Your soft tummy relaxes and presses into his hand, pulling a relieved sigh from Miguel. His breathing picks up and his eyebrows furrow before he looks up from your stomach, looking into your eyes instead. “You know I love this, right?”

He looks back down at your belly as he readjusts his palm, opening his hand wider to cover more of your pooch. You whine and shift uncomfortably, the way his hand is resting over your womb is hot, it’s turning you on but you’re barely aware of that fact because anxiety is overrunning everything. You’re waiting for Miguel to slip up, for you to see a crack in his lies. You appreciate the attempt at making you feel better about your body but you don’t- you can’t believe him.

Until you look up into his eyes.

They’re drowning in need, his pupils entirely blown out, covering most of the red in his eyes. He’s gazing at you as he slowly pulls you in and presses his plump lips against yours with a moan. You pull away quickly and look around, a few people looking your way at Miguel’s louder-than-safe moan. You look back up at him to warn him, tell him to keep it down but the words die on your tongue. His eyes are hazy and confused, still looking at your lips like he can’t figure out why you pulled away. You smile at him incredulously and pull his hand away from your back but he whimpers when you try and take his hand off your womb.

“Miguel, we’re public, baby.” Your voice is soft yet frantic, and his eyes are still begging you. “People are staring…” That gets a reaction, his face twitches and his eyes clear and harden a bit. He looks around the room with a snarl and you have to pull his gaze back to you.

“Hey! What’s gotten into you?” The question hurts him a bit as he thinks it over, he really is trying to pinpoint why this is affecting him so much. All he can focus on is you though, your scent enveloping him like a cloud. It smells like everything good, like flowers and honey, but also clean like soap and linen. It’s suffocating him, stopping all thought.

“You smell so good, amor. What is that? I don’t recordar buying este para ti.” His voice is muffled as he buries his face in the top of your head, looking for the source of your scent. You’ve had enough, he’s doing all of this in the middle of the party, and you’re starting to feel a bit embarrassed. You’re pushing him back, slowly walking him to the edges of the party. You feel people staring until you finally hit a wall, pushing a grunt from Miguel. “What is up with you?” Your tone is gentle but you’re getting concerned, you’ve never seen him like this.

His eyes are shut tightly as his brows furrow and he lets out a pathetic whimper. “I’m sorry. I- I don’t know.” His hand leaves your stomach to bury in his hair and you instantly miss its warmth. You take a step closer to him, waiting for him to say more. “Can we leave? I think we’ve been here long enough, yeah?” He’s already pulling your hand to the exit.

He’s silent in the car and on the drive home, constantly running his hand through his hair, and bouncing the leg that isn't on a pedal. You’re taking in his frantic state and notice that through all this, he’s still hard. “Miguel…” He gasps softly and turns to you for a moment. “What’s wrong?

“I don’t-” His eyes dart to your form. “ Your dress for one.” You glance down and wish you hadn’t, you see your stomach split into rolls, folding the fabric of your dress, accentuating the it’s softness. Your arms cross over it, trying to hide and Miguel groans.

“Don’t do that, I told you.” His voice sounds painful and strained. You look back at him to see a distressed look on his face and his hand palming his throbbing cock through his suit pants. “I fucking love her.” His breathing gets heavy, causing him to inhale more of your painfully sweet perfume. “What the fuck is that smell, baby?”

You can hear him take a big inhale of the air in the car and a shiver runs up his spine. “I’m…” You struggle to round up enough thoughts to answer him, too distracted by the way he crushes his dick against his thigh and the little moans that accompany his movements. “I’m not wearing perfume, Miguel.”

That's when it hits him. Why he’s so desperate for you, why your scent is clouding his every thought and taking over his mind… You’re ovulating.

A broken groan rips from his throat at the realization, he speeds the rest of the way home. When you guys finally arrive he parks in the driveway and unlocks the doors, but doesn’t move. “I need you to get out, bonita.”

You feel arousal settle in your stomach as you press your legs together. Miguel’s head falls back, and his hair falls with his head, revealing his red-tipped ears. His hips are still gently thrusting into his hand, the other is squeezing the wheel so hard you thought it might crack. “I- I need a moment, baby. I’ll explain everything, just go inside and-” He lets out a breathless curse and his hips stutter against his palm. “And go change and just- just wait for me, okay? I’ll be there in a moment, go.” You’re in a trance as he speaks but the force in his command shakes you out of it.

You leave the car silently and make your way to his place. You change out of your clothes in a daze, putting on a tank top and one of his sweatpants as you try to process what just happened. You grab a blanket and wait for Miguel on the couch.

It’s only a few minutes before you hear his footsteps approaching the door. You stand in front of the doorway, oddly nervous as you watch the knob turn. His eyes meet yours the moment the door opens, his eyes stay on yours as he ducks through the frame, and takes his shoes off. They only tear from yours to take in your new outfit, your lower belly is the first place his eyes land. He gets that weak look in his eye you’ve been seeing all night and his breathing picks up.

Miguel notices the way your stomach sucks in for a moment before relaxing, letting your body be as she is and it making him feral. He needs you so bad, he wants to just take you right here but he promised you an explanation. His eyes flicker up to you and he takes a shaky deep breath and tries to keep his voice steady. “Have a seat, hermosa.”

He looks nervous, he keeps wiping his hands on his suit pants as you walk over to sit on the couch, he seats himself at the other end, across from you. You’re turned to him, legs crossed and laying in his lap. He turns to face you more and accidentally places your legs over his bulge, you can feel his thighs tense as he folds in half, letting out a choked moan that he tries to cover as a cough. You let him think he got away with it, he leaves your legs over his bulge, giving him enough stimulation to think straight.

You’re looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain and he decides to just rip the band-aid off. ��You’re-” Arousal stabs in his stomach at the sentence he has to utter. He bites into his lip and tries to regulate his breathing. “You’re o- ovulating.” Your legs shift in his lap as your expression falls, embarrassed. “And I can smell it.”

Your legs pull out of his lap quickly and you bring your knees to your chest. “What?!” You sit up and tuck your legs under you, sitting on your calves. “You can smell it? I’m- God that’s so- I’m so sorry.”

His mind is getting hazy again without your contact. “No. Cariño, not that. It’s not like that.” He sighs at your confusion, he wishes you understood how desperate he was, maybe then you wouldn’t ask him to talk so much, maybe you’d just let him fuck you already. “It’s more like pheromones.”

His hand slides across the couch cushion, wraps around your ankle and slowly drags you toward him. “It’s a change in your personal scent. Your body is trying to trick mine into breeding you, and guess what?” He’s pulled you straight and is crawling up your body, slowly lowering himself against you so his bulge is pressing against your pussy, right over your clit.

He’s so hard he’s able to split your lips, rubbing the cloth of his sweatpants against your naked pussy and you gasp at the feeling. Your hands slide up from his biceps to pull his head in, anxiously awaiting the rest of his sentence. He smirks at the eager look on your face and leans in, just inches from your lips, and whispers against them. “My body is so gullible for you.” You whimper.

You can feel your entire being heating up as he kisses you so intensely, like he’s trying to devour you. He’s groaning against your lips and licking into your mouth as he wrestles his jacket off. Your hands shoot to his belt and struggle to get it off, whining into the kiss when his belt gets caught on the loops. He smiles into you and his hands come to rest over yours. “Tranquila, bebe. I’m the desperate one, remember?”

You shake your head his words and let him take his pants off while you wiggle out of his sweats. He moans at your bare pussy and his arms give out for a moment, almost dropping his weight on you before catching himself. “N-no panties?” His fingers are on you, rubbing your clit and spreading your slick all over you, coating his fingers in it. He’s being downright messy.

“Miggy- Miguel, I need it so bad- need you so bad. I love you so much. You’re so-” Your mind is already gone as you grind up into his fingers, overwhelmed by the added pleasure of his desperation. He’s groaning into your ear as he humps himself against your thigh in time with his fingers.

“I don’t know. I need-” You cut him off with a moan and he smiles as you apologize in between whimpers. “I think I’d need to cum in you, cariño. I need- My brain can only focus on-” He groans as you writhe against him, pushing your thigh into his crotch. His head lowers to rest against yours as his fingers speed up inside you. He can feel the way you’re coating them, soaking every crevice with your sweetness. He can feel the way they’re sliding inside you, the way your walls are squeezing him, it’s too much. “I can only think about cumming in you, bebe.”

Truthfully, his thoughts were more focused on what would come afterward, watching you swell with his child but you guys haven’t even had a conversation about kids yet.

“No.” You whine at him, he feels sadness shoot through his stomach but he tries to mask it. “Just fuck me, please?” You’re looking up at him with puppy dog eyes, your hands around his neck pulling his face impossibly closer as your lips try and lock with his. He nods at you gently, he wants to give you anything you could possibly want.

“Okay, amor.” He kisses you quickly before taking his hands off of you and starts unzipping his pants, pulling himself out of his boxers while you wait. You watch him for a bit as he gets undressed before a thought pushes into your head.

What if I took my top off this time?

You think it over for a second, you want to be yourself with him, completely and he’s explained his love for your tummy over and over again.

What could be the worst that happens?

Images of Miguel’s face twitching in disgust flash through your head. Unrealistic scenarios of Miguel pulling away, starting to reject your advances and your kisses plague your brain.

He wouldn’t do that.

You take a deep breath and bite the bullet, pulling your tank top over your head quickly and Miguel freezes, causing an abundance of discomfort on your end. You thought this was something he’d want, something he’d like, now that you’ve exposed yourself though, he’s silent.

You try to stand strong, but your hands are twitching at your sides to cover your stomach. You pray to whatever god there may be that you somehow gain the ability to read his mind, to see his thoughts, to force him to say something… anything.

His cock pulsing. He’s never seen you completely shirtless, despite being together for over a year. He never wanted to push you, too scared that he’d push you away. He’s seen you with no top but only with a towel over your stomach, or pants pulled over your stomach as you change. But now? Her full glory was on display, there’s a little curve underneath, separating your tummy from your pussy and he’s in love.

His eyes are zeroed in on your naked stomach and your hands come up to cover it, legs pulling inward as you fold into yourself. He can’t have that. “Don’t”

His voice is sharp and dark, a strong command but you don’t listen, covering your stomach fully. “It was a bad idea. I’m so uncomfortable, Mig. Can-” You let out a heartbreaking sigh. “Can you just pass me my top?” You threw it down just out of reach and your hands are occupied covering your stomach. Embarrassment is coursing through every vein.

How are we gonna move on from this? I fucking killed the shit out of the mood. Fuck. God, I hate this.

“No.” He’s moving back toward you, climbing up your body again, ignoring the obvious confusion you’re facing. You curl in even more which just upsets him. He grabs your leg and pulls, forcing you out of your ball before pinning it under his own. “Uh-” You let out a noise of surprise but Miguel pays it no mind as he reaches for your arms. He takes both of your wrists in his hand and pins them above your head, holding them there as he admires your tummy.

Your heart is racing but you don’t struggle. Miguel is looking at you like to most amazing piece of art and you’d do anything- anything- for him to keep going. You feel yourself leaking between your legs as he just stares. His breathing is slow and shaky and his brows keep furrowing, like he’s having an internal battle with himself. He takes another breath and exhales through his mouth, letting his breath fan over your face before releasing your wrists and leg.

He’s waiting for you to pull your hands back down, cover one of your most beautiful features… but you don’t.

Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. “Can you please, please, fuck me now?” His face twitches before he smiles, taking a deep breath as he pulls away. He kisses your chest as he slowly rises, his hand already on his cock, pumping himself gently as he aligns himself with your entrance. You’re gripping the cushions with all your strength as he works himself in.

He’s worried. You feel insane around him, the softest thing he’s ever felt, extra wet and open for him to breed you. His mind keeps wandering back to cumming inside you, even though you said no. He’s walking the line of some dangerous thoughts.

I am stronger than her…

He shakes the thought out of his head and focuses on you. The way you’re moaning his name like it’s the only thing you know, your hips are growing frantic as the grind up against him. “Miggy-“

“Amor.” He smiles at the moan that rips from your chest as you bury yourself in his neck. His hips speed up at the sounds of your moans right next to his ear, your breath tickling the shell of it.

“‘M gonna- “ Miguel cuts you off with a growl and his brows furrow. He doubles down on his thrusts, bringing his hands to the small of your back, gripping you hard and fucking you into his cock.

It’s going to take a serious amount of focus to keep his orgasm at bay until you’re done. “Go- Fuck. No, just wait, baby.” You let out a confused noise at his command. He’s never asked you to hold it before.

“Fuck! Mi- I don’t know how!” Your sentence turns into a sob as he watches your body tense up, pulling all your muscles tight and gripping the roots of his hair. “Haah- Miguel. Baby, I ca- an’t. Please let-“

A moan stops your sentence as Miguel presses onto your womb, forcing his cock against your walls, stretching you even more. You feel so full you don’t know what’s happening. Your eyes are wide as you stare at his hand, slowly looking up to meet his eyes. They’re frantic, desperate and wild when they meet yours.

His panting aggressively, intermittently pausing so he can try and regulate his breathing. You’re staring into his eyes, shocked at his reaction and a smirk pushes its way into your face before you moan at him again. He pulls his hand away from your womb like it burned him and pulls out, gripping the base of his cock so hard it must hurt.

You were so close, teetering on the edge, just hearing Miguel utter your name could’ve tipped you over… but he pulled out instead. “Miguel!!! Why? I- I’ve been good, haven’t I?”

Your desperate pleads are worsening his situation. He ignores your words and starts rubbing your clit, his fingers moving over the little bud lightning fast. “I’m not punishing you, bebé bonita”

You whine at the love name and grip his arm, trying to pull him closer to you. “No puedo correrme dentro de ti and I’m… I’m too close right now, cariño.”

You’re trying to push his hand away now, shaking your head and whining. “S’okay”

Your yanking at his arm, trying to get him back over you. “Cum inside, Miggy.”

His eyes widen and he doesn’t move. He honestly thinks he’s hearing things at this point, fantasizing without realizing but you’re look at him all shy and expectant. So you actually said something… “W-“ He takes a deep breath. “What?”

You whine at him and avert your eyes as your legs slowly spread for him. “You- You wanted to, right? I want it…” You whine at the thought. “I need it, Miggy.”

His vision blurs as he reaches out for you, lining himself up as quickly as he can. He can already feel his balls pulsing, tensing and preparing a load for you, for your pussy, your womb.

It’s worse than the first time he ever had sex with you. Every nerve is alight, he can feel every little detail in your pretty, perfect pussy. On top of that, you’re moaning like he’s never heard before, louder, more high pitched, more desperate than earlier and they’d already shocked him then. He can’t.

“Mm- Not- fuck. I’m not gonna last. Not even a min- shit. Oh my god, cariño. Not even gonna last a minute. Fuck me, niña bonita.” Your almost screaming his name at his words, his languid pace and the way he’s literally shaking for you. “Gonna- shi-it.” His words sound like broken sobs as his tip gently abuses your cervix.

You’ve pulsing around him, trying everything you can to wait for him so you can milk him while he pumps you full. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck. I’m gonna cum in- in you, baby. Voy a follarte un bebé, amor. Te dejaré embarazada, te mantendré llena de mí en todo momento. Mierda. Te verás tan hermosa, manteniendo a nuestro bebé protegido en tu grueso útero. Oh, joder"

(“I'm going to fuck a baby into you, love. I will get you pregnant, I'll keep you full of me at all times. Shit. You will look so beautiful, keeping our baby protected in your thick womb. Oh fuck.”)

Your eyes roll back and the coil in your stomach snaps as Miguel rambles, hips thrusting into yours gently, his gaze on the back of his skull. You’re fucking yourself on him as best you can in this position. It’s awkward and over-exerting but completely worth it when you hear a whine of your name and Miguel’s cock starts throbbing inside you.

Twitching once, twice, before hardening even more and pouring a torrent of cum into your waiting pussy. He’s the loudest you’ve ever heard. Moaning out your name on repeat, thanking you for letting him cum in you with a lot of other Spanish sentences in between.

His hand presses to your womb as he winds down but his cock twitches out another load as he pushes down, fucking into you slowly again. “Te amo tanto, mi querida. No puedo imaginar la vida sin ti. Una vida en la que no tendrás mis hijos, en la que no estemos casados…” His entire body shudders as he finally stops pouring into you.

(“I love you so much, my dear. I can’t imagine life without you. A life where you don’t bear my children, in which we aren’t married…”)

He leans down and kisses you slowly, eyes hooded but still focused on you. Your eyes are teary and trying to shut, exhausted from the entire night. Miguel keeps pressing kisses all over you as you drift off.

“Un mundo sin ti es uno en el que no podría vivir, amor.”

(“A world without you is one I couldn't live in, love.”)

Thank you so mcuh for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 8 months ago

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hi hi! could i request headcanons for floyd, ace, rook and trey with reader who frequently lays their head on the boys lap and just sleeps there? ty!

Ace Trappola:

Ace has to ask what you’re doing. He doesn’t even care that much if you’re alone and you do it, but there’s an intimacy that comes with laying your head on his lap that made him itchy. You have to admire the red shine to his cheeks that are reminiscent of his eyes, his gaze averted from yours when you sleepily asked if he minded what you were doing. Around others he gets much more tense but it’s almost like a badge of honor to have you choose his lap, meaning he can’t help but get a little smug about it.

Floyd Leech:

If it’s something you can do to him without warning then it’ll be fair game to Floyd, and he’ll absolutely be using your lap as a pillow right in the middle of class much to your embarrassment. But he surprisingly allowed you to ‘use’ him, at least for a little while before he gets antsy or bored and followed his impulse to wake you up to entertain him. He doesn’t tend to sit still for just about anyone so it’s an honor that he didn’t just push you off his lap onto the cold hard ground.

Rook Hunt:

Rook has a smile on his face like he’s the rat that got the cheese, patting his surprisingly muscular thighs and welcoming you to use them to rest. They’re comfier than you might think and while Rook offering something up specifically might give you reason to pause, you don’t think there’s maliciousness behind his intent. He seemed too happy, commenting that it was like a cutaway scene in a movie, where the not-yet couple are just starting to indulge in their feelings for each other.

Trey Clover:

Trey tried to keep a straight face, jokingly asking if you’d like him to feed you grapes (or something sweeter, considering who he was). Your bold behavior always did a number on him and this felt like the icing on the cake, a blatant show of affection that you wouldn’t simply do to others. He remembered a compliment you gave him once, that you really felt like you could rest your shoulders when you were with him; he had wanted to scold you not to let your guard down even around someone like him, but he found the trust flattering enough he didn’t want to tease you too much.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Ace Trappola #Floyd Leech #Rook Hunt #Trey Clover #Ace Trappola x Reader #Floyd Leech x Reader #Rook Hunt x Reader #Trey Clover x Reader

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luvelve · 9 months ago

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˚ · . sweet blue - k. mingyu

summary: your husband’s not very good at asking for things, not even for a shave. but of course, he gets it either way.

pairing: husband!mingyu x afab!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warnings/tags: kissing, shaving, mentions of use of a blade

a/n: i took a long and unexpected break from writing and i’m happy to be back <3 this has been sitting in my drafts for sooooo long and i finally finished it today. the ending was kinda rushed but i wanted to publish it either way to kinda get myself out of this slump. as always, feedback & likes/reblogs are always welcome :)

the dark colored marble touches the front of your thighs as you inch closer, which surprises you but you try your best not to flinch because of the task at hand. at this moment, you feel like an artist, a sculptor if you will; carefully carving clay with utmost precision. except you’re not a sculptor, and you’re not carving clay. you’re in your bathroom giving your husband, mingyu, a shave.

this was new for the both of you, as mingyu always just shaved his incredibly slow growing mustache by himself. what started all this is him seeing you in your nightstand or in the bathroom doing your makeup and skincare, and he finds it all so amusing. he swears harps and violins play in the background when you’re in your own little world, dusting your cheeks with blush, taking your mascara off, or applying lip balm? lip… stick? lip…. whatever it is that you put on your lips, he thinks to himself. all he knows is that he can watch you do it all day. but he’s also left wondering, how it would feel to do what you do on him.

for some reason, mingyu isn’t able to muster up the courage to ask you straightforward to do his skincare, but he is able to ask you to be the one to shave him since he tells you its that time of the month where his mustache gotten too long for his liking. he comes up with the excuse of not doing the job well enough, and that his face gets all ‘itchy’ afterwards. which is all a lie of course, but it’s enough to convince you to do what he asks of you.

and so you find yourself in your shared bathroom at nine in the morning, standing in between your husband’s legs as he sits on the counter, both of your faces inches from each other. the room is silent but not eery, it’s a comfortable silence. mingyu had joyfully shown you the things he uses for his shaving routine: a cheap razor, shaving cream, some aftershave seokmin had recommended to him, and a towel.

“you really should get one of those good quality razors. not these disposable ones.” you scold mingyu softly, looking at him sternly with one hand resting on his head and the other holding the razor.

“but they’re expensive.” he extends the last syllable in protest, his reply a bit garbled as he tries his best not to move his mouth too much. you know mingyu well enough that he would be pouting at this moment, if only you weren’t shaving his upper lip.

you’re too focused on the task at hand that you don’t bother arguing with the giant sulky man in front of you. you continue making slow downward strokes using the razor, watching the hair slowly disappear. mingyu doesn’t have a lot of hair on his face like other guys but you take your time, making sure to get the job done right. it is, after all, your first time.

your husband watches as your lips contort out of focus; a habit of yours that he’s taken notice and grown fond of over the years. every now and then , you get rid of the hair and cream, swishing the razor in the sink that’s filled about halfway in water. mingyu feels nothing else but happiness and content in this very moment that he’s internally doing jumping jacks.

your resting hand shifts from his head and onto his cheek to get better leverage and mingyu just has to lean in to your touch. he relishes the feeling of your warm hand and then looks at you with adoration in his eyes.

“baby…” you raise your eyebrows at him, wondering what on earth he’s doing this for in the middle of a shave. mingyu doesn’t react to your words but instead shoots you a small derpy smile, and only you would know what he means.

if there’s one thing your husband is good at, it’s getting you to give him your love and attention without even saying anything. there are nights when mingyu comes home exhausted and all he has to do is stand there in your doorway, signalling to you that he wants to be in your embrace. or when you get up earlier than him and you find him just as he’s about to wake up; he’s buried in the sheets, hair all messy, just laying there, silently telling you that he wants a taste of your lips before his morning coffee.

and it’s the same thing he’s doing now. you let out a small sigh as you tilt your head a bit in fake annoyance before you lean in to connect your lips with his. it’s quick but it’s enough that mingyu lets out a hum of contentment. you pull back and he giggles as your lips catches some of the shaving cream, giving yourself a tiny little mustache.

“happy?” you quickly reply, and mingyu catches you to plant another kiss on your lips, placing his hand on your cheek to deepen the kiss a bit.

“very.” he says, as he swipes the pad of his thumb on your upper lip to get rid of the shaving cream he transferred onto you. his giggles bounce off the quiet walls of your bathroom.

“now can you sit still so i can finish this little bit that’s left?” you say to him, and he replies with a small nod and a sheepish smile, one that’s big enough that his canines show through. mingyu feels like a sixth grader who just kissed his crush. if the marble counter wasn’t in the way, he’d be kicking his feet.

you finish the small patch of hair that he has left and you proceed to put aftershave on him, assuming it is what you put after one shaves. you put a little bit on your hands and you’re thrown off by its strong musky scent. surely this can’t be good for his skin, you think to yourself.

“babe, you really use this stuff? i think this is way too strong for you.” you say with a worried look on your face. “well… seokmin told me it was good so i just used it too.” he replies.

“well yeah, it could be working for him but for you… i’m not too sure. i don’t know… i’m just worried.” you trail off, getting some tissue to rid your hands of the product and his eyes follow you around the bathroom while you do so. you shuffle back to stand in between mingyu’s legs, “i’ll go get something from my stuff instead.”

he watches as you momentarily leave the room to grab something from your vanity. he waits in the bathroom like a five year old waiting for his mom at the grocery counter. he hears the sound of your drawer open and close and it makes him chew at his lower lip in excitement.

“okay, this should do the job.” you say as you take the product onto your hands and pat it gently on your husband’s annoyingly smooth face. you make sure to cover all the parts that the blade has touched, and your head tilts left and right trying to make sure you didn’t miss any spot.

the way his eyes light up and follow your every move don’t go unnoticed by you. his hands make their way to rest on your hips again, squeezing every so gently as not to distract you.

“aaand, that’s the last bit of it.” you say, tightening the cap of your moisturizer and setting it down on the counter. mingyu internally pouts because the task is done, nonetheless he still props himself off the counter to take a look in the mirror.

“thank you, baby.” he says softly, shooting you a sweet smile as he turns to face you again. his arms snake around your waist to pull you in for a kiss and just when your noses touch, you pause. “you know… we still have a bit of time before we have to head out. why don’t we go back to bed for a little while?”

mingyu instantly picks up on what you’re trying to say and of course he jumps on the opportunity, “yeah?” he questions, and you nod as you wrap your arms around his neck. “well you know i can’t say not to that.” his smile reaching from one ear to the other. he leans down to attach his lips to yours as the both of you slowly walk backwards into your bedroom.

“oh, one more thing.” you mumble, momentarily breaking away from the kiss. “mhmm..” mingyu hums, and you feel it rumble in his chest. “i know you don’t get ‘itchy’ after you shave, it was just an excuse to get me to do it for you.” your tone is playful, and right then and there mingyu knows you’ve got him.

“what-huh? n-yes, i do!” your husband stutters, his ears turning red in embarrassment. “sweetheart, you really expect me to believe that? i know you like the back of my hand.” you reply. before mingyu is able to say anything else, you grab his arm and lead him out of your bedroom. “now let’s go, you owe me a yummy breakfast.”

#mingyu fluff #kim mingyu #seventeen x y/n #seventeen fluff #seventeen #mingyu x y/n #mingyu scenarios #seventeen scenarios #mingyu au #seventeen au #mingyu x reader #luvelve’s

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1800titz · 6 months ago

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WOOO second part to the pornstar!au (Tiger Harry). Find the first part here

If you'd like to read more goodies from me (including a RIDETHET!GER threesome, already up!), my patreon is HERE :)

CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, anal sex, Sir kink, choking-ish, light dom-sub dynamics

WC: 4K

“They’re both just such pretty holes,” Harry coos, and he thumbs apart her lips before folding over her to reach for his priorly discarded smartphone. His confession is mottled by a sigh, “…I simply cannot decide.”

Tiger has perfected the art of edging.

Not even in a literal, tethered-from-the-sweet-peak-of-precipice with an iron hand wrenching backwards sense — though, she’s seen plenty of that through his camera work. It’s a finely formulated craft, making her skin itchy and her cunt weepy before he’s even really touched her. And he hasn’t. She thinks, maybe he’ll nip at her clit with the pads of a forefinger and thumb, but he doesn’t even do that. Instead, he takes a step back. The phone pings. Action.

“Spread,” Harry tells her. Light. Easy. Pats at one cheek, “Here.”

Y/N obliges. She rolls onto her shoulders and tucks her arms behind her, splaying her fingers and pulling the flesh apart there. There’s a hiss like a breath coming in through little nooks between his bare teeth. It feels absolutely glorious.

And lewd. A torrid kind of heat climbs up her neck. Lingers in the apples of her cheeks when Tiger pets at her thigh — probably taping a close-up vista of her oozing pussy — and comments, “Look at that pretty, little cunt.”

Her digits jolt over her flesh, squeezing it apart almost desperately when he traces the back of a finger beside her clit, and then meanders up to her leaky entrance, prodding with the tips of two fingers. Not quite breaching. Tiger slinks one — a forefinger— up the short trail of her taint and nudges at the hilt of her plug, tracing the petals. Stuffed with silicone flora. Pretty.

“Fuck. Fucking gorgeous.”

He sighs all soft behind her, and trails lower.

“I think—“

Harry scopes the hood of her clit with a thumb and then pulls it back to scrape with the pad of his middle finger — a motion that makes her jerk and wrests a soft sound from the back of her throat. A deviously mirthy hum comes from behind.

“I’ll fuck you here—“

The tip of a finger brushes her weepy, pulsing seam.

“—first. Stretch you out a bit before. Sound good?”

She hums against the sheets. Please. Tiger traces the rim and sinks in to the second knuckle with paltry notice. His fingers are long, fill up more space than her own. Lengthier than hers. Girthier. They prod at the nooks and crannies that yearn to be grazed with little effort on his part, and by the time he’s sunk to the base of his chilled ring bands and added a third digit, Y/N is nearly drooling into the sheets.

“You are such a tight, little thing, sweetheart,” Harry hums. Enunciates his speech with the wet squelch of his fingers plunging, cradled warm and wet by her sloppy pussy.

A mewl gets muffled in linen when he scissors the pair, stretching the seam taut, and rolls his thumb in slippery circles where her slick has trickled. There’s heat swelling in the trench of her tummy; a warm tide pool sloshing in waves that crest. Higher and higher. Building. It overcomes her — this tsunami, blighting her ataraxy until she’s a slobbering mess at the foot of his bed, keeled over.

“Gonna—“ Y/N warns, brows pleated and mouth pried apart, tongue brushing bunched fabric with little couth.

Tiger milks her through it, rigid fingers pumping and thumb swirling clusters of spheres into her pulsing flesh, until all that’s left of her are melty shambles with a weakly fluttering cunt. And it does flutter, throbbing emptily as his digits withdraw. Sucks onto them like it doesn’t want to let go, and then spasms around bare atoms like it needs to be corked back up.

“Good girl,” Tiger praises. He sounds soft and pleased. Concentrated��as his cockhead prods at her hole— “Got my fingers all wet, too. That’s two for two.”

He swipes them at the back of her thigh, so she feels how slick. The pink border of his mouth is probably twitchy. Traces of a smile scratch at his dialogue the way something claws in the pit of her tummy as he nudges with the fat tip. She feels melty. Frozen fudge on a summer day dribbling down the handle. She thinks, for a moment, with her knees and her shoulders seeping into the mattress, that English has slipped her mind. Nothing plucks at her vocal cords, almost as if they’ve been snipped entirely. A high sound crawls from the back of her mouth, though, when Harry tucks his cock into her.

He’d been big in her palms — the pads of her digits hadn’t quite kissed around his shaft when she was kneeling, sweeping her tongue at the slit of his ruddy head, and her jaw had strained wide apart to fit him in and swallow him down. Even still, Y/N hadn’t anticipated the stretch. He bullies his cock into her — just about halfway — forcing against her spongy walls in a way that’s nearly too much. Like a paw wriggling into a glove that’s two sizes too small. She feels him in her belly, deep, as he sinks in, inch by inch (hisses escaping the cracks of his bared teeth and scraping at the edges), and bottoms out. She tastes clean cotton on her tongue, mouth wide and muted dumb, eyes screwed.

A gasp shatters the lull, like one sucked in bobbing to the surface of a sea that’s going to ripple and kick her back under. It thaws in her achy lungs as a soft, dreamy moan when Harry fetters her wrists with one hand at the small of her back, rocks out, and pumps back in.

“There you go, little bird. Nice and—“

She cries out as his hips snap.

“Full?”

He rolls out slow, and her fingers twitch when he pummels in to the hilt. Ragged, little noises scarper from her mouth like he’s punched them from her from the inside. The ping of the phone sundering its video doesn’t register, but she realizes he’s tossed the phone again when he pets his free hand over her ass and stamps a sharp, stinging blow to it. Harry sets a brutal pace, then. Soft strokes that strain her rim taut and give her room to adjust simmer off when something scathing boils in the trench of his belly. He grapples her joints in his palm firmly, and the tempo of his hips smacking into her morphs merciless. Used and abused.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Y/N whines when his thumb presses at the hilt of petals stretching her littlest hole.

“Fuck, yeah,” He mirrors, snarling, and twists at the plug to siphon a whimper.

Inferno spumes her arteries when he wriggles the plug out, groaning, and replaces it with two wet, blunt fingertips. Three. They stuff her fuller than the plug had and have her wheezing for oxygen to mingle with the scorch that permeates her veins.

Her knees shuffle over the sheets, she squirms when he drills into her again and again and again, and he grapples at a love handle to keep her tight in place, “You asked for this— and you’re gonna take it, baby.”

Y/N does. There’s not any alternative when he hammers into her and burrows half-moons into her flesh with the ends of his short nails, but she doesn’t want there to be. She scrapes at the side of his palm with crooked fingers — the one that cuffs her wrists together and pants into the sheets.

She’s seen Tiger fuck. She’s watched the videos — a little redhead clawing at the stair-railing with wet eyes as he coiled her hair tight over his knuckles from behind, or a brunette keening under his frame as he tucked her calves over his shoulders, pounding in from the tip to the hilt and all the way back out. The ones with a curvy blonde clawing at the sheets, whimpering as he pummeled between her thighs, and the one where the woman with the pixie juddered helplessly over his lap, crying out as he stippled a slick trail of open-mouthed kisses up her jugular and manually bounced her over his cock with a firm grip at her hips that dwarfed her size. Y/N has seen so much of the impact in screen captures — slobbered chins, streaming eyes with mucked kohl and smudged liner. Tips of noses hued cerise or pinky and lips swollen and sloppy with spit. Still, she’s somewhat surprised to feel mirrored evidence over her own face as tears drip in rivulets over the apples of her cheeks, as she gnaws at her bottom lip and drools onto his expensive mattress. It’s not the aftermath yet, and Y/N is sure she’s going to be a disheveled mess by the time the camera on the dresser shuts off.

His cock spits ribbon after ribbon into her with little warning. He pounds into her, something cruel and brutal, husking growls. A groan slides up from the depths of his chest, and he slurs a string of curses, fingers twitching in her other hole when he empties into her pulsing cunt. Y/N absolutely milks him through it. Her slick walls spasm over his cock, and she whines like the same effects curdle her bloodstream and erupt across neurons.

When Harry pulls out, fisting at the base and gruffing a hum, he thumbs a bead of cum that leaks out to coat her clit. She absolutely sings, at that.

He lets go of her wrists. Twisting his fingers gently from between her cheeks, Harry blows out a breath and—

Y/N keens like he’s slapped her when Tiger splays his palms over the globes of her ass, spreads, and spits where he’d been fingering her apart. It’s glorious. Harry presses his cockhead to the glob of saliva smearing, still manhandling apart one cheek, and tells her, “Spread,” voice worn and mottled with pants like his heartbeat is thundering ichor in his ears.

She does. Her own heart hammers behind the caging of her ribs when he makes a lewd sound, breathy and awed as he smacks over her asshole with the head. He slides against her perineum when she jolts, spine zagging, and hums.

“Is it gonna fit?” Y/N beckons. Her cheek smushes to the wet spot she’s made against the sheets. It’s the most gloriously humiliating revelation.

He winds around the room to the nightstand, where, through tear smeared peripherals (like a bleary windshield coated with condensation), she watches him cull a bottle of lube. The cap clicks. Harry sets a knee up, and the bed creaks, meshing with a sound of amusement and a slick hand working lubricant over his shaft. Her lashes flutter as Tiger works two wet fingers into her, to the hilt, unceremoniously, scissoring. He pulls them out.

“F’course—“

Y/N gnaws into the smooth, slicky flesh beside her molars.

Tiger grunts. She’s forced to arch at the palm over the dimples at the base of her spine. As if to test the theory, the slippery head of his cock nudges to the puckering seam.

“…We’ll make it fit.”

Taking anal from Tiger, Y/N learns, is a feat.

A pornographically debauched sort of rite of passage. She’s seen the pictures, too. The teasers he’ll post on X with only the pink tip of his cock in frame, a ringed, vibrantly lacquered hand cradling the back of his partner’s thigh to tuck up and showcase an asshole oozing cum. And the videos; the ones where the girls rake their nails into his tri’s, knuckles bleached, necks strained as garbled moans climb up their throats as he burrows in. They’re always blissed out, after; their visages melty and the lines where their foreheads and hair meet teemed with sweat. She has to wonder, though, as he prods in, how they quite make it fit.

A high sound and a tight squeeze part-way over the tip has him petting his fingertips over the metacarpals spiking through the skin at the back of her hand.

“Just breathe for me, baby,” Harry tells her, soft unlike the seat of his jawbone and the grit of his ivory teeth, after, “I’ll go— slow.”

Y/N inhales. It’s stolen from her lungs in the form of a long, low groan when he stuffs the tip past and the rim rides over the ridge.

“Is that too much, baby? Yeah?”

She suckles a bit of the sheet between her teeth when he mends the stretch of his sloppy, wet cockhead with a thumb that swipes from her leaky slit and meshes cum against his cock and the taut rim of her other hole.

“…That’s okay, we’ll get you there,” Harry coos, “That’s the hard bit all done, yeah?”

It’s all hard. Hard, vascular flesh like a rock spearing her open, sinking in, sedate and measured. Viciously careful and slick, accompanied by a vicious stretch, despite the lengthy preparation. He’s measured in the way he stuffs in, nearly centimeter by centimeter, pausing along the way down his shaft. Even still, it’s an ache that settles deep the further he sheathes — the kind she feels down to the marrow in the little bones constructing her spine, her pelvis, her ribs when they refuse to expand for her lungs.

“Relax, sweetheart, relax. Squeezing me so snug.”

It’s just advice, but it’s strained; filthy. It makes her cunt twitch.

“Push out a little for me. It’ll— yeah, slide in nice an’ easy if you do,” Harry coaxes, pausing the leisure roll forward of his hips. Her hole flutters over him. He makes it another inch.

“Just like that, little bird.”

She’s been holding her breath for twenty-three seconds by the time Harry pats at one of her hands and instructs, “Play with your pretty clit.”

It’s sore, but not in the way that it aches as he presses into her. The pads of her fingers brush milky cum that’s managed to seep out with the flex of her muscles, and they draw a circle over the sensitively overstimulated bud that droplets have leaked over. Her lips pry apart that way her fingertips pry bliss into the outstretched palms of her neurons, grappling for pleasure.

“Oh.”

“S’it sore?”

“Mm-Mhm.”

“But it feels good,” Harry states.

It’s just that — a statement, no inquiry to the borderline prideful cadence of his words when he sinks in three-quarters of the way. It’s enough to have her breathlessly wheezing over her noises, digits stuttering in their shapes as she pinches at the hood.

“Breathe,” Tiger chastises.

For the first time, his voice is whetted, like the edge of a cutlass, and she imagines his dark eyebrows creasing. The tattoo of a ruddy handprint — a smack — gleans a loud cry enmeshed from the sheer sting of it and the way Y/N jolts, bouncing forward and back on unanticipated inches. It’s cruel. Mean with his peal of laughter.

He’s soft again. Mirthy. “You did that, not me.”

“You startled me,” she argues. Her chortles flux into another, blunt, “Oh,” when Harry rocks out a little and back in, cooing in feigned ruth.

“Oh, did I?” Harry murmurs, trailing a wide palm up the indent of her arched spine with shallow plunges, “Poor baby.”

She squirms when his fingertips wind to the vale of her waist, scrabbling up the ladder of her ribcage lightly. It’s only for a split second, but it draws a squawk and a string of giggles; in turn, a low hiss from him.

“Fuck,” Harry grapples onto her hips, craning his neck, a grin lining his syllables when he admits, “Every time you laugh, s’like, squeezing me.”

It’s devious — the way his palm scopes the cinched flesh in the same area it had the first time, reveling in the squeal the wriggling pads pry. Her jaw clinches and she nearly bites through her tongue when her teeth latch together. Despite the stretch, her hips lurch forward on their own volition and her knees shamber towards the headboard, the circles over her clit all but forgotten as her arms outstretch for freedom. It only gives him a wider canvas.

A soft huff seeps from his nostrils, like the view of her hectically sprawling is entertainment. He pins her bones in place by the hips and lugs her back, sharply enough for her to groan at the pump into her.

“No,” Harry scolds, tacking an ankle with his hand. He bends one of her knees back and keeps a grip over a love handle on the opposite side. “Where d’you think you’re going? I wasn’t done.”

He’s polite enough to cease the tickle torture. Considerate, on his part, she supposes, since he’s got the sole of her foot aimed to the Rough sawn oak beamed ceiling. The gunge of kindling lust spumes, and it clogs the sharp anticipation of his thumb pressing to the tender spot between her heel and the ball of her foot, like cruor. Instead, Tiger hones on jabbing into her fluttery asshole, drawing a slew of progressively humiliating sounds. Her top teeth seal over the sheet and she gnaws the fabric in between her incisors like a feral dog.

She doesn’t really get it until his balls are slapping against her flesh with the fervor of his tempo; what it’s like to be used and abused by Tiger. Mostly, it entails being glazed with cum, inside and out; utilizing the same loads to swipe over her clit that leaks from her sloppy cunt as he pounds into her ass with little mercy. No intent to give. And still, he gives plenty. She feels him deep, spearing somewhere between the knobs of her spine and the soft flesh sheathing her tummy. She can’t recall a time she’s felt so full, vena thrumming something sanguine mottled by him. The ache spurs the bliss building at her pulsing clit, and she retires to chew at the back of her free hand, tucked under her wet face.

Just up until the point when he yanks at her hair from behind, spiking tingles at the crown of her head, and directs through husky breaths, “Sit up. Up. On your hands.”

Y/N clambers. An inky forearm hitches over the column of her throat from behind. A sharper arch, a muscular bind over her neck, a palm that dwarfs the knob of her shoulder, and hammering at her backside with no remorse. His nails claw into her love handle, and in turn, Y/N scrapes at the tits of his mermaid, her flowy tendrils, her tail.

“You really— are a little anal whore, aren’t you, little bird?”

She slobbers over his forearm, “Yes, Sir— oh— shit, oh, fuck,” so he spiles her mouth with a couple of his fingers. She nips at his knuckles, and he digs green into her deltoid.

“Fhuh—“ Y/N slurs around the digits.

He strokes a stuttery whimper from her taste buds.

She keens, shrill, when Tiger slips his fingers out and smears her own spit over her cheek, “Oh, fuck— you’re so deep—“

Her eyes are screwed, and even still she feels the pant of his grin against the opposite cheek. The way his lips ghost and graze her skin wetly with a low murmur, “Fuck, yeah.”

He twists his head and siphons the same fingers to his own mouth, gets them wetter, and bats the hand between her legs away to pinch at her clit. To fuse saliva, and cum, and desperation, working ardent over her bud.

“Such a fucking mess. S’leaking all over my balls, you know that?” Harry purrs, nipping at her earlobe when she whines, trembling, “M’gonna fuck it back into you, after.”

Y/N erupts. It spalls into flinders with sharp borders, somewhere between his cockhead burrowing deep in her tummy, the stretch around him, the pads swiping at her clit, and the filth he muzzles into her hair. She shakes like a waving bract, torn apart in his palms, spewing cries. The tight spasm over his cock has Harry chasing his own release, shuddering behind her and doubling down in a brutal tempo that draws soft whimpers from her mouth. The sharpest one comes when his chest rumbles flush with her back on a long groan, and he twitches in her as he presses deep and empties every bit that he can manage.

Rough sex, even with a borderline stranger, merits a soft touch to meld the jagged edges of the shards back together. When he seeps out, hissing softly and bobbing, slicked with cum and lubricant, Y/N crumples into the sheets like the junctions of her joints have unfused, slipping from their sockets to melt away into a puddle. It provides an optimal view of her abused holes, one puckering at the air and dripping fresh cum. Just as he’d promised, Harry spoons a rill that trickles out with the pad of his thumb and brushes it back over the slick hole he’d just been tucked into. Feeds it back in to coax a mewl.

“Two for two,” Tiger parrots, dragging the backs of his knuckles up her thigh. It’s an obvious reference to two orgasms each, now, and wears a smile.

If Y/N wasn’t so melty, she’d probably snort. She manages something like a grunt with her face planted to the mattress. She’s probably losing brain cells. The bed doesn’t feel breathable.

Harry nudges at her hips until her pelvis sinks flush against the sheets and her feet dangle over the edge of the mattress. Then, he crawls up over her, cock brushing her clean skin soiled along the way. She rolls over against her will. Gets bracketed by his arms as he looms over, mussed, damp coils of his hair pendulous.

“Hello.”

She swallows. Her ass is going to absolutely ache tomorrow. Y/N finds she doesn’t mind.

“…Hello.”

“You took that well,” Harry tells her, head cocked and talc glinting.

The boundaries of his ruddy mouth tick upwards into a lax smile, and even still, there’s an eagerly …awake mien to his composition. She wonders how, after that, and how his cock hasn’t gone down, a plurry in shade and sloppily oiled. It prods against the bone at the side of her pelvis.

“You …gave it well,” she responds, forming the words despite the way they feel garbled in her mouth, between her parted teeth, off her lips like the crevices of her gums have been numbed with lidocaine.

He ducks his chin and laughs.

Y/N ends up lodged by his armpit, tangled by the firm muscle of his arms, thighs flush together, with her cheek squished to the plush of his pec; a cushion over where his heartbeat is clattering.

“I’m all sticky.”

“You like it,” Tiger sighs, raking a palm back through his tendrils, off his forehead, and musses the tousled curls there further.

It feels nice when his fingertips graze up her nape, sliding into the forestry of her roots. They tug lightly at the follicles at the back of her skull in a way that makes euphoria seep down her nape. It settles in the first knob of her spine and slink through to the next. She rolls her shoulders.

“D’you wanna shower? I’ve got one of those rain showerheads on the ceiling.”

If her inner thighs weren’t crusting over, the suggestion would probably feel like a much more intimate dyadic. Especially because she’s well aware he’ll slide in alongside her, slippery. Soapy froth sluicing down his abdomen, sudsy palms cupping at her backside, trailing between her thighs, and rinsing the evidence of their collaboration down the drain. It tastes like another sex tape altogether.

Harry has grapefruit musk body wash and a citrusy shampoo in his shower. They’re the same ones she’ll lather into her own matted bird’s nest.

He notes, from the sink, twisting the silvery band and thumbing over the center, where a tetragonal, incarnadine stone is seated, “You got my rings all sticky.”

Y/N stretches her arms over her head. There’s semen spilling down the insides of her legs. She twists her head and meets him in the mirror just in time to see his eyes crest, his mouth purse and carve into a simper.

“D’you wanna polish them off with your tongue?”

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lovebugism · 11 months ago

Note

Smut request idea: Eddie worshipping reader's tits, who is insecure about their small size (lol totally not projecting 😅)

ty for requesting :D — eddie 'heart eyes' munson sees your boobs for the first time (cw for nudity, but no real smut, 18+ mdni, 1.1k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

On a rainy, post-show night, in the back of Eddie Munson’s van, you decide to be brave.

Buzzing with alcohol, adrenaline, and adoration — a wild concoction rushing like fire through your veins — you take your shirt off for the very first time in front of him. Mostly because your sweater was getting itchy, so you’re not entirely sure how brave that makes you. But your skin burns still, empty like a blank sky, yearning for a warmer touch to fall over you like stars.

In the simplest, most human way, you need Eddie to touch you like you need to breathe air.

So, when you tugged the fuzzy sweater up and over your head, you hadn’t thought much about doing it. You were too full of need, too unthinking. Head clouded with longing until you developed something short of tunnel vision for the boy underneath you.

It wasn’t that big a deal, right? Isn’t this what girlfriends do with boyfriends?

Eddie’s silence is not reassuring. It feels more like a knife lodged in the very center of your sternum.

You lay the sweater beside you and cross your arms slowly over yourself. Equal parts to hide what you’d just revealed to him and to shield your bleeding, stinging heart.

Eddie’s face twists, pained features swirling like a hurt puppy. “Wait— What are you doing?” he asks in an unabashed whine. His less-than-subtle pout deepens as his chocolate-button eyes flit up to yours.

You keep curling in on yourself, but from where you straddle his thighs, he’s impossible to run away from. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” you wonder in a tiny voice, distantly fearful of the answer.

You don’t have the kind of chest people put on magazines. Maybe you should’ve just kept the shirt on.

Eddie’s ringed fingers smooth around your bare waist. He realizes he’s holding you there for the very first time without any fabric covering you. His chest starts to sparkle. His thumbs rub gently at your ribcage, just below the arms still concealing yourself.

“‘Cause I’m too busy enjoying the view, honey,” he answers with a plush pink and crooked smile. His words are slightly slurred, weighed down by fatigue and desire. “How am I supposed to think when I’m looking at you, huh?”

You make a faint, grumbly noise, features scrunching in disdain at his compliment.

He smiles wider and curls his fingers around the wrists you hold over yourself. There is little force behind his touch, no eagerness to tug your hands away. Instead he just holds you, in a distinctly quiet embrace, telling you silently that you can let your guard down whenever you’re ready.

“So you don’t think they’re weird?”

He answers with an immediate scoff. “No, I don’t think they’re weird— I think they’re beautiful! I think every part of you is beautiful.”

You grow less and less tense in his hold. Your hands start to slip. You let them.

Bare again in front of him, the boyish glimmer in Eddie’s dark eyes returns.

The wild cadence of rain on the rusted tin roof resembles the rapid patter of his pounding heart as he ogles at you. And, with his back propped against the driver’s seat, he has the most perfect view of you.

The pale hands along your ribcage slowly start to rise. His warm touch leaves sparkling goosebumps in its wake. He doesn’t stop until his thumbs are settled neatly beneath your breasts.

“I mean— I always knew they’d be pretty, you know?” he mumbles, getting lost in you all over again. You don’t know if he’s talking to you, or if he even knows he’s rambling. “‘Cause when you’d let me feel you up, you know, over the shirt— I always imagined what you’d look like under it…”

He trails off then, forgets how to make words when his thumb rubs over your soft nipple. The gentle stimulation makes it stiffen beneath his touch. Eddie smiles to himself, all boyishly giddy.

“…But I couldn’t’ve, in my wildest imagination, expected this.”

Your chest warms with his affection. You scoff about it, anyway. “You’re such a boy,” you laugh.

“It’s not my fault you’re so pretty…”

Still cupping your chest, Eddie leans down to kiss you there. A chaste, open-mouthed peck to your pebbled nipple. His heart swells when he hears you moan above him — your nose buried in the strands of his wild hair, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

Eddie licks his rosy lips when he pulls back from you.

“See? You’re gonna kill me one day, doll— I swear,” he teases in a joking tone, but means every bit of it. He loves you so much it makes his chest ache. You’ll give him a goddamn heart attack one day if he’s not careful. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding from me this whole time…”

You’re not sure either, now.

“I was just scared that… I don’t know,” you stammer, clammy hands fidgetting with his intentionally tattered Corroded Coffin t-shirt. You’d helped him cut rips into the white fabric before the show. You distract yourself with the pink lipstick smudge you’d pressed along the neck of it, rubbing hopelessly at a stain that’ll never come off.

“I was scared that you’d think I was less pretty or something. I don’t know.”

“No,” Eddie recoils immediately, face twisting in abhorrence of the thought. He shakes his wild head at you. “No way. That’s not possible. I think you’re fucking— perfect. And I think that…”

His eyes fall to your chest again. He loses the rest of his words.

A smile blossoms on your face. You don’t think you’ve ever felt prettier than you do right now.

“You think that what?” you tease, hands rising again to twist in his deep brown curls.

Eddie’s button eyes flit back up to you. His ringed hands lift to cup your breasts in his wide palms. They fit just perfect in his hands — like he was made to hold you there. The width of his beam rivals your own.

“That I just found Corroded Coffin’s next album cover,” he answers.

The sound of your laughter fills the van. Sunshine compared to the rolling rain outside.

“No. No way. That’s not happening,” you refuse, still smiling, as Eddie leans into you again.

You wrap your arms around his neck when he puts his mouth on you. He buries his own laughter against the plush of your breast — along with so many little kisses.

He doesn’t mind your light-hearted rejection. The only thing Eddie likes more than showing you off is keeping you totally to himself.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: bug turns one

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endless-ineffabilities · 1 month ago

Text

House Mitchell takes on Halloween

Ewan Mitchell x wife!reader

a/n: amidst all the wild booping, @peachysunrize fed me this idea that's sweeter than all the Halloween candy out there. Enjoy, you spooks!

main masterlist

Your family gets ready to go trick or treating.

“Darling! Come and look at our little Aemond!”

Ewan smooths the wig over little Aemond's head, its yellowish hue giving off Lannister more than Targaryen, much to little Aemond's chagrin.

“Daddy, make sure it won't fall... off!” Little Aemond pats his head in frustration, fighting the invisible spiders he's convinced will pull the wig down.

“Pinky promise it won't fall off, little duck.” Ewan laughs, his eyes glinting with that particular warmth he saves for his family. He lovingly fusses over his son—his little duck, his precious ducky, as the folks say out in Derby.

“But... it will!” Little Aemond whines, adorably pressing down on his skull, because that will make all the difference. The magic coming off his hand is stronger than any superglue.

“Wait, wait, put your hand down, duck. We have to put on your eyepatch, remember?” Ewan says, met with Little Aemond's frantic nodding. He has to look exactly like daddy tonight. Wig, eyepatch, tunic and all.

He even begged for his mum to draw on a scar over his eye with her ‘lip crayon’.

“Daddy had a line on his face!” he whined.

“He’s right, my darling,” Ewan cooed, his lean arms encasing you from behind. “Daddy did have a line on his face, under his eyepatch.”

Your face heated up at your husband purposely dropping his voice down an octave, the word daddy a seductive rumble against your ear.

You smacked his arm playfully, squirming. Not here.

“Daddy's tickling mummy's ear!” Little Aemond giggled obliviously.

It doesn't take long before Ewan is crouching in front of the mini version of himself. Well, of Aemond. His only son standing proudly in full costume, never mind that the wig they managed to get for him leans more toward golden blonde than silver.

Just yesterday, they decided that they would no longer answer to their own names, and only to Aemond and Helaena. Leave it to the children of an actor to be so fiercely dedicated to their characters. And so your son and daughter, ages 6 and 4, have completely stepped into the shoes of the beloved Targtower siblings.

You descend the stairs slowly, holding your daughter's hand. Little Helaena, dressed in Hightower green with her silver hair (her wig ended up being far better than her brother's) and a little clear briefcase filled with rubber creepy crawlies. Friends, she calls them.

“Darling, I’m coming down with our little dreamer!” you call out to your husband.

Little Hel bounds for her daddy, skipping the last few steps, holding out her bag proudly. “Look, Daddy! My friends are coming with me!”

Ewan holds his arms out for his daughter, taking her in with an unmistakable look of adoration. “Wow, look at you, my love! Did you bring every single friend? That’s quite the group you have there, my little dreamer.”

Little Helaena giggles in delight, her cheeks pink as she leans snugly against her daddy. She clutches her bag tighter as she lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “They wanted to come. But they’re very brave, daddy. They won’t get scared tonight.”

Ewan nods with complete seriousness, looking over each “friend” in her bag as though he’s in awe. He then pinches her cheek gently. “That’s because you, my love, are the bravest girl of all to be watching over them.”

“Queen!”

“Right, my bad, ducky,” he says, feigning seriousness. “The bravest Queen.”

“Mum!” little Aemond whines, pulling at his own wig with an indignant tug. “Why does Helaena’s hair look better than mine?”

“My hair’s better cause I have magic friends,” she sings, wiggling her bag of rubber spiders and beetles for emphasis.

“Not fair!” Little Aemond groans, scrunching his face even more. “I don’t get magic friends… just this itchy wig!”

Ewan grins. “Well, good thing you’re the great Aemond Targaryen, fiercest warrior in the Seven Kingdoms!

Little Aemond’s pout fades, his face shifting into something almost noble as he glances at his sister, then back at his daddy. He squares his shoulders, sighing dramatically as if resigning himself to his princely duty. “Fine… But,” he mutters, peeking at Helaena’s wig again, “maybe next Halloween I get the better hair.”

You laugh, nodding. “It’s a deal, duck. But if you ask mummy? You look absolutely perfect.”

When Ewan gets to his feet, his gaze lands on you, and his breath catches. You’re dressed as a witch, with a long black dress that clings in all the right places, smoky eyes, a dark red lip, and the staple pointy hat. Simple, and probably the most generic Halloween costume—as all of yours and your husband’s efforts had been reserved for your kids’ getups—but judging by the way his eyes greedily trail over you, it might as well contain real sorcery.

“My darling, aren’t you the most spellbinding witch I’ve ever seen,” Ewan smoothly intones, stepping in closer, his hand curling around your waist as he pulls you in. He leans close, his lips brushing against your cheek. “How am I supposed to keep my focus with you looking like this, hmm?”

You raise an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. He’s dressed as a classic vampire tonight—a dark cape flowing over his broad shoulders, a subtle shadow around his eyes, hair gelled to perfection, and that glint of on-brand Ewan-cheekiness in his gaze that makes him look almost too ravishing for family Halloween night.

“Seems only fair, doesn’t it?” you murmur, lips quirking in a smile. “I’ve got a hot vampire for a husband so… now we’re even.”

His grin is slow, revealing his sharp vampire fangs, and he is about to swoop in for a kiss until Little Aemond’s voice cuts in.

“Are we going yet?” he grumbles, adjusting his eyepatch as he stands in his full costume, as if he’s been ready for hours. “Helaena and I have to get all the candy!”

Ewan chuckles, raising a brow as he glances down at the two eager little faces staring back up at him, their excitement barely contained. He places a hand over his heart in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, Your Highnesses, we’re heading out!”

But just before opening the door, he turns to you, leaning in close enough that only you can hear. “My darling,” he murmurs, looking at you with an intensity that gets your heart racing, “just remember… all those lovely spells you’re casting in that witch’s outfit tonight? I’ll need you to show me every one of them once these two are asleep.”

A slow, sultry smile spreads across your face as you tilt your head, meeting his gaze. “Oh, baby, I have some very special incantations in mind that you might find quite… exhilarating.”

“I might be a vampire… but I’ll have my wand at the ready, if you know what I mean.”

“Ewan!” you laugh freely, the image he conjured up bringing a rush of warmth to your cheeks. After years of marriage, your husband still has such an effect on you. And it will doubtlessly endure, til’ death do you part, and even beyond.

“Come on, Mummy… Daddy!” Little Helaena groans, pulling at your dress.

The night is alive with the laughter of children and the glow of jack-o'-lanterns flickering on porches, casting playful shadows against the cool autumn air as your family walks outside.

Little Aemond and Helaena happily race ahead, their costumes swirling around them, embodying the very spirit of Halloween.

You look over at Ewan, who stands beside you, his expression a mix of pride and amusement as he watches their antics. There’s a softness in his gaze, an undeniable warmth that makes your heart swell. He’s not just the dashing vampire tonight; he’s a devoted father, completely enthralled by the joy radiating from his children.

“Ready for an adventure?” you ask, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Always,” he replies softly. “I love you, my darling.”

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader

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hotluncheddie · 9 months ago

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Hug.

wc: 3.4k | rated: T | cw: meltdown, burnout | tags: autistic eddie munson, hurt/comfort, pre relationship, pining, hugging | ao3

.𖥔˚

Eddie Munson has a secret.

He doesn’t know how to hug.

Sure, he knows how in theory, and he has been hugged before, with mixed reactions. But it’s been a while. Been a long while actually. So long that embarrassingly, part of him, dreads the day he gets the urge to hug someone. Because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do it right.

With Wayne they’re in a routine of shoulder pats or a side on squeeze. If Eddie’s having a really bad time he can curl near him on the ratty sofa and likes to rest his forehead on his uncles shoulder, Wayne’s work worn hands coming up to ruffle his hair, let him be for a while.

But they don’t really hug. Not for real. Not really.

And Eddie doesn’t mind, is the thing. He doesn’t need that from his uncle.

With the hellfire boys it’s always been nudges and poking and a friendly kind of wrestled, headlock, type thing. That’s the line, that’s the boundary. And Eddie’s okay with that too, they’re friends, they’re guys, they’re good people but Eddie just doesn’t think he can show that part of himself to them. The part that doesn’t know, the part that sort of wants more but is too afraid to ask.

Sometimes the thought or actuality of someone touching him makes him kind of queasy. Makes him twist his rings and pull his hair. He doesn’t want it. Not always.

He knows his Nana used to hug him, before she passed away, and his Mom probably did too, he just can’t really remember. But that was normal, that’s what Moms and Nana’s do. But he doesn’t get that now. That type of hugging.

Then Eddie meets Steve, meets Steve in the upside down. A different Steve than he’d known of in school. A slightly different Steve again once they’re all out, all healed and patched and the horrors hidden away.

He meets that Steve. And Eddie, Eddie thinks he wants to hug him.

He knows he’s being a little weird about it. Fluttering in and out of Steve’s space, never quite letting himself touch, never more than a brush of fingers or a nudge of his hip. Never staying still enough to let Steve make a move on what he wants.

But then the choice is sort of made for the both of them. Pushed together by fate, maybe, if you believe in that.

All Eddie believes in, all Eddie knows, is that Steve’s house is so fucking loud.

‘The walls Stevie they’re so, so white. And your fridge! It’s just, loud and and weird.’ Eddie had said, already frustrated when Steve came to pick him up, even more so once they arrived.

And once he was inside, it was like everything doubled, tripled. Steve’s house was unbearable tonight.

But Steve had just laughed and Eddie knew he would, knew from the way he’d said it, all loud and over the top - added inflections, a good DM. But, the thing is, he mentioned it because he meant it, for real. It’s too fucking loud, thrumming under his skin.

Eddie’s curled up on the couch, everyone else over now too for a movie night. They’re usually enjoyable, seeing the kids, Robin, Nancy. It’s nice.

But tonight, tonight it’s turned up loud and people are talking and it’s not a scary film but it kind of is.

He’s biting the skin of his cuticles just to feel something other than itchy and floaty and dizzy with discomfort. His heart is beating too fast and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. overlapping with the films crashing and static and the rustling of snacks and the cars outside.

His skin feels sweaty against his clothes, sticking to the sofa and ripping him apart.

It’s loud and Eddie is scared.

He mutters ‘bathroom’ and thinks Steve next to him probably heard, even with his head resting on Robins shoulder. Doesn’t stop to find out. Doesn’t really care. Just needs to get out.

He walks quickly to the stairs and tries not to sprint up them, but takes them two at a time, breathing heavily though his nose.

Eddie closes the door to Steve’s upstairs bathroom, tears prickling his eyes as he steps from one foot to the other, rocking. His hand migrate to his hair, gripping and pulling harshly. tug stop, pain ebb.

But the noise still travels, it’s better than in would’ve been in the downstairs bathroom but Eddie shoves the heels of his palms against his ears. He’s panting now, vision blurring. Shoulders and neck tense.

He pushes against his ears harder, wants nothing, wants quiet. Wants it to bite.

Thing is, he used to love noise. Would seek it out, find it wherever he could. He’d push practice to run late and he’d hang out at the hideout after their set, just to feel that press of voices all around him. The hum of the amps alone used to fill him up something magic, set his bones alight.

As a kid he used to crinkle paper by his ears, just to hear it crackle and rustle, like white noise static in his brain and skin. Used to beg Wayne to take him to the junkyard every weekend just so he could bang on the big old rusty metal with a stick. Hear the hum crash, bellow and die out. The different tones, the different dents and scrapes changing the sound. He used to spend hours scrabbling around, trying everything he could to make enough sound, make enough noise, to feel that feeling of everything being full and alive and awake and amazing.

Now though, after. After those bats screams burrowed into him and made noice synonymous with fear and pain and blood red darkness. Now he’s scared of the stray cats that meow in the night, grates his teeth if someone drags him to the diner, the buzz of the fluorescents and scraping of plates making him want to scream.

Noise used to be his safe space, now he can’t even be in a room full of his friends. Can't tonight, not like this. And see, he’s always been weird but now even that’s changed.

He doesn’t even recognise himself anymore.

It’s that thought, that fear, that has Eddie dropping to a crouch, knees under his chin. He leans against the bathtub and tries to steady his breathing. But the tears are slipping out and he feel his lungs contract, he can’t breath, he can’t.

He pushes his hand harder into his ears, the blood rushing. Rocks so his back hits the tub, thud, thud thud. Remembers how horrible those weeks in hospital were, the bed sheets and the beeping and the smell. It would’ve been horrid anyway but after those days full of fear, that adrenaline he’d gone through but not processed. It was unbearable.

And he’s still not back, not recovered. He’s so tired. Everything’s so tiring. He can only manage to leave the trailer maybe once a week, when he’s dragged out, taken to something by Steve or Wayne or Dustin. (They try for more but Eddie thinks that might actually make him loose it.) He goes out and tries to act normal, tries to keep the people around him from leaving. Goes out but it all feels different.

He misses the weight and smell of his leather jacket, his jeans from before and wallet chain he used to fiddle with. Misses who he was when he had those things, who he thought he could be.

Otherwise he’s in his room, trying to feel better. Sleeping a lot, listening to the same album over and over, eating the same thing just because anything else would be too much. Press too hard on his rips. Be an extra boulder stacked onto his already cracking shoulders.

Eddie doesn’t hear the door open and close quietly, doesn’t hear Steve’s socks pad over the bathroom rug.

But he feels his body heat and smells his cologne. Eddie still gasping for breath, too afraid to open his eyes or move his hands from his ears. But he feels body heat, Steve’s here. Eddie feels him.

His still ragged breaths stutter for a moment when he feels Steves large, warm palm settle between his shoulder blades. He flinches at the contact but Steve doesn’t move, just stays there, touching lightly, in that one place, grounding. Bringing Eddie back to his body slowly. His lungs filling up with a little more air each time he breaths.

He swallows thickly, coming back to himself slightly, but still scared to open his eyes, deeper breaths bracketed by sobs and hiccups. He hates when people see him cry.

Eventually he moves his hands so they’re just cupped over his ears, instead of pushed tightly against. He can just make out the soft rumbling of Steve’s voice, too quiet to be heard before but Eddie can understand him now.

‘That’s it, deep breaths. just like me, okay?’ Steve takes a deep breath. ‘That’s it Ed’s, in for two, out for two.’ He breaths out through his mouth, hand rubbing soothing circles over Eddie’s shoulders.

Eddie follows, breathing deeper, filling his body with oxygen again. Breathing along with Steve.

Eventually Eddie moves his hands, sniffing again and scrubbing his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He crosses his arms on his knees and buries his head there.

He takes another deep breath, finally finding the courage to open his eyes and peek over at Steve.

He’s backlit by the moonlight shining through the frosted window, the only other light in the room is the orange strip across the bottom of the closed bathroom door.

Eddie can still hear everyone downstairs, the rumble of the tv, but it doesn’t feel so bad now, doesn’t make his skin crawl so much. He’s not ready to got back out there though. Not yet.

‘Hi.’ Steve says, smiling at Eddie like it’s another normal day and not one where he just helped Eddie though a full on meltdown in his parents bathroom.

Eddie snorts. God. He’s so embarrassed.

Swallowing Eddie has to force the words out of his chest, would like to not say anything but Steve is here and Steve is smiling at him and the least Eddie can do is speak a little, as uncomfortable as it is.

‘Sorry.’ He lands on, voice rough and quiet.

‘No, none of that Ed’s yeah? Remember, party rules?’ And Steve speaks just as quietly as Eddie did, like he knows, knows how fragile Eddie is right now. Eddie grunts, tears bubbling a slipping out again.

Party rules are that Steve won’t ask twice if someone needs to come over or call, any time of night. If you need a ride to a members house or just to fall asleep with him on the line, he’s there. Eddie can’t count the number of times he’s seen Steve drop Lucas at Max's trailer late at night, Steve watching until he gets inside. If it isn’t too late he’s started coming to check on Eddie too. Sometimes Eddie’s able to see him, engage with him. Sometimes it’s too much, being a person, even in front of Steve. He leaves Wayne to tell him eddies fine, or as fine as Eddie can be, at the moment.

‘What can I do?’ Steve asks, bringing Eddie back to the present, to Steve’s bathroom floor.

Eddie screws his eyes up. He, ugh. ‘I don’t know how to, do, what I want.’ Eddie says, nonessential. But he just. He wants. Wants to feel Steve, imagines that warmth, and grounding, wants more. Too much.

Steve’s eyebrows furrow slightly, but his face still seems kind, like always. Steve’s always kind. ‘What do you want?’ He asks.

Eddie looks at the floor, there’s a loose thread on the edge of the rug, he stares at it. ‘A hug.’ He mumbles, cheeks flaming.

‘Oh.’ Steve breaths. And then, like it’s simple, like it’s nothing. ‘Okay.’ he says and Eddie glances at him.

Steve shifts so his back is flat against the tub, legs out in front of him and arms open. Waiting.

‘Take your time, any way you want it.’ Steve says.

Eddie wipes his face again, shifts onto his knees without really thinking, drawn towards Steve like always. But he falters, hands raised but fingers clenching and unfurling. He twitches his head to the left and few times, almost uncontrollably, he does it again. ‘I, ah, um.’ He doesn’t. He doesn’t know how.

Because this is different still, from Wayne, from his Nana, from friends. This is Steve.

But Steve just sits, waiting, looking at Eddie. ‘Take your time. Any way you want Ed’s.’ Steve says again softly, imploring.

Eddie blinks hard and couple times, tugs at his hair again, focus, focus. He shuffles forward and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck a little awkwardly. His back bending to lean far enough, not sure how hard to squeeze, afraid to be too close, touch too much.

Eddie’s breathing picks up again, he doesn’t, cant, doesn’t know how. He pulls away, scrubbing at his face again.

‘Can I?’ Steve starts, moving toward Eddie but stops, waiting for a reply. Eddie nods mutely, cheeks flaming.

Steve moves closer, Eddie knees up against his thigh. He pulls on Eddies leg, getting him to move it over top of Steve’s. Until he’s essentially sitting in his lap. Eddies eyes are wide, Steve is so close, so warm.

He keeps going, slowly, bringing Eddie’s chest to his slowly, wrapping Eddie’s arms around his torso and then wrapping his own around Eddie. One big warm palm leading Eddie’s head into the crook of Steve’s neck, where it’s dark, smells strongly of citrus and musk.

Eddie’s tense, muscles locked tight, but then Steve shifts one more time, getting comfortable and squeezes Eddie once. The pressure, it unlocks something inside him. Steve breaths out, like he’s relaxing too, like this is nice for Steve too.

‘S’okay Eddie, relax for me.’ Steve prompts quietly, arms squeezing again. Everything soft and quiet and warm.

Eddie tips over the edge.

He empties his lungs, slow and stuttering, in and out. Relaxes. Slumping down onto Steve and lets go. ‘Oh.’ It feels so good to be held, to be wrapped up like this. Steve’s arms hold firm around him, pulling them impossibly closer.

Eddie whimpers, let’s go fully, drifts.

He thinks he might honestly fall asleep, so exhausted from his meltdown, the emotion and sensory, twist and release.

He comes too with Steve stroking a hand over his hair and down his back, repeating the long slow motion over and over, like Eddie is some overgrown cat.

He breaths deep one last time, steals himself for the cold of letting go. Sits back on his heels, extracting himself from Steve’s neck and unfurling his grip of Steve’s waist.

But Steve stops him getting too far. One hand on the back in eddies neck, one at his hip. It’s almost too much, makes Eddie think about more than friends, about skin on skin. About being held like this, only different.

‘Sorry, um, thanks.’ He says, afraid to look Steve in the eye, staring at the collar of his polo instead, reaching up to fiddle with one of the little shiny buttons.

Steve just squeezes Eddie’s neck, letting go to move around slightly now that Eddie’s whole weight isn’t on him anymore. ‘For someone who says they don’t know how to hug, that was pretty nice.’ Steve says once he’s settled, hands back on Eddie hips.

That makes Eddie glance up, flick his eyes to Steve’s and back down. Just enough time to take in his soft smile and kind gaze, down tuned and sleepy. He looks relaxed, happy.

Eddie’s heart clenches. But he just huffs, ‘yeah, sure.’ Only he can’t help smiling a little, half believing. Half believing the ridiculousness, That Steve would enjoy this too.

But Steve reaches up and tucks some hair behind Eddie’s ear, so soft and caring. ‘Hey, I mean it. And if you ever want, ever need this again. I’m here.’ He says, voice still a whisper.

Eddie feels tears prickle again, how could, how is Steve even real? ‘Careful Stevie.’ He jokes. ‘Say any more and you’ll never get rid of me.’ Eddie doesn’t to want to go, Eddie wants to stay right here forever. But he knows he can’t. Can’t do that.

‘I mean it Ed’s, any time you want. How-however you want.’ And Steve looks up at him, cheeks pink in the moonlight and eyes wide. Like he’s said too much, like he’s scared too.

Eddie wants to kiss him.

Wants to bury his head back in Steve’s neck and never come out. Wants to slip his tongue past the seam of Steve’s lips and grind his hips down just to see what noises he’ll get. Wants to hear him and touch him and taste him all over. Wants to curl up in bed next to him and bring him over to have dinner with Wayne. Wants to share his food and listen to his heartbeat and let Steve in. Let him see more. More of Eddie.

But not now. Not when there’s salt tracks in his face and phlegm in his throat. When he needs a glass of water and a, like, nine hour nap. ‘Kay.’ He settles on, voice wet but happy, he’s so happy, to have Steve now, even if it’s hard and he’s so tired and so scared. He has Steve. He has Wayne and his friends and he has Steve. ‘Thank you.’ Eddie whispers, feeling held by the dark bathroom. Space and time on pause. He feels brave, feels exposed and covered head to toe in all his past and all his present. Feels here, feels now.

Eddie leans forward and places the softest of kisses on Steve’s cheek. The first he’s ever given, and how nice, that it’s Steve. How nice, to feel his warmth and hear his little intake of breath.

Eddie blushes, scrubs at his cheeks again. Slipping off of Steve’s thighs to sit back next to him, shoulder to shoulder, on the little bathroom rug.

‘Do you want to go back down? Or um, I can take you home?’ Steve asks, sounds unsure but his voice is soft, steady. Eddie bites his thumb, rubs his knuckles against his teeth.

He doesn’t know what he wants. Wishes they could stay here forever. But there’s a room full of people and this is Steve’s house, he can’t just leave them, can’t just stay here, with Eddie, in his parents bathroom.

‘I’ll uhm, I’ll just wait here a little longer, until the movie finishes. You go down, be a good host.’ And Eddie smiles, but he doesn’t feel it in his eyes, can’t face the light and noise again just yet, the questions or glances that might come his way.

‘I’ll go check on them then, take some back and then you can go last. Or, or stay, if you, if you want.’

Eddie’s heart clenches again. He wants to, to stay. But he also wants his bed, familiar and inviting. Wants to smell Wayne in the air and have his tape on to fall asleep. Wants normal, after tonight. Needs it.

But one day. When he feels better. When that spark he had sometimes comes back, the one that believed he could be a rockstar or a writer. That would dream up campaigns and have the energy to write them down. When that part of him comes back, when he’s not so tired. Then he’ll go to Steve, offer himself up, ask for more, ask to stay.

But tonight he’s too close to breaking, too flayed open and rubbed pink. ‘A lift home later would be nice, just us?’ He asks, it’s so much, fills him up. It’s everything he wants, in this moment.

Steve nods, bumping their knees together.

He’s so good, Eddie marvels, for the hundredth time.

‘Course. I’ll bring you some water.’ And Steve shifts to stand, using Eddie to help him up. It’s so nice, to be this close, a barrier broken, new rules to be made.

‘You can wait in my room, if you want? It might be more comfortable.’ Steve says, hand on the doorknob. Eddie just nods, blushes, not even sure why. But Steve smiles, pretty and boyish and small.

He slips out and turns off the light on the landing, the whole floor bathed in darkness. Eddie didn’t even ask, he didn’t even have to. He feels tears well again, laughing a little at it all. At the Steve of it all.

He stays curled up on the bathroom rug a little longer, in the new quiet memory of Steve and warmth and darkness. Until he’s ready. Knows Steve will be waiting.

.𖥔˚

Tag List (open) : @scoops-aboy86 @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots

also.. @spectrum-spectre @babydollbaron @flowercrowngods just bc :)

#<3 #hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #autistic eddie munson #my fic #good Steve Harrington #to hug and to be held #its a very special thing

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bloopy-writes · 6 months ago

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I just think it’s hilarious to think about everyone looking at Merlin and the knights of the round table and thinking that they’re the ones protecting him and treating him like the little brother of the group when in reality if you watch them for more than 5 minutes you’ll see that Merlin is the tired old soul surrounded by these hooligans that actively try to make his life harder

(He’s one more prank away from putting a spell on each of them that will give them dry itchy skin for an entire month)

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #knights of the round table #bbc knights of the round table #gwaine #percival #arthur pendragon #Leon #elyan

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gretavanlace · 7 months ago

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Feels Like Gold

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk, breeding kink, Jake drives a car (the most dangerous situation of all), extremely mild degradation, etc

Okay, in honor of our collective jakedown, I rooted around in my unreleased work and then did a little revamping. This one is for you, @piratejakesgf thank you for your request ❤️ *loosely edited, fair warning

And kisses to @jake-kiszkas-smirk and her brilliant mind for titling this when I was at a loss 💋 xoxo

“Fuck, these are so uncomfortable!” you hiss with exasperation, tugging at the itchy nylon hell encasing your legs.

“Told you not to wear them.” Jake reminds you, flipping on his turn signal before switching lanes, though the freeway is dark and nearly deserted.

“You know how my family is.” you remind him right back, annoyed with his flippant attitude. “If I’d shown up to that wedding in a dress with bare legs I’d have been labeled the whore of the family tree. My branch weighed down with bad choices; exposed skin and a degenerate rockstar on my arm.”

“I mean, to their credit, I actually am a degenerate so they’re just calling ‘em like they see ‘em.” His eyes are locked on the road, but a tiny smirk tells you he’s pleased with his cleverness. “Plus, your aunt tried to fuck me, so you aren’t the only whore in the family.”

An abrupt laugh trills out of you. “Right. Which aunt?”

“Does it matter?” he shrugs. “She told me she slept with Joe Perry and it left her with a taste for guitarists…I told her Perry could suck my dick because I could stomp his riffs any day, but that only turned her on even more.”

“And then what happened?” you giggle, falling into his little pretend world.

“Well,” he sighs wearily, “Promise you won’t be angry with me?”

You’re solemn and stoic, as if this is very serious business, “Scouts honor.”

“Then, I excused myself and wound up fucking your uncle in the bathroom, instead.” he squints at an upcoming exit sign to be sure you’re headed in the right direction, and then settles back into a more relaxed state, wrist guiding the steering wheel casually.

“Was he any good?” you ask, mock sincerity laced through your tone.

“I’ve had better.” He shrugs.

“You’re so stupid.” you shake your head with a doting roll of your eyes, and reach under your dress to roll the torturous hose down and off.

He watches out of the corner of his eye, stealing glances as safely as he can while driving.

“Jesus, they were thigh highs all this time?” he sounds a little like he’s considering jerking the car over onto the shoulder of the highway to drag you into the backseat.

“All this time.” the garment in question lands in his lap.

“Lemme see.” he orders quietly before you have a chance to remove the second.

Up the hem of your dress travels until he can get a good look at the black lace resting at the top of your thigh. “Fuck, pretty girl.”

“You like that?” you tease in a silken voice.

He nods, tightening his grip on the wheel.

You push a little further with, “Are you hard?”

“I’m gonna kick you out of this car and make you walk home.” he lies, reaching out to snap the elastic lace against your skin. “Take this one off, too…it’s doing unspeakable things to me. Especially since you’re only wearing the one. You look sloppy - like I just rocked your shit in the back of a tour bus.”

“Jacob Thomas..” you gasp lightly, as though scandalized “Someone seems a little worked up.”

“I might be, if only I didn’t have such a firm grasp on the power of will, my darling.”

He’s being untruthful, but he does it so elegantly - in that soft, slightly British lilt of his, you decide to grant him a very gracious pass and drop the second into his lap.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Kiszka.” You wiggle your polished toes, enjoying the freedom. “My baby cousin, the one you let dance on your feet? She asked me if you were a pirate.”

This tugs an honest laugh out of his chest…a gorgeous sound that colors your cheeks pink. “You told her yes, I expect?”

You hum in confirmation, “I did. And I told her that you have a special sword with strings on it and it makes beautiful, dark music that people come from far away lands to hear. Just like the sirens in Peter Pan.”

His face visibly softens in the flickers of light shed by the street lamps whipping by. “You always did know how to paint a lovely picture, pretty girl.”

The low purr of the engine lulls your head against the window, but just as your eyes begin to grow heavy, he pulls you back to him with a quiet, “Hey,”

Turning your head against the seat, you study his profile, charting the map of your favorite face, “Yeah?”

”Whose baby was that you were holding? The tiny, tiny one,”

It seems such an odd thing for him to ponder, and you have to mentally sift through the reception a bit, you held a great many babies tonight…it seemed like every cousin and second cousin in attendance was weighed down by a diaper bag stuffed full of diapers and pacifiers.

”The one with the little headband bow-thingy.” He clarifies. “She was so small.”

“My cousin’s. He and his wife’s third in almost as many years. She’s only like a month old and smelled like heaven.” You draw in a breath and wish her silken tufts of hair were still pressed to your cheek, “Why?”

”I don’t know,” you know him well enough to know that’s a damn lie. “I just- I don’t know…do you ever think about it?”

Caught off guard, you opt for a little joke, “Does Jakey have baby fever?”

He smiles, and there is a touch of shyness that lives there, “Shut up. Do you think about it?”

“Do I think about having babies? Well, I-“

He interrupts quickly to set you straight, “Do you think about having babies with me?”

Oh.

Where is he heading with this? Will a bit of honesty scare him? Will it scare you?

Deciding to take the plunge, this is simply a conversation after all, and a subject that he broached to boot, you choose truth. “Yes, I’ve thought about babies with you. Although that whole twin thing is fucking terrifying.”

Again, you joke. Again, he doesn’t take the bait. “Identical twins aren’t hereditary. We’re just an accidental fuck up. When you think about it, what do you think?”

”A lot of things.”

Smoothly, he guides the car onto the off-ramp that leads to home. “Very informative, darling. A veritable treasure trove of information.”

He hasn’t tipped his hand and you aren’t about to let him off so easily. “”Do you think about it?”

”Honestly, not before. I mean, I think about how you’ll look in your wedding dress and if you’ll wear your hair swept up the way I like, and I suppose that’s sort of the same thing. Or headed in the same direction, anyway. But watching you hold that baby tonight…”

Your chest suddenly feels a little tight. You’re touched by his admission.

And how endearing that he wonders how you’ll wear your hair. You reach out and stroke the back of your hand along the cut of his jaw, “When the day comes, I’ll wear it up for you.”

Later, he’s draped across the bed watching you glide about the room in your bra and panties. Earrings unfastened and placed gently on your jewelry tray, necklace hung carefully, hair let loose and shaken out at long last.

Hands folded behind his head, he speaks up, breaking the spell you have unknowingly cast over him, “You said ‘a lot of things’. Elaborate.”

You turn, eyes drifting over the king lounging about upon the bed you share, in nothing but the dress pants he hasn’t yet bothered to shed. “What?”

He cocks his chin, summoning your attention further ”Babies. You said you think about a lot of things.”

He looks so fucking sinfully delicious…a sickeningly sweet cake sent from the bewitching trenches of hell to rot your teeth. “The normal things. Baby things.”

The heavy wooden frame creeks quietly as he pulls himself into a sitting position to study your expression, “Liar.”

”Oh, I’m sorry,” you dance around the accusation, “I just happen to be looking at a disgustingly attractive little shit waiting for me to climb into bed beside him. Forgive me for looking flustered.”

”Don’t be coy, darling,” he tsks, clicking his tongue against his perfect teeth. “I can see it written all over your pretty face. You’ve got a secret.”

He’s moving towards the edge of the bed now, drawing you in closer with his devilish stare. “Tell me.”

”I don’t have a secret.” Whose voice is that? Surely it’s much too quiet and meek to be your own.

”Tell the truth.” He hums, a knowing twinkle flashing in his gaze. “What do you think about?”

Your eyes refuse to meet his own as your stomach knots, warm and vibrating. “I guess…sometimes I - sometimes I think about the trying part of it all.”

He’s watching you closely, you can feel it like warm fingers dancing across your blushing skin. “So you think about fucking?”

He almost sounds disappointed. He had expected more judging by your hesitancy to share.

”Well,” your fingers are plucking at the comforter now, rooting out a loose thread to spin around your finger, “Yes, but it’s kind of more than that. I think about you… inside me.”

At last, you peek up at him. He looks curious, as if he can’t quite figure you out. “Why are you being such a little mouse about this?” His palms are cupping your face now, calluses soothing you like a song. “I’m inside you all the time, and I think about it all the time, too.”

Shaking your head gently, you find your footing…at least a smidge, “Not like that. I think about you inside me. The way you would have to be if we were trying.”

Your birth control rendered condoms unnecessary ages ago, yet he has always pulled out - ever cautious and responsible. Confusion is still painted across his features…until it isn’t.

“Oh,” a lascivious grin appears and you long to curl your tongue over his lips, “you fucking filthy little thing.”

In a blink, you’re dragged onto the bed and into his arms, tossed down with your back against the sheets. his body heated and flush against yours.

Mouth suckling and nipping at your throat, he rasps into your skin, “Is that what does it for you? Pretty girl wants my cum?”

Your body’s reaction is visceral, primal, and almost embarrassing. You’re arching away from the mattress, desperate to be even closer than you already are.

“Answer me.” He huffs, sinking a bite into your jaw.

”Yes…” your hands are in his hair, thighs around his waist, “I want it.”

”Say it.” He’s rocking against you now, hard and straining against your panties. “Say what it is that you want. What you think about.”

”I think about you fucking me,” once again, whose shaking voice is that? “I think about the way you sound when you finish, and the way your cock throbs and twitches in your hand, and how it might feel inside me.”

”Keep going.” He orders, soft and wavering in your ear.

”I think about how warm your cum would feel inside of me, and maybe I wouldn’t be able to keep it all in. Maybe it might tickle a little when it leaked out.”

”Fuck, baby…” his hands are everywhere, yanking your breasts from the cups of your bra, winding your panties down your thighs, fingers sinking into your soaking, clenching cunt with a groan that sounds pained.

He seeks out your favorite spot and tucks up into it, wrenching a wanton moan from your lungs “You want me to fill this little pussy up? Keep you dripping wet with me all day long? Fuck baby after baby into you?”

”Jake…” you’re clawing at his bare shoulders, fucking yourself hopelessly against his hand. “More.”

He slips a third finger inside you, “Is that why you get a little whiny when I pull out? My girl wants me to do it inside?”

”More,” you urge through gritted teeth, eyes locked in on his face and the lust so evident in the set of his features.

”You want four?”

”Please, Jake…” tears are threatening at your lash line, “more, more, more,”

“You’re having some trouble listening tonight, aren’t you?” he sounds diabolical, and turned on beyond belief. “I asked you a question.”

His thighs prise your legs open wider as he squeezes his pinky into your warmth to join the rest of his drenched fingers, “Do you want my cum inside you? You want me to give it to you? Keep it all safe and warm for me?”

With a mournful wail you’re reduced to a million little pieces beneath him. Rocking frantically into his touch…the heel of his hand grinding quick circles into your clit as his fingers fuck you through it. He’s covered in you, it rolls down his wrist and beads against his stomach like early morning dew, anointing him as you thrash and writhe like a beautiful, fluttering leaf in an autumn wind.

When the hazy fog clears, allowing your sight, it’s his face - stunning and beaming - you find, “Hey, pretty girl.”

Now that you’re coming down, your diffidence returns and you close your eyes in a pathetic attempt to hide.

He’s having none of it, “No, no, darling…you stay with me. Right here, baby. You look so pretty with my cock inside you, imagine how fucking beautiful you’re gonna be when I fuck you full.”

“Please, jake…” it’s pathetic really, and maybe you should care about that, but you don’t. “I need it, I need it so bad.”

“Yeah?” The gravel in his tone makes you shiver with frantic desire. “Pretty girl just wants to bounce on my cock all day? Just using me to get what she wants?”

Rather than answer, you elect to begin wrangling the button on his pants.

“Someone’s eager.” He teases softly, lifting up on one elbow, easing your struggle. “You want it that bad? Are you gonna let me cum wherever I want? Gonna let me put a baby inside you?”

“Fucking do it!” Frustrated and sparking with electric desperation, you give up and tug on his waistband feverishly until he takes over, popping the button with ease and kicking them off.

His cock is fisted in his hand now, with your eyes fiercely focused on it. Hard and beautiful and yours. “You want that inside you?” He whispers, watching you stare. “You want me to fuck you? You want me to fucking breed that pretty pussy? Make you a mama?”

You should be ashamed of yourself, you well and truly should be…but fuck if you don’t want more, “Keep talking while you fuck me,” you breathe, somewhere between imploring and begging, “Dirtier, come on…”

His cock slips inside. Just the cashmere tip teasing at you, “Dirtier?” He nudges in a little deeper, just enough to make you whine, “well what should I say, pretty girl? Should I tell you that you’re my beautiful little cum slut and if I’d known it sooner I’d have been stuffing you full all this time?” Deeper still he glides, “Or that I want to cum inside you and then fall asleep with my fingers buried in your cunt to keep it where it belongs?” He’s fucking you harder, faster…the pillowy head of his cock kissing your cervix in a divine dance between pleasure and pain. “Or should I tell you about how I think about licking it up? Kissing you with my cum on my tongue because I know you’d suck it off like the greedy little baby you are.”

“I-“ a pitiful whimper escapes you, but his fingers are suddenly grasping your chin, grounding you enough to collect your scattered thoughts. “I’m gonna cum, tell me where you’re going to cum. Tell me where you’re going to put it. Please, I want it,”

Hips rolling into a succulent grind against your swollen clit now, he begins “I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve got every last drop, pretty girl. It’s all yours, are you gonna take it for me like a good girl? Are you going to be a good little mama and take it all?”

His name is all you can manage as you shatter. It’s primeval and animalistic, sounds that would make you want to crumple in on yourself if anyone heard them besides your Jacob.

“You’re so fucking tight and wet..” his perfect cock is pounding you through it as he inches closer and closer, “are you ready for me to make a mess of this little beauty right here? Hmm? Ready for me to fuck this cunt all full and dirty? You want it?”

“Jake…” you trail off, eyes fighting to stay open and locked in on his face while you shake against him, twisting and clenching around his perfect cock, “you’re so fucking hard.”

He nods furiously, burying his face in the crook of your neck to lick your pounding pulse “That’s all you, baby. You make me that hard.”

Your hips begin rocking up to meet him even faster, hungry to please. “Good girl, you keep fucking that cock. Are you gonna take what you want? Gonna make me cum? Gonna help me fill this pretty little cunt?”

In response, your nails dig into his skin, raking your mark, claiming him. You’re almost there again, though you can’t imagine how. “I’m so fucking close,” you’re sighing and shaking the words into the room, offering confession.

“Again?” He’s mocking you so sweetly, teasing dirty words into your ear like lullabies, “Already? Is my pretty girl gonna cum on this cock? Squeeze and suck the cum right out of me to steal it away? You want it that badly?”

You let go, with a trembling breath of his name, and feel his body tense against the feverish grip of your orgasm.

”That’s it, baby,” his words are but a sigh skittering across your cheek, “That’s it. Feels so good. Feels like gold. My pretty, pretty girl…”

He fucks you faster even as you melt into a puddle within his arms. “Gonna cum for you,” he promises, “I’m gonna cum so hard for you. Who’s going to take it? Who’s gonna take every fucking drop?”

”I am,” have you even made a sound? You can’t be sure, you’re so lost.

”Yes, you are…” his forehead, slick with exertion and need, nods against your own. “You’re going to take it just like you take this cock. My good fucking girl…pretty pink baby doll just begging for me to wreck her.”

Without warning, he collapses into your arms, moaning and crying out, shuddering as he releases inside you. Warm and perfect, everything you’ve ever imagined and so much more.

His fingers sink into your muscles, clutching and pulling you closer still, “Baby…” he sounds raspy and pained, “Baby, baby, baby, fuck..fuck…”

And when at last, he calms, it is with his cheek pressed to your chest, clocking the wild metronome that is your heart with your hands sweeping through his hair.

Soon, you’ll both crawl out of bed, maybe into the shower…perhaps into the warmth of a bath, but for now it is simply you, and Jake, and this tranquil bliss.

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crushmeeren · 1 year ago

Text

♡ Bakugou/Kirishima/Fem Reader

Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+

♡ Master List Link

Warnings; angst/comfort, vaginal sex, blow jobs, kissing, jealous/possessive Bakugou & Kirishima, cursing, bit of degradation, cream pie, mentions of being nauseous,

Note; I’m currently in the process of re-editing this entirely, so it may read and look funky until I’m done!

You lean your elbows on the bar top in front of you, causally moving your head from side to side. Taking a moment you study your environment. The flashing lights are fucking blinding you. The base of the music is loud enough you can feel it rattling your rib cage. It’s a lot, and as you wait on your next shot, you think this may have been a mistake. All you wanted was to drink a bit, dance with your boyfriends, and head home before it’s too late. As this bullshit usually goes, that isn’t what happens.

You look down as you notice the bartender place your shot in front of you. You nod in thanks wrapping your fingers around the small glass. Standing up, you raise the liquid to your lips. You throw your head back as you down the shot. It’s gross. It threatens to come right back up— so you swallow fast, nose scrunching in disgust. It’s a lemon drop, which isn’t the worst, but it’s still alcohol.

Regardless of the sweetness, it still burns, making your stomach swirl nauseously. It tastes like an alcohol wipe and you shiver. Sitting the shot glass on the wooden counter top, you turn around and scan the room for your boyfriends, back leaning against the bar. It’s hard to see in the dimly lit, crowded room. You can feel your cheeks heat up, from the alcohol and from the atmosphere. The air is thick with the warmth radiating from all the dancing bodies.

You step away from the bar, standing on your tip toes for a second. You curse, because you’re too short and there’s too many damn people in here. You can’t spot the red head or the blonde anywhere. A flash of irritation runs through you and your lip tugs into a sneer. You think that it shouldn’t be so hard to find two men with such outrageous hair. To be fair, you are a little tipsy, that may be impeding your search a bit.

You step further away from the bar and you sway slightly, hand shooting out to grip the bar stool next to you. Okay, maybe you’re more tipsy than you thought. You let out a irritated huff, the alcohol fueling your frustration. It makes your skin feel hot and itchy as you remember the argument you had with Katsuki. The three of you had already been here an hour, truly on your way to being buzzed when you started arguing.

Which had resulted in you stomping off to the bar alone. Their protests had fallen on deaf ears as you walked away, needing a moment to cool off before it turned into a shouting match. You know you’re being petty, plus this all happened less than 10 minutes ago. You can hear the blondes gravelly voice in your head, arguing with you about some dumb shit that happened at your hero agency today.

You know it’s highly logical that the two of you are just arguing because you’re all a bit drunk. That whatever happened wasn’t a big deal. A decent size part of you knows you just should find him and Eijirou and just dance until they’re both rock hard, squishing you in the middle of them. The other, larger, and more in charge part of your brain at the moment, thinks Katsuki can pound sand.

You laugh to yourself, even though it wasn’t funny. The thumping music is making your head pound in time with the beat. You gradually start to make your way towards the area of the bar where it seems everyone is dancing in their own worlds. Against your better judgement, being stubborn as fuck, you’ve decided you don’t need either of the boys, you can dance alone.

You reach the edge of the crowd, seeing everyone woven together and you start to squeeze your way into the sea of people. The further in you get, the more you sweat. Material of your clothing sticking to your chest and back. Your only saving grace is that you’re wearing a mid thigh length, tight, black dress. So your legs can breathe and it’s short sleeved so you have some sort of air flow up top.

You look around, feeling just drunk enough that you have a pleasurable buzz. Luckily, you haven’t started slurring yet and you can still walk. Maybe not a straight line, but you can walk nonetheless. They call it liquid courage for a reason, because you feel no fear as you start to sway along to the beat. Elbow to elbow with the strangers around you.

There’s about five centimeters of space between you and everyone else. It’s one giant pile of bodies. So you don’t really notice when someone slides up behind you, until their chest is pressed right up against your back. Whoever it is is trying to dance with you. You jolt, your eyes fly open. Fuck, you hadn’t even realized you closed them. You assume it’s one of your boyfriends, forgetting you were even mad at Katsuki in the first place. God, you really hope it’s the blonde, you’re yearning to dance with him. Besides, who else would be so bold to get that close to you?

An unbearably warm arm wraps around your waist. A hand splayed on your belly and you’re yanked back into the chest of the person behind you. It dawns upon you, with frightening sobriety, that the arm wrapped around you does not belong to either of your boyfriends. Your expression twists, your heart kicks into overdrive as a chill runs down your spine. You curse internally, already pushing to get out of the iron grip. Who the hell is this person?

Fuck, if they see you like this— you don’t want them to get the wrong idea. You look up, frozen in place. Not even five feet away, standing there with a look on his face that could strike fear into the heart of God, is Katsuki. You make eye contact with him, his scarlet eyes wild, glassy from being tipsy. His face is twisted, lip pulled into a cutting sneer and his hands are curled into fists at his sides. You quickly look at Eijirous face, and god, his expression is worse than the blondes.

His face..he looks betrayed. Eyes filled with hurt, a frown marring his usually cheerful expression. A whirlwind of anxiety and guilt hits you in the chest and your hands start to shake. You take a step forward in their direction immediately. It had only been about 15 seconds since the random asshole pressed up behind you. It felt like much longer.

As soon as you were about to turn around to make sure it was Katsuki or Eijirou, is when you realized the arm belonged to a fucking stranger. It’s like steel around your middle as your forward motion is halted. You look down, stunned to see the stranger has the audacity to keep holding onto you. You clearly don’t want this, wiggling to get away.

You turn your eyes back to your boyfriends, pleading, reaching out a hand in their direction. Katsuki’s cheeks turn blood red with anger. He’s at your side in an instant. He grips your outstretched hand and rips you out of the strangers unwelcome grip. You yelp, stumbling into his chest before turning around in Katsuki’s hold.

You press your back against him, desperate to feel his warmth, and you take a look at the guy who was holding you. It’s some random, younger guy, who you’ve never seen before and you feel a bit ill. You feel a woosh of air and then Katsuki is in the mans face in less than a second. Fisting the front of random guys shirt.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Katsuki yells, voice rough, but he’s loud enough to be heard over the blaring music. He clenches his jaw. The other man puts his hands up in surrender, smirking mockingly, almost laughing at him. At this point you notice a presence looming behind you. Turning your head, you notice Eijirou has joined the party. He lays a large hand on Katsuki’s shoulder, stepping up just behind him.

The man’s face drops when he sees Eijirous large form, an unwavering rock, standing behind Katsuki. You haven’t seen the red head look this terrifying for a long time. You shift on your feet nervously. His face is blank, except his eyes. They’re icy. The guy starts to stutter. You’re watching all this unfold, eyes flitting back and forth between Katsuki’s red cheeks and Eijirou’s murderous gaze. You want to feel like you’re helping, so you lace your fingers with Katsuki’s free hand to help keep him grounded. The blonde squeezes harshly in return.

“H-hey! No harm guys! I didn’t know she was your girl,” the guy stammers, stepping back. Katsuki, to your extreme surprise, lets the man go. You notice the muscle in his jaw twitching. If you weren’t so on edge, you would laugh at the fact that there’s a burn print on the front of said guys shirt. The blonde stays quiet, Eijirou keeping a steady hand on Katsukis shoulder, anchoring him in place.

“You better leave while you can. You’re lucky I’m holding him back,” Eijirou threatens, voice cold and low. Yet you can all still hear his voice cutting through the music. The man pales, nods once, and disappears into the crowd. It leaves the three of you alone. It’s awkward for a second and the realization makes you want to cry.

You hear an angry noise leave Katsukis mouth as he yanks his hand from your grip. He shrugs Eijirous hand off his shoulder, turning to look at you with burning eyes. The action punches the breath from your chest, it stings. A cold feeling trickles into your belly. You open your mouth to try to explain to him, but nothing comes out. Frantically you try to step closer but he gives you a searing look and turns to stomp off from the crowd. The back of your eyes sting with tears. You take in a stuttering breath, feeling your heart squeeze watching him leave. Quickly, you look to Eijirou, moving towards him. You grip his forearm.

“Eiji, please, I wasn’t dancing with that guy! It was two seconds and then I realized it wasn’t either of you and I was going to push him away. That’s when you guys saw me! I swear!” you choke out, voice watery. Tears well up in your eyes. This is not how you wanted this night to go. You can feel your whole arm shaking as you dig your nails into his flesh. He glances at where your fingers bite into his skin. He tries to give you a reassuring smile, but it comes out too tight, his eyebrows are pinched. Anxiety twists your stomach. He holds up a hand when he sees you’re about to speak again.

“I know, I know you weren’t baby. Just—please, not here? I’m sure Kat is already outside, about to blow something up. So can we just talk at home?” Eijirou pleads, voice lined with frustration. You swallow around the lump in your throat, dropping your hand from his arm. You nod once, feeling numb.

Eijirou turns from you and walks out of the crowd, presumably to find Katsuki. You feel the ugly emotion of hurt migrate to your belly, it makes bile burn in the back of your throat. Your heart still pounds, fingers trembling as you wring them together. You watch Eijirou walk away. Hot tears spill over your lashes, tracking down your cheeks. You sniffle, wiping your tears with your hands, heart in a vice. They didn’t even wait for you.

It was a long, silent, ride home in your Uber. You trail behind the other two, shuffling your feet on the way to your front door. You pretend the cracks in the sidewalk are interesting, eyes trained on the ground, following the boys by instinct. It’s still humid outside, your palms damp as you lace your fingers together in front of you. You’re all sober at this point. Adrenaline from the previous situation flushing away the buzz.

It’s freaking you out though, that Katsuki still hasn’t said a word. Usually he’s spewing insults. He would be on a tangent about a guy like that. Yet, he’s quiet. Once you get inside you know you’ll have to talk, you can’t let this go on all night. It feels like this has been made into a much bigger deal than it needs to be. You stop at the door and wait for Eijirou to unlock it. He does, pushing it open and letting you and Katsuki go in first. He comes in last, shutting the door behind him and locking it. The blessed, cool air of your home chills your overheated skin. You sigh in relief.

You study the blonde, noticing he’s about to walk off towards your room. Before Katsuki can get far, you catch his wrist, wrapping your fingers delicately around the bone. He doesn’t move and you chomp into your lower lip, nerves creeping down your spine.

“Kat, wait please. I swear baby I wasn’t dancing with that guy. I thought it was one of you. It was only a few seconds before I realized it wasn’t and I was trying to get away when you saw me,” you explain, voice wobbly, fingers tightening. You hear Katsuki let out a sigh, shoulders sagging. He turns back around to face you and you let go of his wrist. His expression, it looks like he’s fighting with himself. You’re hopeful, when after a few seconds the sharp edges of his expression smooth out. Your heart skips a beat when you feel his calloused hand come up to cradle your cheek. You lean into the heat of his palm, nose nuzzling slightly at his wrist.

“I know, I wanted to punch that motherfuckers lights out. I believe you, I’m not mad at you pretty thing,” Katsuki murmurs, voice low and gravelly. His eyes are gentle as he runs a thumb over your cheekbone. You chuckle, knowing this is his version of an apology for overreacting. You, undeniably, melt into his hands. He always has that effect on you.

“I wish you would have,” you joke lamely, small smile appearing on your lips. Katsuki smirks, eyes full of mirth. You hear Eijirou’s cute laugh ring out from behind you. You feel a tug in your chest and you yearn to see him. You turn out of the blondes hold, gazing softly at Eijirou. He’s standing a few feet behind you, arms crossed over his chest. He’s grinning brightly again, watching the two of you interact.

Eijirou’s sharp teeth are on display. You adore the way he smiles. You take in his grin and a warm, comforting feeling builds up in your chest. You can’t hold back as you throw yourself at the red head. He immediately opens his arms to catch you, eyes widening in surprise. Your arms snake around his waist and he wraps you up by the shoulders, hugging you tight. You bury your face in his chest, feeling his squishy cheek rest on the top of your head.

“I’m so sorry Ei! I know I hurt your feelings, but I swear I would never touch anyone but the two of you,” you promise, voice muffled in Eijirou’s broad chest. You feel a chuckle vibrate through his chest and your head raises, gaze leveling with his. He frames your face with his hands, eyes bright and full of love. He coos at you.

“It’s alright, my sweet baby girl. I know you wouldn’t. Besides,” he purrs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t let anyone put their hands on you. You’re ours, aren’t you? Pretty girl,” Eijirou murmurs, voice soft and sweet. You inhale sharply, arousal hitting you like a freight train. Warmth pools in your belly, sending a shiver down your spine. A side effect of his low, soothing rumble. You squirm, hugging him tighter, feeling the heat from his chest through both your shirts.

“Yes of course, I only belong to the two of you,” you reply slyly, knowing it’ll rile up both men. Katsuki is immediately behind you, lean body pressed up against your back. Their figures make you feel small where you stand between them. It makes your pussy throb. The air between the three of you is starting to blaze. You know they can feel it too when Eijirou lets go of your face, resting his hands on your shoulders, squeezing them briefly. Katsuki’s hair tickles the back of your neck and then his lips are on your ear. He flicks his tongue out and runs it along your earlobe. A low moan escapes your throat in return.

“You belong to us huh? Glad to hear you know your place, kitten. Mm, maybe you wanted us to see you dancing with that guy. Make us jealous. So that when we got home, we could remind you who you belong to. Isn’t that right Ei?” Katsuki whispers, breath dancing over your skin. A shiver runs down your spine and they both press closer, leaving no space for you to move. You watch Eijirou’s expression turn heated, lustful. A pretty pink blossoms on his cheeks at Katsuki’s words. He bites his bottom lip and tilts his head slightly, eyes piercing as he speaks.

“You know what? I think you’re right Kit Kat. Our sweet girl just wanted to be put back into her place all along. You want us to show you who owns you baby?” he teases, voice sweet like candy. He tickles his fingers down your arms, giving you goosebumps. You swallow, feeling like cotton balls are lining your throat. Your hands have come up to rest on the red heads chest. You’re so turned on now, breath coming out a bit faster. Your pussy clenches around air, rhythmically.

“Fuck, yes, show me you two own me. I want it. After tonight, I want to forget the feeling of that guys hands,” you whine, pressing your ass back into Katsuki’s pelvis. His half hard cock pushes into your lower back and he lets out a groan. His large hands grip your hips from behind and he bites a kiss into your neck. You yelp, a sharp flash of pain radiates up to your jaw, feeling his teeth dig in. He lets go, a soft huff, which you think is a laugh, touches your skin. It tickles.

“Sound good to you red?” Katsuki ask more smugly than you can ever recall hearing him.

“More than good Kat,” he laughs, bouncing lightly on his feet. You glance down at Eijirou’s waist, seeing he’s already hard, thick cock straining against his jeans. The want you feel is blistering, skin entirely too hot. Katsuki snickers meanly and lets go of your waist, backing away. Your back feels cold and then Eijirou lets go too, taking away all of your heat. You whine, pushing out your lower lip to Eijirou, knowing you can get him to give you what you want. As usual, he’s unable to resist your pout. He steps back up to you. You can physically feel Katsuki’s eyes roll from behind you.

“What is it baby girl?” Eijirou coos, voice airy. He’s unable to stop himself from placing a hand on the back of your neck, tilting your head up. You bat your lashes at him slowly.

“Carry me please?” you plead, reaching your arms up to him. You hear Katsuki snort from behind you. Eijirou giggles, immediately bending down, waiting. You jump up, securing your legs on his waist, arms tangled around his neck as he stands up straight, holding your thighs. He strides forward, walking towards your bedroom, winking at Katsuki when he passes by. The blonde raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t be like that Kat, I know you would’ve carried her if she asked,” he comments , grinning at the blonde. Katsuki rolls his eyes, but he grins coyly, knowing he would in a heartbeat. You stick your tongue out at Katsuki playfully over Eijirous shoulder as you get further away. Katsuki smirks wickedly at you, eagerly following along. He’ll show you who you belong to alright.

The low overhead light of your room casts them in a soft yellow light. They’re making you watch. They’re teaching you a lesson, you suppose. You try not to show how much you’re enjoying it. You’re all naked now, clothes scattered on the floor. Everyone’s piled on the bed. They’ve got you sitting on your calves, facing them. You have a perfect side view of Katsuki sucking down Eijirous cock. It’s not fucking fair and you can feel your pussy pulsate, slick lips gliding together every time you shift your thighs. A low heat warring in your belly.

You decide to let Eijirou’s pretty face take away the attention from your aching cunt for now. The red head’s cheeks are a soft pink color. He bites his bottom lip, watching his cock disappear over and over in Katsuki’s wet, velvety, warm mouth. His dick pulses, knowing they have your undivided attention and you can’t do anything but sit and admire the view. Watching Eijirou’s smug expression makes your mouth dry. It’s unbearable, how hot they are together, you struggle to keep still. They’ve decided you can’t touch yourself or them—yet. You want nothing more than to trail a hand down and rub circles into your clit. You try to distract yourself from the strong urge to tug the blonde off Eijirou’s cock and get him to make out with you over the red heads leaking tip. Instead you let your eyes roam Katsuki’s form, taking extra time to admire the perky swell of his ass.

Your hand twitches, wanting to smack the shit out of Katsukis pale flesh, to leave your handprint there. You watch as your boyfriend lays on his belly, between the red heads large thighs. He’s resting the weight of his forearms and hands on Eijirous legs. He shallowly rubs his cock against the mattress beneath him. It makes you want to roll him over and swallow his cock until he cries.

He’s easily bobbing his head up and down on Eijirou’s thick dick. He looks like a fucking pro. Which, he always excels at everything he does. Sucking cock is no exception. It makes your clit ache listening to the sounds Eijirou let’s out, they’re undeniably sinful. You find yourself unable to take your eyes off Katsukis stretched, red lips, making Eijirou’s cock vanish into his mouth. You just know the blonde is enjoying putting on a show for you. His nails bite into Eijirou’s skin. If you didn’t know better you’d think he was smirking.

The thought causes a flash of irritation to shoot through you and you really start to get frustrated, as your pussy fucking aches to be filled by one of them. It clenches around air continuously. You know if you ran a finger over your pussy it would come back drenched.. It has your hands clenching tightly into fists.

You watch the hand Eijirou has laced through the blondes hair tighten, as his head tilts further back on the pillow. A sweet, low moan spills from his lips when Katsuki’s pink tongue pokes out to massage at his cock, as he swallows Eijirou whole. You let out a whine, your clit throbs and it starts to hurt. Your belly is twisted tight, blistering arousal pooling at the base of your spine. You’re contemplating on complaining, breaking their rules, when the red head speaks.

“Baby girl,” Eijirou calls you, moaning softly. You reluctantly tear your gaze away from Katsuki’s hot mouth, head quickly turning to meet Eijirou’s eyes. You take in the even darker shade of flush on his cheeks and chest. You squirm, uncomfortably aroused as you meet his gaze.

“Yes Eiji?” you ask, voice strained. He hums, listening to the way you sound and he smiles coyly at you. Your skin burns when he speaks next.

“Enjoying the show? It feels so good, ya know. Kat’s warm mouth. It’s amazing. Bet ya wish he was eating your pussy, don’t you? Too bad you were such a bad girl tonight,” he says meanly, smirking, as he tilts his head on the pillow to look at you better.

You hear Katsuki moan around Eijirou’s cock in some form of agreement and Eijirou laughs brightly. His hair has fallen from its spiky style, splayed around his head on the pilllow. You love when his hair is down, easier to pull on. Embarrassment radiates through you, cheeks heating up and your lower lip trembles. You don’t know how Eijirou is able to keep a steady voice.

“N-no, I’m fine,” you pout, remaining stubborn, crossing your arms over your chest. Eijirou raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing your lie. Katsuki pulls off the red heads cock with a pop, letting it slap wetly against Eijirous lower belly. Eijirou lets go of the blondes hair and you look at Katsuki, who has a catlike grin on his face.

All you want in that moment is to shove your tongue down Katsuki’s throat and get railed by Eijirou’s thick cock. You swallow, involuntarily, and study Katsuki as he sits up slowly. He crawls out from Eijirou’s legs, maneuvering until he gets to you and sits on your left side, his knees touching the outside of your thigh. When his skin brushes against yours, your heart rate speeds up.

His cock looks so hard it could cut diamonds. It stands up straight, twitching when he catches you looking. You notice his lips are swollen when he grins lopsidedly and you can’t keep looking at him. The sight makes your brain turn to mush. So you glance back over at Eijirou, to read his expression.

He’s sitting up now. Eijirou abandons his spot against the headboard and comes up to mirror Katsukis position, on your right side. Your heart pounds in your chest, feeling like it’ll break through your sternum. You can feel the warmth radiating from both boys and you feel a bit of nerves, waiting for what will come next. Katsuki makes the next move, leaning close, brushing his nose over the heated skin of you cheek before whispering in your ear. His lips tickle your earlobe.

“You sure about that? Because I think you’re lying, kitten,” he purrs, voice low and smooth. The feeling of frustration builds up in your chest again and it wants to force itself out of your throat. It pushes at your esophagus, clawing at the inside. You stave it off for now, biting your lower lip so hard it might split. You can’t help but lean into the blondes touch, wanting to rest your temple on his forehead and your eyes flutter. He apparently has other plans, because he only kisses your cheek briefly and leans back. You whine loudly, eyes snapping open. They both snicker, acting like bullies. It’s too hot.

“I just- I want,” you let out a frustrated noise, rubbing the tops of your thighs with sweaty palms. “I want my pussy to get filled,” you say quickly, face burning with sheer embarrassment. You don’t look at either of them now. Until you feel Eijirou’s pointer finger on your chin, forcing you to turn your head to face him. You look at him through your lashes and he grins, all sharp teeth, as he drops his finger.

“Mm, I don’t know pretty girl. Do you deserve to have that sweet little pussy stretched?” he mocks you, now running his hand up your inner thigh, teasing the sensitive crease of your leg next to your cunt. You twitch, eyes widening as he gets closer to your aching pussy. You feel hot, irritated, and unbearably horny.

“Yes Eiji! Please, oh my god, I swear I know who I belong to,” you beg, moaning when you feel Katsuki’s plush lips pressing soft kisses into your neck. You tilt your head slightly and his canines sink into your flesh. You squeal, hand shooting out to grip the blondes thigh, nails digging in. The sharp pain radiates up to your ear, edging on pleasure. He soothes his tongue over the angry flesh. You know there’s no way you can keep your hands to yourself anymore. Keeping one hand on the blondes thigh, you raise your other hand to tangle it in the soft red hair at the nape of Eijirou’s neck. His grin gets even wider and he has mercy on you, letting you tug on the strands. His fingers tease your outer pussy lips, playing with the soft pubic hair there. He tickles your skin and you groan, tilting your head back a bit. Your clit throbs but he ignores you and addresses Katsuki now.

“What do you think Kat? Have we tortured her enough? Think we should show her she belongs to us now?” he purrs, talking about you like you aren’t even there. It makes your blood pressure sky rocket. You grip Eijirou’s hair and he doesn’t even flinch. You huff, squirming in place and look over at Katsuki. He’s grinning wickedly, gazing into Eijirou’s eyes, very much looking like he’s in love.

“I’m feeling generous. Go on, Eijirou. Touch her, I know her pathetic pussy is begging for it,” he says condescendingly, glancing at you to wink. Your breath catches, watching Eijirou’s hand moving to the side slowly. He hovers over your cunt, stretching out the charged moment. You’re having a hard time not closing the gap and just thrusting your pussy into his hand. He leans he forehead against your temple as you tilt your head, watching his large hand.

Time seems to only exist here with the three of you. Atmosphere electric, making your blood rush. When Eijirou slides a finger between your folds, separating them and collecting the slick there, your mouth drops open. When he presses that finger against your clit, moving in slow circles, you choke on a scream. The relief makes you lightheaded, hot pulses of pleasure blistering through your limbs. You can feel Katsuki’s leg twitch under your hand.

“Eijirou, ooohh fuck, that’s so fucking good,” you sob, looking up into his ruby eyes. It forces his head back from your temple and you study his expression. His eyes are hooded, lazy grin tugging on his lips. You feel Katsuki’s groan vibrate through your shoulder. He’s resting his cheek there, watching Eijirou play with your pussy. You hear the schlick noise of the blonde pumping his own cock beside you. The sound almost kills you. It makes the smoldering heat in your belly blaze into an inferno. Your eyes flicker down to Eijirou lips. The red head tracks your movement.

“Please Eiji,” you whisper, groaning as his slippery fingers continue to circle your clit. He grants your wish, leaning in and pressing his pillowy lips against yours. They’re warm, the pressure is soft. One of his sharp teeth catches your bottom lip, like a pinprick. You love it. You kiss him like you’re starving, lips moving together over and over. It’s a messy kiss, trading saliva back and forth.

You whine sweetly into his mouth when you feel his fingers put more pressure on your clit, moving faster. He greedily swallows your noises and slips his tongue into your mouth easily. You let your tongues play together in between kisses. The sounds of Eijirou’s mouth on yours is making Katsuki’s cock throb repeatedly in his hand and he can’t take it anymore. His blood is on fire.

“Fuck, fuck this. I’m gonna fuck you now kitten. You can suck on Ei’s cock and let him fuck you after I’m done,” he growls, right next to your ear, tugging on your wrist forcing you to break the kiss. You gasp and immediately feel the red heads hand leave your clit. You don’t want him to stop, but you’d rather let Katsuki fuck you into the mattress. You let go of Eijirou’s hair and turn your head towards Katsuki.

“Yes, okay, show me who I belong to, please,” you say, breathless from the kiss. You hear the sounds of rustling sheets as Eijirou assumes his previous position, using pillows to prop up his lower back. He props up one leg and lets his thighs part for you. You stare at his cock. It’s resting on his belly, pink and flushed. Your mouth waters.

“Blow her back out Katsuki,” Eijirou says, sounding way too cheerful. Katsuki laughs, placing a hand on your back to get you moving. You feel a hot shiver roll down your spine from the words leaving Eijirou’s mouth. The gentle pressure of the blondes hand on you sets you into motion, you maneuver until you can settle in between the red heads thighs.

Once you sit on your calves, Katsuki pushes you forward with a large hand in the middle of your back. He’s rough about it and your hands flail out, catching yourself on Eijirou’s pecs. You blush, unable to help but love the way they’re treating you, almost like a toy. Eijirou smiles sweetly and in contrast to his expression, he takes the opportunity to grip both your breasts, pinching your nipples between his fingers, squeezing harshly.

“Katsuki!” you say warningly, moaning at the warm hands embracing your tits. They both ignore you, moving fast, because in the next second the blondes grabbing your hips and yanking you backwards. He moves you like a rag doll until your ass is propped in the air and you’re on your forearms. Face inches from the red heads thick cock. You hiss through clenched teeth when Katsuki’s palm rains down on your ass. He spanks you harshly. The flesh there heats immediately, pain flaring brightly. You look up at Eijirou, panting, cheeks red, and you notice he’s got a hand around the base of his cock. He’s pumping it slowly and watching your face intensely.

“Don’t whine. I know for damn sure you like being treated like this,” Katsuki says condescendingly, gripping both your ass cheeks and spreading them open. Cool air dances across your skin and you gasp, nuzzling your face into the crease of Eijirou’s thigh. It makes the red head groan throatily. His hand leaves his cock, threading through your hair and yanking your head up. His eyes are burning, face looking a bit more predatory.

“Tell Katsuki you love it baby girl. Ask him to fuck you and show you you’re ours,” he commands, low voice smoldering through you. You can’t really move your head, forced to make eye contact with Eijirou. So you speak.

“Kat, I love being treated like this, please fuck me baby, I love you,” you whine, fingers gripping the sheets below you. You hear the blonde laugh meanly. It feels like you’ve been shocked, jolting when the thick tip of Katsuki’s cock slips inside you easily. The small stretch is so fucking good, you moan, struggling to keep your eyes open and on Eijirou. The red heads mouth is open slightly, fingers tightening in your hair. His other hand grips the base of his shaft again, squeezing. It sends tingles of up his spine.

“That’s what I like to fucking hear kitten. I love you too, filthy girl. You’re gonna take my cock so well tonight,” Katsuki moans, steadily pressing his dick all the way in, until his hips are fit snugly to your ass. You whimper loudly, eyes fluttering shut at the delicious feeling and stretch of Katsuki’s cock. Your neck aches from being held in this position, at such an intense angle. The red head keeps you there as Katsuki starts to fuck you. He moves his hand up and down his cock leisurely, enjoying the show.

Katsuki digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips and sets a brutal pace immediately, making you cry out loudly with each movement. The drag of his cock along your walls creates a friction so delicious, it sends heatwaves of pleasure rolling through your limbs. Each thrust pushes you forward a little bit, forcing your hair to pull in Eijirou’s unrelenting grip.

The blondes calloused palms starts to press down on your lower back, bending you further so he can thrust deeper. Your eyes shoot open, howling when his dick starts to rail your g spot. It feels like a lightening strike, radiating to your toes each time he hits it. The hand in your hair tightens and you hear the sharp intake of breath from Eijirou.

“Katsuki! Oh fuck! E-Eiji, please, let me - ah fuck,” you squeal, trying to get Eijirou to let you suck his cock. His dick is right in front of your face and you desperately want to feel him stretch your throat. The red head already knows what you’re asking because he immediately lets go of your hair. Your scalp tingles in relief and your neck cracks when you stretch it. Eijirou uses the hand on his shaft to rub the tip of his cock over your lips, precum smearing. You let your hands rest on his thighs, leaning your weight on him. Your mouth opens obediently, tongue hanging out.

“Shit baby girl,” Eijirou laughs. “I get to have two pretty people suck on my cock tonight. Yet, you’re the one who deserves to choke on it,” he grins, devilish look on his face. He guides his cock into your slick, warm mouth and you meet him halfway. Letting the heavy weight of him rest on your tongue as you wrap your lips around the middle of his shaft.

You groan, sending shockwaves through his groin and you give him a quick, harsh suck. He cries out, letting go of his cock and tilting his head back. He grips the sheets, trying not to let his fingers harden and rip the material. His hips jolt upwards, Katsukis thrusts push you forward and his tip hits the back of your throat. You gag, pulling your head back to suck on his tip. Katsuki growls from behind you, pressing on your lower back more, nails biting your skin.

“That’s so fucking hot. Choke on Eijis cock, pretty kitty. She sucking your cock well, baby?” he coos to Eijirou, panting, watching your head bob up and down. The red head lets out a pretty moan and Katsuki marvels at the pleasure taking over Eijirous face. It forces the knot in his belly to wind up tightly, his cock throbbing. Eijirou pants, chest flushed as he rests a hand on the back of your head to guide you. He looks into the blondes eyes. The contact sends pleasure sparking down both their spines. Eijirou runs his free hand through his hair, brushing the sweaty strands off his forehead.

“Hell yeah baby, she’s such a good cock sucker. She knows she’s made just for us,” he says breathlessly, eyeing the way the blondes abs flex with every thrust. You dig your nails into Eijirous thighs until he yelps lightly. You should’ve known he wouldn’t let you get away that. In a heartbeat, he rests both hands on the back of your head and he shoves you down until your nose is nestled in his dark pubes.

His cock presses past your uvula, into your throat. It stretches and burns. You can’t breathe, eyes starting to tear up. Spit trails down from the sides of your mouth to his balls and your jaw aches. You’re whining loudly, feeling the building sensation of your orgasm start to pool in your lower belly as Katsuki continues to fuck you.

Eijirou takes notice, resting a hand on your cheek. He’s merciful and he lets you up, his cock easily slipping from your mouth. You gasp, swallowing air to ease the burn in your lungs. Eijirous cock slaps against his lower belly, glistening from your saliva. You lean forward, resting your forehead on one of his thighs. You’re letting out little ah’s with every thrust. Pussy starting to flutter around Katsukis cock, orgasm climbing to a peak.

“You’re about to cum aren’t you pretty kitty? You want Kat to make your pussy feel so good?” the red head asks, cooing at you and running the backs of his knuckles over your cheek. You raise your head to look up at him, eyes glassy. Eijirou likes to watch your face when you cum and you’re almost there. Pleasure swelling to an unbearably hot degree. “Yes! Kat please! Make me cum, make me cum baby. I wanna feel you cum inside of me,” you call out to him, jaw clenched so tight your teeth creak. You hear the blonde moan throatily. You feel his hips smack harshly into yours and you wail. The blunt head of his cock is kissing your cervix when Katsuki crushes you beneath him.

He lets his weight press onto your lower back. Your knees are barely holding you up at this point. It’s as if the blonde is trying to shove you through the mattress. You find a way to rest your cheek on Eijirous thick thigh, looking up and making eye contact with him. You can barely hold back your orgasm.

“God, you want me to fill you up? Claim you and mark you? Shit, I bet you want Eiji to paint your face at the same time,” he says, voice wrecked. His body is flushed, sweat gathering on his forehead. Eijirou seems intrigued by the idea, but his ultimate goal is to cum in your sweet pussy after Katsuki does, giving you sloppy seconds. His cock twitches against his belly in anticipation. Your eyes start to roll back as you clench all the muscles in your belly.

“No, no, want Eiji to fill me up too,” you choke out. Your words make Eijirou burn with want. You can hear Katsukis smirk when he speaks.

“Really? You want to feel Eijirous sloppy seconds? Let him cream pie you,” he says mockingly. Your belly swirls dangerously, his tone of voice forcing you to the edge, toeing the line. His sinful mouth ultimately sends you over the edge, pussy clenching like a vice around Katsukis cock. Your hearing gets fuzzy as your orgasm bursts. It’s like a water balloon, filled to its limit. It pops and the warm pleasure gushes through you. Toes curling, fingers tingling. You’re silent as your mouth opens in scream.

Katsuki almost chokes on the feeling of your silky, slick pussy suffocating his cock. He’s huffing out little growls and his hips are stuttering as he works you through it until your cunt releases him. He slows down just a little, savoring the moment right before he orgasms. His groin is tightening, he knows he’s about to cum.

Eijirou is stroking his own dick quickly, trying not to paint your face as he watches you cum. Your eyelids flutter as you come back down from your high. Eijirou is still waiting for your answer. Your limbs feel gooey but you make sure to maintain eye contact with him as you respond.

“Y-yes, need both of you,” you moan lowly, voice wrecked. Eijirou bites his lower lip, squeezing the base of his cock so he doesn’t cum. Katsuki starts yanking you back into his movements, unable to stop rambling. He feels his balls start to tighten up.

“Nasty little bitch, needing both your boyfriends to fill your pussy with cum. Double stuff you, right kitty?” he says mockingly. Before you get the chance to respond, he’s shoving himself all the way to the root inside of you, cumming hard. Pleasurable heat tingles up his spine and he shivers. The movement makes you yelp as your face is shoved into Eijirous hip. Katsuki lets out a high pitched moan as he lets ribbons of sticky, warm cum fill your pussy. Your heart pounds. You whine, nosing at the red heads hip bone.

“Fuck Kat, you stuffed her nasty little pussy didn’t you?” Eijirou teases, petting your hair gently. He’s still hard, cock twitching in his grip. Katsuki snickers, smacking your ass once, before pulling his hips backwards. He lets his his half hard cock slip out of you. He places his thumbs on the outside of your pussy, spreading you open.

He admires his cum dripping from your cunt and he hums approvingly. He slides one thumb through your folds, bringing up to massage your clit with his release. You whimper as his finger presses into your swollen clit. He laughs at your reaction before he lets go, crawling to sit on the right side of Eijirou. You let your knees collapse, laying on your belly and stretching your legs. Your entire body feels relaxed.

“Of course I fucking did Eiji. We’re reminding her who she belongs to aren’t we? You better fill her pussy with your sloppy seconds,” he says, pinching the fat of Eijirous thigh. The red head laughs, patting your cheek to get your attention. You raise your head from his thigh humming softly. Despite their aggressiveness tonight, they both want to make sure you can keep going.

“Can you keep going baby girl?” Eijirou asks gently, running his fingers over your cheek. You nod, pussy already clenching again at the thought of Eijirous thick cock. He always feels unbelievable. He’s a little thicker than Katsuki, but the stretch is what your dreams are made of. Not that the blonde doesn’t fuck you just as well, he absolutely does. Plus, Eijirou is always easier to take after you’ve let Katsuki fuck the hell out of you.

“Can you get up for me pretty baby?” Eijirou asks, sitting up. You groan in protest, elbows cracking as you push to sit up on your knees. The blonde to your side grabs your jaw and turns you to him, kissing you once quickly on the lips. Your cheeks burn form his attention. He raises an eyebrow, smiling sharply. He doesn’t say anything when he lets go of your face and Eijirou wraps his arms around your shoulders and rolls you both, until he hovers over you, getting between your legs.

“Eijirou,” you moan, hands gripping the pillow under your head. The larger man, grins, showing his teeth again, before placing a palm on the underside of your thighs, pressing your legs backwards into your chest. You’re effectively pressed in half, Katsuki humming in approval as he watches.

“What nasty girl? You ready for me to double stuff you?” Eijirou teases, eyes full of mischief. You whimper and nod, tightening your hold on the pillow. Your pussy is open for him, Katsukis cum trailing out of you. His dick throbs, knowing he won’t last long once his cock is swallowed in your tight cunt. He inches closer, letting his cock head line up with your hole. He presses in slowly, letting just the tip pop in. He chokes on a breath, letting out a soft whimper as your pussy sucks him in.

“Keep going, please Eiji,” you sob, wiggling under him. He can’t say no to such a sweat plea. He pushes forward, hissing as his whole cock is swallowed by your slick pussy. It’s even wetter with Katsukis cum inside. Eijirou thinks he may pass out when he starts with a teasing pull of his hips backwards, until just his tip remains.

You’re twitching, moaning in his grip. He can see Katsukis cum coating his cock as he fucks it back into you. His mouth hangs open at the filthy, lewd sight. Even with his slow start, you can’t help but feel overstimulated. Your pussy is puffy, swollen and each time his cock fills you, you whimper.

“Eiji, closer please,” you cry, releasing the pillow and reaching your hands out to him. You hear Katsuki snort from where he lounges next to you. You see he’s palming his cock and you stick out your tongue at him. He smiles fondly at you and you can’t help but grab his wrist and tug him closer as well.

He goes easily, letting go of his half hard dick. He props himself up on one elbow so his face is just above yours. He looks down, sticking his tongue back at you and you giggle. You feel Eijirou hook your knees over your elbows so he can bend to you, planting a hand on either side of you shoulders. Your eyes widen at the change of angle. It feels like he’s in your stomach and you quickly look back at his face. “You just want both your boys close while you get fucked, don’t you baby girl?” Eijirou teases, nuzzling his nose with yours. You nod your head, crying out as he starts to fuck you again. This position lets his chubby cock bully your g spot beautifully.

Your nerves are on fire, flames of pleasure shoot to your toes with each thrust. You feel Katsukis soft lips pressing kisses into your cheek as he snakes the hand from the elbows he’s leaning on under your head. He grips your hair tightly to keep you in place. You’re starting to sweat, hands resting on Eijirous shoulders.

“I like having both my boys pay attention to me at the same time,” you say shyly, feeling your cheeks turn pink. Your head jolts in Katsukis hold, scalp stinging as he holds your hair. You cry out, holding onto Eijirous forearms as he starts to thrust faster. They both seem to like the answer you give because Eijirou is leaning down to bite kisses into your chest, sharp teeth like pinpricks against your skin. Katsuki leans over you and presses his plush lips to yours.

You moan, kissing Katsuki messily, lips slick and tongues playing together. You groan into the blondes mouth when you feel Eijirou littering your chest with dark marks. You suck on Katsukis bottom lip, chomping on it harshly before letting go. The blonde breaks your kiss with a sweet moan. Your eyes are hooded, letting out little ah sounds over and over again as Eijirou fucks you. Katsuki admires your flushed cheeks, leaning down to lick the salty sweat off your collarbone. He moans at your taste. You inhale sharply, his warm tongue making your clit twitch.

“Fuck you’re hot, are you gonna cum again you nasty little bitch?” Katsuki teases, smirking down at you. Your eyes flutter shut, Eijirou is trailing kisses up to your neck. He kisses your pulse point and pants against your skin. His breath is hot. You wind your arms around his neck, holding him to your chest. He’s starting to get really close really fast. The hug of your sweet pussy is so fucking good and his balls start to tighten up, heat flaring at the base of his spine.

“Yes-fuck! I’m gonna, hah oh god, I’m gonna cum again,” you choke out, pussy fluttering around Eijirous thick cock. Katsuki uses his free hand to tickle your lower abdomen, placing two fingers on your puffy clit. You see stars when he rubs tight, fast circles into your bud, making your toes curl, thighs tensing. You curse loudly.

“Red,” Katsuki calls out softly. Said red head raises his head from your neck, giving Katsuki a dopey smile. You let go of his shoulders, gripping his forearms again instead. Katsuki pauses his fingers as he smirks, leaning closer to him and he slides their lips together. You whine in protest, Katsuki takes the hint, continuing to rub your clit.

Eijirou moans, kissing Katsuki hungrily. You watch them kiss, seeing quick flashes of their tongues, and it makes your pussy throb repeatedly around the red heads cock. The blonde kisses him once more before leaning back. Eijirous head falls forward. His hips smack into your ass wetly, steadily. You’re being pushed into the mattress again and again. You’re so close, coil wound tightly in your belly. Katsukis fingers rapidly bringing you to the edge.

“Fuck Kat, she really liked watching us kiss,” he groans, hips stuttering.

“I know, she’s such a pretty little whore,” he says, wicked grin on his lips. You can’t take it anymore, listening to the filth that leaves Katsukis mouth, it makes you cum. The knot in your belly releases. Your back arches, hair pulled to its limit in the blondes hold. Your nails dig into the flesh on Eijirous arms as your pussy suffocates him. You howl as your orgasm rips through you, entire body taut. Once again, an almost unbearable wave of pleasurable heat gushes through you.

Eijirou is enamored by your face. The way your mouth is open in a silent o shape, eyes squeezed shut tightly. He’s barely able to fuck you through it. He’s gasping and moaning, orgasm taking him by surprise. Blistering pleasure burns through his veins and he pushes his hips all the way up against your pussy as he suddenly cums warm, sticky ribbons.

“Fuck yes, that’s it kitty. Make Eiji cum with your pretty pussy,” Katsuki praises with a rough voice, taking his fingers from your clit as Eijirou cums. You open your eyes, looking at the red heads pretty face twisted in pleasure. You bring a hand up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to rest your foreheads together. You stare into each others eyes and you feel a warm, tender feeling blossom in your chest.

“I love you Eijirou,” you whisper, watching his cheeks turn pink. He moans, before biting his lip when his cock throbs once more as both of you relax into a pile of jelly and Eijirou lets your legs down. He sit back on his calves, breathing heavily.

“I love you too baby girl,” Eijirou purrs, pretty smile on his lips. You give him one in return, humming softly as Katsuki lets go of your hair. Head throbbing where his nails were digging in. You’re gonna have a headache later. You look over at Katsuki, who was palming his half hard cock. He smirks and winks at you. You know it wasn’t quite enough for him to jerk himself off again, but he enjoyed the show. Eijirou slips his softening cock from your pussy and you squirm at the sensation. Your cheeks burn as you feel like you’ve been bred.

“Mm, now you’re really double stuffed, like an Oreo!” Eijirou says, voice cheerful and a smile on his face. You and Katsuki look at each other, before you both laugh. Eijirou giggles in return, scooting backwards and sitting to the side. Katsuki takes the opportunity to get between your legs. He plants his hands by your head and hovers over you, grinning like a deviant.

You raise an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t answer. He’s quick to snake his arms under your waist and roll both of you until you’re on top of him. You squeal when you’re suddenly up right. Feeling like the blood is rushing from your head. He sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. You cling to him, arms and legs wrapped around him.

“Katsuki, what are you doing?” you gasp, as he grips your ass and stands up with you. You hug him tight and he smacks one of your ass cheeks as he starts walking you to the bathroom.

“We’re taking a shower dumbass. Just because Eiji and I reminded you who you belong to and stuffed you with cum, doesn’t mean I want it all over the bed. That’s disgusting,” he explains, as if you should’ve known. You roll your eyes and place your chin on his shoulder, looking at the red head and reaching out a hand to him.

“Eiji, come on baby,” you purr to him. His tail would be wagging if had one. He slides off the bed, bouncing up to the two of you.

“I’m right here pretty girl. I love you too Kat, just by the way,” he coos, smacking the blondes ass, which earns him an icy look. Katsuki grumbles an I love you back to Eijirou and you laugh, amused. The three of you make it into the bathroom. Katsuki sets you down on your soft, squishy bath mat. You wiggle your toes in the material as Eijirou turns on the water. You take your time, enjoying the warm water and letting them wash you clean. You wash Eijirous hair and massage Katsukis back. You all take the moment to soak up the post sex intimacy together. After, when you’re all in bed, whispering sweet nothings and more I love yous in the dark, in the middle of the night Eijirou rides Katsuki slow and sweet. The blonde has you sit on his face while you trade sticky, honey like kisses with Eijirou. You’re unbelievably glad you belong to them. Better yet, they belong to you as well. You end up back asleep in a pile, thanking your lucky stars you found one another. The last thing you hear are Katsukis soft snores as you drift off, dreaming in colors of yellow and red.

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