#well it's a good thing i dug right into this after watching enough of the anime so i know how the characters are supposed to be

[mikurulucky]

You sure this ain't a Final Fantasy VII character? Because he sure as hell LOOKS like one here.

[introloves]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

“allowed” is not a word toji is familiar with. hardly listening to those he has an inkling of respect for- he’s now barely tolerating a “hands off” rule implemented by his coach and you.

boxer! toji + dom! toji + man handling + orgasm denial (m! receiving) + pet names (angel, sweetheart, angel face) + rough sex + toji is a mean, evil man + toji mocks you + mating press + messy sex + reuniting sex + cream pie + overstimulation + size kink + humilation + teasing during sex + praise + f! reader

— word count; approx 6k

there had always been one rule to your relationship with toji when his season was in play. dynamics changing just a bit, because the one rule wasn’t imposed by him; but by coaches- his team advising the best course of action to ensure that he would come out victorious season after season.

and that was; absolutely, under no circumstance- was toji allowed to cum.

you could remember the first time that rule was introduced, naive and innocent to the world of this sport. mouth popping open in surprise when his coach stepped next to you, having decided to join toji on one of his practice sparrings for the first time.

the line of questioning felt odd, wondering why his coach looked over at you with a known smile- like he knew what was going to be said would spark some surprise.

“he’s a beast, huh.” spoken while looking at you from the side of his eye- watching while you squeezed both hands together, trying to calm the uneven thumping in your chest when every heavy swing was directed towards your man.

“mhm.” you nodded, lip hurting from the way your teeth dug in nervously, trying hard to keep your focus on the older man standing next to you while staring at toji.

“i wouldn't worry too much, sweetheart.” he assured, speaking up to let the men know it was a good time to take a break. toji looking over past the ropes at you two with interest, hooking heavy arms against the cords to rest for just a bit, sweat clinging onto the black tee he chose to wear during practice. throwing his coach a pointed look with an arched eyebrow- zeroing in on your sweet face, sending you a wink.

stomach flipping with the cocky attitude that emanated from him in waves, now more with the fact that an angel had their eyes on him.

“you two remind me of when i was younger.” the man chuckled. throwing a rag over his shoulder and turning to face you dead on. “in love, yeah? i can see it.” he mumbled, trying to find the right wording.

“passions high, things get… intense real easy, right?” the coach spoke, after seconds of looking pained by just forming the words leaving his mouth.

finally breaking over the focus you had on your boyfriend- trying to keep the burn down from the way he chose to throw compliments at you, whistles and pet names- even during his precious breaks. your eyes looked at the man next to you, crossing your arms in confusion and interest at what he was telling you.

“yeah?” you answer, inquisitive, trying to find what you had missed to be asked this.

“well, with the season starting- i gotta advise you two to… take a step back. i'm sure he hasn’t told you that there’s absolutely no sex before his matches, right?”

a singular squeak left you, pinching your lips together- the curious stance slowly turning into crossed arms and a burning face. looking over at toji briefly, glancing at his pumped biceps, the sweat trickling down his neck, and the kisses he was blowing you before swinging his head back and laughing into the gym knowing what was being spoken about given your shocked expression. you wanted to strangle him, preferred if this came from your loving boyfriend's mouth, rather than a man old enough to be your grandfather.

“no. he didn’t tell me.” you almost whined, trying to keep composure in the face of the only man toji took any sort of direction from.

he could only shrug.

“it's a conversation you and the boy need to have, take him home- sweets.” the man said, stepping up into the ring and calling over the other man sparring against toji, giving you an opening to snatch your boyfriend away.

“toji.” you whine, walking over to his corner- stepping over the rags and bottles littering the ringside, trying to keep your pout down to a half hearted smile while you looked up at him.

“yeah, angel?” he hummed, crouching down to try and steal kisses from you- quickly discarding the gloves in a messy heap against the ring floor. hands reaching down to cup your face closer to him the best he could with the wraps still on him. tongue eagerly licking against your teeth, biting down on the swell of your lower lip- nearly growling into every push. only discouraged from showing everyone in this gym who you belonged to when you choked out a small noise- embarrassment and heat mixing into a haze that felt heavy in your chest.

letting you go with a final suck of your lower lip, letting his tongue lick at his own- smiling proudly at the dazed look on your face. eyes lidded, face lax and swollen lips glossy.

“coach said we could leave.” you finally muttered out, stepping back with your arms crossed over your chest ‘cause you were foolish enough to let him get close and now you would have to suffer even more than you already were with the rule lingering at the forefront of your mind.

“yeah? i could still go a couple rounds...” toji murmured, looking back at his team- knowing what all this about. sending a frown at his coach, only to be dismissed with a wave.

“mmm, you don't wanna go home with me?” you wondered, sweetening your words- smiling when he huffed and nodded like there was ever going to be anything else he wanted more.

letting him off the hook for the time being for not telling you what was to come… or not to come and for god knows how long.

beginning the routine of putting his wraps away, grabbing a random rag and using that to freshen himself off a little for you- even though you liked him sweaty.

bruised hands, swollen and a little too hot- big and sturdy finding your own when he was finally done. taking you proudly through the front of the gym, like a pretty little trophy that he won all on his own.

and when the two of you were alone, happy enough to bask in his attention- laying pretty before him now that he had showered and changed into nothing but gray sweatpants that were held up by his hand while he walked towards you, peering down at you like he wanted something. eyes widening before you snapped them back up to his face when you saw the unmistakable twitch of his cock hanging heavy between his thighs.

it was almost too hard to cross your legs at your ankles- shaking your head between giggles that crawled up your throat. watching how he bent his body down over you, pressing your hand between his tits; remembering the words his own coach gave him.

“nuh uh, you gotta stay away- boss’s orders.” you murmured between trying to press your legs up between the two of you, back pressed down onto the bed while he grabbed at your ankle and tugged it up against his waist like it obviously belonged there.

toji scoffed, rolling his eyes- hot hands softened only a bit by the shower, rolling up your thigh. fingertips squeezing so hard it made you squirm.

you knew he hated the thought of being denied you, of being told what to do. but this came with the job, and you knew he couldn’t… you two, couldn’t afford to lose any matches. not like he could anyways, but still, you knew if he got too excited beforehand- he wouldn’t be able to put you down and from what you’ve read, it weakened them- men and those in his profession.

“sweetheart.” he mumbled right back when you finally squeezed your foot up against the middle of his chest and pushed, setting him back on his haunches before you. hands coming up to hide from him- not the smartest move on your end because in seconds he had crawled back up; this time using just a sliver of his freakish strength to set any effort aside. letting you know with the previous attempts- he had let you move him.

“nuh uh,” he mimicked right back, “if you’re not gonna let me touch- at least let me see you, angel baby.” toji breathed, pressing his scarred lips to the same hand he had pried from your face, breathing down onto it before dropping it. the weight of him pushing aside any offending limbs to curl down; lips hungry for any taste he could get.

passing them down over your throat and right above the swell of your chest- a kiss so tender it was nearly uncharacteristic of him; like he was apologizing to your body for not doing more.

“your loss.” he groaned before rolling off of you when your hands reached up for him- scorning you like it had been your decision; leaving you gasping and whining.

turning to fight with him before the sight of his hardened cock- straining against the gray sweatpants he had chosen to wear, stopped you. his gaze pinned to the ceiling instead of you, head cushioned by his hands. biceps curling and flexing like he was trying not to move.

shutting down any feeling of anger- seeing now, how much it weighed on him too.

easier to turn around- laying on your side away from him, face hot against your hand; a pout so deep it nearly hurt painted on your face. stomach dropping like it was all your fault- already lamenting about the complications of this.

all before toji slithered a hand against your side, bringing you right to him with no effort. cradling your body to his own, acting like his dick wasn't slotted between the two of you, groaning at the contact but taking no other action.

“this is going to be hell, ain’t it.” he wondered, nose finding purchase along the path he had pressed kisses to just seconds ago. like a dog licking a wound.

“mhm, ‘specially cause you think with your stupid dick.” you murmured- halfway giggling when you grabbed at his hand squeezing against your side rhythmically, bringing it up to hug; your own lips pressing soft passes over bruised skin.

feeling the hot breath of a sigh tickle down your back, trying to keep things light even when the sweetness you both approached each other with was charged.

“actin’ like you don't like it, princess.” toji smiled, teeth bared while a smile played on a face you couldn’t see. wrapping his arms around you further- a pass of his tongue up the nape of your neck causing the frantic wiggling of your body, whining when he didn’t let go.

“how long ‘til the match?” he wondered, speaking above your still kicking body in between barks of his own laughter when you couldn’t budge a singular inch off his hold.

sighing- rolling your eyes when you finally ceded, goosebumps crawling up your back; you went limp and sighed.

“two weeks.”

the next sound was that of a giggle from you when he let out a rather loud note of pure agony- something not like him at all; before scooping you into his arms, like he was trying to absorb your very being into his own, not noticing or saying a thing when the full weight of you nestled right on top his still throbbing cock.

and just to his dismay- the two weeks seemed to drag on. he wasn’t used to being denied your body, futile attempts to just sink the tip inside of you rejected night after night; even amidst the promises that,

“angel face- i swear it’ll be just the tip, won’t even cum, i swear it.” and maybe that would mean something if it was coming out of the mouth of anyone that wasn’t toji zenin.

having gone weirdly sweet when around you, especially after hours of sparring matches- pressing his face too hard into the curve of your neck. or feigning innocence when hands that always seemed to wander crept too close to the apex of your thighs.

his pout, ever prominent when you finally caught on and shifted away from him, trying to keep space so this exact thing didn’t happen. knocking blows to your own conviction, because it was so odd to see him beg and sulk- your man who always stood so tall, unwavering- and a bit mean at times, reduced to trying a compromise because he missed your cunt so bad.

but with the tension building- there was something like a secret being swapped between the two of you. a secret promise that every day would pass faster than the last- and before you two knew it; he was fighting.

the glory of it never waned, sitting ringside in your promised seat in his corner didn’t lose its weight. hands pressed into balls on top of your thighs while the cheering all melted together into one continuous roar.

the ringside walk took too long, but the actual fight itself didn’t. your eyes never leaving off of his form, the twinkling of overhead lights glittering off fractured drops of sweat while he moved about.

all show; knowing if he got close the fight would be as good as over. your own fingers pinched together while you watched, fingernails digging crescent moons into the soft part of your hands- holding your breath while he finally circled in, stepping close and letting just one fist swing upwards to the tired opponent. his coach sat next to you leaned in to congratulate you- as if you were the one who won before the man even fell down onto the vinyl.

acting like this was a dance between the two would have done a disservice to toji, he was dancing; the other man looked like he had been running for his life since he stopped foot inside the ring. your head coming forward to rest against your knees at the sound of the bell- signaling the fight was over.

standing with tears hanging heavy against your lashes while they toted toji about; the veins prominent on his curling biceps with every shake of his gloved fist- showing everyone who’s winning hands they belonged to. something like a smile and smirk playing on his lips when he looked down at you. a promise shared while everyone else was celebrating him.

holding breath after breath in your chest following a small reminder to breathe with every intake; he was yours, but the glory of having a man so hailed and adored by people never ceased.

step after step taking you to the locker room, standing still- nearly biting your fingers with unnecessary anxiety while waiting for him in the room powered by fluorescent lights.

waiting on him while others who wanted just a sliver of attention circled like sharks to fresh meat all the way to the same spot you stood.

too in your head to feel the warmed hands reaching for your upper arm, blinking away the haze and looking at him.

feet awkwardly moving from their previous perch on the solid floor, nearly tripping on the porcelain; exclaiming out something that sounded like his name, trying to remind him to treat you with more care, fragile in hands that still had adrenaline pumping through his very being.

but just like it was difficult for you to keep yourself from dissolving into a bundled mess of nerves, it was hard on him to not act on the all consuming lust growing with each passing second, bypassing any necessary interviews or just plain praise spat in his direction- he had you. it was all he was going to need for tonight.

driven by the single thought, he didn’t stop until you were pressed down into the corner where he had shoved his bag and clothes toji had walked in here with; sweats and a too tight black shirt. hands braced against either side of the metal locker; caging you in, already dizzy with the smell of sweat and a metallic twist.

eye’s wandering down to his body at the thought that this could be his blood.

“whose blood?” you questioned, trying to keep lucid- even while pinned back against the wall, hands roaming down swollen muscles. veins thrumming with heat after taking the ring.

smelling nothing but him and a sickly metallic tang that flipped your stomach over- trying to keep your hands innocent when all you wanted to do was dig in and pull him into you.

damn the eyes still pinned to his back, even while his body crowded yours. no one would look at you if he had any saying in it, and with the adrenaline still coursing through him- he had half the mind to grab your legs and hitch them over his shoulder just to prove a point.

“the other guy’s. but you knew that.” toji stated and it was true; but there was still a part of you searching to make sure none of it was his. even words heavy with discontent- not with you, never, but with the fact that he wanted you and couldn’t do anything about it. not yet.

you nodded, tears already dotting your lash line with how long it had been since you had him, and now all that was left was to wait just a little bit.

“take me home, toji.” you whine, shaky hands leaving a trail of clean skin over the blood splattered on him before wrapping your fingers into his wet hair- tugging on the strands eagerly. lips brushing over the curve of his jaw, breathing down onto his chest. tasting something like sweat and blood, nose scrunching at the thought that he was marred in any capacity. but you knew it wasn’t his, any scrape was miniscule- bruised stomach and side, the areas where his opponent briefly made contact would be gone by tomorrow.

“ah, fuck.” toji groaned, looking up at the lights of the locker room- stomach tensing with pool of lust simmering in his stomach, knowing he would have to calm down, if only a little, if they were ever going to make it out of there.

and when he felt like he could breathe once more, when the tight coil of pure arousal waned enough for him to gulp down lungfuls of air- toji took you home.

stopping for just seconds to grab his check and eagerly pulling you behind him, catching glances of you while he turned around. spoiled and greedy with the sight of you giggling at how eager he was, making you feel just that more special.

it felt like an eternity before you were tugged over the threshold, hands reaching for you before the door closed. body arching down to meet your pouty lips- hungry for you like he's never been before.

denied of you for what was too long- it all came to a halt.

cock pressed against the material of flimsy sweatpants, it begged to have you. pulling away for seconds to actually breathe, toji reached down to pinch your face, tilting your gaze up at him. watching you blink away tears and fit tiny fingers into the space of his palm and your chin, wanting to stop with all the pretense, the wait- the swelling of want.

“toji.” you whined, lips puckering against the dimpling of your cheeks thanks to his fingers still pressing in.

acting like he was mad at you for not giving in, like all of this was your fault- eyes watching to see the simmering lust he had grappled with for nights, and days between when it had been allowed.

the singular word leaving a sour note on his tongue- “allowed”. he was toji zenin- ‘allowed’ was a word that had never pertained to him, and it never would be.

leaning in to grab at you again, like a doll he could have his way with. the sweetest reward for waiting, digging in with extra force with that simmering anger that was flipping back and forth from his stomach to chest, a slip of just how strong he was.

knew it was hard on you too- could feel it late at night when you thought he was asleep to helplessly stick fingers inside, too spoiled and used to what he gave that it wasn’t enough. let you think he was asleep because when you tried and ultimately failed- it did something to him.

hearing you try to stifle whines, hide from him by curling into a ball right next to his heated body. attending to yourself in a hopeless attempt and knowing nothing could compare to him.

his lips peeled back into something that resembled a smile, black tresses of his hair stuck onto his forehead and tickling your own when he leaned in and kissed you.

tongue hot, and strong- it licked inside your mouth, swirled along the sides of your teeth, and stopped right in front of your lips.

caught between breathing and holding it in your burning lungs, treated like a victim of his- the unbridled strength he carried resting just beneath the surface.

you couldn’t tell if you were scared, it felt like it, but there was also a tinge of lust playing right next to it. but you just blinked through that tight grip of panic; it was okay to be scared sometimes, scary felt good with him.

a singular whine escaping between the captured air- bringing down that smile of his once more.

but it was softer, no longer tinged with that seething warmth.

toji blinked, and actually looked down at you- eyes focusing on different parts of what was right in front of him, lips pouty and painted glossy with his spit- fingers still dimpling the fat of your face, your own digits wrapped around his thick wrist in a feeble attempt to pry his hand off.

“cute.”

it felt mocking, like he could laugh at you any second for getting off on how he was treating you; it was so tempting to bite back that it was the same with him, he was getting off on humiliating you like this- holding you open to gaze down at the very chords of your being.

but you didn’t, you were *good* and toji knew that too- it’s why it was so easy to shift the hold of your face down to either side of your neck; fingers pressing into the thrumming veins settled right there. easy to let go once satiating the need to make it hurt, bringing his arms down to where your ass meets your legs to tug you up. letting you wrap your arms around his neck- dependable and strong enough to carry you with ease, trying not to bump into the edges of things while he looked up at you. taking seconds from this moment to simply press his face to the center of your chest, kissing you like you’d even feel it given the clothes keeping you away from him.

your own fingers moving from their hold to ensure you wouldn’t fall to the stray strands of hair littering the nape of his neck. liking the fact that it was getting longer- there was just something about his long black hair you found comfort in; liked it when he was wound down enough to let you run your hands through it- softening the edges of his being with your love.

thoughts of how sweet he was to you, and only you, interrupted when he finally made it into your shared space. unceremoniously dumping you down onto the bed like he wasn’t just adoringly looking up at you, knees dipping down against where your legs folded into your waist; dipping you down with how heavy and big he was. making a show in how slow he was to place his palms against either side of your face.

every movement calculated, like he was waiting for you to comment on the slow pace he’s chosen to take, and just like he thought. it didn't take long to look up at him, pout already forming on your lips.

“toji.” his name whined and already breathy, hands searching for anything that would tug him back up to you. needing him so much it hurt, the singular chord of need seemingly moving any limbs for a chance to entice him further. like he wasn't also panting and wanting.

dizzy when you looked away from his lidded eyes for just a second to see his sweats hanging lower than they had been seconds ago- the imprint of him heavy and low. eyes rolling to the back of your head with the wet lust pooling between your legs.

trying so hard to keep your body from squeezing down onto nothing, stomach clenching in its stead.

“toji.” named whined again, like he didn’t hear you the first time.

“talk to me.” you whimpered, trying to keep a creeping panic down. trying to worm itself up from the odd coil of lust mixed in- seeing him look down at you. jaw set and hands shaking; palms warm and rough against the round skin on the fat of your face. thumbs tracing the start of your hairline over and over- trying not to vocally grunt when the twitch of his cock was so forceful it knocked air from him.

he could only laugh, bringing the pads of his thumb down to swipe under your eyes.

“what do you want me to say, angel?” toji questioned, distracting you with the answer he knew you wanted.

too spoiled and needy, knowing you we’re nothing but a creature of want bundled up with a pretty bow and pleading eyes.

“want me to tell you how much i want you?” toji asked, bringing both hands- finally latching onto the waistband of your bottoms before tugging without restraint of his strength.

pulling you down with the force a good inch before leaning down and placing a kiss to your forehead.

“want me to tell you how i heard you touch that dangerous little cunt, every night? right next to me?” he hissed, remembering it all. tipping over the swirl of emotions settled deep into the pit of his stomach. brought forth with the adrenaline slowly waning, replaced by want.

a hand slipping between both of your bodies to cup at the heat he was just speaking on. pulling fingers away saturated in slick, smiling something sick before pressing his fingers to his lips.

canines glistening against the low light, prying out another uncontrolled spasm- hips jutting off the bed to plead better than any words you could stupidly come up with.

wet mouth coming down, those same teeth catching the soft skin under your ear, bucking once more- hips caught down with those hands of his. waiting for you to notice the heaviness of his cock, freed from any confines, painting lines of lust across the apex of your thighs.

“too sweet.” toji whispered, uncharacteristically, once more. teetering you over that small and tiny space he seemed to shove you in a moment's notice. nose tipping up to breathe, to catch any sort of lucidity you still held.

excitement pumping through your veins with every throbbing push of hot blood, you could see your heart beat now. could feel the swollen and equally hot cock head poke against your swollen little clit, nothing but jolts wrecking through your body with every passing second *he* was making you wait.

and toji was a sick, twisted man- letting you look at him and start another plea before finally pressing himself inside. physically feeling the contraction of your pussy before you relaxed, tears dotting your lashes. swallowing down his name with a cry when his swollen head popped inside, head pressed back into the bed to cry out nothing but his name over and over.

too dizzy to notice the way he picked up your limp legs, hooking them over the curve of his arms before coming back to you. trapping you, keeping you bundled up and tiny.

viscous, teeth gnawing against one another- toji groaned. adrenaline waning, dizzy in his own right, body strung up with nothing but physical strength.

thankful for his own power because the cunt squeezing around his cock so tight- he had to fight to fit inside seemed to sap any better judgment or mental fortitude.

“come on angel- your turn. you talk.” toji nearly bickered, trying to bring the focus back in your eyes. and since he was a sick, and mean man- he enjoyed seeing your face scrunch up, sucking in little breath after little, hiccuped breath.

knocking that focus clear off your face with pistoning thrusts so hard, the jolt itself tempered him through the thick fog of lust and pleasure. barking out something akin to a laugh and groan watching you shake your head and squish your nose up something cute.

how was he ever supposed to stop? how could he ask to keep his hands off you, when you received him so well- even now, while he bullied his cock into your already battered pussy all you did was shake your head back and forth and plead for him to give you more.

hands gripping onto the curve of muscle settled on top his bicep, anchoring yourself to the very thing knocking the wind and thoughts out of your body. feeling the push of your muscles against his hold on you, acting like you were-

oh.

toji has to bite down, gnash his teeth and breathe heavy tufts of air out of his nose to keep himself at least somewhat grounded. watching you twitch weakly, feeling you spray his wiry hair, and coat the sliver of cock that doesn’t fit inside of you with cum. hitching your legs further into the cradle of his arms while he fucks and fucks into you over and over.

“fuck.” the singular word spit out through his gritted teeth, balking with the fact that you came so easy. finding it unfair that you were so sensitive, you who was allowed to touch yourself. who was allowed the little moments of reprieve even if it might not have been with him.

he would have swallowed his pride for the time being, letting you do what you needed to get off.

but since toji is such a nasty, vile man. he knows that’s not true.

lips curling to smile down at you, like you did such a good job for him- making a show of grabbing the back of your knees, and pressing them further down onto the bed.

his eyes pinning yours down, like a wild animal sizing up their prey before pouncing. daring you to look away, wanting you to be the one who pushed through the hazy fog of burning overstimulation.

“that’s it.” he praises, despite what he’s putting you through, unrelenting thrusts, keeping you down small and unmoving underneath him he sees the way you’re slipping in deep. sharp smacks of his balls battering the curve of your ass that has been lifted an inch off the bed the only thing heard, apart from the sharp trills of your cries.

“please, please!” you cry, over and over- too dizzy to even pick your head back up, letting it roll to the side when he comes in close once more. tongue laving at the curve of your cheek, a simple gesture of comfort.

“my good girl. please what?” he asks, the vibration of his words reverberating against your clammy skin.

and toji never expects an answer, this is good enough- you do well enough in your own right to keep somewhat lucid while his thick cock throbs with every push inside.

it feels like an uphill battle from him too, watching every orgasm overtake your body- slowly eating away at the unshakable control he has over his own figure.

wonders why, after everything he’s done bad in his life, is he able to have a little piece of nirvana right here.

toji is gluttonous anyways, has always wanted more than what was offered- from you too. grits his teeth down so hard, even through the haze you can see the vein working its way down his thick neck.

holding off just for one more, one more orgasm from you, pretty little thing.

coaxes it out of you with those snapping hips- thick cock noisily sliding in and out of you with no remorse for the integrity of your walls. battering you into something soft and malleable, shaping the figure of his cock into your tummy.

you cum again, weak- sensitive. barely able to distinguish what hurts and what doesn’t, whole body shuddering in the midst of his strong hold. squeezing around him, beckoning him closer and closer.

in the end it’s worth it, letting yourself get used by him to watch the way he tips his head back- looking at the ceiling of your room before tremors wrack his own body. lips open while he pants out the singular-

“fuck! fuck-“ over and over, sealing himself against you with one last thrust. digging in as much as he can to make sure you take it all- make sure his cum is well received inside of the same walls still trying to push out his unrelenting cock.

and you feel so full, warm and shaky while toji slowly gains his own bearings- having gone limp long ago, waiting for him to come back to you. shivering with every weak throb his cock gives you, like he’s trying to push out every last bit of cum he has for you. the heat simmering low in your very being.

“pretty thing.” toji finally breathes- relieved. whatever pent up energy left now forming into nothing but pure adoration for you. something he had never felt before. coming to him as naturally as all the other mean, vile, nasty tendencies he has.

letting you whine like a little puppy while he lets your legs fall back onto the bed. kissing you, teeth nipping at the curve of your tear stained cheek- lowly chuckling with how shaky hands reach for him. wondering if you know how ironic it is to be begging for the very being responsible for making a mess of you.

“toji.” it’s sweet, called out in a way he’s not used to hearing his name in.

“yeah angel, ‘m here.” he huffs, feigning like there’s effort in bringing himself down to hold you. strong arms used in a manner foreign to their creation- wrapping you up against him.

“you did good, cunt missed me that much?” he wonders out loud, catching a glance at the pool of cum trailing down the middle of your thighs. letting both of you lay in the messiness of it all- too indulgent to clean it off.

watching you nod, eyes heavy- bleary. fucked out like an angel created for just this. his own breathing ragged with the singular pout, feeling your hands grab as if he’d leave.

wonders how the fuck he’d ever get through next season, and the season after that. knowing temptation itself holds its form in the shape of you, right here with him.

toji kisses you- trying to make you the singular thought in his mind. letting you rest before he puts you through it again and again, a creature of indulgence in his own right.

knowing he wants it all; victory and your very being. wonders how you drift off so easy with a man like him looking over you.

[bunnys-kisses]

simple woman

simon "ghost" riley

cw: mask kink, dub-con, breeding, bimbo-ish!reader, size difference/kink, choking, finger-fucking, degradation (misogyny), impregnation/pregnancy, minor praise kink, there's a lot happening a word from bunny: like the fic! suggest your own! comments are always welcomed <3

simon just thought you were the sweetest thing to come out the army. he must've thought they were getting desperate by letting a scaredy cat like you in. look at you, you could've even hold a gun steady with your arms shaking! tsk, tsk, tsk. someone like you shouldn't be in a place like this, with all these scary men.

they'd eat you alive and then chew on your bones. they'd lick you in and out like the inside of a crisp package. stay with simon, he'd keep you safe. but safety came with a price. and that price landed you with an extra eight inches inside of you.

he had you alone for the night, away from your barracks and into the single room he had. the privileges of what he did. but a good girl like you had to behave. be good for him.

strong fingers were thrusted in and out of your sweet cunt as he kept another hand of his around your neck to keep you quiet. he wore his mask to conceal his face. even after all this time you saw was his lips and the nasty scar on one side.

"that's a good girl." he said quietly, "i like how you act when i'm three fingers inside of ya. you take me so well."

you whimpered and clutched onto his shoulders. he was just so big compared to you, in every sense of the word. he at least had a head over you and broad enough shoulders that he easily blocked out the sun when he loomed over you. he was strong and domineering.

"that's my girl. you know no one else can have you, right? because if the wrong fucker tried to take you from me. they'd simply end up in pieces in the river."

your nailed dug into the meat of one of his shoulders as you tried to support yourself. you whimpered as he held you still by your throat as he moved his fingers faster in and out of you. you kicked your legs out but he curled around you to keep you close to him.

"stop that, love. i'd hate to have to tie you up and gag you." he squeezed a little and you wheezed. he knew he was in control, he loved the control he had over his little doll.

you squeezed onto him tighter as you tried to take as much air as you could between the moments he relaxed his grip. he dipped his face into your neck as inhaled your sweaty scent, to him it smelt amazing.

"simon." you croaked.

"no, no, girlie. it's lieutenant. and not lt like soap says." he reminded you as he pulled his hand away from your throat and tapped his finger against your nose. he watched you take a deep breath after being deprived of (most) air for some time.

you sputtered and coughed and he continued to fuck you with his calloused fingers. he admired the mark around your neck that he was certain was going to go purple within a few days. he wrapped an arm around around shoulders and pulled you into him as he continued to brutalize your cunt with his fingers.

you panted and moaned into his skin and your nails dug into his shoulders as you tried to leverage yourself. you felt on the knife's edge of pleasure even if it was rough and messy. your toes curled as you panted heavily. the room felt hot and your head felt like a mess.

simon was the only anchor you had to reality. you moaned softly into his strong neck, you could feel the sweat drip down it and onto your nose. it must got hot under the mask.

when you climaxed, your cunt tightened around his fingers. he knew and clamped a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. he watched your tense as he finger-fucked you, then when you relaxed and collapsed onto the bed with you nude body on display for him.

he pulled out his fingers and slipped them under the back to get a taste of your wetness. he groaned to himself before he got your legs off his lap. he got up from the bed and started to undress. you looked at him, your mind was drawn to a blank as you saw the muscle on his body.

he wasn't simply built the way men in superhero movies were. he was like a classic strongman you once saw in a book. you could tell there was heavy muscle, but a layer of thickness over top. it kept him warm in the cold months on base. if he were an animal, it would be like a bear. bulky, intimidating, ready to tear apart whatever victim got in its jaws.

he was scary, you were in love with him.

simon didn't love, he obsessed. his entire life had been stalking, almost hunting for the 'bad guys'. when he worked it was an obsession to track down the likes of terrorists, so it would only make sense that he loved the same way.

he got undressed, but still opted to keep the mask on. you could see his stern dark eyes staring at you as you laid on your stomach on his bed. he could tell you were still out of it, your mind a blur.

"that's a good girl. nice and dumb for me." he chuckled quietly to himself as he approached the bed once more, "no need to think about a damn thing, just how good i make you feel."

"simon, please." you whimpered.

he chuckled as he came over and ruffled your hair, "i know, i know. you're always trying to prove yourself to captain price. but i know what you're capable of. meant to be a good doll for me, maybe instead of being a Sargent, you can become my wife. a better fittin' title for you." he rarely spoke much, but when he was with you and your brain was splatted to the back of your skull, the words came out.

his tongue was filthy, but he saw how you reacted to them. he knew you were a dirty whore, he was just lucky to find you first and keep you all to himself.

he sat down on the edge of the bed and groped your ass. his touches were rough and you tried to back away from him on the bed. but you could never truly escape simon. he was a ghost, he'd find you. so don't go running away, as he always warned you. he wagged his finger at you like you were some kind of child.

but now he was kissing at your neck and gripping your ass with his broad hand. he loved how you felt under him, how he pressed into you. he could crush you so easily, that was why he never understood how you even got into the army. you bruised like a fruit, there were many times he grabbed you and were left purple within a few days.

simon loved the bruises. but only when he did them. he wasn't going to beat you down, you were his doll. but he did enjoy the sight of the splotches of purple and blue on your hips when you undressed for him. he wondered if your fellow soldiers ever gossiped about them.

but that wasn't anything to worry about. soon simon would have his way and you wouldn't even be in the forces. as he moved your hips to be at level with his hard cock, he thought about the nice house he'll get for the both of you.

somewhere he can keep you safe, his hidden treasure. he did want children, he wanted many of them. and you'd give them all to him, he wondered if your folks would be okay if he got you knocked up before the wedding.

the thought made him smile under his mask as he sank down into your pussy, all eight inches slammed into the back of your pussy. you let out a loud moan but he clamped a hand around you mouth to keep you quiet.

"i'm pretty sure." he said, "you don't want the base to know how much of a fuckin' slag you are." he kissed your cheek through the mask harshly, "that's for me to know." then started to thrust in and out of you with on hand around your mouth and the other on your shoulder to guide your body up and down his cock.

the mask up against your hot cheek was overstimulating, the fabric of the balaclava was rough against your skin. your cheeks stung as he thrusted up into you.

the bed squeaked under you two as the headboard hit against the wall gently. simon was lucky that he didn't have any neighbours in that direction.

he was domineering over top of you, he had you under his weight as his cock bullied against your cervix. you gasped and moaned into his hand as you saw stars in your vision. you were such a treat.

he was obsessed with you, he only wanted you. you were everything to him. now he just needed a piece of land and enough security to make sure that no one was going to hurt a single hair on your head. after all it was his duty as the man to make sure his wife was alright.

"you're perfect like this. this is how a woman should be." he remarked, "under me, letting me fuck that sweet cunt. you're a good girl for me. you'll make a good role model for our girls."

you squeaked and your eyes went wide for a moment. but then he slammed against your womb and your eyes rolled back from the intense pleasure. you held onto the bed under you and your back was arched as he fucked your harder.

he was practically fucking you up against the headboard, with your body contorted so he could thrust into you without much abandon. your wet pussy made the most delicious sounds as he used you. it felt so good. it was like you were made for him.

he groaned against you and continued his harsh thrusts. he kept you pinned to him, where you belonged. "pretty girl like you was probably told her entire life that you could be whatever you wanted. but, i know better. meant to be a wife and mother to a good englishman." he chuckled in your ear, "make the queen proud by havin' a few brats with me." he felt your cunt tighten around him which made him groan, "my doll likes that, huh? puttin' a man on top for once. don't worry i ain't no deadbeat. happy wife, happy life." he pulled up his mack a little so he could get the feeling of your heated skin against his lips.

you hated how he talked down to you because you were a woman. you had enough of it in the military. but it stirred something in you that you had little words for. maybe the idea of having a few kids with simon wasn't a bad idea. no more trainings, no more missions. just you and him. even as you tried to shake the thought off, your body responded by clenching around his cock. As to ensure that he stayed right in your pussy.

he dropped your face onto the pillow and held you by the neck. then with his other hand he raised your hips further. he was holding you up as he bruised your pussy with his cock.

"nice little place out in the country. five kids should be enough to keep ya busy. five under four years if we're lucky." he chuckled darkly, "kept woman, that's what you'll be. my lovely wife in her place, as she should be." he chuckled. you couldn't even look behind you to see the face he was making with his mask pulled up every so slightly.

"simon." you whimpered.

"what did i say, doll? you're a lower rank among other things. don't make me punish ya."

"sorry, lieutenant." you squeaked.

"good girl." he continued his harsh thrusts that left the bed moving. your brain felt like mush once more, his words rang in your head like church bells. you were too far gone with him, he was obsessed with you. his claws were in you long before this and there was no escaping it now.

it almost brought a cold fear in you at the idea of taking another lover. if he found out someone touched what was his. you could only imagine the damage he'd do, not only to the man you were with but also you, yourself.

his movements started to stagger, he had less focus and was relying on instinct as he rammed his cock into you. he was getting close to his own climax. your pussy was such a delight around him, you accommodated his large size perfectly. you were a dream.

he gave a few more heavy thrusts before he finished inside of you, "good girl, take me all. that's it. make sure not to spill a drop or i'll have to get find ways to keep in ya next time."

"yes, lieutenant." you moaned into the pillows. you tensed when he started to play with your clit. his fingers were fat but nimble. they rubbed against your sweet spot as you clenched around his still hardened cock.

"i ain't done with you yet, love." he said in your ear as you climaxed around him, "got a couple more loads before i think i've seeded ya enough. you just lie there like a good girl and let me take care of everything."

there was no option to say 'no', you were pinned under him with his cock buried inside of you. you meekly nodded. he chuckled and you shuddered.

you knew it was going to be a long night.

-

the last name riley wasn't the worst one to have. simon often joked that it could be long like mactavish. it had been three years since you left the military to be his bride.

now you were on your fourth kid, about six months pregnant. you hard a girl and two twin boys. you wanted to keep the gender of baby number four a secret.

he had your legs open, he held onto your thighs as he sank his cock into you. he groaned out loud. the kids were asleep which meant it was time for mama and papa to play.

he placed your legs up against his chest, closed to one side. he then leaned forward and bent your knees as much as the belly would allow. he had you in a press as he bullied his cock into your pussy.

he groaned as he felt the tight heat around his cock. you looked perfect in his eyes, you gave him everything he wanted. you were a fine mama, a good wife to him. he gave a few gentle thrusts as he looked into your eyes.

the mask was long gone, but the look in his eye remained back when you first started to have sex. he was obsessed with you still and every little thing you did.

there was no place you could ever hide from him. he had claimed you inside and out. but it was alright, he intended on keeping you for a long time.

"good girl." he grumbled.

"thank you, lieutenant." <3

[nouearth]

the boy next door.

pairing. alan ritchson x male reader headcanon.

summary. with his profile brewing in hollywood, projects are consistently lining up for alan, and the last thing he needs is a new roommate getting in the way of his stress. unless, reader finds himself becoming alan's personal stress-ball?

content warning. camboy!au, camboy!reader, top!alan, bottom!reader, food!play (cucumber as dildo), muscle worship, size difference, spitting, oral (r!giving on dildo), dirty talk, verbal, masturbation, alan and reader are roommates.

moving in.

roommate!alan who surprises you with his massive stature when he greets you on move-in day.

it was jaw-dropping. well, almost so. you were luckily aware enough to catch the slack of your jaw from relaxing any further. any second longer, and you would've been hypnotized into submission by the man's brawn physicality; massive chest, bulging arms, and thick fingers—traits you would find yourself drooling about.

"hey, uh... (m/n), right? is that how you say your last name?" "spot on! and... alan. man, your name already sounds like a celebrity, i'm jealous." "haha, hopefully the casting directors feel the same way."

roommate!alan who helps you with your luggages without a single request from your end.

aside from being eye-candy, alan utilized his muscles for the greater good and brought your belongings from the trunk of your car, to the front of your door in a matter of minutes. even when you pleaded him not to, he went on ahead while urging you to take a rest after the long drive across the city.

you complained, though half-heartedly because your ass was sore from driving all day. his massive arms were a distraction as the veins surged through every muscle of fiber like lightning.

"you really didn't need to do all of that—" "hey, you're saving me from shelling out an extra thousand by being my roommate. plus, you seem... normal? that's the least i could do." "normal? pft, i don't know about that. but i will say, your kind gestures have put you on my 'no-kill' list." "let's backpedal a bit. is it too late to kick you out?"

roommate!alan who has already taken a liking towards you in the few hours you two have spent together to unpack.

saying that people 'stared' at alan would be underplaying what they've actually done. it was a daily occurrence to catch people gawking at his stature. whether it was with astonishment, intimidation, lust, or hostility, all eyes were on him, collective eyes and gasps piecing together how a man could look the way he does. some whispered 'steroids', others envied his dedication.

as uncomfortable as it could be at times, he liked the attention knowing he'd be the subject of one's conversation to another friend.

with you, it was no different. he'd caught you several times staring at his arms from across the room. or maybe it was his shoulders? how they perfectly filled his shirt out from seam to seam? either way, you were enchanted, especially when he'd nonchalantly flex his muscles every now and then in hopes he'd catch your eye.

and he could say the same about himself when he'd catch you bent over, ass raised high while you dug inside of your boxes to unpack the remaining decor you had brought with you.

until that moment, he never noticed how much smaller you were compared to his, the top of your head barely meeting his chin if he was to line you up. how much of a desire had awakened to have you in his arms, just to see how you perfectly fit into his body.

getting to know each other.

roommate!alan who has already learned of your habits, likes and dislikes, and hobbies within a few weeks of you moving in.

it was the small stuff that you found yourself gushing over. you two almost always had dinner together on the couch. condiments on the side for you, ketchup over his fries for him.

whether it was homemade or takeout, the best memories being made between the two of you were simply eating in front of the tv and watching alan's roles despite his reluctance.

you would cheer whenever he appeared on the screen, the camera somehow making him seem smaller than he appeared to be in real life. it was impressive, and once again, you found yourself drawn to the sheer size of muscles beside you.

throbbing, even at the simplest touch, as he gave your shoulders squeeze amidst passing by you to collect your plate.

"have to head to bed early. got an audition in the morning." "awesome! was this the one you were telling me about earlier?""yep. i worked with the director once, so fingers crossed?"

roommate!alan who can read your body language early on, and senses that you're hiding something from him.

it was that one question that either turned you into stone, or a babbling buffoon as you would try to avoid the subject.

your occupation.

he didn't know much other than the fact that you worked from home, which was why your bedroom was so intricately set up like a tech start-up.

four different types of cameras, a gaming chair, several monitors for one pc; it was intricate and honestly, alan didn't really understand it.

"so, you don't have to say yes or no, but..." "hm..?""are you a youtuber? like, one of those tech guys who reviews new phones and stuff?""something like that, i guess?" "is it mentally draining?" "more so... physically?"

roommate!alan who asks about your day after coming home from a shoot.

you looked exhausted, drained, wrecked—images of you that he never thought would rile him up. yet, as you groggily came out of your room with flushed skin, and a thirst that needed to be quenched, alan was equally parched just watching you recover your breath in between gulps of water.

cluttered state of mind.

roommate!alan who merely offers you a look of annoyance when you greet him after he arrives home.

you've recognized that look by now, and all you could simply provide was his dinner plate, and a sympathetic pat on the back.

"listen, i know a friend and he has a mutual that can help you—" "not in the mood right now, (m/n).""just trying to help, alan."

roommate!alan who ends the night early, leaving you on the couch with his plate left untouched.

it was awkward, to simply put it. the show you put on happened to be the one he was auditioning for, and then ultimately flunked because he forgot his script. from the corner of your eye, you could see his jaw tightening, straining, fork scraping against the ceramic plate as he pushed the fried rice in a corner, and then eastward, because that corner was empty.

though, is it wrong to say that you found it hot? if only there was a less forward and awkward way of saying, 'hey, i'd love to take your mind off of things right now. let me suck you off.'

secret unlocked.

stressed!alan who spends half-an-hour in the shower contemplating whether this career was worth it.

countless of potential roles never making it pass the call-back stage; he was growing exhausted from it. driving from city to city, filling his car with gas that would amount to nothing in the end. he could only stretch his royalties out for so much longer, and—

no, he wasn't a quitter. the last time he felt like this, the next audition was a success. if predictions are right, he'd consider this madness a sign of luck, at least for the meantime.

stressed!alan who needs something to take out his frustration on.

maybe he should head to the gym? no, he already showered. and it was already getting too late for his liking to drive back and forth at this time, even if he wasn't tired.

at the corner of his eye, his laptop glinted with a sparkle.

some good porn would fix him.

stressed!alan who has one hand down his sweats, and the other calmly scrolling through his favorite cam site.

his lips grew chapped, licking them from time to time as he watched the page load without the decency to sugar-coat its offerings. his sight was immediately assaulted with moving thumbnails of women, and men under the spell of their own lust. some squirmed from the uncontrollable feeling of being filled, while others preferred talking to their patrons, touching themselves to the pixelated smut sent through the chat.

stressed!alan who has you on his mind despite the options to choose from, and he squeezes his large balls in his hand.

the cursor maneuvered respectfully around one performer’s breasts and another’s erection in its journey to the filter list. the drop-down menu pulled open and alan checked off the men within his age range. 

with a quick load, the website refreshed with a new assortment of performers, and his cock began to sprout at the moving thumbnails. his hand immediately began to feed his growing bulge with gentle squeezes and rubs as he scrolled what seemed to be endless cycle of camboys.

the sudden warmth of his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin. alan removed each article within seconds, yet the flush of his skin remained, ached as it yearned for the physical touch of the seductive men beckoning him.

stressed!alan who felt the world had stopped. the heat frozen in his cheeks, his hands equally mirroring as he hovered over a familiar face. strained, orbs dilated and wandering, and holy shit—so fucking inviting.

it was you.

stressed!alan who watches your stream for a few minutes to decipher if it was truly you before shamelessly stroking his cock after he confirms that it was.

sweat dribbled over your neck and body in diverging streams. your legs were raised on their own accord, thick thighs shaking from the muscles working overdrive to keep you still and perfectly centered before your webcam.

stressed!alan who couldn't believe what he was seeing. it all made sense now, why you were so reluctant to tell what you truly did.

you were a fucking whore. a whore for the internet for everyone to goon to, to cum to. he can imagine it now, how much pleasure you'd given these men as he watched you fuck yourself with a cucumber.

and he was one of them. alan's large cock was manhandled by his hand, stroking sloppily with an ample amount of lube squeezed over the flesh of throbbing muscle.

all those memories of you looking so wrecked came fluttering in. you looked wrecked because you were fucking wrecked.

by a fucking cucumber.

and alan has never been so envious of a vegetable despite eating them on a daily.

you were plunging your tight hole with a long cucumber, slickly lubed from the condom over the girth of the green plant. with every push of your wrist, your legs caved into the pressure to set themselves down, but every time the crown of the plant pressed into your prostate, you were reminded of the viewers who had been donating, their pop-up messages urging you to keep them up 'like a good boy.'

stressed!alan who jerks himself off to the rhythm of your wrist.

every time you sank the thick cucumber inside of you, alan paced himself to match your tempo, plunging himself into his closed fist, mimicking your refusing hole by opening his fingers one-by-one, until he had fully breached through.

stressed!alan who mutters to himself, who mutters words that you couldn't hear because you were busy pleasuring yourself for hundreds of men watching you.

"fuck yeah, take that dick..." "too big for you?""fuck, we'll make it fit."

stressed!alan who imagines himself fucking into you.

he knew his cock was big. he'd been told countless of times, by men and women, and lots of time, they would quit a few minutes in because it was just too much.

but you, he was certain that you were able to take him. because—fuck—alan was bigger than that cucumber you were fucking yourself open with. it needed a glorious amount of lube, like what you had displayed before him, dripping heavily from your abused cavity, but luckily, you had experience in handling big sizes, right?

you'd take him, like the 'good boy' the users were spamming in the chatbox. you'd take him with your eyes forced shut from him stretching you out. from alan's impatience and reluctance to wait for you to adjust to him, because he's fucking furious at you.

why didn't you tell him sooner? why were you hiding this from him? how could you be so selfish and leave him blue-balled whenever you'd come out in those shorts of yours? teasing him with the smallest glimpse of your inner thighs?

if he could ever lay his hands on you, he'd show no mercy. fucking your ass doggy-style till your cheeks clapped. plunging you with his cock as you spread your legs open for him. locking your throat with his arm while he's under you, your back pressed to his chest, rendering you trapped within his embrace. you'd take his cock in every position, in every state, whether you'd like it or not, because you were a good, fucking, boy.

stressed!alan who spits on his cock because you began simultaneously filling your mouth up with a dildo.

spit. god, there was so much spit coming out of your mouth. you loved pushing yourself to the limit, alan could see it. the light leaving your eyes whenever you pushed the dildo a little too far to the back of your throat. that could be his cock, if you let him.

he imagined how warm your mouth would be. how perfectly shaped it's made for his thick, meaty cock. he had the perfect curve to make it a struggle to swallow him down, but like he noticed, you loved a challenge, didn't you?

alan's cock was plump, and beaten red in his hand. noises similar to the sound of you sucking off the dildo were made with his hand, his spit and lube sloshing together in a lewd symphony that could be heard from your room if you'd learn to shut up.

"choke on it, gag on that fucking dick..." "fuck yeah, spit on it.""good fucking boy."

stressed!alan who's nearing his climax from watching you tease the camera with your hole.

you repeated countless of profanities after every plunge of the cucumber flushing deep inside of you. you made sure to buy the girthiest one; they loved seeing your asshole gape at the end of the stream. twisting your wrist, you could feel the subtle ridges of the cucumber, violating your guts with its nature, and it was all-so glorious. the size, the texture, the viewers, the sound of donations coming in, the ‘thank you’ messages after for making them come; you were a true star within this community and it evidently showed when you finally hit your donation goal for the night.

alan fucked his fist, nearly coming to the sight of your gaping hole when you yanked the cucumber out of you like a sword-wielding knight ready to slay a dragon.

it was beautiful, watching you desperately hold onto the physical being of the cucumber, but all there was to it in the end was the memory of its girth. your hole was perfectly molded it, clenching and pursing, blowing fluttering kisses to the camera, to alan.

and if it was up to him, he'd ram his cock into you by now, not letting a second to spare in fucking you until your muscles felt like jelly, because fuck, you were so enticing like this. head lolled back, mouth open with your tongue hanging out as if you had a dripping cock to catch its cum above you.

the sound of donations kept chiming in, and alan knew he wasn't alone in this enchantment.

one more hit to your prostate, and you came undone in seconds. thick spurts of cum shot at your chest from your current position, then at your face when you raised your hips a little higher and pumped your cock with a ravishing fist. the sound of donations rang like a police siren. if you were being profiled for a crime, it was because you couldn’t hold in your cum any longer like one user had begged for you to.

stressed!alan who perfectly aligns his orgasm with yours and blows multiple loads on the screen on his laptop. his moans came out in hushed stutters, countering your choked whimpers that would then break out into begs for cum.

"fuck, fuck, fuck. i need your cum, i need it. give me all of it, fuck. all over my body. in my ass. on my face. i need that load."

his cum came out in thick, pulsating ropes, flying forward to land on the image of you resuming to fuck yourself to your audience's collective orgasm. this time, at a closer view, as you centered the camera to fill the stream with a screenful of ass and a gaping hole. it was your fans' favorite part of the stream, the chat exploding in several fire emojis and astonishment as you showed your pretty insides blooming for thick, endless spunk.

it was hypnotizing, almost as if you were really there before him.

with one hand, alan brought his laptop in between his legs, and smeared his own cum over the blooming resolution of his screen. feigning a breeding, he slides his cock over his cum, over his laptop screen, while you moaned in the background, begging lewdly for cum, to be filled, to be bred, to be dripping, to be fucked, and alan doesn't know what came over him, but another load automatically came out of him like some kind of spell.

"h-holy shit...""fuck, yeah... give me that load, all your load... are my fans breeding me right now?"

alan painted you until you were practically hidden beneath the layers of his orgasm. translucent white blurred the screen, but he could still make out your silhouette. sitting now, exhausted, wrecked, evidently too tired to be bothered to clean up the mess you made on your body.

and just like that, his head felt lighter. all of his worries had left with every dump of load over your pixelated hole, and yours as well, as you leaned back to catch your breath with your eyes closed. his breathing matched the pace of yours, together, collectively, and all he could do was shortly laugh at the situation before him.

roommate!alan who greets you in the morning with a strange smirk as you made yourself breakfast.

"i can see why your job is physically draining now." "hm?" you yawned. "what are you talking—"

roommate!alan who pulls out a cucumber from the fridge, and cuts it into thin slices for his morning smoothie.

"i-i can explain—""you can make it up to me tonight."

he popped a slice into his mouth after.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[withahappyrefrain]

Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd

Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.

Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.

Words: 4.8K

This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!

When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you. 

“God, I wish that were me.”

It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it. 

But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new. 

It also brought up many questions. 

Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you. 

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face. 

All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp. 

Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four. 

Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner. 

The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated. 

“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”

“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.” 

“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”

“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”

“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”

Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them. 

At least that's what the other thought. 

It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up. 

“Been awhile?” 

And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought. 

“Try never.” 

It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt. 

“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest. 

“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?” 

You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied. 

You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation. 

“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you. 

Darn those long limbs. 

“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain. 

“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.” 

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?” 

College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people. 

And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship. 

Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else? 

“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?” 

Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different. 

You rubbed your thighs together. 

“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?” 

Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee. 

Have his hands always been so big and veiny? 

Fuck, did you have a thing for hands? 

“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?” 

His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing. 

Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point? 

“You…like doing it?” 

The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.” 

It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work. 

He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual. 

“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.” 

“You don't have to wait.” 

The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking. 

But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear. 

You heard me. 

“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational. 

Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left. 

“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body. 

“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.” 

All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo. 

Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up. 

The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching. 

For what, you couldn't tell. 

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Do you want it to be different?” 

What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?

“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back. 

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”

He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.  

“I asked you second, Robby.”

Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe. 

“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained. 

It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special. 

He was never that way with the other girls he dated. 

“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter. 

But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching. 

Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut. 

“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said. 

Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were. 

“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his. 

It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild. 

When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt. 

“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.” 

Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to. 

It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable. 

“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations. 

“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips. 

“God, you have terrible taste in men.”

You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were. 

How could he do that so quickly? 

He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight. 

When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth. 

Thank god your parents were on vacation. 

His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off. 

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch. 

“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you. 

“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet. 

But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier. 

“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.  

He laughed.  Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet. 

Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it. 

“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”

“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit. 

His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out. 

Good. 

You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible. 

God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled. 

And he had just gotten started. 

He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time. 

But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away. 

The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.

“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” 

“Robby.” 

To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century. 

Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving. 

A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch. 

Was he this thick elsewhere?

You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up. 

Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible. 

You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did. 

But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it. 

He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued.  Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard. 

Why did either of you wait this long? 

You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth. 

But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy. 

When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out. 

He really did enjoy it.

“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you. 

Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.

Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release. 

You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under. 

His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time. 

The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt. 

“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours. 

Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his. 

Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.” 

How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid? 

Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick- 

Jesus Christ, he was huge. 

“Fuck, she was right.” 

Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?” 

“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once. 

Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform. 

“I….we can unpack this later-” 

You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?” 

Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick. 

Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful. 

“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock. 

Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.” 

Darlin. You were his darlin. 

He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears. 

Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy. 

Even he didn't know when he would return home. 

It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship. 

“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern. 

His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes. 

“I don't want you to go.” 

“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them. 

“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you. 

“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.” 

Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his. 

“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards. 

“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.” 

Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory. 

Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him. 

He was going to need it for the next few months. 

Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere. 

“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension. 

The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask. 

“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things. 

Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to. 

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.

“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed. 

Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.” 

Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-” 

“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock. 

Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was. 

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious. 

His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars. 

You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls. 

It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him. 

“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.” 

Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. 

“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd. 

Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group. 

But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus. 

His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria. 

That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it. 

But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock. 

“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?” 

Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his. 

The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body. 

His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go. 

You’d be a damn fool to. 

The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob. 

After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?” 

Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.” 

You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?” 

He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?” 

“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter. 

“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 

The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple. 

The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?” 

Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.

---------------------------------------------------------

@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky

[seungfl0wer]

*Seungmin Calling You Clingy*

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst

Warning: Not Proof Read, Idk if there’s any real warnings for this if you think so please message me🩵

This is part of a series find the others here:

Bangchan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

-🩵

Sitting in the living room getting ready for a movie seungmin came and plopped right down beside you. As you watched the movie you couldn’t help but get annoyed by the person in it. “Why’s this person so up there boyfriends ass?” You said shaking your head “she’s just being clingy no wonder why he’s getting upset with them.”

Seungmin laughed a bit “you know you’re like that sometimes” he teased not meaning anything bad by it however it hurt hearing. “Are.. you saying I’m clingy?” You said looking back at him. “Yeah you are sometimes.” He shrugged. He didn’t seem to see why it might hurt you which was even worse. Seungmin was always blunt with his words but this time his words really dug deep into you. “Do you really think I’m clingy?” You said your voice a bit shaky. “Well yeah I mean you can be clingy sometimes maybe not like that person but definitely can be.”

He saw how you looked upset and continued with “it’s not a bad thing just sometimes you can be a bit much.” Those words hurt even more. ‘Do I really bother him a lot? What if I’m being too clingy and push him away?’ Your head was running about a mile a minute. All you could do is just nod and go “oh” softly. Laying back just zoning off as you watched the movie.

After a few minutes sung kept his eyes on you looking over once in a while “you ok?” He said pulling you a bit to him. You nod “mhm.” He sat there studying your face “I’m sorry if I upset you with what I said you know I don’t lie to you.” He said his voice soft. “It’s fine” you said looking over at him giving him a fake smile. He sighed a bit “well if you wanna talk I’m here ok?” He said kissing your temple.

After that night you started to distance yourself a bit, every little move you made you second guessed yourself. His words just circling in your head. It felt like you were being beaten up by your own brain. You sat in your room crying feeling like you weren’t good enough anymore. Your messages had become short with Min making him feel bad as well, he knew you were upset but didn’t know how to help. He was afraid of pushing you away even more or saying something worse.

Seungmin had went to talk to Chan, to get advice about what exactly to do. “You said what to them?” His voice almost a yell. Sung lowered his head “I didn’t think it would hurt them like this though.” Sung said shaking his head. “Seungmin, they’re giving you what you want. They think they’re being clingy so they’re giving you space” he sighed “you know how much they’re probably hurting right now?” He said shaking his head at him. “You need to fix this before it ends your relationship.”

Seungmins head shot up “you think they’d leave me because of this?” He cried out. Chan shrugged “I don’t know man but I do know you need to go make this right.” He said patting his back. Seungmin nodded getting up, almost running out the door. He drove fast running a stop sign to get to your place.

You were lying in bed curled up in a ball, blankets covered you as you sobbed hard into your pillow. Everything just hurt it hurt so bad you felt like you were gonna throw up. Seungmin didn’t know he got his key and just ran in. He searched the house for you looking around, until he heard you crying. Opening up the door to your room his heart sunk.

It completely shattered at the sight of you. “Y/n” his said his voice low as he walked towards you. You didn’t move at all, as you felt him sit in the bed. You buried your head into the pillow as seungmin rubbed your back. You didn’t wanna look at him you felt like a wreck, I mean you were a wreck. You felt the bed move Sung making his way to your bathroom, you could hear water running as he moved around.

A few minutes later he patted your back softly “hey come here” he said softly helping you up. He wiped your face with a nice cool cloth before leading you to the bathroom. He kissed your forehead softly as he took your clothes off leading you into the bathtub he had filled for you. He took the shower nozzle wetting your before he started to wash it. He softly hummed one of your favorite songs as he washed your hair.

You felt your body finally relax the feeling of the warm water on you. His hands running through your hair massaging your scalp as he ran his hands down your back a bit massaging your shoulders as well. “Do you want to talk right now or do you wanna wait till we get back in bed?” He said softly as he rubbed your shoulders. “Bed” you said your voice raspy from crying so much. He hummed at your answer rinsing your hair before kissing your head again. “You stay here and relax a bit ok?” He said before leaving walking back into your room.

He grabbed some clothes out for you before he took your sheets off your bed. He wanted to clean everything and make everything fresh for you. He changed the sheets, your pillow cases and your blanket out. As he made your bed he also grabbed a glass of cold water and a cup of warm tea for you and sat it beside your bed. He also grabbed a few snacks to sit with the drinks he had grabbed. Placing your favorite stuffie on your pillow he heard you getting out. He placed your clothes on the sink for you and sat at the edge of your bed.

You walked out feeling a lot better than he had been, you smiled a bit seeing all the things he had done for you. Seeing you he stood up motioning you to come to your side of the bed. You nodded laying down in your spot chugging some of the water he had sat for you. Your curled back up in bed feeling Seungs arms slink around you, you both laid in silence for a few minutes before Seungs started to talk.

“I’m sorry your boyfriend is dumb and can’t stop saying jerky things.” He breathed out squeezing you tightly. “You don’t deserve the words I said, but I really didn’t mean it in a harmful way.” He continued trying to find the right words to say “I enjoy how clingy you are, I love that you want to be around me all the time, that you wanna talk to me about everything. I didn’t want you to stop.. I never want you to stop..” his voice trailed off hearing him sniffle a bit “I want you to always cling to me it makes me feel so loved by you like you cherish every moment with me.” He said his voice cracking.

You started to cry a bit burring his face into your back “I can’t believe I hurt you though, I’m sorry it took me so long to come to you I thought you needed space. I thought-“ he stopped you could feel his hands start shaking “I thought my words made you hate me and you’d just end up breaking up with me when you’d see me next.” He cried harder into your back. He’s never really cried infront of you especially not like this. You turned your body to face him wiping his tears away “Min” you said softly kissing him.

“I could never do that, I just- I wanted to give you space and not be clingy. I didn’t wanna cling to you and end up pushing you away. I’m sorry.” You said running your hand through his hair. “No im sorry im the one that said the stupid stuff i did, I love you y/n with all my heart I need to start explaining myself more.” He said softly looking up at you. “I love you babe I love you so fucking much” you said pulling him tightly. “Let’s lay here and calm down hmm? I’ll order some food and we can talk more later if you want.” He said mumbling through your chest.

You nod kissing him again “sounds perfect my love, can we cuddle for a bit before we order?” You smiled making him smile too “of course” he said kissing you lovingly.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[buckyandgeraltsupremacy]

remus x shy!reader

author: sj

warnings: fluff; reader is in hufflepuff; not edited lol

let me know if you want a part 2 cause i love writing for remus rn

masterlist

part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

---

you shared a lot of classes with the marauders. you weren’t even sure they knew your name. but even though you thought they didn’t know you, there was one marauder who always noticed you. remus could spot you in a crowd of one hundred. his eyes always searching for a yellow tie and your h/c hair. he thought you were so smart and always watched you take notes in every class admiring how focused you were on your studies. to be honest, that’s one of the reasons he always went to the library to study, he knew you’d be in there as well.

james had noticed this little thing remus had for you as early at 3rd year. he watched remus silently watch the hufflepuff girl with h/c hair. he didn’t try to intervene until they were older, still watching him pine over the same girl that had remus’ attention. he didn’t really know what to do so he told sirius and of course he knew exactly what to do.

you were sitting in potions after class had ended, classmates filtering out and gathering your things when someone came up to you and started talking to you. low and behold it was sirius.

“hey! i’m sirius” he said, shoving his hand towards you. you nodded, waking yourself out of shock that a marauder was introducing himself to you like they weren’t the talk of the school.

“y/n.” you replied, shaking his hand.

“great. my friend remus, you know remus right? tall, lanky, always holding a book, he’s sick and is always draining on and on about how smart you are so i thought i’d ask you for notes for him. id give him mine but i didn’t take any.” you cheeks turned red at the idea of them talking about you, much less remus thinking that you were smart.

“um. yeah. i can do that, let me copy them onto another piece of parchment and then you can take them to him.”

“perfect! come by the gryffindor common room anytime tonight and we’ll be there!”

when you finished up copying the notes that night, you stopped by the gryffindor common room to drop off the notes. you didn't have the password so knocking on the portrait would have to do. you stepped back and the door swung open to reveal sirius giving you and oddly big grin.

"come on in, love! so lovely of you to drop these notes off for poor remus." he ushered you inside and you stepped through looking around the room. you quickly found the rest of the marauders sitting by the fireplace, james, peter, and a tired looking remus. his eyes widened when you walked through the door, instantly shooting to james and peter and back to you.

"had a surprise for you remus. i know how much you love your notes, so i thought i'd ask for some from the master herself." sirius said, pushing you towards the group. your cheeks burned as you dug through your bag on you shoulder to find your copy of notes for him. you finally found them and took a few steps forward to remus who was sitting up straighter as you got closer.

"here you go. i just copied them from the notes that i took today. i hope they're good enough. i'm not sure what your normal style is that you're used to so i this helps." you said in a rush, looking down at your notes. you extended them towards the boy sitting by the fire. he reached for them.

"thank you so much y/n! you really didn't have to do this. did sirius make you any threats or force you do this?" he asked, lowering his voice slightly. you lightly laughed as a shocked sirius gasped and muttered some words you couldn't understand.

"no, no. i promise i did this of my own free will." you said, glancing up at his eyes. his smile reached his eyes once your eyes met and you instantly felt warm inside.

and so thats how your relationship started to form with the marauders. they soon started coming up to talk with you during classes and inviting you to sit with them at meals when they noticed you sitting by yourself.

your favorite though, was when you'd be in the library and remus would ask to sit at your table. he would work with you silently and you'd trade questions about homework back and forth, eventually even recommending books to each other.

you even got so close to them that the boys started including you in the teasing. one specific day, the boys found you and remus reading in the common room together. you were sitting on the ground in front of the coffee table and he was sitting behind you on the couch. the boys came in loud and instantly disrupted the calmness. sirius came bouding over to you and sat across the coffee table on the floor.

"i thought of one for you." he said, slapping his hands on the table. you jumped at the abrupt sound and leaned back on to remus' legs. the boys had been trying to figure out a good nickname for you so you could join their fun nicknames, but you weren't an anigmus like they were so there were lots of options but not of them really were fitting you quite right.

"what is it?" you asked, relaxing against remus' legs.

"flea. its perfect. you're small, quiet and annoying." you gasped and immediately sat up in protest.

"no! thats horrible i don't want to be called a flea, you git!" you exclaimed.

"but it just fits so well, flea. i can't deny how perfect it is for you." you started to protest, but a big hand stopped you. the hand, from remus, wrapped around your shoulder and guided you back to his legs, scooching you to between his legs and under him. his hands grabbed your shoulders and started to work there, massaging your tight shoulders.

"we're not calling her flea." remus insisted. you shivered and you hoped he thought it was from his hands and not his commanding voice. james then spoke up.

"what about hoppers?" you tilted your head and looked up at remus to hear his response, not protesting that one.

"she sure is as cute as a bunny and the size of one too. i vote yes." he said, looking down into your face. james nodded his head and sirius huffed.

"i still like flea better but hoppers will do when you don't annoy me, flea." sirius grumbled. you rolled your eyes and relaxed into remus' touch more, your eyes closing. unbeknownst to you, his small smile grew as he continued to massage your shoulders.

[pedroscowgirl]

birthday boy

logan howlett x female!reader

warning: smut! minors dni! bondage, edging, p in v (wrap it up), creampie, lmk iif i forgot sum

words: 2k

a/n: this is based of this post by @fartknockerz . i saw it on my feed and had to write it quickly (im working on my other stuff rn no worries)

Logan had always kept things simple, especially on his birthday. All he wanted this year was a quiet evening, a cold beer, and his girlfriend by his side. No parties, no surprises. And Wade, for once, seemed to respect that, which was odd. And after 200 years, birthdays become quite boring.

When Logan stepped into the apartment, he could sense something was off. It was too quiet, even for Wade. He narrowed his eyes and headed toward the kitchen, finding Wade casually lounging on the counter with a mischievous grin.

"What's with the face, Wade? I told you,no surprises."

"Relax, wolfie" Wade said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "No parties, no explosions. Just a little... something. Consider it my good deed of the year."

Logan huffed, already growing suspicious. But before he could protest, Wade hopped off the counter and motioned for him to follow. They walked down the hall until Wade stopped at the closed bedroom door.

"Go on," Wade said, the grin never leaving his face. "Open it."

Logan’s brows furrowed as he reached for the doorknob. He pushed the door open, and what he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

There, in the middle of the room, was you, his beautiful girlfriend, wearing nothing but intricate ropes of red silk, artfully knotted in Japanese shibari style.. You met his gaze with a sheepish smile, your eyes shining with a mix of anticipation and affection.

"Happy birthday, Logan," you whispered and winked at him.

Logan stood frozen for a moment, the sight of you, his girl, his gift, all wrapped up just for him, sent a primal surge through him. His hands flexed at his sides, every instinct screaming to claim what was his. Wade had outdone himself this time.

"Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds to it," Wade quipped from behind him, but Logan barely heard him. He was too focused on the woman in front of him, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the way the ropes hugged her body.

As Wade turned to leave, Blind Al’s voice echoed from the living room. "Do you think he liked the gift?"

Wade smirked, closing the door behind him. "Oh, I'm sure he's... unwrapping it right about now."

The door clicked shut behind Wade, leaving Logan alone with you. The only sounds in the room were your soft breaths and the distant creak of the headboard, stilling as Logan took in the sight before him. You were spread out on the bed, your wrists and ankles bound in intricate, crisscrossing ropes of the deep red silk. The knots were tight, but not too tight,just enough to hold you in place, to remind you who was in control.

Your body was a work of art, every curve accentuated by the way the ropes dug into your skin. Your breathing was shallow, the rise and fall of your chest quickening as Logan's gaze roamed over you. You could feel the anticipation building inside you, the way your lower lip trembled slightly, waiting for his next move.

Logan’s fingers twitched at his sides, the urge to touch you, to claim you, almost overwhelming. He could feel the animalistic hunger bubbling up inside him, threatening to spill over. You were his, all his, and tonight you were wrapped up just for him.

Slowly, deliberately, Logan shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he approached the bed, his footsteps heavy with desire. You watched him, your eyes wide and dark, filled with a mix of need and submission.

When he reached the edge of the bed, Logan leaned down, brushing his knuckles lightly over your cheek. You nuzzled into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you savoured the warmth of his skin.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “All tied up for me. You’re a perfect little gift, aren’t you?”

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat. Logan smirked, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips before slipping into your mouth. You sucked on it instinctively, your tongue swirling around the digit, making his cock twitch in his jeans. The sight of you, so eager and willing, only fuelled the fire burning inside him.

Logan withdrew his thumb, his hand trailing down your neck, over the delicate ropes that wrapped around your torso, and down to your breasts. He cupped one, feeling the way the rope lifted and pushed your flesh up, making your nipples strain against the confines of the silk.

“Fuck, you look good like this,” Logan growled, his hand moving to your other breast, kneading it roughly. You moaned, arching into his touch as much as the ropes would allow, your body desperate for more contact. “You want this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “I want you, Logan. Please…”

The sound of your begging sent a shiver down his spine. He loved it when you begged, when you surrendered yourself completely to him. It made the beast inside him roar with satisfaction.

Logan’s hands moved lower, tracing the lines of your body, following the path the ropes created as they crisscrossed over your abdomen, dipping down between your thighs. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, the way your hips shifted restlessly as he hovered just above your most sensitive spot.

“Patience,” he murmured, sliding his fingers over your mound, barely grazing your clit. You whimpered, your hips bucking slightly, desperate for more friction. Logan chuckled darkly. “You’re gonna take what I give you, sweetheart. And you’re gonna fucking thank me for it.”

You nodded, your breath coming in short, needy gasps. Logan finally relented, pressing his fingers more firmly against your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the swollen nub. Your response was immediate, your body tensed, your back arching off the bed as a broken moan escaped your lips.

“Please, Logan,” you whimpered, your voice cracking with desperation. “I need you inside me. Please…”

Logan’s eyes darkened, his cock straining painfully against the confines of his jeans. He had wanted to take his time, to savour this gift, but the way you pleaded for him, the way you whined under his touch, was driving him wild.

With a low growl, Logan stepped back from the bed, quickly shedding his clothes. His shirt hit the floor first, followed by his jeans and boxers, leaving him gloriously naked and fully erect. You could see the way his muscles rippled under his skin, the way his eyes devoured you as he took in your vulnerable, bound form.

Logan climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between your spread legs. He ran his hands up your thighs, feeling the tremors that coursed through your body as he neared your center. You were dripping wet, your slickness coating your inner thighs, a testament to just how badly you wanted him.

“God, you’re so fucking wet for me,” Logan murmured, his voice laced with both admiration and lust. He lined himself up with your entrance, his cock brushing against your swollen folds. “Are you ready, sweetheart? Ready for me to fuck your brains out?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your eyes locking onto his. “Please, Logan… I need you…”

With a growl, Logan thrust into you in one swift, powerful motion, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out, your head thrown back, your body tensing as you adjusted to the sudden, intense fullness. Logan paused for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of him inside you, before he began to move.

He started slow, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, each stroke deliberate and deep. Your walls clenched around him, squeezing him tight, driving him mad with the need to fuck you harder, faster. But he held back, wanting to drag out the pleasure, to make you feel every inch of him.

“Fuck, you feel good” Logan groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he picked up the pace. “You feel soo fucking good, baby. It’s like you’re made for me.”

Your moans grew louder with each thrust, your body straining against the ropes that held you in place. You were completely at his mercy, unable to move, unable to do anything but take what he was giving you. And you loved every second of it.

“Logan… oh god… Logan, please!” you cried out, your voice breaking as you neared the edge. “I’m so close… please, let me come!”

Logan could feel you getting closer, the way your walls tightened around him, the way your body trembled with the effort to hold back. But he wasn’t ready to let you come just yet. He slowed his thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before easing back in, just enough to keep you on the edge, but not enough to push you over.

“Not yet, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “You’re gonna hold it for me. You’re gonna be a good girl and hold it until I say you can come.”

You whimpered, your body shaking with the effort of holding back, but you nodded, your eyes pleading with him to let you have your release. Logan smirked, his hand slipping down to rub your clit in time with his slow, deep thrusts, keeping you right on the brink.

“That’s it, baby,” Logan groaned, his own control slipping as he felt his orgasm building. “Just a little longer… I wanna feel you come all over my cock…”

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as Logan increased the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, more frantic. He was close, so close, and he needed to feel you come around him, needed to push you over the edge.

“Now, sweetheart,” Logan growled, his voice rough with need. “Come for me. Come now.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before you shattered around him, your orgasm crashing through you with a force that left you trembling and gasping for breath. Your walls tightened around him, squeezing him like a vice, milking him for everything he had. Logan followed you over the edge, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train as he buried himself deep inside you, spilling himself in hot, thick spurts.

He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his release. For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you too lost in the haze of pleasure to do anything but breathe.

Finally, Logan lifted his head, looking down at you. You were a mess, sweaty, flushed, your hair sticking to your forehead, but you were beautiful. And you were his. All his.

“Happy birthday,” you whispered, your voice hoarse but filled with affection.

Logan chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Best damn birthday gift I’ve ever gotten,” he murmured against your mouth, before pulling back to look at you, a soft smile on his lips. “Thank you.”

You smiled back at him, your eyes shining with love. “Anything for you, Logan. Always.”

Logan kissed you again, slower this time, taking his time to savor the taste of you. When he finally pulled back, he reached up to start untying the ropes, his fingers deftly working the knots.

“Let’s get you out of these, darlin’,” he said softly, his voice filled with tenderness. “Then maybe we can have another round. Or two.”

You giggled, your body already tingling with anticipation at the thought. “I’m all yours, birthday boy.”

The sounds that followed from behind that closed door, moans, growls, the steady thump of the headboard, left no doubt in Wade’s mind. He sauntered back into the living room where Blind Al sat with a book.

"I think it's safe to say," Wade started, plopping down on the couch beside her, "that she's going to be in pieces by morning. But, y'know, the fun kind."

Blind Al shook her head, not missing a beat as she turned a page. "Poor girl. She better be able to walk after this."

Wade chuckled. "Don’t worry, Al. She’s tougher than she looks."

[mattyriddlesbitch]

So I got to thinking…(probably not a good thing)

What if it’s like a Blaise Zabini x Reader x Tom Riddle threesome, and like the reader is Tom’s girlfriend but she wanted to add a bit more to their sexual activities and Tom decides to like surprise her by bringing Blaise in. Also I have no idea why I but I feel like Tom and Blaise would get along pretty well, just me? Anyways thank you lovey 💗 your writing is absolutely amazing 🤩

Sorry this one took so long! I was struggling with it a bit, but I hope this works!

Please Him

Tom Riddle x F!Reader x Blaise Zabini

Warnings: Oral(male and female receiving), fingers, unprotected sex, cream pie, cussing, threesome.

18+ Minors DNI!

You and Tom had a really good sex life. You never had any problems, but you wanted something…more. You wanted to try something. A threesome. Tom denied it. He really wasn’t fond of sharing you. But the idea was eating at his brain more and more. There was only one guy he would trust with sharing you with, Blaise Zabini. They were really close friends and Tom knew Blaise wouldn’t try anything stupid afterwards. That just because you had sex, didn’t mean you were his and he would flirt with you.

But Tom also didn’t like backtracking on his words so he came up with another idea.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, hands holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you kneeled in front of him, guiding your head up and down his cock, making you gag on it. You both were already naked, him just using your mouth for his pleasure at the moment. You heard the door open and were going to turn your head to look, but Tom kept your head forward with his other hand on your jaw, still guiding your head.

“Fuck.” You heard Blaise mutter behind you.

“She’s been wanting someone else to join us. Greedy little thing.” Tom said. “Isn’t that right?” Tom looked down at you and you gave your best nod. “Well, go on then. Please him.” He let go of you and leaned back on his hands.

You turned around and saw Blaise taking off his pants. You crawled over to him, giving Tom a good view of your ass. Blaise was already hard when he pulled down his underwear. You took his cock in your hand, giving it a slow stroke before spitting on it, using your hand to coat his length in it.

“Fucking hell. You’re filthy.” Blaise said before grabbing your hair and guiding your mouth onto his cock, letting out a groan.

“She is. She’s a filthy slut. Isn’t even happy enough with one man.” Tom said from his spot on the bed, watching his friend fuck your throat.

You moaned in response to their words, making Blaise moan. “Guess she likes being called ‘a filthy slut’, huh?” Blaise chuckled, pushing your head further onto his dick until you needed air and pulled out, a trail of your saliva connecting your mouth to his dick as he let you catch your breath.

“Come here, doll.” Tom said and Blaise let go of you, letting you crawl back to Tom. He pulled you up onto the bed, setting you between his legs, facing towards Blaise. “Let’s let Blaise get a taste of you, huh?” He said against your ear as his hands held your legs apart.

Blaise finished stripping and kneeled between your legs, licking a stripe up your pussy before focusing on your clit.

“Fuck, Blaise.” You moaned, threading your fingers in his hair.

“Is he making you feel good, doll?” Tom’s finger dug into your thighs harshly.

“Yes! So good!” You leaned your head back onto Tom’s shoulder as you moaned.

He tsked before moving a hand to your jaw to tilt your head back down to watch Blaise. “You wanted this, you gotta watch.” His tone was harsh, which contrasted with Blaise’s soft eyes peering up at you.

Blaise eased two fingers in you, making you bite your lip as you moan louder, eyes closing.

“Look at me, ma.” Blaise said. You opened your eyes after a few seconds. “That’s it. Keep looking at me.”

You didn’t last long with his pretty eyes looking up at you, crying out his name and trembling only a few moments later.

“You’re so pretty when you cum, ma.” Blaise said after you came, gently rubbing your thighs.

Tom moved you two so you were on your hands and knees with him behind you.

“Suck his cock, slut.” Tom ordered.

You quickly obeyed and wrapped your lips around Blaise’s cock again, moaning around him.

Tom pushed into you, gripping your hips as he pulled you back onto him. He started thrusting which made you push onto Blaise’s cock further. Tom’s thrusts setting the pace for you. Blaise held your hair, keeping it out of your face as he watched you taking his cock.

“Your mouth feels so good, baby.” Blaise trailed his free hand along your cheek and jaw.

“If she behaves, I might let you feel her pussy another time.” Tom said. “Would you like that, doll? Wanna feel Blaise’s cock in you?”

You could only moan around Blaise in response, but that seemed enough for the two of them as Blaise moaned and Tom gave your ass a spank.

“Fucking slut, taking us both. Is this all you wanted? Asking for another man’s cock.”

“You’re doing so good, ma. You like being fucked by both of us?” Blaise asked, seeming to enjoy the way you choke around him.

You could feel your second orgasm building, the way they were talking and the way Tom’s dick was fucking into you. You came again, crying around Blaise’s cock as your body shook.

“Swallow his cum, doll. Be good for us.” Tom said as he kept pounding into you.

Blaise was cumming down your throat a moment later and you followed Tom’s command, swallowing every bit of it.

You were whimpering and whining from the overstimulation as Tom kept thrusting. Blaise was stroking your hair and face and praising you to soothe you.

Tom finally filled you with his cum, a soft groan escaping his lips. “That’s it. Take all my fucking cum, slut.”

The two boys helped soothe you, helped you relax and clean you up, letting you sleep peacefully after to rest.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 3)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

Part 3 A tragedy 

So enraptured with Alastor, you forgot how you left work on Saturday. Tommy didn’t forget. And he made sure you remembered. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for you, your paramour made a habit of helping quicken karma’s balancing act.

「warnings/promises: immediate physical assault (let’s be up front about that), allusions to sexual assaults having happened in the past to non-reader characters, HumanAlastor x FemReader, penetrative sex, Protective Alastor, bruises, somewhat graphic descriptions of murder, mentions to coerced prostitution, sex near a corpse (words that have the FBI watching me), stabbing, knife, bad burlesque names, gambling, my own new HC for the Radio Demon’s origins, another deer reference thanks to @n-after-me , chin quivering, Tommy doesn’t know French and it shows, posted early for @jazzmasternot, wrath」

Minors DNI 🤺

You walked into the theatre for rehearsals with a pep in your step, body still humming. It was like the usual adrenaline rush Alastor brought couldn't fade this time.

But it did, when Tommy grabbed you by the hair out of your makeup chair and threw you into the wall. 

You couldn’t react, head ringing after it left a small indent in the drywall. Unlike before, you didn’t try to stand. Make him work for his second hit. And he did. Leaning down he yanked you off the ground by your arm and dragged you to your feet. 

“Do you think you’re funny?” He shook you, you were sure you could feel your brain jostle. It was rhetorical, but you replied anyway.

“No, Tommy.”

“No. Exactly.” He backed you up onto the make up table, head pressed into the mirror. “Mr. Wilson was not happy. He pulled his contribution. I know you don’t have that kind of money. Do you know what you’re gonna do?”

His fingers dug into your cheeks, “No.” You genuinely didn’t. He was talking to you like you had been in the loop on whatever it was he had been doing on the side. All of this was as shocking to you as your actions were, apparently, to him. 

“You’re gonna take whatever meetings I make until that money is back.” He let go of you and turned to leave but changed his mind. Coming back, he swung his fist and clocked you on the left side of your face.

You didn’t see it, but you heard the other girls running and pulling Tommy off of you, yelling and pleading for him to calm down.

“I worked really hard for you!” He shouted, jerking his shoulders out from under the hands of the other performers. What was he talking about? You hadn’t discussed any of this, asked for any thing from him. “I waited for a high roller for you. Real classy guy. Just wanted a private show! That was it!” He spit, “No, every Tom, Dick, and Harry is welcome now to ask for your time.”

You just held your face, unsure if you had the right makeup to hide the bruise before stage call. 

“Well?! Say you’re sorry.”

You considered not saying anything. No response. When you looked at him, you could see the half a dozen other girls staring back at you, just say it. We have to rehearse.

“I’m sorry.” Eyes cast to the floor.

“For what?”

It hurt when you rolled your eyes, “For being ungrateful?” 

He shoulder checked a few girls on the way out. A couple came to you.

“He’s got some gambling debt, he’s just using us to get ahead.”

“I have some stuff to cover that up for tonight.”

“He usually cuts us in.”

Tears stung your eyes, you were angry and humiliated. You could work elsewhere, with a little luck. Take a job at a diner out of the area where no regulars would stir up trouble. Maybe leave until Tommy got his debts paid off or whatever was motivating this recent streak of cruelty. But you didn’t want to run away. No one applauded waitresses. Maybe if you made yourself as unattractive as possible, no one would request you. Dirty your teeth, talk about other men, speak crudely. 

“What exactly was he talking about?” you asked no one in particular. The girls were quiet for a beat.

“Well ya know, private shows for clients who can afford it.” High pitched and nasal, Florence spoke as she searched her make up station.

“That’s it?” Incredulous.

“Sometimes. You know how it is… woman left alone in a room with a man who has too much money or ego or drink. Doesn’t always stop at a dance.” Minnie had much more experience than you, “It isn’t our jobs. It isn’t normal. But, well, ya heard about New York right? They’re trying to make burlesque outright illegal…”

“Gotta enjoy the art while it’s just misunderstood.” Florence wiped down your mirror before setting her supplies down for you. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

By the time patrons began to stream in, you had blood staining the white of your left eye. Nothing you could do, but maybe at a distance it wouldn’t be noticeable. The bruise under your eye from his fist was easy enough to cover. The contusion from where your right cheek hit the wall was a little harder. 

Luckily, the stage offered a buffer of space and the rest of the room was dark. 

During your show, you tried to keep your eyes moving so the red sclera never stayed in one place too long. For the first time, the cheers did nothing for you. You felt your chin quiver, fighting back tears. You wanted to scream, to tell them to hate you and leave. Stop fucking clapping.

Ruth was naturally the first to come to you after your performance, “Want me to do the tour with you? Arm in arm around the hall.”

You took her up on the offer. It lightened the load, her taking charge of the conversation when people approached or bought you drinks. Luckily the bartender always poured the performers weak cocktails and watered down liquor to keep their heads on straight. 

Ruth’s companionship afforded you precious time to plan, to consider how quickly you could find new work or at least a way out of this.

“What a treat. Two for one. Can I buy you both a drink?” 

Ruth turned first to greet the customer, “Ooh yes sir! Gin and tonic, please and thank you. Autumn?” Your stage name drew your attention back to the world, turning finally.

“Alastor.” It fell from your mouth like a lead balloon.

He smiled down at you, his hand offering a little wave, “Hello. Surprise.” 

Your face fell, a frown pulling down your chin. It took you too long to recover, batting your eyelashes and turning the corners of your lips up unnaturally. 

“So you do have a beau!” Ruth slapped your arm, “I’m Skye, Skye Scraper. Pleasure to meet you, Alastor.” She extended her hand, Alastor planting a kiss on the back of it, concealing his smile at the name.

You tried to keep your eyes on the floor, head turned slightly away from him to obscure the neon sign of an eye shouting, ‘Weak!’

Unfortunately for you, Alastor wasn’t an oblivious man. Unless he was dancing or drunk. “May I have a moment alone with her?” Alastor asked Ruth. Ruth looked to you for your okay, and you just nodded. She gave a little nod of her own to Alastor and slinked away. 

“Are you unhappy to see me, dear? Did I overstep by coming by unannounced?” You hadn’t heard him worried before, it pained you. 

“No, no! I am… so happy to see you. I just had a long day.” You scanned the room for the darkest area to bring him. A booth would be best, you could keep him on one side of you. You gestured with a nod of your head.

“Ah, I kept you out too late.” Alastor didn’t move.

“Not at all, come on let’s sit down.” You reached back for his hand without looking at him, but when you pulled he still didn’t move. He remembered the way you pulled at the hand of that man in the alley the first night you met. Desperate to escape somewhere. 

“Is there a reason you won’t look at me?”

Lie. 

“Uh, no, I’m just embarrassed about this heavy stage makeup.” 

Alastor paused, hand slipping from yours to adjust his sleeves. It was a nervous action, an attempt to self soothe, but you didn’t know that. “I should have asked before coming.”

“Alastor, it’s not…,” you kept your eyes down at your hands.

“Then look at me.”

Would he think you were incapable of protecting yourself? His pity would kill you. Perhaps he would decide a second rate burlesquer wasn’t worth making time for anymore.

You could intentionally wound him, say you don’t want to see him so he leaves. But that sword was double edged and you weren’t sure you’d survive that either. You weren’t making it out of this.

You finally looked at him. He leaned in, “What happened to your eye?” A slender finger gently tilting your chin upward.

Lie. 

You thought too long for an answer. Why were you getting worse at lying? It used to be one of your best shields and swords but now you were so slow on the draw you were left defenseless. Vulnerable. His hand took yours, gently pulling you into the lobby and through the glass doors of the theatre.

Under the bright lights of the marquee and the street lamps, Alastor inspected your face. He reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, wetting it in his mouth before wiping the makeup off of your under eye.

“Alastor, people are staring.” 

His eyes fell down, soft hands lifting your arm where a bruise was already formed. You hadn’t noticed that one.

“What happened?” He wasn't looking at you when he said it, instead cautiously wiping the makeup off your cheeks in search of more marks.

“The truth or wh-“

“Always. Never give me anything else.”

You sighed, and explained, “Tommy, the manager, he’s been shifting tactics for bringing in money because he owes some big bads a lot of debt. Private shows with performers that sometimes get hands on…,” his hands stopped moving but his eyes didn’t meet yours, “I never asked to be included in it. I wouldn’t do it. I was rude to a man Tommy introduced me to and I ran off Saturday. Yada Yada. He got me as soon as I got to work.”

Alastor didn’t reply, just turned on his heels and marched back into the theater. You chased after him, “I don’t need you to fight my battles!” You tried to get in front of him but he walked right past you.

“Not about what you need, dear, it's about what he deserves.” 

Alastor asked the bartender for Tommy, who pointed to the short but stocky man talking to a group of guests. Alastor approached so quickly Tommy didn’t have time to greet him, instead just backing up until he fell ass first into a booth. Alastor boxed him in, one hand on the wall and one on the table, towering over Tommy as he sat.

“I hear you sell dancers by the night.”

You paced the lobby nervously. Would you be fired? What would Alastor say? Would Tommy hit him, too?

He re-emerged, “Come to my car, please.” He didn't stop walking as he said it. 

You followed a few blocks down to his car, parked on the street. He opened the passenger door for you and closed it behind you. You wanted to ask if you were going somewhere, but thought better of it. A tight u-turn, he pulled the car into the side street where you’d first met each other.

Wordlessly he got out of the car, you opening your door before he could. Popping the trunk, he set the folded canvas inside a paper bag. Checking first, he placed it inside one of the tin trash cans. 

You stood, waiting for an explanation.

Finally he stopped and made eye contact with you. “You have a date tomorrow, with me. Bring this to the apartment above the theater before Tommy and I arrive.” Opening your mouth to speak, he didn’t stop to let you add anything. “Preferably near the bed.” He closed the trunk, “Wear red, please.”

You searched his face for some kind of discernible emotion but found none. Those constricted pupils again, an animal staring back at you from behind a pair of glasses. There was no reason to ask him, it was obvious what was going to happen. Did you want to stop it? 

Did you want to see it? Alastor at work?

“Okay. On all the points.” You looked back at the trashcan, “Canvas hidden near the bed. Wear red.”

“The extra clothes can go anywhere out of sight.” He leaned down, kissing your forehead, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your voice cracked a little, “Wait, you’re leaving already?”

He nodded, “I can’t stay here.” Before getting into his car he turned and added, “Don’t cover the bruises tomorrow. He should see them.”

You nodded in return, “Are you doing this for me?” So quiet you almost hoped he didn’t hear it.

He paused, one leg already in the car and his back to you, “No. I’m doing it for everyone.”

You watched his car light up and leave the alley.

It’s not that you felt abandoned, you felt…. Stranded. You had to go back in there, alone, and put on the normal act but under abnormal conditions. 

So it was happening. You hadn’t seen the first time. Just felt it. You didn’t see the second. You were going to actually see a man die. Not just a man, someone you knew. Someone you used to consider a friend of sorts. Before he got into whatever trouble was driving him to act like a flesh peddler. Could you do it? Could you watch a man be killed? Was that even what Alastor had planned?

Tommy found you the second you were back in the room, hand pressing too hard on the bruises he left on your arm. “You have a meeting tomorrow after your show. If you don’t show up,” he yanked you close, putrid breath of dead teeth you’d never been bothered by before this moment and bad booze assaulting your senses, “I will fucking kill you.”

You almost started laughing, bringing your hand to your mouth to hide your smile. “Okay Tommy.” 

Fuck it. He was going to die anyway, might as well make it a date. 

Ruth saddled up beside you as soon as Tommy was out of earshot, “Look at that smile. Quickie in the alley?”

Disgust, “Jesus, Skye, I was gone like, 5 minutes.” She shrugged. “Why does everyone think — is everyone fucking their daddies* in the side street?” She nodded. “Well, I’m not.”

“Prude.” She joshed before linking your arm in hers again, “We’ve got at least another hour of schmoozing. Tits up!”

Your smile came effortlessly that night, a thrum of excitement keeping you light on your feet. Not excitement for death, but for the very concept of being closer to Alastor. Would you see it happen, in front of you? Or would he have you leave? Either way, you were an active participant with a task list.

He trusted you, even if in a small way. Trust was so rarely given from the people who mattered. Men trusted you often; to be sweet when they tell you they were embarrassed about something, to lie when they ask if you orgasmed, to not steal their cash when they blacked out with their pants still on. Pulling it from strangers was one of your greatest pleasures. But it was easy. You were skilled. 

Yet again, like so often now, Alastor was the exception. He didn’t toss himself at your feet. He stood tall in front of you and on his own terms offered you the things you wanted. You didn’t have to pretend to be demure, you didn’t have sit on his lap in silence and nod and laugh. Just yourself, as much as you could allow yourself to exist in the world. No tricks. If his trust was presented wrapped in a bloodied bow, well, you would thank him dearly and wear the ribbon round your neck like a trophy.

Many men spoke to you, but luckily your participation in conversation wasn’t something they really cared about. As they spoke, your eyes were looking past them and into the future. 

However there was a sense of dread when you lied in bed that night. The excitement of getting closer to Alastor had melted into the fear there was no going back from this. 

Something in your chest stung, a thorn growing from somewhere unknown. Three encounters (that he knew of) and already it seemed your thoughts were more Alastor than yourself. No person had ever made such an impression before. You didn’t like it, but it made you happy. Which is why you didn’t like it. Tying your happiness to another person was a reckless thing to do. You’d seen your mother and half sister both use a man’s attention as a replacement for being happy with themselves and it made them brittle and hollow.

Thinking of what would happen the following night, oddly, you were reminded of losing your virginity. You were a “late bloomer” and were terrified you’d never be you again after. Like something would be taken from you. You fell asleep to that thought, of what you’d lose.

Then you woke, uncharacteristically early, feeling none the bit rested. No dreams. No nightmares. A few seconds of darkness and suddenly it was morning. With the extra time you had you wandered into a department store before going to the theater.

When a sales woman approached you, asking what you were looking for, you were too tired lie.

“A red dress.” You didn’t have the makeup at home to cover your marks, and gave up being worried about it. 

Unfortunately, it seemed it wasn’t so odd of a sight; a woman with a black eye.

“What’s the occasion? Apology dinner?” The woman fidgeted with the hangers while looking at you.

You grimaced, “No, a murder.”

She howled, “You are a hoot! Don’t we wish, huh? Let me pull you some options.”

You put the dress on the top of the paper bag, having hidden it under your make up table the previous night. Your fingers were trembling, applying your makeup needing deep breaths and concentration.

“Ruth, can you do my lips?” You turned and handed her the brush. 

“The eye looks better.” She took your chin in her hand and painted your mouth a pretty shade of red.

“Thank you.” You offered her a smile but she didn't let go, “What?”

“You ever seen a cornered raccoon? Like one got in the house and your mom boxed it into a corner with a broom?”

A nod, yes, actually, you had.

“Who’s got the broom?” She asked. You knitted your brow, not understanding. “Who’s got you in a corner? Is it Tommy?”

You took your chin back, deep breaths. “No brooms. No corners. Just rattled still from last night.” Not a lie, surprisingly. “You thought of a raccoon? Really? Is it because of the eye?”

When you took your bow for the evening and turned to escape the stage lights for the darkness of backstage, you found Tommy leaning just outside the dressing room.

“Get changed, doors unlocked upstairs. Room 504.” 

Grabbing the paper bag you ran through your mental checklist. Wear red, take off your make up, hide the canvas by the bed. An odd to-do list for murder.

The theater had two floors of modest apartments above it, the owners keeping two of the open for the theater’s use. One was for the owners should they ever visit New Orleans, and the other was multi use. Storage and a crash pad for performers or Tommy when he worked late.

The bag crinkled as you hugged it, looking over the small apartment. Boxes, decorations, a modest kitchen and a bed. The bathroom was quite large, a tub and shower head. Was this where the other performers went?  

Why hadn’t anyone said anything sooner? Why didn’t anyone leave yet?

Taking a second, you got to work. You opened the canvas and slid it under the bed, the smallest bit of edge sticking out for easy retrieval. Dizzy with the quickly settling reality of what you were doing, you sat on the floor for a moment. Trying to calm your breathing, you closed your eyes.

The fear of the unknown was suffocating you. There was a possibility Alastor failed and ended up hurt. Or, that he changed his mind and Tommy left you two to just hold hands on the bed for a sex-appropriate amount of time.

You patted your thighs and stood up. No time now for a panic attack. Alastor had a change of clothes in the bag, neatly folded and tied in twine. They were set onto the shelf above the closet.

And finally, yourself. Your dress was on and you stopped to wipe the make up off your face in the bathroom mirror. Still bruised, still nasty. The dress was nice though, carrying some of the weight for your battered mug. Red cotton, sailor neck and little gold buttons down the front. Flashy, brighter than the dark number you usually wore.

Would he like it? Most men looked for how a dress accentuated your curves (or hid them) but you had a feeling Alastor didn’t care so much about that.

You took your seat at the edge of the bed, thin mattress sagging from your weight.

The clock ticked, until finally the door opened and you saw something you hadn’t seen before and knew you’d never see again. Tommy and Alastor.

“Here she is. Autumn, this is Mr. Cerf. He's asked I stay in the apartment, apparently word of your attitude already spread among the upperclass.” Tommy wagged his finger at you in a playful way that was entirely out of place.

“Look at her. Pouting. Not very excited, is she?” Alastor smiled at you, softly. You felt for a second that maybe you entirely misunderstood. He looked calm, normal. Even peaceful.

“It’s always nice when they fight a little. But she won’t cause you any trouble.” Tommy patted Alastor’s back, who immediately shirked away.

“Do you like it when women try to fight you off, Tommy?”

A dry laugh, “Ya know how it is. They gotta act like they don’t like it so people still respect ‘em.”

A hum. Alastor’s smile falling entirely. A shadow settled over his face. “I see. That does make things easier.” He slipped on his short black gloves. “I always tell her she looks lovely in red. She rarely listens to me, but I’m happy to see she did tonight. It’s a special occasion.” 

Once, you thought. You didn’t listen once. 

Tommy nervously chuckled, looking from Alastor then to you, “What?” Alastor grabbed him by the back of the neck, pushing him to the ground and onto his knees. Hand fisted in his hair, knife pressing across his throat. 

Alastor dug his knee into the small of Tommy’s back, “Tommy, I think you owe the lady an apology.” You let your feet find the edge of the canvas and slid it out with a kick. It glided across the wood and stopped where his knees met the floor. 

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry.” Tommy was staring at the waxed fabric in front of him. 

You felt your eyes sting with tears, a smile breaking out against your will. “For what?”

“I—,” his eyes searched the room for an answer, your words bringing a pulse of Deja Vu, “It’s about yesterday?” He seemed to relax a little, “Come on. I said sorry. ” Looking back to Alastor. “I didn’t know she had a guy.”

Alastor yanked his head back to look him squarely in his eyes, “Wrong answer.” He pushed him down onto his stomach, “Come on Tommy. I like when my victims fight a little, too.” Sensing the taller man towering over him with the knife, Tommy scrambled onto his back to look at Alastor. Tommy started shouting, “Hey!! Someone!” But there was no one to hear him. That was the beauty of the space he always brought his dates to; it was too loud to hear anyone scream. 

Funny how that works both ways.

Alastor shrugged, “Well that didn’t last long.” As Tommy backed up, trying to get traction on the slippery canvas and failing, Alastor straddled him. Tommy’s hands came up, one pushing against Alastor’s face, the other against the arm holding the knife. Alastor put both hands onto the knife’s handle, staring down into Tommy’s eyes as he inched closer to the man’s neck. “You look scared, Tommy. Are you scared?” 

The other man shouted, eyes trembling as he watched the knife come down.

Alastor pushed through, metal sinking into Tommy’s throat. No pause, he withdrew and sank it again and again. Tommy’s hands fell from Alastor’s face, flailing slightly at his neck before slumping down. He was frenzied, stabbing at his chest and upward with wide eyes. You recognized those constricted pupils. They made sense in this setting. Alastor was panting, taking a second to split the skin from ear to ear in the middle of his melee. 

You brought your knees to your chest, watching the crime unfold. Was this anger for you or truly for everyone? No one ever got so angry for you before, if you could be so conceited as to say this was for you. Your mouth opened and you spoke without thinking, no filter. “You look like an angry God. A jazz demon of wrath.” You smiled, the morbidity not lost on you.

Alastor stopped, frozen as he stared at you. For a second, he had forgotten you were there. He was always alone during these hobbies of his. Until recently. You looked like an angel in red and gold. Had he dyed your heavenly robes crimson? Or had you been made that way?

He dropped the knife, peeling his gloves off and stepping over Tommy’s decimated torso before kicking off his shoes.

You scooted back onto the bed and opened your arms, welcoming a strange after-kill cuddle. Your reward.

Alastor took off his bowtie, then his shirt. It took you a second, not realizing what was happening until he began to unbuckle his belt. “Now?!” 

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“What the fuc— okay,” your hands flew to unclasp your stockings and roll down your panties. You mumbled to yourself, “Jesus Christ.”

As he crawled over you, warm gloveless hands tracing along your legs, hips, waist, you looked at up him with your now dilated pupils, “It’s murder? You need murder?”

He laughed, embarrassing you a little, “No it isn’t that.” His face nuzzled into your neck, “You’d go to hell? For me?” 

You froze, you hadn’t really seen it like that.

“You’d damn your eternal soul,” his hips pressed into you, an unfamiliar hardness there that made you gulp, “just to spend time with me?”

How were you so heated over an erection? A dime a dozen, men practically threw them at women who offered them the slightest smile. Yet feeling him so hard against you, something you had been practically praying for, made you weak. A trembling virgin all over again. 

Don’t lie, he always told you to be honest so you decided to try it out even if it made you feel at risk of harm. Your hands slid up and into his hair, gripping gently, enough to elicit a groan from him, “Well I was worried heaven wouldn’t have jazz, so… yeah.” You had to always say something a little in jest, to hide from the vulnerability of honesty, “This seemed like a better option.” The truth was, if you had to state it plainly, you would dive head first into hell in exchange for his smile. To hear his laugh. To feel his breath over your mouth. You were quite sure hell was more your scene, anyway.

“I’ll be sure to fill your afterlife with jazz every day, dear.” 

How could he make hell sound so sweet?

“It’s a deal.” Fingers playing with his hair, basking in the warmth of skin on skin. 

He leaned up, eyes scanning your face as he always seemed to do in these intimate moments. The feeling spreading down his chest was one wholly foreign to him, one he was struggling to put into his own words. You hadn’t run away. You opened your arms for him even still, welcoming your own damnation in exchange for… affection? Attention? Him? The reason didn’t matter, not to Alastor, and not now to his growing need. You didn’t even push him for more than he wanted to give, not yet needled him for details, secrets, sex. Could you really just be there for Alastor? Take him for what he was and what he wasn’t?

His mouth was salivating at the thought you’d give him anything. Reality was, you already had. His finger caressed the purple welt on your cheek. You were given pain and he returned it ten fold to its owner. A demon of wrath. He felt his cock twitching, underwear tented around him. 

You smiled up at him, wiping a little streak of blood from his jawline, “You look quite pretty in red yourself.”

His head came to rest on your collarbone with a shaky sigh.

Had you said something wrong? 

“Please, you’re already pushing me to my limit.”

Making a show of it, you zipped your mouth and pretended to toss the key. You wanted to reach down and pull off his remaining bit of clothing, to rub yourself against his manhood. But, you weren’t sure if that was something he would appreciate. You didn’t want to ruin his experience, to make him regret offering you something he so clearly didn’t need to give.

He removed his underwear, watching you unbutton your dress and pulling your arms free. Your bra, garter, and stockings were still on. Somehow he found it more scandalous than if you were completely naked.

Your breath was shaking, uneven as the excitement took control of you. There was a not totally unfounded fear you'd black out from hyperventilating.

Alastor lined himself up with your heat and pressed in, making a hard to decipher face as his brow knit up and he bit his lip. You were already so wet, not a hand or mouth needed from him. He wondered if you shared more than an acceptance of justified homicide; your body so relaxed and welcoming to him. 

With a few shallow thrusts, he was fully sunk into you. You may have let out a cry. An emptiness you hadn’t clocked was suddenly gone. Was this what Zeus meant when he said the two souled humans were too powerful and tore them apart to weaken them? 

Was this sex, or love? The word made you nervous. But—- if he offered it to you in both palms, you’d suffocate yourself in his hands.

He began to move in earnest, thrusting in and out slowly. You had expected the frantic moves of a horny virgin. Instead he was moving with control, hips rolling into you like waves gentle and steady where the lake met land, not slamming like many men before him. 

Had it been any other dick, you’d whine and begin moving yourself against it for that needed speed. This was Alastor. Dripping pleasure into your open mouth like a drought-breaking summer shower.

You didn’t recognize your own sounds, already panting and moaning as a warmth spread from the place where his cock was sliding around inside you.

Alastor tried to keep calm. Even when his body was sensitive, he wasn’t used to the mental work needed to fight off his orgasm. Usually he had the opposite issue, struggling to stay focused enough to finish. Mind wandering to more productive chores. 

But you were so wet, so accepting in body and mind. He watched your eyes close, one hand gently clawing at the blankets, the other reaching down to touch his lower stomach every time he thrust back in. For the first time in a very long time you really truly wanted to remember who was at the other end of the dick you were enjoying.

Languid moves. Swollen cockhead hitting the bottom of your walls, the top, the end, pushing still a little further.

“I’m sorry,” Alastor leaned down over you, kissing at your jawline, “For making you wait so long for so little.”

His rhythm picked up then, burying himself deeper into your sopping cunt and dragging out enough to pull back that quiver of his release.

You shook your head, lips tingling. “Nothing little here.”

He attempted a laugh, losing his breath. He wanted to last longer, to make the experience worth your while but he could feel you dripping down his balls and it weakened him with alarming efficiency. Finally the frenzied speed you witnessed earlier was turned to you, you brought your legs up, holding at his sides. “Darling I need to-,” he moaned into your ear.

“Please stay.” You clung to his neck, nails grazing at his shoulders.

Alastor’s voice was soft and sweet, a small moan and a gentle grunt. His legs spread more, trying to get every centimeter of himself into you. Hips now grinding in a small circle, but not losing any of the comfort of your warmth. You felt him still pumping that welcomed heat into you, and you tightened around him, drawing out your own moan. He hissed, “Sensitive.” Your legs were shaking like leaves in a storm, no orgasm but the pleasure nonetheless intoxicating.

The front of your brain felt like static, perhaps from the lack of oxygen as you had uncharacteristically lost your breath under Alastor. 

Like losing your virginity, after the fear faded and you were able to find a moment for introspection, you found yourself larger than before. The edges of your canvas expanded out, new parts of yourself unfurling for you to explore. Nothing had been lost, only gained.

Alastor kissed at the dark circle under your eye, at the bruise of your cheek, he lifted your arm and kissed gently at the purple and blue spots there too. He had lied, and he wasn’t sure why, but maybe he’d find the will to admit it to you someday.

He had left yesterday to keep from strangling Tommy in the center of the theater, finding himself in a rage. He rarely felt anger. His killings always about retribution, about karma, about righting the scales. He needed to leave to keep from losing his composure.

He lied to you in the alley, unable to look you in the eye when he did it for fear you’d see it. You always seemed to see him with a clarity others didn’t despite such a short time together. He struggled to hide from you and it was as exciting as it was frightening. A testament to your similarities.

He hadn’t done it for everyone. No. His personal moral code fell to pieces when he saw your bloodied eye and bruised skin. He would have killed Tommy even if he had been a good man, even if you’d been the instigator. None of his murderous rules mattered. And it scared him. 

(Next Part Next Week, orz)

*slang for boyfriend, often a rich one

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay /

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[ckret2]

Chapter 70 of human Bill Cipher pretending he's not the Mystery Shack's captive for ten minutes:

This happens!

Whoops, sorry, zoomed too far in.

This happens!

Way more important and exciting.

####

Bill lasted—based on the sun's position—about a couple of hours before this body's needs knocked him out of his meditative mindset. He sat up with a sigh, checked his tanlines—the stripes he'd drawn across his abdomen were already darkening into a nice, angry burn—and glanced over at the lake to see what the Pines were up to.

At the moment, Mabel was holding a foot-long wiggling, glittery, gold-scaled trout in a net and grinning proudly. Stan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pointed at her in excitement as Dipper snapped a picture of them. Stan opened a cooler for her to drop the fish in. Mabel's face fell, and she hugged the fish protectively. Stan's shoulders sagged; but after half a minute of unsuccessful negotiations, he relented and pointed at the lake. She dumped the trout back in the water.

Bill clicked his tongue in disappointment and muttered, "If I'd thought they'd catch the golden trout, I would've told 'em that thing's like the holy grail to the Fishmasons." Stan probably would have insisted they keep it just so they could get something on Eugene. Bill wasn't emotionally invested in their feud; but the trout did grant three wishes. Bill could use that kind of power.

Oh well, he could tell them later. Maybe they'd get lucky and hook it again. Bill got to his feet. "Hey, old lady. I need to stretch my legs." Stretch his legs, look for entertainment, and forage for food—they were planning to be out here all day, but there hadn't yet been a grocery trip to properly stock his new fridge chest and he didn't trust Ford's nutrition pills, so he'd only brought along a bottle of hot sauce and a bottle of sprinkles and hoped he'd manage to find some food once he was here. (And if he didn't find any—well, at least he had hot sauce and sprinkles.)

"Okay," Abuelita said. She turned a page.

He put his slippers back on, dug his condiments and eye patch out of Abuelita's bag—his eyes were getting tired—put on the patch, and scanned the beach. "Hey. Looks like somebody's grilling hot dogs over there."

Abuelita made a noncommital sound of minimal interest.

"Hot dog might be nice," he said. "Looks like the grill's a biiit over thirty feet away, though..."

"Okay," Abuelita said again.

"So." He waved his braceleted hand demonstratively. "Shall we?"

"Eh. I don't want a hot dog." She slid the enchanted bracelet off and dropped it in the sand.

Bill stared at the bracelet, then stared at her. "What, that—really? You're just... really?"

"What am I, a cop?"

Good enough for him. "You're all right, lady." He wrapped the extra thread around his wrist, put on the second bracelet, and glanced at the Stanowar again to make sure the Pines weren't about to catch him off his leash.

The family was crowded around watching as Ford reeled in something heavy. He grinned excitedly as the hook dragged up a patch of soggy khaki fabric; and his smile vanished when his coat grabbed the boat with a furry hand. As the family scrambled to the far end of the boat, Bigfoot—wearing Ford's lost coat and a full set of scuba gear—climbed aboard the boat.

Ford punched Bigfoot in the face.

"Oh," Bill said. "Bigflipper. That'll keep 'em distracted for a while." Satisfied, he meandered up the beach.

He plastered on a bright smile as he approached the family with the hot dogs, veered around the husband working the grill, and walked right up to the wife sitting on a beach towel, eating a hot dog, and watching her kids play in the water. "Heeey, Wanda! What are you doing here! Look at you, you look terrific!"

The woman looked up at Bill from under her sunhat in bafflement. "I—hi? Sorry, do I...?"

"Sure, it's Goldie! Washington State! Fifteen years ago! We were in the same study group, remember? East Asian history? Honestly all I remember about the class is the other girls and that fifty percent of it was about Confucianism."

Wanda's eyes lit up, and then un-lit as she realized she still didn't recognize Bill. "Oh—heeey! Wow—sorry, guess I've slept since then."

"Don't worry about it, I'm just good with faces. Anyway, from what I remember," he jabbed a thumb toward the man at the grill, "at the time most of your attention was on Danny."

Wanda laughed again, a little more easily. "Right, god. I can't believe I made it through that semester with passing grades."

"Hey, you were still the only one in the group who could remember what order all those dynasties came in..."

Bill kept Wanda distracted for another couple of minutes with small talk about the study sessions he'd spied on out of boredom from a library stained glass window; and then, when he saw one hot dog had been set aside fully grilled and mustarded but as-yet unclaimed, he said, "But hey, I won't distract you anymore! Those kids look like a handful." While both parents turned to look at the kids, Bill snatched up the unclaimed hot dog, strolled down the beach, and called back, "It was good catching up!" That whole performance probably hadn't been necessary, he might've been able to time his loitering to swing by just as the hot dog was left unguarded; but it had been more fun this way. He didn't get to have a lot of conversations these days. Less where he felt like he was the one in control of the conversation.

He soaked the bun in hot sauce, dumped some sprinkles on the mustard, and took a bite while he glanced out at the lake again to see how the Pines were doing.

At the moment, Ford had Bigfoot in a chokehold from behind. Stan hit him with a right hook. Bigfoot kicked Stan in the chest with one immense flippered foot, and he tumbled backward into the lake.

Looked like none of them would be paying attention to anything on the beach any time soon. No need to go straight back to his cell. He scanned the rows of beachgoers sitting out by the lake, looking for fresh entertainment.

Bill's gaze fixed on one of the humans. One of these things is not like the others, one of these things doesn't belong. Amongst all the tourists in their swimsuits, one man—standing ramrod straight, dressed in a black suit, holding a heavy black device with an antenna—stuck out like a sore pale thumb in a pitch black bandaid.

An agent from the Bureau of Covert Investigations. The "eagles." The same guys that had covered up President Quentin Trembley's existence, a brief sightseeing trip Bill had taken to Roswell via nuclear testing-induced dimensional rip, and the miraculous and disgusting resurrection of cult leader/possession puppet Silas Birchtree; and, the guys that had been trying to find Bill's portal in Gravity Falls since they'd detected it in the '80s. Bill wasn't the eagles' biggest fan.

But they'd never been a big enough potential threat or a big enough potential help for him to intervene in their operations. In the mid '80s, when the lead investigator in Gravity Falls had been putting together his case, Bill had considered pulling some strings and manipulating them into taking over the portal from Stanley, before concluding they'd be more likely to disassemble the portal than activate it and it was better off in Stan's clumsy care. But all the same, he'd kept watch over their operations. 

And this, if he wasn't mistaken, was the lead investigator himself. Agent Powers. What was he doing here? Bill had thought the case was closed last year after Ford wiped their memories and sent them packing. Maybe Powers was here about Trembley? Depending on what the Pines had entered into the memory gun, the eagles might still remember that part of their operations in town.

Bill would kinda like to know where Trembley was these days. He studied the agent as he slowly finished his hot dog; and then he moved in.

"Hey there, agent!" Bill clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him start, and beamed brightly. "Welcome to town! What brings you to Gravity Falls?"

"Pardon?" Agent Powers gave Bill an appraising up-and-down look—threat assessment, probably—caught sight of his bikini top, and quickly looked him in the eye. "How did you know I'm an agent?"

"Oh, that's easy! I'm psychic."

Powers opened his mouth, paused, and then squinted skeptically at Bill.

"Just kidding. You've got an earpiece, a business suit at the beach, and the government's favorite car."

"Oh." Powers turned to glance toward where he'd parked. "Yes. I suppose so."

"Say! If you want a more covert vehicle, you oughta go to Gleeful Auto in town. You'll blend right in. Just tell 'em Mr. Locke sent you."

"Who's Mr. Locke?"

Right, Bill supposed he didn't look like much of a "Mr." at the moment. Humans didn't consider bikinis gender neutral for some reason. He took a split second to decide whether he'd get any practical benefits from trying to push past the agent's initial perception of his gender, and couldn't think of any. "Friend of mine!"

"Ah." Powers nervously looked Bill up and down again; then cleared his throat and glanced away, cheeks flushed faintly pink in the heat. "Right. Thank you, uh, citizen."

"No problem!" If Bill remembered his suits right, this agent was an easy target. Believed in "collaborating" with "local informants"; wasn't very good at the covert part of the Bureau of Covert Investigations. "You don't look like you're in town on vacation! Investigating anything interesting at the lake?"

"Well..." Powers flashed Bill a quick sideways glance before nodding vaguely toward a couple of people in dive suits further up the beach. "If you must know, we've picked up some evidence of the lake recently flooding its banks. Which is strange, because the amount of rain this area's received can't account for how high the water climbed..."

Not here about Trembley, then? "Flooding? Think there's any danger, agent? In our quiet, harmless little town?"

"No, no. Nothing like that," Powers said quickly. "But, I've said too much. I should go." He shifted his footing anxiously. He did not go.

What was that about? Bill glanced down at himself; he still looked perfectly human, didn't see anything that should make a government agent nervous. Was it the lack of shaving? Was that too Seventies Feminist for Mr. Government Suit? Was the eyepatch setting off his secret agent "Soviet supervillain in a spy movie" instincts? He couldn't have noticed Bill stealing a hot dog.

Should Bill press his luck? (Stupid question—of course he should.) "Say, you keep giving me these odd looks, agent! Anything you wanna say?"

His pink cheeks flushed darker. "Er, no, no ma'am. It's just, I uh..." He gestured vaguely toward Bill, "I... couldn't help but notice that your... sunscreen is a bit streaky."

Bill glanced down at his tan lines. Streaky? He thought the burn lines were coming out pretty crisp.

The agent went on, "I was wondering if you needed help applying it more evenly." It took a split second for him to realize what he'd just said; and then he went even redder.

Bill raised his brows. Huh. "Nooo, I'm great, thanks. It's supposed to look like that."

"Oh." Powers's brow furrowed in confusion. "All right." He nodded. "In that case, I really should be going, then."

"All right!"

But Powers hesitated again for a moment before finally moving up the beach away from Bill.

Well. Interesting. Interesting reaction.

He checked on the Stanowar again to make sure the Pines hadn't seen anything. At the moment—he squinted—they seemed to be playing poker with Bigfoot. He must not have liked Mabel's playing (unsurprising; she was an incorrigible cheat), because he picked her up and chucked her in the lake.

"She's fine," Bill muttered. "She's got her life jacket." They were good about that in this town.

He watched as Powers met up with the divers farther along the beach; and then he headed back to his towel.

####

Bill had decided his front was sufficiently roasted and was struggling to apply new sunscreen stripes to his back so he could flip over, when he overheard somebody say, "Oh hey, Toga Lady?"

Bill twisted around, already grinning in greeting before he'd even seen who was talking to him. "Heya!" It was Broken Heart and two of the others. Wendy's gang. Robbie, Tambry, and Nate. "What are you guys doing out here! You don't look like the beach types!" (In deference to the environment, all three of them had donned swim trunks and sandals; but that was as beachy as they'd gotten. Nate and Tambry were in black t-shirts advertising metal bands. Robbie was still in his hoodie. Robbie's legs nearly glowed white.)

"Hanging," Tambry said, one arm around Robbie's back and face glued to her phone.

Nate elbowed Robbie. "Dude, he's Toga Guy, remember?"

"Toga 'Lad' would be better," Tambry said.

"You sure?" Robbie asked. "Sh—he's kinda..." He gestured vaguely toward his own chest, realized that probably wasn't the best way to make his point, and finished, "uh... bikini."

"I don't want to spend my day arguing about whether I've got the right to go topless!" Bill got to his feet and planted his hands on his hips. "I could talk my way out of trouble with the police—it's the tourist parents I'm worried about." He pulled up one strap to examine his shoulder. "It's gonna ruin my tan, though."

They took in his tan in progress: several horizontal lines across his lower torso and upper thighs, a few disconnects vertical lines stretched between the horizontal ones. Tambry glanced up from her phone, snorted, and started typing faster; Nate said, "Dude, are you trying to make bricks like the triangle guy?"

Bill froze, mouth open. "Uhhh..." Sure, that was the objective—he just hadn't really expected humans to find it that obvious. Nosy little pattern-seekers. "I mean—"

"That's cool," Tambry said. "Stick it to the man."

Robbie had screwed up his face a bit, but at Tambry's reaction, he shrug-nodded and conceded, "Yeah, it's kinda punk, I guess."

Nate said, "Praise Bill or whatever, right?" He laughed. "Yeah, I thought about getting a tattoo of him. Up here or something?" He pushed a sleeve up above the snake tattoo wrapped around his left bicep to show the blank spot on his shoulder. "But my parents would flip if they ever found out. Maybe I should do the brick thing too, it's way subtler." Nate turned to the other two, lifted up his shirt, and said, "Hey Tambers, do you think I'd look cool with bricks around my waist?"

She didn't look up. "No."

"What if I got an eye on my chest too?"

"Let me think. No."

Bill watched this back and forth with wide-eyed stunned silence. Hold on. What? Praise Bill?

"Pfff, whatever!" Robbie rolled his eyes. "Hey, you're gonna regret getting a Bill tattoo once I get my sick symbol off the anti-Bill circle. It's like... giving me a permanent rock-paper-scissors win against you. For the rest of time."

Nate laughed. "Shut up, whatever man! The circle didn't even do anything."

"It would have! It was, like, glowing!"

"Heeey!" Bill stepped into the trio's line of sight again. "Right, yeah, praise Bill, by the way any of you wanna help me get my back?" He turned around to gesture over his shoulder. "Little favor between punk weirdos?"

"Yeah, sure." Tambry tucked her phone into Robbie's hoodie pocket and held out her hand for the tube of sunscreen. "Just continue the lines around your back?"

"You got it." Bill lifted his arms. "And try to keep the bricks evenly spaced."

"What is this stuff? Some kind of suntan lotion?"

"It's more like anti-sunscreen," Bill said. "By the way, you probably wanna wash your hands after this unless you want sunburned fingers." He wiggled his own fingers, which were faintly flushed from applying the first layer of sunscreen that morning.

"Hey, anti-sunscreen," Nate said, "you could call that, uh... sun-beam." He paused. "No wait, that's already a word."

Robbie laughed. "You're an idiot."

"Sooo," Bill said. "Is the triangle guy cool now? Not—not asking for any particular reason. Just curious."

"Oh, yeah," Tambry said. "Like half the school's decided he's our crazy anti-authoritarian counterculture chaos god now?" (Bill was adding that to his business card.)

Robbie said, "Somebody set up a shrine to him in a hollow tree stump behind the school. People started making animal sacrifices to him during finals week."

Nate said, "It's chicken nuggets and cafeteria tacos, but. Y'know. We didn't say live animals."

"Huh! Interesting!" Bill tried, unsuccessfully, not to sound too excited. He was hip with the youth. Who'd imagined! This was what he got for hanging out with the town's cops and politicans, he could've been exploiting this for a month. "But I think he prefers receiving gold!"

Nate laughed. "Dude, I'd prefer receiving gold, too. What we have is chicken nuggets and tacos."

"Fair enough," Bill shrugged. "By the way—if you want a Bill tattoo? The traditional style is to shave your hair and get his eye above your forehead, right here!" He tapped his skull over his brain's frontal eye fields. "It tells him right where to enter."

"Oh, sweet! That's perfect," Nate said. "I can shave, get a tattoo, and just keep my hat on until my hair grows back. No one will ever know!" (Bill tried to imagine hair growing out of his eyeball, and wished he hadn't.)

Robbie said, "Hey, weren't the Pines like... not letting you go outside because you knew him or something? That's what Wendy said."

That wasn't the story he'd told her. He'd have to find out where she'd picked that up. "Or something. It was more because of dumb academic ego-measuring contests than anything to do with that."

"So, they finally letting you outside alone now?"

"Only for group trips." Bill pointed out at the lake.

The three teens squinted toward the boat. "Whoa," Tambry said. "Are they arm-wrestling Bigfoot?"

"Oh, yeah. It was poker earlier."

For a moment, all activity ceased as the teens watched the battle out on the lake. Nate sat in the sand and propped his chin in his hand. Figuring Tambry was done with his stripes, Bill plopped onto his beach towel to watch as well.

Bigfoot defeated Stan, and Soos switched places with him to try next. Soos lasted five seconds before Bigfoot flipped him into the water. Melody scrambled to help pull him back aboard as Bigfoot pumped his fists in the air victoriously. Bill snorted.

"Bad luck," Robbie said. 

"I could beat him," Nate said. "Hey Robbie, think I could beat him?"

"Pfff, no."

"Bet Wendy could," Tambry said, recording through her phone as Bigfoot generously indulged Dipper and Mabel's attempt to take him on as a team. The guys murmured vague agreement with Tambry.

"Buuut anyway," Bill said, reluctant to let the conversation get too far away from himself, "yeah, I might've talked to the triangle guy a couple, several times."

"That's pretty cool," Nate said. "Hey, we oughta hang sometime, I bet Lee'd wanna hear about that. It'd probably drive Wendy crazy, but..."

Tambry let out a dismissive pff. "The triangle stuff's been driving Wendy crazy all year. She can take it."

"Not a fan?" Bill asked.

"Nah, she thinks the whole thing's creepy. Her and Thompson both."

"I think the whole cult thing's fine," Robbie said magnanimously. "As, y'know, one of the people prophesied to defeat him. If he ever really came back and caused trouble, we could handle it."

Bill tried not to roll his eye. Bold words out of a guy who, a couple of years ago, had left a plate of spaghetti in the woods to see if an "evil triangle" urban legend was true, and had thrown up when Bill dragged him into a dream state to show him just how true it was.

On Earth, urban legends about Bill tended to pop up and wither away in waves around the epicenter of his latest area of influence—like mushroom rings spreading away from a patch of ground they'd depleted of useful nutrients and left to die. Bill suspected the local urban legend Robbie had stumbled upon had been passed down in Gravity Falls for thirty years by teens misinterpreting Old Man McGucket's crazy ramblings about a "demon triangle" and "spaghettification."

He was always torn on whether to encourage or quash such urban legends: on the one hand, it was handy for humans to know he existed and was available for deals; but much less handy when they warned each other away from him. More than once, knowledge of him had nearly broken into the mainstream, and he'd had to put all his other plans on hold to focus on deflecting the whistleblowers' information into obscurity.

Apparently encouraging the spaghetti one had been the right move, if a year after his brief conquest of Gravity Falls the teens were offering him sacrifices rather than cursing his name.

Nate punched Robbie's arm. "Why would he cause us trouble? He's our chaos god, remember? We've given him offerings!"

"I like that attitude," Bill said. "Hanging out sounds fun! We'll... figure something out sometime." As soon as he found a way to make the Pines let him go outside without being surrounded by babysitters. Wouldn't that be humiliating, a full adult hanging out with teenagers and it's the adult who isn't allowed outside without a chaperone. No, that wasn't an option. If he came with an adult attached, they'd ditch him in a heartbeat for being too much of a drag.

The teens made their farewells and headed down the beach, Tambry and Robbie with their arms around each other again. Tambry wiped the anti-sunscreen off her hand onto the back of Robbie's hoodie.

As they went, they walked past Agent Powers—who was looking right at Bill.

Bill stared. The agent quickly looked away.

He didn't like that one bit. As he adjusted his position to lay face down on his towel, he said, "Hey, Dolores. You get the feeling we're being watched?"

"Hm?" Abuelita glanced up from her book toward Bill, then looked where he was looking. "Government." She made a disapproving noise and turned back to her book. "Nothing but trouble."

"You said it." Why was Powers so focused on Bill. He couldn't possibly be in any kind of trouble, he hadn't even existed until a month ago. And the eagles probably didn't know that, did they?

Nothing Bill could do about it in the middle of a beach trip. He propped his chin in his hand and checked on the fishing crew again.

In a fury, Bigfoot had ripped the motor off the back of the boat and lifted it over his head. The Pines family huddled together at the other end of the boat, trying to shield their heads.

A golden trout jumped out of the water, arced majestically through the air, and smacked Bigfoot in the face. Bigfoot stumbled backward and tripped out of the boat.

Hm. Maybe letting the trout go had been the right move. Bill shut his eyes and lay back down.

####

The sun was low and most of the beachgoers had gone home when the Stanowar chugged back to shore, battle-weary, disheveled, and dissatisfied. Except for Ford, who was wearing his sopping wet coat over his waders, holding one boot, and pleased as punch.

"Hey!" Bill shouted. "How'd it go!" He surreptitiously tossed half the bracelet over to Abuelita. She quietly slid it on.

Crankily, Stan yelled from the dock, "You didn't mention Bigfoot in a scuba tank!"

Bill shouted back, "Bigflipper wasn't there when I looked! What, did you expect me to check the entire spacetime continuum to find you the perfect fishing?!"

Faintly, he could hear Ford say, "See, I told you his proper name is Bigflipper."

Mabel repeatedly poked Dipper in the arm as they crossed the beach. Dipper flinched each time. "Ow, ow—Mabel. Cut it out."

"That's what you get for forgetting your sunscreen, bro-bro!"

Dipper's arms and face were bright red with a sunburn. "I didn't forget! I put it on at the beach, right before we left!"

Bill grabbed up Abuelita's empty water bottles and tossed them in the nearest trash can, along with the rest of his tube of anti-sunscreen before anyone could get a good look at it. He ignored the kids and said to Stan, "But it was a good fishing spot, right?"

Stan grumbled, but grudgingly admitted, "Yeah. Until tall, brown, and hairy showed up. We caught four fish! That's gotta be at least as good as the guys from the lodge, right?"

Bill winced. "Ooh. Sorry, they went by an hour ago with eleven fish."

Stan let out a roar of outrage and threw his fishing rod in the sand.

"Grunkle Stan, you don't go fishing to catch fish," Mabel said. "You go fishing to catch memories! Look at this!" She held up a bunch of photos. "This is a whole scrapbook spread right here! We caught sooo many memories."

"And my coat," Ford said. He was admiring his #1 Grunkle pen, which he'd taken from the coat pocket.

"I'd rather have fish," Stan grumbled. "All right, c'mon. Let's get..." He trailed off, looking past Bill. "Hey, is that...?"

Bill glanced back over his shoulder, and grimaced. Agent Powers and his protégé were watching them from the far end of the beach. Bill quickly turned back around. "Yep. Your old friends from last summer," he said. "They've been scoping out the beach all day. I don't know what they're here for—but you probably wanna get out of here." More importantly, Bill wanted to get out of here—but he didn't see any benefit to letting them know he was nervous.

"He's right," Ford said. "If they see us long enough to recognize us—and his memories start coming back..."

"Who are they?" Melody asked.

Soos whispered loudly, "I'll explain it in the car." Bill bit back the need to point out that whispering didn't make a difference as far away as the agents were.

"I don't get it," Stan said. "What are they doing back here?"

"You wanna go ask him?" Bill asked. Stan grimaced.

The Pines and Ramirez families piled back in their vehicles and headed out. Bill had the uneasy feeling that Agent Powers was focused on the Ramirez's truck as they left.

####

(How long have I been promising the Agent Powers plot, since like the May before last or something? Here it is!!

Next week, either we launch straight into the Powers plot, or I finally have the Axolotl chapters (it's chapters plural now) sufficiently edited and we do that first, because once we start the Powers plot there's no place for a break until it's over. Hopefully the Axolotl chapters will finally be ready by next Friday, but if they're not...... tough. It's fine though, you'll live.)

[lamiadrowned]

hi queen! i love ur page and i have a request! could you do headcannons for vi with an extremely honest yet clueless reader, i feel like that’d be so funny like “jinx is no longer my sister” “uhhh yes she is??” anyway that’s it, thank you !! <33

*:･ﾟ✧ vi with a (slightly) airheaded girlfriend

violet x fem!reader | sfw

this is a hilarious request ugh thank you anon

first of all, she finds you so funny. especially when you aren’t trying to be.

it always leaves you stumped when you’re trying to actually correct her on something, and she just bursts out laughing like you told the funniest joke she’d ever heard.

the biggest arguments you’ve gotten into with her happen when you incorrectly correct her grammar or use of a phrase, but neither of you really have a good enough education to tell who’s right and who’s wrong, so most of your spats remain unresolved.

after all, two people who need to be right all the time are bound to bicker.

a lot of your ‘arguments’ don’t contain much bickering, though.

they’re mostly just a back-and-forth dialogue that devolves into mutual confusion and total disarray. as hardheaded as she can be, she’s also the first to admit that she doesn’t know as much as she might have thought.

you’re like her own personal fact checker! (but the facts have no backing and she just has to kind of choose whether or not to believe you).

“any updates on your sister?” you’d ask her after another long day of your respective work pertaining to jinx.

she’d spent most of the day scouring the streets of zaun for any sign of her, while you stayed in your apartment trying to piece together documents and records to track her down.

vi takes off her jacket and hangs it on the back of a chair at the dining table, which is covered in papers and blurry pictures. “as far as i’m concerned, she sure as hell isn’t my sister.”

“what?” your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “i mean, you have the same parents. how could she not be your sister?”

she immediately recognizes your tone, knowing she’d accidentally dug herself into a hole with one sentence. “i… i meant it more as a metaphor, i guess. that’s the word, right?”

you stare at her in complete silence, recalling her words and wondering if the metaphor had completely flown over your head. eventually, you shake your head and try to ignore the knowing smile on her face. “i don’t think you know what a metaphor is, hun.”

“hold on, what even is a metaphor, then?” she asks, now seeming to be just as confused as you, that smug grin now replaced with a look of total dubiety.

you lean against the dining table. “a metaphor would be comparing two things that aren’t related.”

“oh. well, there you go. me and jinx aren’t related. it is a metaphor.” she shrugs.

“you are related, though. same parents, remember?” you tilt your head. “something about biology and all that dna shit.”

she positions herself in front of you and cups your jawline with her calloused hands, tilting your head to look up at her. “it’s adorable and aggravating that you take everything so literally, you know that?”

for a moment, you totally forget what the conversation was about, given the fact that just looking into her eyes is enough to turn your brain to mush.

that is, until it finally clicks.

“oh! you’re using a figure of speech,” you wrap your arms around her shoulders, “which is not the same as a metaphor.”

then, she snaps her fingers and points at you with, smile beaming with success. “yeah! yeah, that’s it. a figure of speech. thanks, babe.”

she’s also quick to realize that you do the same to pretty much everyone else, so at the very least, she knows it isn’t targeted.

if anything, it’s free entertainment.

watching proudly as you squabble with a bartender about how a non-alcoholic drink should be called just that, rather than a teetotaler’s drink, because “90% of zaun’s population probably couldn’t pronounce that word, nonetheless know what it means,” simply because you happened to be one of the 90% who could not pronounce it nor define it.

also, she backs you up like her life depends on it, even if she didn’t hear half of the conversation, or generally have no idea what the conversation was about.

after any of your feuds with someone other than her, she’ll make a point to go up to them and respectfully throw down some corny defenses like “the misses is always right, capiche?” or “can’t really argue with that, huh?”

[otomiyaa]

Funny

Venom x Eddie

[Fic Reupload] - Venom fic reupload to celebrate the 3rd movie which I'll see tomorrow. This fic is originally from 2018.

Summary: Venom and Eddie discover that Venom feels good whenever Eddie is being tickled. Life was definitely easier before they shared this knowledge. (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 1.9K

“Thanks for today,” Eddie said to Anne who had given him a ride home after a friendly drink at the bar. 

“Pleasure’s mine. I’m glad you’re doing better again. But one more thing I’ve been wanting to ask,” Anne said, leaning her hand on the wheel as she turned towards him, and she looked him up and down as if she was checking him out.

“She’s going to ask us out, Eddie. It’s going to happen.” Eddie had trouble keeping a pokerface as he tried to ignore Venom’s voice. 

“...Are you even eating at all? I am concerned,” Anne finished.

“Too bad. But yeh, we are eating. Right Eddie? We are eating a lot of ー”

“Look at you! So thin!” Anne cried out in surprise, and Eddie jumped when she suddenly grabbed his side.

“Here! Are these your ribs?” She asked after clawing up his side and now she dug in to feel his ribs as a confirmation of his skinny body. 

“Whoho! Anne, you know I’m ー”

“What, still ticklish? Come on,” the sneaky blonde sighed, and she leaned towards him and tickled him teasingly with both hands.

“No! Sto-stohop! Hey!” Eddie laughed.

“What is going on.” A certain monster in his head sounded confused, but Eddie was now busy prying his ex’s fingers off his body, and he wheezed when she finally backed off.

“Feed yourself, Eddie. See you soon.” Eddie nodded, muttered a “you too”, and quickly stepped out of the car, still a little bit flustered. Not because of Anne tickling him, heck, that was just good old times. Just because it happened now that Venom was here, and eh, well yeah.

“What was that? You were acting strange.” There it was already, and Eddie sighed and rolled his eyes as he entered his apartment. 

“Ticklish, T-I-C-K-L-I-S-H, ticklish, a human can feel funny if touched in a certain way. There. Done. Got it?” 

He would’ve rather skipped the explanation, but there was some other time when Venom was curious about something (something sexual about the human body) and he had bugged Eddie in the worst ways a symbiote can bug a person to finally spill the beans, which he was holding back oh so badly. 

Eddie still got shivers from the memory of doing the sex-talk to the monster inside him. For Venom forcing him to demonstrate and- never mind. He had never experienced something so awkward. At least since that time, anything sexual was completely normal in his life again- since Venom showed up. 

But tickling... He hoped he’d never have to get used to that. 

“Ticklish,” Venom repeated, sounding weird and maybe a tiiiny bit cute in that monstrous voice. 

“Not painful?” he added.

“No, not painful. Just weird. Funny. Yeah funny, it’s like a funny feeling that forces a human to, well yeah, laugh. Don’t you ever feel funny, V?” Eddie asked.

“I felt funny.” Eddie frowned, leaning against his fridge from which he just took a beer and some snacks.

“When?” he asked.

“Just now.” Eddie kept his frown.

“You mean.. When Anne tickled me? You were affected?” he asked. Venom then decided to come out, and Eddie watched him tower over him before he finally lowered himself at eye height.

“Rather than funny... It felt nice. I want to feel it again.” Eddie smirked and shook his head at him, and he put his beer and snacks aside.

“What, you want me to tickle you?” Eddie wiggled his finger at Venom and raised his eyebrows when said monster did not back down. Apparently the feeling was nice enough for Venom to act like a dog awaiting petting. 

“Go ahead. But I don’t think it works that way.”

Eddie was confused, but he still did it. As weird as it felt, he scratched Venom’s skin experimentally. Venom watched him with those bright eyes, flashing his sharp teeth in some sort of smug smile but not because of the tickling.

“Feeling anything yet?” Eddie asked. Venom shook his head. Too bad. 

“No. See, I told you it wouldn’t work. I think I feel nice when you feel... ticklish.” Eddie laughed at that and shook his head.

“Ohoho well in that case, too bad for you V. Not happening.” He turned back to grab his beer, but Venom circled around him, blocking his way. A certain fanged grin told him this is happening, and Eddie could barely try to escape before Venom snaked an inky tentacle around his middle, keeping him in place.

“Now let’s see. How did this ticklish thing workー”

“Tickling. And let go, V, this isn’tー ahah- hey! Nooo!” Eddie cried as Venom began to drag his claws down his sides, careful enough not to hurt him. Eddie tensed up and squeezed his eyes shut. He heard Venom’s low chuckling, sending chills down his spine.

“You look funny.” 

“Feel funny too, listen, if you don’t let me go now, I won’t buy you any chocolate andー EHEeeh w-wait! No!” Eddie squirmed and began to panic as Venom slowly began to discover how tickling exactly worked, and he cursed himself, Anne, Venom and the entire world for this embarrassing situation.

“Making threats huh. Is this all... that bad?” Venom’s clawy fingers began to wiggle. Prodding into Eddie’s shirt-covered torso, curiously seeking reactions, and Eddie twitched and squirmed in his grip.

“GAHa! Nonono V, I’m warning y-haha!” Venom grinned in satisfaction.

“There it is, the tingly feeling. This feels nice.” Eddie kept his eyes squeezed shut again and he kicked and struggled against the invading tickles. His arms continued to flail and swing in order to defend himself, but did nothing but make Venom more teasy and playful.

This was out of this world. Venom was feeling good from him being tickled. This was just all sorts of wrong, and he felt how his struggling and kicking tired him out as more laughter kept flowing out of him.

“You are moving so much. Let me help you.” Eddie’s eyes shot open and widened when a second tentacle joined the game, wrapping around his wrists and stretching him out for the tickle-hungry monster right in front of him.

“NO! D-dohohon’t you dare- ahhaha! Not helping!” There was no weirder display than this twisted situation in his kitchen. Venom was going all out, finding more and more ways to make him howl with laughter, to make it feel as if his body was bursting from all these sensations.

Venom’s claws pushed up his shirt and drove Eddie mad by how they traced lightly over his bare skin.

“NHAHA- Venohohom! Please no, aaahaha!” Venom made a hilarious purring sound, but did not stop the tickling.

“Sorry Eddie. I am intrigued. By this feeling. And by your.. singing and dancing.” Eddie shook his head, tears dripping on his cheeks, and he tried to gather his breath.

“NAhahat-dancii- aahaha wait no not thehehere! Veehehe!” He started to thrash around especially when Venom got to his armpits, and he felt him scribble the skin light enough not to leave scratches, but bad enough to tickle the living daylights out of him.

He was shaking his head so frantically that the tickle monster with him in its clutches suddenly slithered out his tongue, wrapping it around his neck tightly enough to keep his head in place. The tip of his tongue flicked against his neck, adding more ticklish sensations to the overwhelming experience.

“You’re kihihiilling meeehehe! Stahahap!” Venom cocked his head but didn’t stop.

“We are both feeling good though.” That damn monster should learn to speak for himself. Eddie kicked his legs, but Venom’s tentacle holding onto his middle slid down to hold onto his legs, so now he was really stretched before him like some piece of meat ready to be eaten.

“Nohohot meee! S-stop thihis instaaaant!” Eddie’s shame for his laughter was long gone by now. All he could worry about was the next level of shame: if Venom would tickle him to the point of wetting his pants, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself and this damn monster.

“I’ll f-fuhuhuckin pee!” Venom glanced down at his crotch and back up.

“That can happen?” Eddie hated him for sounding like a child who was excited to find out if he really could. 

“I s-swear, you don’t wanna find out,” Eddie wheezed. Venom had stopped the tickling by now, so this was his chance to negotiate. 

“Are you okay?” Eddie sighed. He couldn’t believe this beast.

“No! I told you to stop many times! I am not okay. Let go of me,” he demanded. Venom stared at him for a long time and then finally released him. Eddie slumped onto the floor and he felt Venom re-enter him. It was over. 

“You were feeling funny. And I was feeling good. I don’t see a problem.” Eddie rolled his eyes and laughed in disbelief.

“Feeling funny must’ve been my worst description of tickling. It’s like torture.”

“But you were laughing. You seemed happy, even though you were begging like a baby.”  

“Yes, I was laughing. It’s a reflex. But just because it makes you feel good, you can’t just go and restrain me and...” 

“Tickle you.” At least he had learned how to use the verb.

“Yes. You can’t do that, it’ll kill me. I am too ticklish. I am making this a new rule. No tickling,” he said. Venom was quiet for a moment.

“But it feels even better than when we jerk oー”

“Venom. You can’t tickle me anymore. It’s bad for me, my body, my dignity.” 

“Which dignity?” That little...

“If you won’t let me tickle you at all, I’m afraid we might go on a nightly tour tonight. Those horses last time were delicious.” Eddie closed his eyes dramatically. This negotiation was going the wrong way. 

He had made his point clear to Venom how he hated waking up in his bed, bare feet cold, bruised and dirty, and his shirt and bed sheets soaked with blood. Blood that seemingly came from poor defenseless horses that Venom had decided to snack on that night while he was in a deep sleep.

“...Once a week. And no longer than you did just now,” Eddie finally said, knowing that Venom had even worse things to blackmail him with, so he’d better get this over with soon.

“I was thinking once a day. Eating is also a daily necessity.”

“V, you tickle me for your own pleasure. That’s entirely different. Fine then, two days a week. And only in my apartment, don’t you dare pull that trick outside.”

“Five days? You do think of your own pleasure every night, Eddie. Why are youー”

“Three days, that’s my final offer,” Eddie interrupted Venom impatiently. 

“Deal.” Eddie couldn’t believe it. And so it was a fact that they made a deal that Venom would get the right to tickle him every other day, inside his apartment, and Eddie had pushed onto using ‘parasyte’ as his safeword, and Venom had added the condition that Eddie “shouldn’t be a pussy and exaggerate,” for he survived the tickling just now as well, and his body seemed juuust fine.

And so, as life with Venom grew a little easier every day, it also got harder every day, and Eddie had no idea how he was going to deal with getting tickled to death everytime for Venom’s own pleasure, but oh well, there were worse things. Just like he had to learn to live with a symbiote inside him, he’d also have to learn to live with this. How funny. 

[an-ambivalent]

Yandere! Jujutsu Kaisen Headcanons

Warnings: As this is yandere fiction, this deals with behaviours  that can be uncomfortable and triggering to read. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fictional, I do not condone this behaviour irl. By clicking the 'read more/keep reading' you are consenting to read this at your discretion.

Characters:  Satoru, Suguru, Choso and Sukuna 

Yandere! Gojo 

Type: Clingy & overprotective 

Satoru is the ‘strongest’ and yet he’s lost so much. He’s never going to lose you too; that’s why, he keeps you nice and locked up secure in his extravagant residence that only he can access. You can’t leave the premises due to the tight security procedures Satoru has in place. But you wouldn’t need to since he made sure you have access to everything you would need or want within the premises. Well, almost everything.  It’s never easy to earn Satoru’s trust given how many people pray for his downfall. However, once you become his person, you will always be his person. This is particularly after the trauma he experienced, but very specific to you. When he’s with you, he wears no masks or facades. He can be completely true to himself. He can let his insecurities and fears about not being good enough bleed freely, and he can show his ugly desperation and cling onto you like a leech without any fears that someone will take you away from him. Anytime he’s not on a mission, he spends all of his time with you. You’re the only person keeping the last of his sanity intact. He loves you, he loves you the most. So, he is never going to let you go.

Yandere! Suguru 

Type: Possessive 

There’s a turning point in Suguru’s life where everything changed, including your relationship with him. You remember when being around him felt like pure bliss. He used to be so kind, considerate, and attentive to your needs. But after that one mission, that made Getou abandon everything, all became different. 

He had abruptly showed up at your abode with empty eyes, fully drenched, and his wet clothes and hair clinging onto him. He clutched onto you and dug his  fingers into you and frantically begged you to leave with him right then and there. You were only trying to calm him down, but he had mistaken this as reluctance, hesitation, and a change in your loyalty to him. How could you even think about abandoning him when he needed you the most?! You noticed the darkness in his expression too late. He had you imprisoned to your spot with a curse he summoned without your notice. The jeer on his face was terrifying, and the glare he looked down on caused unanticipated tremors in your muscles. 

“I don’t know why I bothered asking… You’re just like everyone else. But I can’t let you leave me. Not you. You’re mine. I’ll make sure it always stays that way.”

Yandere! Choso

Type: Stalker and protective 

Typically, Choso is lax and doesn’t care too much about what you’re up to, as long as it doesn’t break any of the rules he has set for you. Few of these rules being: you can’t go anywhere without his permission, you have to tell him everything and give regular updates if he cannot accompany you. Typically, he is always watching you from the shadows. Even without your regular updates, he knows what you’re up to because if he can’t follow you for some reason, then he makes one of his siblings keep tabs on you and report back to him. 

Choso really cherishes you. He does whatever he is capable of to take care of you. He believes that it is duty to look after you and protect you. He will ruthlessly hurt and kill anyone that hurts you, or believes will hurt you. 

Although Choso wouldn’t normally hurt you, there are instances where he might do something so that you depend on him. Choso enjoys being needed. He loves it even more when you rely on him for the most mundane things. It makes him feel like you cannot live without him just like how he cannot live with you. So, if there was ever a time where he feels that you’re becoming distant and trying to strive for independence, you might ‘accidentally’ have a fracture or two so he can support you and be there for you again. 

Yandere! Sukuna 

 Type: Sadistic & possessive 

Sukuna has a preference for pain. Causing pain is how he felt free and exhilarated, causing pain is how he felt powerful, and causing pain is how he expressed his love. You’re an innocent petite being… Well, you are in comparison to his demon form. No matter what your size is, from Sukuna’s perspective, everything and everyone is smaller and beneath him. 

He loves you the way a monster can love and cherish their most prized treasure or pet. You may not be his only lover, but you are his number one. You’re the closest to perfection he craves and your innocence, opposite to his corrupted self, is what draws him in. He wants to be the reason for your ruin, your corruption. He wants to be the devil who shows you how delightful temptation is, pull you in, and just when you’re on the edge, tear off your wings, and shackle you to him so that you can never leave him. So you only belong to him. 

[lustytears]

how draco malfoy would react to you teasing him |

would fucking flip.

i mean, this guy is not the type of person who takes jealousy to a low.

it all happened when you flirted with some gryffindor during your free period, twirling your hair and throwing flirtatious comments at the boy.

he came across you, practically face to face with the fellow student. he eyed you, warning signs visible.

you didn’t really listen, mainly because you knew that draco wasn’t the verbal possessive type, more like the private and confidential possessive type. he’d rather be 1 on 1 with you.

so, you spent more time with the gryffindor, grabbing his hand and play fighting in the hallways.

when they go low, i go lo-OW.

you know well that he’s gonna fuck everything up for you.

he’s gonna make sure you fucking pay.

less visits, less time spent with you,

and… well… let’s say, you won’t be walking for a while.

warnings: absolute filthy smut, MDNI (17+), dacryphilia, draco is an absolute menace (literally a dom), hate fuck, choking, deepthroat, unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap) p in v, degradation/name-calling

“That’s how you want to be toyed with, huh?” Draco had you down on the bed, legs apart, right on top of you, with his hands around your throat. You choked, gagging as you tried to respond back to him. His grasp lightened, but as soon as you tried to even speak, he applied more pressure to your throat.

“Girls like you don’t deserve the privilege of speaking, hm?” He used his free hand to pin your arms. You tried desperately, attempting to wriggle your way through his hold on your arms. “I’m gonna have to fuck you until the only thing you can say or think about is only my name, and my cock ravaging this tight cunt.”

He let go of you completely, before unbuckling his belt and dropping his dress pants and untying his tie and white shirt, throwing it to the floor as he laid down next to you on the bed, tapping his thigh to signal you to come near him. You obeyed, willingly. “What’re you planning?” You teased, licking your lips. He pulled his boxers down, a slight “tap” as it hit his abdomen. “Suck it.”

You leaned closer to him, your fingers grazing his cock. When you finally grabbed ahold of his cock, you lightly jerked it, carefully observing how beads of pre-cum leaked down onto his hand. A breathy moan leaked through Draco’s lips, causing him to lean his head back. You jerked his cock at a faster pace, watching his eyes switch from complete anger to euphoria. You met eyes with him, your hand still jerking his cock, twitching.

“Be a good girl and suck it like I told you, sweetheart,” he commanded. Your lips met the tip of his cock, causing him to shift. You licked and swirled around the mess of pre-cum, mixing it with the spit on your tongue. You played with his cock, sucking his tip and using your fingers to trace the veins that decorated the base of his cock. You moaned, going deeper down his shaft, his cock hitting your uvula.

“That’s not good enough for me, darling,” he grabbed your head, forcing his cock down your throat until your nose hit his pelvis. Your head bobbed up and down, up and down, making your eyes tear up and trail down your puffed cheeks as he instinctively bucked his hips up your throat. Gurgles and sounds emitted from your mouth, a smile on his face forming. “Such a slut,” he whispered.

“Gonna cum down this pretty little throat? Yeah?” He talked to you like you were a dog, praising your efforts as you obeyed, allowing him to face-fuck your throat like it was made for him.

“Gonna cum in your cunt next,” he said. He grabbed a chunk of your hair to force you down on his cock, thrusting as far as he could up your throat as he could, shooting thick white loads of salty cum down your throat. He exhaled, moaning as your fingers dug into his thighs, carving crescent-shaped marks into his skin.

When he finished violating your throat, he pulled your mouth off his dick. Shortly after, desperate inhales of oxygen made you hyperventilate, tears falling from your eyes as he grabbed your hair, forcing you to look at him in the eyes.

“Fuck,” you cried out. He grabbed you, pulling you forward onto his lap. His hands traveled to your pussy, using his long, slender fingers to pull your panties to aside. He felt how wet you were, gathering up your arousal and feeling it around his fingers.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“What?” You asked, dumbfounded.

In response, he lined up his cock to your entrance, letting you slowly sink down onto his length. The pain of the stretch made you nearly moan, but his tip lined up against the spongey part of your walls, twitching as you arched your back at the feeling, moaning at the sensation. You had sex with Draco before, but it was like his body knew yours better than you knew yourself.

He began thrusting his hips up inside of you. His movements were fast, rough, and even-paced. He held onto your hips, your arms around his neck as you leaned into him. Each thrust made you blank out, your mind only focused on the shape of his cock and his girth as it filled you whole. “Fucking slut,” he smacked your ass, making you yelp and slam onto his dick, hitting your cervix.

It felt like there was no stopping. He was determined to what he promised. He wanted you to only remember his cock and his name.

“Draco!” You moaned, screaming his name and digging your nails into his neck every time he thrusted harder into you.

“I’m gonna cum in this-“ you clenched around him, giving him pleasure. “This tight cunt…”

He thrusted inside of you one more time, releasing his cum inside of you as you clenched around him and climaxed yourself. He loosened his grip on your hips. The both of you panted, his laugh of relief echoed through the room.

“I’m sorry, Draco. I shouldn’t have been so disloyal to you.” His hand brushed your cheek, and he pulled you in for a quick kiss. “You did so well, darling,” he pulled you in for another kiss, praising you.”

The both of you laid down, and he gently pulled his cock out of you. The mix of your cum and his leaked down your thighs. He pampered you with kisses, affirmations came flooding from his mouth.

He got a wet rag and cleaned you up, allowing himself to put in all of the work just for you. He looked at your beautiful body, admiring it like a piece of art work. When he got done, he put the rag in the dirty laundry bin and laid down next to you, his arm wrapped around you.

“I might just have to do that again.”

“What?” He asked.

“What?” You playfully mocked him. “Maybe I should flirt with that Gryffindor boy again. Perhaps you can put me in my place again.”

His hold on you was tighter. He kissed your cheek with embrace.

“I could just do that regardless,” he chuckled.

[artdcnaldson]

Alllll I can think about is the changeover au SO I had a thought, art having bragged to Patrick about all the little things he had picked up that make your eyes roll to the back of your head and body tremble during your “relationship” and and and Patrick being a sly fucker and not telling you about it but doing them to you when you eventually do fuck and secretly thanking art in that moment for the tips !!!

this is part of my changeover au :) you can read that here

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Angst, SMUT (mild descriptions of p in v), post changeover pt.1

Summary: It’s been months since you called things off with Art, but Patrick still can’t stop thinking about the two of you together.

A/N: This was supposed to be sexy and fun, and I turned around and made it depressing 💔 my bad!

Patrick shouldn’t have been thinking about Art.

In fact, he’d been trying very, very hard to stop thinking about Art lately. Missing him felt like having a phantom limb, like a part of him was suddenly cleaved and his entire body expected it to still be there.

But that was different from the way he was thinking about him then. With you, laid out for him on the hotel sheets, your body gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat after a day watching tennis matches. You’d been a perfect little cheerleader, just like Art had told him that first time.

I mean, Jesus, you’d homemade the tightest little shirt that said ZWEIG across the tits. You wore it beneath a modest white cardigan, since it was a nice country club he was playing at, but still.

“You played so well today, Patrick,” you’d said sweetly after the match, holding his hand while you walked with him to the locker rooms.

“I played like shit,” he said with a huff. Frustration was welling up within him. He wanted to smash a racket, or pick a fight. “I should’ve beat that asshole.”

“There’ll be other matches,” you reassured, brushing a sweaty curl from his forehead. “Go shower, and when we get back to the hotel, I’ll make you feel better.”

And you were doing your very best to make that happen. It would probably be perfect… if only he could stop fucking thinking about Art.

It had been a problem each time he’d seen you since March. It was fine, until he got you in bed, then the fucking blond was all he could think about. Memories of Art talking about fucking you, all the times he’d gone on and on about just how good you could take it.

He supposed he deserved it. He’d gone on tangents about Tashi more than enough times, and it probably drove Art crazy, knowing what he couldn’t have. Maybe he wanted Patrick to feel the same way, so jealous he couldn’t stand it.

But now you were the one beneath him, moaning as he bottomed out within you, filling you up completely. Your hair was sticky, plastered to your face with that thin sheen of sweat.

She likes when you’re nice to her. She gets off on the compliments. It’s Art’s voice he hears in the back of his mind, almost a year ago now. Like a perfect recording.

“You feel so good,” Patrick murmured against your ear. He felt your cunt clench around him as your nails dug into his shoulders. “So good for me.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist— pulling him closer. And your pretty, wet lips panted out little gasps right by his ear. Thank you thank you thank you, over and over and over.

He moved his lips to a spot just beneath your ear, sucking and licking at the soft skin there until you moaned, growing louder as he laved your throat with bites and sloppy kisses. Art had given him that one too.

And he knew he was making you feel good— knew that without fail, you’d wind up as putty in his hands. But he wondered if you thought about Art too, if you missed the ways he would treat you reverently, with that gentle, sweet way he always got with girls. If you would go back to Art if you ever got the chance.

Patrick had long since decided not to bring up Art while he was fucking you, or when he was with you at all. Instead, he lingered like a ghost in the recesses of Patrick’s mind, and probably in yours.

“Close,” you gasped in his ear.

He pulled back, kissing you deeply. Licking into your mouth like he could somehow erase the memory of Art’s tongue there too. Because Art was the one who told him that you liked being kissed when you were right on the edge, that you got super clingy like that.

When you came, you always made the prettiest sounds— like you came straight out of a porno or a wet dream. Art hadn’t warned him about that. He didn’t last much longer before he finished too, panting and sweating on top of you.

You smiled and pet his hair, scratching your nails against his scalp as he kissed the soft skin on your shoulder. You used to do the same thing to Art, playing with his hair after you’d fucked. He knew that too, and it made his chest ache.

He wondered if he’d ever have anything with you that Art hadn’t had before.

He shouldn’t have cared that much. He would’ve been happy sharing Tashi with Art, back in that hotel, back at Stanford. It wasn’t that he didn’t like that Art had you before, it was that he missed Art now

Thank you for reading!! Sorry this is so depressing, I couldn’t make it sexy no matter how hard I tried. I had to lean into the angst and pining from Patrick over Art

If you have any Changeover au thoughts or requests, please feel free to send them my way :)🩵