#what they do with each other… not my business. i don’t mean to pry

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, Ch10 - Yan!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

❥ Word Count: ~7.8K

❥ Warnings: non-con, rimming (m. receiving btwn stsg), double piv penetration, lactation kink (w/ geto), mommy kink (w/ geto), fingering (f. receiving), cunnilingus, pussy slapping

❥ Summary: Double the trouble, or double the fun? Difficult to say when you're unfortunately roped into the affairs of two powerful shamans who can't leave each other alone, either.

Lately, activity has picked up quite a bit for Geto and his goons. He’s had to be absent for longer stretches of time, which gives you more time to plot. You do have the incantation and the instructions memorized by heart that Miguel has given you, and during times which he remains behind, he has coached you through a bit of the technique he’s embedded into your necklace, which is actually something called a cursed tool.

Much of this world is still unknown to you, even with the briefings Miguel has been kind enough to give you—hopefully without any of Geto’s curse spirits monitoring, but according to Miguel, most of the time they’ve had a green light on all of this.

“Initially, Geto instructed me to make it so that when you wear that necklace, it binds him to you,” he explains to you one day when Geto had been out of the city to take care of some urgent matters that you don’t care to know the details about. “It also grants you the ability to see curses, but I’d imagine he hasn’t released any around you since he hasn’t felt the need to…”

You interject, “No, actually. I… I tried to pull some things before and I saw some barely there blobs trying to prevent me from trying anything. So yeah, while my perception of curse spirits aren’t strong, I know that they’re around me all the time. Geto must keep some around to make sure I’m not up to anything that might hurt me. Before you ask, I don’t sense or feel any around me now but I figure you already picked up on that.”

Miguel doesn’t need you to elaborate, thankfully. He grunts in response, adjusting his scarf.

“Trust me, you’re not going to be stuck here for much longer. Not going to even lie to you, I’m pretty worried about Geto. Since the last family meeting, he’s been a bit���”

“A bit what?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you beckon him to specify.

“…out of character, I suppose. Have you noticed him moving differently at all?” Miguel crosses his arms over his broad chest and stares you down, waiting for a direct answer.

You think hard for a moment. Sure, he’s been a lot more hands off especially lately. He has lasted way longer than he had before. He keeps his promise of Satoru not touching you, and instead they remain focused on each other, and you’re allowed to mind your own business unless Geto requests for you to try something—gently, actually. Surprisingly gently. He doesn’t seem angry or disappointed when you refuse anything you’re not ready for, and he doesn’t even try to manipulate or charm you into it like he had in the beginning.

“…Actually yes, but I didn’t think too much of it. Just thought it was another way for him to try to get his way with me.”

Miguel draws out a sigh. “Well, there you go. Geto’s a principled guy. He doesn’t shift his gears at the drop of a hat, so either he’s thrown in the towel or something else is going on that even I can’t understand.”

What the literal fuck does that mean?

“That doesn’t…I’m sorry. I don’t think I get it. He’s still…you know. Himself.”

“You sure about that?” Miguel challenges, dark eyes boring into yours, almost like he’s piercing through your very soul. “Because had I not known any better, he gave himself up the minute he let you into his life. Of course I could be wrong.”

You chew on your lower lip, considering.

“What makes you so certain I shouldn’t take this, his motivations, at face value?”

“It’s like I told you, Miss …. He’s a principled guy. The minute he let you into his life is the minute he realized the inevitable.”

Oh whoop dee doo. More cryptic bullshit. Should you pry anymore?

“I see,” you reply, shifting in your spot. “Thank you, Miguel. For everything. I just hope that I can pull this off.”

“The chances of things working out for ya are slim, Miss …, but not zero.”

Geto seems a little distracted by something as he shuffles around the bedroom, preparing a change of clothes for the night. Perhaps it has something to do with what you overheard in a meeting you aren’t supposed to be around for and had it not been Miguel who caught you eavesdropping you likely would have been reprimanded or punished or something else right now.

But Geto doesn’t appear suspicious of you even now. You remain seated on the bed, completely bare. You feel comforted by the silk sheets against your skin as you clutch it tight toward your body. You slowly breathe out, trying to relax your nerves as much as you can around him.

You jump in your spot as he stands at the foot of the bed before kneeling to you. He’s disrobed, tied his long, luscious locks into that tight bun. He looks shockingly unthreatening, but you know better.

“I fear things may become a bit…messier in these next two or so years,” he sighs, and even you can see something must be weighing on his shoulders—what is his plan with the Night Parade? Does it matter? "I’m not sure how much longer there’s going to be.”

He joins you on the bed, and you shift in your spot, supporting your back against the headboard as you cast him a curious look. He leans into you, resting his head into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply, willing himself to relax. You grunt a bit from the added weight. He may appear skinny but he does maintain quite a bit of muscle and it’s evident in when he carries you.

“I need you,” Geto murmurs into your skin. His arms cage around the dip of your waist and you squeeze your eyes shut, biting back a sigh. God, you’re so fucking tired of this bullshit. No one’s meant to live like this, and he expects you to smile and fucking bear it.

You know, you’ve just gotten used to the idea that Geto isn’t initiating much intimacy anymore. All in an effort for you to warm up to the idea of a future with him and with the twins. But it’s not working for you, and he realizes that maybe his efforts are in vain and it all means he can still take advantage of you. While you have accumulated quite a number of small wins, you know they aren’t going to last forever. They’re fleeting, at best.

“What is it that you need, darling? Use your words.” Gods every time this feels so gross yet you don’t really have a say in that, don’t you? Even if Geto has given you a little more room for some illusion of agency you know not to let it get to your head. You snap off your bra and push out your breasts, presenting one of your stiff nipples to him.

“I need you,” he repeats, practically panting at the sight, running his tongue over his lips a few times.

Geto’s mouth hangs open a bit, his cheeks flushed, he’s been craving this for some time and you can tell. He’s kept his hands off for far longer than before, and maybe with the recent developments that you only inadvertently hear about (and by extension don’t confront Geto over because you learned your lesson the last time), you don’t protest and are a bit more receptive to what he wants. Relationships are give and take… even if he does basically all of the ‘taking’ in this particular brand of it.

His lips latch onto your bud, and you already feel the milk rushing out of your tit and spilling into his waiting tongue. He groans in delight as your sweet milk tickles his taste buds in the best way and one of his hands moves to fondle your unoccupied tit, his finger flicking the other bud to stiffness and pinching it playfully, making you inhale sharply. He laughs at your reaction; the dietary plan he’s put you on isn’t all that restrictive but he has mentioned the particular ingredients like fennel seeds, for instance, aids in producing more milk. The meds further stimulate the production and you’re more than certain some of the formula for all of this may have been imbued with that ‘cursed energy’ you hear and Gojo babble on to with each other on more than one occasion.

The glorbs every time he sucks up your milk like a suction are so audible and fucking disgusting each time. But he wants to be taken care of, that’s fine. You can do that. More like you have to do that. Your fingers scratch at his scalp, and he purrs, seeming to like that. He nips at your nipple in response and you whimper from the sharp contact. His tongue laves around the sensitive skin, and you moan low, not realizing how flushed and debauched you are yourself.

“Sugu…ru…” your voice is a bit strained but he hums in response, playfully flicking the tip of his tongue against the bud he just finished feeding off of before his mouth latched onto the other nipple. He takes both his hands and squeezes the large mounds of squishy flesh and you wriggle beneath the weight of his body. He growls like it’s a warning, sucking harder on your nipple like he needs it to survive and it might not be too far off the mark considering the recent developments. You feel something wet pooling in your groin and you know the sheets must be lightly damp by now and you aren’t ashamed of it anymore, more like on the path to true acceptance. Because it’s not going to be much longer. You’re so certain of it; soon you’re going to be free of this humiliation, and Geto can die alone and pathetic like he’s been destined to.

Your fingers dig tightly into the sheets when Geto sucks a bit harder, his wet muscle flicking off the droplets of milk that have gone astray. His lips trail between your plump mounds, feathery light but worshipping every bit of skin they touch. He stops, nips at your soft skin before lapping his tongue against the sore spot, leaving a few more marks behind. He trails down your stomach, peppering soft kisses there.

“Mamma,” his voice rumbles like a lion’s roar. “You’re so perfect for me.”

“I’m happy I make you happy, darling,” you manage to say, clamping your hand over your mouth to conceal an embarrassed shriek when you feel his tongue twist between your folds. Your body shivers and you feel a little dazed. At this point Geto knows how to make you feel good, knows how to make this not all that awful and you hate that so much. You hate that someone you loathe with everything you have has this kind of power over you.

“You make me feel the most alive I’ve ever felt,” he mumbles as his tongue laves around your sensitive core, the tip flicking against your stiff clit. “I want you to marry me.”

You don’t want to. You don’t, yet you know that even if you do, you still have a shot at getting the fuck out of there. Should you just… give in for now? Let him have another win?

Is it going to make a difference in the end? Even you admit you have your doubts. When Miguel explains the technique he’s used on your insignia, he says that there is still a chance for it to fail. In fact that there’s a higher chance for it to fail than succeed which is why you need to use it wisely. Maybe on another occasion when Geto fucks off with Gojo for a while.

A chance for it to fail doesn’t mean your success rate is completely 0. Just remember that.

“But Suguru…” you start to protest, but he cuts you off by shushing you harshly.

“Marry me and make this blasted world worth living in again,” he interjects while sucking on your folds, and your legs tremble, instinctively tightening around his shoulders. His hands rest against your fleshy thighs, massaging you gently. The wet noises from your pussy seem to echo in the bedroom, and your cheeks dust pink from more embarrassment. Even if you don’t have any potential witnesses this is so humiliating.

“But… Suguru, I…m not… ready…” you babble, you try to play up your role, but a response is a harsh slap on your pussy, making you weep a little. “Please, I just…”

Geto hushes you while twirling his tongue around your stiff clit, before closing his lips around it and sucking hard. Your heart is pounding so hard you feel like it’s going to burst out of your chest. Your body is clammy and sweaty and more heat pools in your groin and stomach.

“You,” he grunts, dragging his tongue down your spongy skin. “Are the only reason for me to tolerate a life like this. So marry me, Mamma.”

No.

He spits onto your pussy and dips his tongue into your hole, his eyes rolling upward to enjoy your debauched state.

“It’s not a request,” he growls low between lapping his tongue up and down your pussy. You feel like you’re floating in air; you hate that he knows how to make your body feel all kinds of euphoria when in reality you feel anything but around him. Your breathing is already labored and ragged, and that self-assured smirk on his face makes your face go red from both fury and arousal.

“Suguru…!” you shout, tightening your legs around his neck.

You see stars behind your eyes when you come, the sensation practically dizzying and you’re glad you’re grounded by the bed. Geto reacts with a string of dark chuckles, so condescending, so maddening. Your eyes peer up to meet his, piercing, twinkling from triumph.

He grins down at you, his hands still ok the fleshy parts of your thighs as he presses affectionate kisses between them. Your brain might short circuit and definitely not for the reasons Geto hopes.

He drags you down until you’re at his level, his body tenting over yours like a shield from the world. Like he wants to protect you from the horrors of it, but doesn’t he understand that all the horrors you have faced at all are all because of him?

He hasn’t even broken a sweat himself, leaning in to press his forehead against yours, syncing his breathing with yours. You try to appreciate the stillness of the moment before he decides you don’t deserve any time to breathe, but he seems pushy about the marriage bit.

His hands on your thighs adjust them so they hook around his hips. You whimper. You know what comes next.

“Marry me,” he murmurs again as his lips ghost over yours. “Please.”

No.

“Okay,” you reply weakly, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips finally meet yours, ravishing them. You don’t really kiss back but your mind drifts off to when you desired being kissed passionately like this, with someone you genuinely love and who genuinely loves you. Maybe Geto believes he’s in love with you, but it can’t be true.

“I love you,” he drawls against your lips, pulling away for a moment to slip on a condom.

Maybe he believes that he loves you. It’s fine if he does but you know you never will. His lips find the crook of your neck as his cock breaches your hole, and your throat tightens as you fight back another whine.

“No,” he commands with a yell, nipping against yours jaw. “Let me hear you, Mamma.”

“Suguru…” you reply in a weaker tone, and he growls in disapproval, sharply bucking his hips. His whole body is coated in sweat and some of his hair clings to his forehead and around his cheeks. Even in this state, he looks something akin to a powerful deity.

“Suguru!” you cry, arching your back into the mattress.

“Better,” he purrs into your skin, before licking along your neck and throat. “I want to hear more of your lovely sounds. We must commemorate today. You’re mine for the rest of our lives.”

No. You aren’t. You never will be.

“Suguru, please, I—!” You’re cut off with a kiss; he refuses to hear another word out of you now (unless it’s a preferred response). His tongue twirls around yours as each languid, smooth roll of his hips slides his length just a bit deeper inside. You feel the tip of his cock brush against it and you whine into his lips, hands sliding down his sides which makes him the one shuddering all over now.

It’s over before you know it; your walls clenching around his length and he keeps pumping inside you without stopping for a breath. His lips remain locked on yours; your fingers sink into his muscled skin and you swear your body might give out but he refuses to let up the erratic pace.

He pulls away just slightly, purring into your mouth.

“You are perfect for me, Mamma.”

You wish you could agree. But you do admit, from your focal point, the way his hair falls over his face and perfectly frames his sharp features makes him look like something from the Heavens. The way his eyes soften looking down at you, and not even with a hint of condescension, it’s… different. Whatever must run through his mind, it can’t be good, and it can’t add up for you. If he’s convinced that he’s in love with you, then you can’t change that. But you can work with it.

He doesn’t pull out for a while, just taking the time to feel you around him. To feel himself inside you. He sighs in content, resting his head between your breasts drenched in his spit, your sweat, and splotched of milk that he gladly licks up without so much as a second thought before lifting himself back up to flash a little smirk at you.

But even his smirk seems off. It doesn’t carry the same energy of someone who knows they have taken you away from everything for their personal amusement.

And you find yourself wondering what Miguel might mean by Geto officially surrendering to his fate.

Your hand reaches up to cup his face, brushing some of his fringes behind his ear. He is a breathtaking man. A devil with the face of an angel—isn’t that why demons make themselves appear angelic? To lure victims into a sense of security?

He leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand. His forehead scrunches a bit as he relishes in how your walls still feel like they’re pulsating around his cock, a few aftershocks from your orgasm.

“I need more,” he says, peppering little kisses around your face down to your collarbone.

“Suguru,” you reply, your hand dragging down to the crook of his neck. “Let’s rest for a bit. You seem tired, darling. Something’s troubling you.”

“You don’t have to worry about it,” he replies between more heated kisses. “It’s politics. Between our worlds. It doesn’t concern you.”

“You keep saying things like that, darling, but don’t you just…”

“Just what?” he beckons.

“Don’t you need someone to actually…talk to?” You can’t believe what you’re doing here; didn’t you just say you learned your lesson the last time you tried to meddle into business that had nothing to do with you?

His eyebrows furrow at that. Obviously you’re in no position to ask such things of him. But it’s more of a push in the right direction, a suggestion. Nothing more. He doesn’t have to agree with you.

“Won’t change anything,” he says after a period of reflection. “I appreciate that you’re trying, my love. But your role is with the twins and I, separate from all of that. You’re with your family here.”

You will NEVER be family.

Delightfully oblivious as ever to your own wars clashing in your mind, Geto kisses your lips again. Slow. Gentle. Passionate. Like he really believes he loves you.

The kiss grows more heated again, and sometime during he’s finally pulled out, he didn’t even come, his cock still painfully hard and standing erect wrapped in that condom. This is the first time he hasn’t chased after his own pleasure once he took care of you. This time he seems fully devoted to pleasing you, making you satisfied.

He bites, nibbles your lips and moans like an actor in a lewd video into your lips that have become cracked and red and swollen from his treatment.

“Suguru…?” you manage to utter between each kiss, each one more desperate than the last.

Geto moans your name, low and needy.

“I love you,” he confesses again, “I love you.”

You find yourself unable to say it back, but you don’t get a chance to say a word anyway; his lips meet yours again. You find yourself trying to return it, at least be a little responsive or reactive, try to keep him unsuspecting for a while longer. Even if you know he carries all of his monsters or apparitions with him whenever he’s gone for longer stretches of time, you can’t help but fear the slightest chance that he has someone—or something—keeping an eye on you even if Miguel or Suda insist that they would have known all along.

You can’t afford anymore fuck-ups. You can’t fuck up your chances again.

Finding time to spare for Satoru has become increasingly more difficult. With Yaga practically on Satoru’s ass 24/7, he can’t exactly make quick pit stops to the temple anymore. They have had to find compromise somewhere, so Geto has been back to visiting his penthouse.

Even if logically nothing can be done should Gojo not follow direct orders from the higher-ups, he still can’t afford more penalties, and Geto can’t afford to raise any more suspicion from the long stretches of time he’s been hiding away from his own duties. Just for a few moments with the love of his life.

“Are you sure about this?” Gojo asks, intertwining his fingers with Geto’s as they lounge in his king sized mattress. Sure, Geto may have excused these longer absences of his own as part of his duty but it’s in reality to stay a while longer with Gojo. Gojo’s the one feeling like a burden now, but Geto won’t have it much like Gojo won’t have it every time Geto talks down on himself and how much he means to Gojo. Can’t go around being a hypocrite, right? “It’s a big step, you know! I’ve always expected you’re going to marry someone as sexy and perfect as her. I mean, I was hoping it’d be me but I understand we can’t necessarily given the situation here.”

Geto rolls his eyes a little in jest at that last comment. Of course, in Geto’s world, they’re already married, practically inseparable, but Gojo has his world, and Geto has his. And they have to act as if they don’t interlock their bodies like rabid, mating animals between everything that’s going on.

“Yes,” Geto answers, kissing into his shoulder. Gojo sighs dreamily at the contact, snuggling closer to his lover. “I’m marrying her.”

“That’s great,” Gojo replies, but there’s an underlying hint of longing in his tone. “But how does she feel?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Geto quips as he trails more kisses along Gojo’s exposed, sweaty skin, humming at the salty tang hitting his tongue. “Isn’t this what you wanted for me, Gojo? Her being here gives me more of a reason to tolerate a life like this.”

Gojo can’t help but scoff at that sentiment, eyes flickering with something akin to envy.

“So what, I’m not enough?” he mutters like a stubborn child. Geto rolls his eyes again.

“Baby, look at me—“ Gojo does, “—Of course you are,” Geto counters, pecking his lips for good measure. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” Gojo replies with a longing sigh. He accepts another kiss, unable to hide the smile playing on his lips in spite of how much he feels like he’s going to miss out. “I’m sorry.”

Geto hums in response before capturing his lips again in another fervent kiss, a hand snaking down his chest to draw lazy patterns across one of his pecs. Gojo sighs again in that dreamy way, completely putty in Geto’s hands and he’s unashamed of it whatsoever. Geto is the love of his life, his one and only, and Geto feels the same except now there’s someone else thrown in the mix that they can both have fun with too.

“You’re always my forever, Satoru,” Geto swears in a whisper, his tone tender—a side to him only Gojo gets to witness. “We just have other matters to sort through now.”

Geto playfully pinches one of Gojo’s nipples and that draws a gasp from his lips, and Geto laughs heartedly, dragging his tongue along the defined lines of his muscles. Gojo brushes his long, slender fingers through Geto’s endless locks of soft hair, and Geto purrs in approval.

“I do really miss Princess, you know…” Gojo points out with that grin widening and brightening his previously sullen and worn features.

“Then come by sometime before the ceremony,” Geto suggests, “We must commemorate the occasion, don’t you think?” Geto insists with a knowing expression as he rests his chin on Gojo’s strong chest.

“Of course,” Gojo answers, that grin still plastered on his face like it’s been sewn on there. A little glint in his azure eyes suggests something a bit… worse, like there’s something else he’s plotting.

While Geto’s still off visiting Satoru, you’re still left with little time to plot your escape plan when you have to attend to the twins the majority of his absence. Both Miguel and Suda have found ways to pull you aside to give you a pointer or two but they know they don’t want to make things more suspicious to the twins but they seem so lost in their own universes you doubt it’s going to be much of an issue.

But a part of you also knows not to underestimate anything. A part of you still tries to amplify your perception of curse spirits but you don’t detect any around you at this point in time. No matter what you’re doing, whether you’re accompanying the girls during their video game sessions or when they want to opt for something else. Or when they want to go out and about—not without one of Geto’s loyal goons keeping a close eye on you while you take the twins out of the temple. You do try to see if you can pick up any during any outings with them but you have failed each time. The most you can make out are outlines of spirits, but Nanako and Mimiko has exorcised them before you can react.

That’s where you learn a bit more about what they can do. Mimiko can manipulate with that doll she carries around with her everywhere. Meanwhile, you understand why Nanako is attached to a camera—she can manipulate curse spirits through photos. You don’t understand what any of this means, but it’s interesting to watch. Even if you don’t understand the full extent of what happens in front of you just yet.

Miguel has mentioned during one of his limited coaching sessions that the first step to being a sorcerer at all is being able to perceive curses. Yet you have failed spectacularly at that part. It’s true that kids and animals are the most sensitive to their presence, and you might have recalled sensing spirits like the Hat Man or the Smiling Man from popular lore.

“All curses are human-born,” he remember him explaining to you one day. “They develop through the negative emotions of humans. That’s why we often hear that most of our struggles are self-made. It’s true, isn’t it, given what we h ave to deal with, huh? Being a sorcerer is a thankless job and often seen as a bunch of hooey to those monkeys. Let’s just say it’s worse in the more rural areas, where people like me and the twins came from.”

“I can only imagine,” you find yourself mumbling in response. “This must take a lot of self-control to master.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” he concedes with a nod. “But manipulating and controlling your cursed energy—something everyone has, sorcerer or not—takes mostly a deeply innate ability. Some people are just gifted at that stuff. Like Geto or that Satoru Gojo punk. They’re the best a small world like ours has to offer.”

“So I’ve been told,” you mutter to yourself.

Miguel rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder, flashing you a smirk. “Listen, Miss …. Just remember you do have backup in case things go awry. I can’t guarantee we won’t get caught, but don’t worry about us when that happens. You need to get out of here. You don’t belong here.”

You can’t help smiling.

“I’m so glad you’re deciding to help me get the hell out of here,” you breathe, “I just can’t help but wonder why.”

Miguel gives you a non-committal hum.

“You just seem like someone worth sticking out for,” he replies, “But honestly, I don’t really have a good reason behind it. Seeing someone like you, someone who was probably minding your own damn business before all of this, going through what you are… just doesn’t sit right with me. I’m not claiming to be good, like I told you before.”

“Thank you,” you tell him again. He returns your smile.

“No need, Miss ….”

“Princess!” Gojo exclaims with glee riddled all over his expression as he climbs down the stairs to greet you. “Congratulations on your engagement. It was going to happen sooner or later.”

He strides up to you, cups your face and greets you with a long smack of his lips against yours before approaching Geto and doing the same. Geto secures a possessive hold around Gojo’s hips so he doesn’t pull entirely away from him and it doesn’t seem like Gojo’s protesting, anyway. When Geto twists his neck to face you, your face falls upon realization. You know that look.

That can’t be good news for you, but when do you ever have good options between them?

“My love, can you make this final exception for the sake of celebration? Satoru does want to wish us well, you know,” Geto scoots you closer into him, his lips against your ear. “After that, he doesn’t have to touch you again, but you can do whatever you like.”

“But Suguru,” you begin, before eyeballing Satoru who’s waiting beside you with eagerness evident in those sharp oceanic eyes, deeply unsettling the longer you stare at them. Something about Satoru aside from the obvious seems… off-putting. You can’t place what it is, but you know you have heard many of Geto’s goons refer to him as some kind of God in the world of jujutsu sorcery. But he’s far from a merciful God, or even a good one.

But you do remember what Miguel says about that—that they’re sorcerers, not saints. They don’t claim to be good or right in whatever they do, and this holds true for both Geto and Gojo.

Gojo bounces his leg out of impatience, meeting your gaze full of hope and passion. He has missed having the agency to touch you, to do as he pleases…

“Please, my love,” Suguru pleads with a little growl, his hand reaching out to you and brushing his finger along the chain around your neck, jingling a bit as it moves. “Just this once. I won’t request this again another time.”

You don’t believe that in the slightest, yet you know you might not be here for much longer than you have to be. You cling onto that hope that whatever you plot with Miguel and Suda that it will work even if those chances are slim.

He promised it’s not zero, you remind yourself, that’s enough for me.

“Okay,” you concede with a weak tone, unable to wholly say no this time. If Geto swears this will be the only time before the marriage ceremony.

Tweedledum’s eyes twinkle from sheer happiness, and Geto loosens his grip on him so he has full autonomy to pounce on you and pin you to the large couch like an untamed animal. Geto laughs in dark amusement as Gojo smothers your face and neck in slobbery, sloppy kisses before he locks his body around yours; your chests pressing so tightly together you fear you might suffocate from the proximity.

“Fuck, gorgeous, I missed you, missed you so much,” Gojo babbles between playful and messy little swirls of his tongue against your jaw. You can’t even struggle or squirm; the added weight too much, keeping you secured in place and a gasp leaves your lips as he digs one of his knees into your crotch, forcing your legs apart. He digs into your crotch and grinds against your sensitive core, which you already feel some slick building and dampening your panties and his pants.

“Looks like she missed you, Satoru,” you hear Geto purr from somewhere above you but you can’t even adjust in your place. You hear Gojo groan as Geto yanks his pants and boxers down, leaning into to smack his lips against his ass and perineum.

Gojo lets out a shuddering gasp, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he whimpers and wriggles closer to the sensation.

“God you’re so fucking mean,” Gojo bites out, pathetically nibbling at your ear to try to ground himself and you hate that you’re immobile practically.

“Please… can’t breathe,” you gasp out and Gojo’s lips quirk upward as he adjusts himself ever so slightly, but still rubbing his knee into your damp crotch.

“Sorry about that, Princess. Better?” he purrs into your ear before nibbling on the lobe. You whimper in response. A slight improvement sure but you’re still immobile, just how they like it.

Gojo’s eyes dilate as Geto slathers his tongue around the rim of his tight hole, and he moans low into your skin.

“Fuck, fuck, baby, stop…” he begs through a lewd moan. “Being so fucking mean…”

Geto’s hand comes down hard on his ass.

“Do you mean that, Satoru?” he teases, the tip of his tongue catching into his hole and making Gojo squirm under the slightest touch or sensation

“N-no,” he groans, inching his ass closer and sticking it more upward like the obedient dog Geto’s trained him to be. You keep your eyes shut, unable to witness this like you have countless times before. Gojo seeks reprieve from the torment by tormenting you; his knee still grinding into your crotch and making you whimper and whine and weep. His lips leaving behind little marks that tingle in their wake.

“Sssatoru…” you slur, your eyes rolling back into your skull as your orgasm sends shockwaves through your body. He grunts in approval, plunging his slobbery lips onto yours and rolling his tongue against your shier one. He grabs one of your hands and guides it to his cock, veiny and swollen and leaking. You wrap your hand around his size and brush your thumb against his slit and he sucks in a shaky breath, approving and needy. He’s getting worked on both ends and he adjusts his position for you to have some wiggle room and you can focus on getting him off while Geto is still busy eating him out. His expert tongue laves between his perineum and his asshole and somehow Gojo can still maintain some semblance of composure.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” he strains his voice through the soft moans as he fucks his cock into your soft palm. “I got you. You have nothing to worry—fuck—about.”

He peels your panties aside and dips his finger between your damp, slick folds and you utter a little whimper.

“Please, I can’t,” you plea, but Gojo only tuts at you as he draws lazy circles around your stiff little bundle of nerves.

“Yes you can,” he snarls, grunting as his own orgasm rushes through his body but somehow he can remain composed while he’s tending to you. Geto shuffles around in the back, before repositioning Gojo and you by extension. Gojo sits up and rests you on one of his legs as he continues to play with your soaked pussy.

Your hand doesn’t dare to leave his cock, knowing you could be punished if you did, even if Geto swears not to bring harm to you, it doesn’t mean he can’t find other ways to get his point across. Geto watches from beside the two of you as you fondle each other. Your body is coiling from the intense heat, and you find yourself bucking into Gojo’s skillful, eager fingers.

“That’s it,” Gojo praises, kissing your cheek. “I’m not so bad, right Princess?”

When you don’t answer, you hear Geto click his tongue in disapproval. Dread fills your chest at that.

“He asked you a question, love.”

“You m-make me f-feel good, Satoru,” you stammer and Gojo coos at you as he slips another finger inside you.

“Goooood. That’s all I want, Princess. I just want to make you feel good, be a part of your life. S’not fair that I don’t get my share these days but bearing the responsibility of being the strongest means I can’t be here as much as I’d like to be. Can you forgive me for that, Princess?”

He twists his fingers inside you and brushes against your spot, making you thrash in his hold. Your grasp on his shaft tightens and he sighs in delight.

“I f-forgive you b-but w-we miss you. S-satoru…!” Your free hand clutches at his wrist as you feel another wave of an orgasm coming on and you can’t take it; you splatter all over his hand and some of your arousal splashes onto the ground.

“Gorgeous,” Gojo murmurs, his tone reverent, “So fucking gorgeous on my fingers. Now you can take my cock. It’s missed your perfect little pussy.”

Geto chuckles as he tears open the condom and helps Gojo slip it onto his strained, throbbing cock. He presses a soft kiss to the tip before Gojo hoists you up like you weigh a bucket of feathers and sinks you onto his cock until just the head enters your tight, soppy heat. Your juices make it easy to slide you all the way down to the base of his cock, and Geto growls as he watches the scene unfold intently; his hand resting on his lap as his own cock strains against his slacks.

“Fuck, so fucking tight. Guess even Gsto’s cock doesn’t stretch you out for long, huh? Fucking perfect for me,” Gojo babbles as he bounces you on his cock like you’re his cheap whore and it feels so fucking humiliating yet you’re moaning because you can’t deny how good it feels. Gojo’s size doesn’t make you as uncomfortable as Geto’s does; he’s much easier to take.

“Hear that, Suguru? Man, she fucking loves me!” Gojo cackles as he bucks his hips in time with moving you up and down.

“Of course she does,” Geto replies as he pets Gojo’s hair, kissing his temple. Geto rests his free hand on your clit and rubs hard on it, making you shriek from the overstimulation. The sounds of Gojo’s cock slapping against you and the lewd squelching from your juices reverberates through your ears like a loud bass and fuck you hate it so much. You hate that it’s beginning to feel kind of good.

“You should see how fucking good you look right now,” Gojo rambles on again as he whips out his smart phone, switching on the selfie camera and recording you and him.

You hate seeing yourself. You hate what you see right in front of you—Gojo’s wide, manic grin as he oogles his long, veiny cock disappearing into your dripping cunt and your face. Your fucking face is what’s humiliating. Your complexion is reddened; your face and neck is coated in sweat. You appear limp and completely out of it—like you’ve given up though that can’t be further from the truth. You have to sell the naive damsel role because that’s what they both like, making them think they have full power over you but someday soon you’re going to stick both your fucking middle fingers at them when you’re riding off into sunset toward sweet freedom.

He stops the short recording and sets his phone aside; his tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth as he fucks deeper inside of you, groaning as your walls clench and flutter around his length.

“You’re killing me, Satoru,” Geto laments, frowning as he palms himself through his slacks before finally pulling himself out. “Hurry before I stick my cock inside with yours.”

Your eyes widen at that in sheer horror as your head turns to Geto’s direction. His expression makes your heart sink; he’s not interested in sparing you a little dignity and really plans on bullying his cock alongside Gojo’s because he’s growing impatient.

“No no no, please, Sugu… I can’t!” you shout, shaking your head frantically as tears well in the corners of your eyes.

Geto’s frown deepens, his forehead wrinkling as he caresses your cheek with his knuckles.

“You can take it, my love,” he coos as he fists his cock into full hardness. You bite back a choked sob.

“No, no, Suguru…please it’ll be too much..!”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you protest but Geto disregards everything you say as he wraps his cock.

“Damn, Suguru,” Gojo cackles, “Can’t let it wait, huh?”

“Shut up,” he hisses as he pushes the tip of his cock into your pussy, and Gojo moans feeling Geto’s dick rub against his. The stretch absolutely fucking hurts and you weep, babbling endlessly and begging him not to go further but he doesn’t listen to you this time. Maybe he’s getting tired of being kind to you.

He manages to fit a good portion of his size inside and you’re sobbing so hard, your body is on fire and not in a pleasant way. They fill you up and stretch you out and they’re cackling together like the psychopaths they are.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Gojo growls, kissing the top of your head as he spears his cock into you with deadly precision. “Fuck fuck fuck you’re so much tighter. ‘M gonna come.”

And he follows through on his word, fucking into you with one last hard thrust before he gives you a little mercy and slides his cock out so Geto can have his way with you.

Gojo trails kisses all over your tear-strained face and ignores your continued weeping and begging to stop.

“Shhhh, we’re just getting started, Princess. We have so much making up to do before you and Suguru tie the knot, yeah? Just relax and let us take care of you. That’s all we want.”

Such fucking lies.

Geto growls as now he’s the sole cock drilling into you, and you’re stretched nice around his size. Your walls are still fluttering and squeezing around him and trying to suck him inside deeper and Geto looks down at you with a feral gaze, something you haven’t seen since the day he took you.

“Too bad I don’t have the intention of fucking a few babies into you,” he chuckles, reaching out to trace the gold chain jingling around your neck with each jerk of his hips. He tugs a bit on the chain and you avert your gaze. He frowns at that, tugging again and making you look at him. “You know I can’t afford to bring more monkeys into this world, but the idea of coming inside you is… enthralling. Perhaps we can save that for when I fuck your perfect ass.”

“Damn,” Gojo whistles, his arms circling your waist. “That’s going to be so hot. Fuck her full of cum and then have her walk around like that all day. Perfect way to ensure she belongs to you, yeah Suguru?”

“Exactly,” he laughs in response, a wicked smirk on his face. His hand comes down to smack your pussy and you scream, but Gojo secures his hold on you.

“Shhhh, Princess. Don’t squirm too much or he could hurt you. He doesn’t want to, you know?” he whispers in a mock soothing tone.

“Please, Sugu…. It already hurts,” you cry, sniffling, your eyes bloodshot and puffy from all of the tears you’ve shed.

“You can take it,” he grunts with another sharp slap on your quivering cunt. “You can do it, my love. Come for me.”

In spite of everything the world spins as you come down hard on his cock, arousal gushing out and it’s not the prettiest sight to you but it must make Geto and Gojo as gleeful as children on a Christmas morning.

“Sugu…” you murmur, body going a bit limp but you remember Gojo saying they barely begun. This is so tiring. But Geto pulls out with a soft moan, but his cock is still hard. Needing.

“What is it, my love?” he asks in that affectionate tome he’s been using so much more lately. Without the underlying condensation, just pure love, like he really believes he does love you.

As if someone who loves you would do things like this without so much as a shred of remorse. Gojo is silent behind you, sitting back and enjoying the scene unfold.

“I-I can’t,” you stammer, “Please, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he urges a bit more gently. “This is a celebration, my dear. Lean into it.”

He kneels on one knee until his mouth is level with your cunt, his eyes sparkling with need and lust.

“We just want to take care of you,” he goes on, pressing a kiss to your spent cunt. “That’s all we want.”

You shake your head again.

“Can’t,” you keep pleading, “I can’t, I can’t…”

“Sure you can, Princess,” Gojo murmurs, “You have to. It’s the least you can do. After all, Suguru’s risking a lot just to be with you.”

Huh?

“I’m risking everything just to be here too,” Gojo continues while Geto pushes his tongue into your cunt. “So do this for us, baby. Because once Suguru married you, it’ll make things easier for us to be together. You’ll understand soon, I promise.”

“B-but…”

Gojo shushes you again before silencing you completely with a heated kiss. You can’t put up much of a fight anymore, in that moment.

This will be the only time you surrender to this battle, but not the fucking war.

[vulpinesaint]

one thing about people who like spike is that very often they will ship him with buffy and care about him in that way. however i. do not do that

[saerins]

[ ೀ pucker up, buttercup | itoshi sae ]

ೀ content: female reader, fluff, sae and reader are adults, pet names (sae’s choice of words are stupid/idiot, calls reader ‘my girl’), alcohol, slightly suggestive at the end. | wc 1.5k | notes: okay did a very quick drabble for sae for christmas !! merry christmas to you guys <3

ೀ summary: being sae’s girlfriend is tough. there’s a lot of things he can’t make time for, and unfortunately this time, it’s you. but somehow, he always pulls through.

it’s christmas eve and you’re at your company function, looking at the fruits of your hard labour.

the event hall is decked with christmas decorations; stockings lining the walls and corresponding to different names for everyone’s secret santa to gift accordingly, christmas lights surrounding every table, everyone getting their fair share of the catering you’d arranged.

“this is amazing,” your boss gushes as she excitedly throws her arms around you. she’s only a few years older than you, so it’s not all too surprising that she’s always super friendly with you.

“relax on the alcohol, okay?” you joke with her, smelling the liquor already.

she pouts at you, batting her eyelashes. “oh c’mon, are you still upset that your boyfriend couldn’t make it for christmas?”

you sigh, though you keep a strong front, smiling through it. being the private girlfriend of an international soccer superstar is tough; he has to miss holidays and special occasions and more often than not you can’t even get your calls through because he’s just that busy. you’d been excited for this year’s christmas though, because he had said he’d be able to fly back home this time.

but as it turns out, his manager—who so happens to love overworking him—has other plans. so all of that excitement just went down the drain. still, what else can you say to him other than good luck with it? you knew being his girlfriend was going to be tough, but it’s starting to take a toll after feeling like you barely exist in his world.

still, you stare at the message he last sent you.

i love you.

and you go soft. soft, because you know he means it. soft, because despite everything, you believe in the man you fell in love with. the one who gave you your first kiss back in high school, the one who’s so awkward that even initiating to hold hands last time had his entire face beet red. the one who never fails to assure you that in spite of the distance, he’s always still thinking of you.

you fiddle with your necklace, the promise ring sae gave you when you were back in high school sitting around your neck like it always has.

in between all the long distance arguments and the time differences and the i miss you, wish you were here with me, you still find yourself hopelessly in love with itoshi sae. even when your friends say they can’t imagine being in your shoes, even when numerous tabloids love to put models or athletes as your competition, you know there’s still no one else you’d rather be with than him.

“i’m fine, really,” you assure your boss, prying her off of you and then adjusting her so her arm is around your shoulder as you lead her to her stocking. “here, why don’t you busy yourself and see what your secret santa got you?”

you really just want to distract your boss so she wouldn’t accidentally end up throwing you a pity party. all you want to do today is to make it through it, spend the first hour of christmas day rounding up the party and then get home and sleep your day away. it’ll distract you from the absence of your boyfriend anyway.

as you watch your boss happily open up whatever’s in her stocking, you wonder if your secret santa got you anything. (of course, some secret santas are dicks and end up not getting their person anything.) so count yourself lucky when you open up your stocking to find both a gift and a card.

amused, you rip the card out of its envelope, your heart skipping a beat when you see that inside of it, there’s a picture of you and sae as high school kids, beside each other, his face deadpan while you’re grinning from ear to ear, resting your head against his shoulder. the message reads: i love you so much it’s stupid.

you’re still in shock but you open up the little gift box, maroon with a green bow on it. when you see what’s inside, you can’t help but chuckle.

holding it above you, under the light, you can see the words hey, stupid engraved on the side of the fake mistletoe before feeling a warm pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, cold lips catching you off guard as they press themselves against yours.

it fills you up inside, takes all the weight off your shoulders. you’ll recognise him anywhere, without having to look or hear, the way his lips feel against yours, how he holds you gently against him, laughing softly against your lips as you pull him closer to you by the collar.

never in your wildest dreams did you expect to see your boyfriend in japan, let alone at your work party of all places, and now here you both are, kissing under the mistletoe.

“woah relax there,” he teases you, pulling away but still holding you close.

he’s here, he’s actually here. his hair’s in a mess, and there are circles under his eyes, but he’s smiling. he’s smiling at you and he’s here with you and you don’t even feel the tears forming in your eyes because you’re too busy relishing in the moment.

“itoshi sae,” you call out to him, your hands patting on his body, his black coat and his scarf are real and he’s here—he’s really here. “i thought you were too busy to come back…”

how long has it been now since you’d last seen him? a year? perhaps longer? he’s been so busy nowadays that you wondered at one point if he would even come back to you at all.

sae sighs, holding your cheeks in his hands as he presses his forehead against yours. “i’m sorry,” he says tensely, shaking his head slightly. “i was away for so long, and i just…” his teal eyes stare into yours, both your eyelashes dancing against one another. “i missed you, and i just wanted to see you.”

you’re laughing in disbelief, still holding him close because you’re just that afraid that this’ll all be an illusion that might soon slip away. “and they just let you off like that? that simple?”

he presses his lips into a firm line, averting his gaze. “let’s just say that they weren’t happy about it but i’m the important one, so…” he smiles, genuinely, putting an arm around. “they don’t have a choice but to let me come home to see my girl.”

turns out, he’d called in a favour to your boss, asked her about christmas plans because he knew from your texts that you were in charge of putting it all together. and then he asked her to put the gifts in your stocking. and you laugh hearing about it, because you’re thinking of how your life could’ve gone a totally different way. you could’ve gotten into a relationship with someone else who wouldn’t do this much for you, wouldn’t make time for you, wouldn’t travel across the world and put their own things down all in the name of meeting you.

“what’re you thinking about, stupid?”

you look into his eyes, shaking your head. “nothing, it’s nothing, i just- i love you, itoshi sae.” you smile, and sae smiles too because he loves how your smile reaches your eyes. and he loves being the reason you smile so he’s going to keep being that—and he makes a promise to himself to make you happy for life. but maybe that’s a gesture for next time. right now, he just wants to spend the rest of the holidays with you.

the clock strikes twelve, and he steals the mistletoe from you, holding it up between the two of you again, wincing from how cheesy it is after he does it, earning a chuckle from you.

“merry christmas, idiot.” and he kisses you again, long and slow and completely oblivious to everyone else that’s there who are staring and clapping—half of them still in awe that the itoshi sae is here and half of them in shock after putting two and two together that he’s your special guy.

“so, you’re gonna be here till new years’?” you ask in between kisses.

sae nods, “at least, why?”

you grin, pulling him by the belt as you lead him out of the event hall. “think it’s time we get home and just spend it between the two of us, yeah?”

sae laughs, letting you drag him along, wondering whether by this time next year, will he be lucky enough to call you his wife?

but when he sees that promise ring he gifted you still nestling snug around your neck, he has no doubt. you’re each other’s for life. and you’re worth every single risk he has to take.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead On Main AU Part 4

Masterpost

Jason listens carefully to Jazz’s half of the conversation, but Jazz seems to be mostly listening. Jazz says he’s taking him to Nasty for dinner, which Jason can’t say he’s excited about. He doesn’t know if Nasty is supposed to be describing the food or the place. Either way it is not comforting that whatever Nasty is, it is somehow a better source of food than his soulmate’s house. 

Eventually Jazz hands the phone back to him. 

“Everything good?” Jason asks.

“Yeah, your dad, Dick, and Tim are going to be driving me over, but It’s a long drive so Jazz will get you dinner and then you can do whatever. I have a gaming system, and you’re welcome to use my bed. If you need help finding clothes, or really with anything, then Jazz will help you.”

“Got it.” Long drive with B, Dick, and Tim. They’re all going to interrogate him immediately. While he’s trapped in a box with them for hours. “Hey, my family is really nosy and they will pry and they have no emotional cues so they will not know when to stop. Just… Tell them if they’re bothering you, and you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.” Jason doesn’t know who will be worse in this scenario. Bruce is going to interrogate him for literally everything, Dick is probably going to be all relationships and feelings, Tim is a nice in-between which just means he’ll probably support any and all interrogating. 

“Same goes for you. Jazz is studying to be a psychologist, and my entire family forgets that we’re not all test subjects for whatever they’re working on. Mom and Dad with their gadgets, and Jazz with her… studying and analyzing you. There are no boundaries.” 

“Oh, I’m familiar with that concept.” Jason chuckled.

“Well, given the circumstances I’d say if we can survive each other’s families that’s probably a pretty good sign.”

Kid is probably right. Fate and everything. 

Jazz goes out to clear a path to the door, making sure there are no weapons to run into. When she gets back she leads Jason out, but when they get to the ground floor Jason is grabbed. 

“Happy Birthday Dann-o!” The person holding him is tall. Very tall compared to Danny, and taller than Jason in his regular body. He has black hair and it looks like he's wearing a jumpsuit. After squeezing to the point where Jason couldn't breath for a second Jazz gets the man to put him down. 

“Dad, this isn't Danny right now.” 

“What do you mean princess, of course it is!” 

A woman comes around the corner to stand next to the man, she is also in a jumpsuit but she has Jazz’s red hair.

“Guys, it's his sixteenth birthday.” So Danny's parents remember his birthday but not how old he is? Could be that they’ve forgotten the significance of a person’s sixteenth birthday, but given it should be an important day in a child’s life, they should have remembered.

“We know it's his birthday dear.” The woman comes over to give Jason a hug as well, but this one is less painful. And she's tall too, Jason is not used to feeling this short anymore.

“Mom, Dad, this is Jason. Danny’s soulmate.” The both of them just blink for a second. Jason, this is Drs. Jack and Maddie Fenton, Danny’s parents.”

“Nice to meet you both.” Jason gets out.

“Well, this is wonderful!” Dr. Fenton-Maddie says. “Figures Danny would be the younger one. Are you going to be here for dinner?”

Jason glances over at Jazz.

“No, you told us that you would be busy, so we already made plans.” Jazz sidesteps the invitation. Jason couldn’t tell if that was true or a lie to get him out of the situation. Would they tell their son that they were too busy to have dinner with him on his birthday? He wants to think the answer is no. “Shame Danny will be missing out, but we’ll save his presents for him.”

“Alright, well you kids have fun then!” Maddie and Jack left as quickly as they came, rambling about something that Jason could not understand.

“They didn’t want to know where Danny is? Who he’s with? Where we’re going? Anything?” Jason turned to Jazz who had a pinched look on her face.

“Neither of us get up to much trouble, they’ve trusted us for a while now.” 

“Trust him to be magically transported who-knows-where?” Jason is almost stupefied by the utter lack of regard for Danny’s well-being. He is insulted on his soulmate’s behalf. “He could be in another country for all they know! They didn’t even ask!”

Jazz nods. “Best not to think about it. Everything is turning out alright anyways. Now come on, let’s get dinner.”

Jason is seething, but doesn’t think it will do much good to argue with her here so he decides to calm down. He startles a little when he realizes how easy it is to calm down in this body. Just decide to, and then move on. None of the lingering churning in his gut or fog in his mind. 

He frowns as he follows Jazz out the door, hoping that Danny’s not having too hard a time in his body.

[tinydefector]

Psst , The human affect last one where after MC post those spicy pic's, imagine the new of it on Swerve bar's DRAMA and Chaos 😂😂😂 I want to see the reactions

Who's servos- Human effects

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: taking about explicit photos, light smut, hand humping, Drunk robots.

I added a sprinkle of Dratchet in here because I love these old men. So enjoy the boys reactions to the Ambassador's photos.

Masterlist

Prev

Next

__________

Swerves Bar is overly loud as mechs argue amongst each other as they try to figure out what bot was shacked up with the Ambassador, everyone looking at the photos as they try and figure out who's servos they are. 

"I'm telling you, those are Rodimus' servos for sure!" someone slurred, slamming their drink. "Only he's got servos that colour!" 

“Ah no, Animus has the same coloured Servos!” 

“Don't look at me im on the Ethics committee, and whoever is involved in this clearing doesn't care about the ethical side of interspecies relations which we have no knowledge on!” Animus argued back the moment his name was mentioned 

“What if it's UltraMagnus who painted them so he doesn't get caught!” Aquabat chimed in trying to be part of the conversation. 

"As if!" another scoffed. "Ultra stick-up-the-tailpipe would never. My shanix are on Atomizer." Gears states into his drink. 

At the counter, Rodimus nursed his engex with a scowl. "Sure as Frag wasn't me,  i'd be boasting about that in person!, plus the servos don't have the detailing I have!" He argued back. 

Drift flashed a sly grin. "Oh I don't know, Roddy - they do raise an interesting point. You are the Mech they spend a lot of time with who's captain of the ship, and I believe you'd keep it a secret to spite everyone" the ex con was Overcharged himself, drifting from where Rodimus sat and where Ratchet was sulking over his own drink. 

"It has to be one of the senior staff," argued Hound. "They've got the most face time with the Ambassador." 

"Don't discount the scientists," Brainstorm countered. "Interspecies collaboration is crucial work." A collection of them look at Brainstorm for a kilk. 

Nautica scowled as she passed by. "We all know you have no tack Brainstorm."  

Tailgate tugged Rewind's arm anxiously. "Do you think we'll get in trouble for looking? I didn't mean to pry, honest!"

Rewind shook his head. "No, its publicly posted with consent, pretty sure if the Ambassador had issues with it High command would have dealt with it already " 

Beside them, Swerve studied the photos intently. "Maybe I should invite the ambassador for drinks. Get to chatting, see if we could get them to spill."

"No harassing them," Rodimus warned, stealing Swerve's datapad. "Now let it go, mechs. Their choices aren't anyone's business but their own." 

Skids appeared at Drift's side suddenly. "Can you believe it, Drift?, who do you think it is?" He waved a datapad at the speedster, proudly displaying an image. 

Swerve perchs up his field mischievous. "Any guesses on the lucky mech, Drift?, we're Taking bets" He states in singy song tone. 

“C’mon Tailgate, don’t be such a prude,” Skids nudged the minibot to look at the photos  as he ducked shyly behind his engex. “Ain’t you curious?” 

Swerve flashed a waggle. "C'mon Drift, place your chips! I got hot odds on Roddy, Crossblades, or maybe even that slippery therapist Rung." 

Hound elbowed in, visor blinding. "Do they show interface arrays? Wonder how alien bits compare!" 

Drifts optics focus in on the holos taking in the Ambassador and the servos, Drift felt his energon run cold as his optics focused unmistakably on the servos in the image. Oh, he knew those battle-worn appendages all too well - how many vorns had he felt their merciless precision upon his mesh, heard their owner growl his name through the throes of overload? 

But dear Primus, how had the Ambassador come to possess Ratchet's severed servos? A flash of memory surfaced - hadn't Ratchet left them in medical incase he ever had to use them again. after the massacre at Delphi. 

He snuck a surreptitious glance at Ratchet through the chaos, the grumpy Medic seemed to slouch more in his seat while spilling a bright green mixed high grade. A smirk spread Drift's lips. “ don't Bet Swerve” he states. Rising smoothly, making a beeline for Ratchet with the holo in hand.

Ratchet glances up when he sees Drift, had the CMO not been so drained and worried he might have smiled at Drift, but with everything that had happened with Traxies his systems were running full alert. "Well well, look who finally noticed me," Ratchet remarked dryly as Drift slid into the seat beside him, weariness pulling his field taut as ever-tightening screws. "And just what have you got there that's got your relays in a twist?"

Drift took a moment to slowly moving to straddle his conjunx lap, teasing whispering to him as he handed over the holo. "Funny thing - seems our dear Ambassador has found a new use for those old servos of yours, though how, I couldn't say..."  Ratchet whipped his gaze to the image, intake dropping open at the sight of all-too-familiar digits wrapped intimately around supple flesh. His fans stuttered violently. 

"The pit...how in Primus's name did they get a hold of my old servos?!" He rasped, snatching the holo to pore over with widening optics. Somewhere in the drunken din, Drift managed to slap a servo over Ratchet's mouth before he made a scene. 

Drift leaned close, vents puffing hot against an audial. "Well? Care to make a claim, or shall mystery have them all in a tizzy?" he purred silkily. Ratchet grimaces, field warming ever so slightly beneath its veneer of exhaustion. "None of their business," he grumbled, staring pointedly at Drift. 

Drift chuckled, glossa flicking coyly over his dermas. "Aw, don't be like that. You know you're enjoying the thought of having every optic in this bar on you, imagining all the sinful things you'd do” 

A rumbling growl escaped Ratchet's intake. "And you'd best mind your tone, or you'll find yourself in need of a medical. Again." But his field betrayed amusement Drift's optics glinted knowingly. "You say that like it's a chore, but we both recall how creative your medical procedures can be...especially with an eager patient beneath those adept servos." 

"You're like rust" Ratchet huffs but lets Drift continue, his mind does start to wonder about how soft the Ambassador looks. "Honestly, you're worse than the younglings sometimes, Drift." But his digits had already found their way to rest in the seams of Drift’s hips. 

The Ex con nuzzled closer still, voice playful even in his overcharged state. "How you wound me, doctor." His servo crept daringly across Ratchet's plating, tracing patterns. "Just imagine - that soft little frame. The sounds you could coax from those lips..."

A shiver worked its way through Ratchet's struts, betraying his fraying self-control. "You really are determined to get us both in more trouble than we can handle, aren't you?" But his engine revved eagerly all the same. Drift purred contentedly as deft medic's digits found all his sensitive nodes just right. "Mm, you say trouble but I know how you enjoy a challenge, doc." 

His field pulsed hot as his imagination, arousal spiking at thought of the Ambassador with them. "Just picture it - that lithe organic frame writhing between us, so curious and willing to learn." Drift continued to grind against Ratchet's servos. "You'll get us both in the brig, get back to my Hub you're overcharged" he huffs out. 

________ 

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[lipstickmarks]

beauty is a beast that roars, down on all fours, demanding Mor. 💋🍷🍒🥧

Pairing: Mor x fem!reader, former Azriel x fem!reader (mentioned)

Summary: "They've both taken lovers over the years..." // Azriel and Mor have both taken lovers over the years but what happens when Mor discovers they both have had you? Your "fling" with Mor that is growing more serious by the day and your history with Ariel becomes the catalyst for Mor finally admitting the truth to Azriel.

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: violence (not toward reader or Mor), blood, alcohol, coming out, internalized homophobia?, mentions of death (in the past), nipple play, scissoring, tribbing, food play, teasing, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), fingering, hickeys, biting, fluff, mean Mor lowkey 🤭

Author's note: title has nothing to do with anything except the fact that it always reminds me of Mor and I felt like "she's my cherry pie" was too cheesy | if I missed any tags, pls lmk! I don't know all the fancy terms for this shit nowadays 🫶🏻

It was a stupid, idiotic game suggested by stupid idiotic males. 

Mor was nursing a glass of red wine, sat at a round moonstone table at the river estate. The inner circle’s usual night of reverie at Rita’s culminated in everyone slumping back to the estate half-dead with 90% liquor in their veins. The night started out fun with good food and good-natured ribbing amongst her family but it had devolved into a headache. Truly, a nuisance was building at the back of her head, thumping uncomfortably. The alcohol certainly didn’t help but she wasn’t about to endure a drunk Cassian and Azriel without a buzz going. 

Feyre and Rhys had absconded to their room long ago and Amren had disappeared with no notice and no indication as to where she had gone (typical). Elain and Lucien went on a moonlit walk and Nesta had deemed the night over and stomped up to her room the moment Cassian started quoting a dirty passage from the novel she was currently reading. 

Leaving Mor with Cassian and Azriel and a stupid, idiotic game. 

They had somehow gotten on the topic of lovers and Cassian being Cassian, was eager to pry into everyone’s intimate business.

Mor was planning to call it a night soon anyway. This game didn’t interest her and she’d rather be with you. In your arms, in your bed. You’d known each other loosely for a while ever since you worked as a lounge singer at Rita’s but one night, Mor was one of the only people left in the place after your set. You two got to talking and the chemistry was un-fucking-deniable. Your chance meeting quickly blossomed into a fling.

Except something deeply wounded Mor to call it a fling. It made it sound so… cheap and flimsy. Yes, you were phenomenal in bed. Yes, she could cum just from the mental image of you with your head thrown back and her fingers plunged inside you. But you were also talented and ambitious and witty and matched her tit for tat when it came to her silver tongue. There was still some anxiety she felt when she was with females. It never allowed her to fully relax or lose herself in a moment. But you…

You excited her. 

“Okay, okay. Azriel’s turn. Name the best lover you’ve ever had.” Cassian smirked. 

“I don’t kiss and tell.” Azriel said.

“Come on, Az! I told you mine!” 

Azriel snorted.

“You’re mated. You wouldn’t have said any name except Nesta’s. And if you had, she would have ran down here and kicked you in the balls.” 

“And it would have been a major turn on because everything Nesta does turns me on because Nesta is the best lover I’ve ever had now DISH!” Cassian screamed, pointing his wine glass at Azriel and making the wine spill everywhere.

Normally, Azriel didn’t partake in such games. He didn’t kiss and tell. He was respectful and likely got a kick out of being so stoic and mysterious. But they had been drinking so heavily for so long. The shadowsinger’s hazel eyes were swimming with mischief.

“Alright. It was fairly recent. About 10 years ago.” Azriel began to loosely describe this female he had a fling with over the winter that he met while shopping for Solstice presents. The smirk on his face deepened as he described their love making. “She had a phenomenal body and I swear, I didn’t think it was possible for my dick to go so deep inside someone. She was a great cook, too. She always baked me a pie afterward. ” Mor was barely listening. She was about to dump her wine into the plant in the corner and winnow to your apartment when something turned her blood to ice.

Your name.

Your name coming from Azriel’s lips.

It happened in less than a span of a heartbeat. Less than the flutter of an eye closing than it took for Mor to sail across the table and connect her fist with Azriel’s jaw. 

She could barely register Azrie’s weight beneath her, Cassian’s cackle that turned into a worried shout was muffled as she began punching Azriel over and over. Mor roared and gripped the lapels of Azriel’s shirt, readying to bash his head into the floor when a force stronger than drunken Mor pulled her away. 

Azriel’s shadows.

Azriel groaned, blood trickling out of his nose mixing with the spilt wine on the floor. He wriggled his nose and winced. Not broken but Mor gotten in a hell of a punch. 

“What the hell, Mor?!” Cassian shouted. 

Mor was held back by Azriel’s shadows, tears streaming down her face. So many emotions were washing over her at once, spawning in the pit of her stomach and trailing to the center of her chest. Jealousy and rage flowed to the top. 

Azriel had been with you. The two of you had made love. Azriel had known your body, tasted you, gazed upon you in your naked form. He’d known the pleasure only you can provide.

And she wanted to fucking kill him for it.

Azriel just stared at Mor while Cassian berated her, screaming some nonsense about how they’re a family and hitting is only okay if they did something to provoke it.

“Cassian.” Azriel’s sharp voice cut in. “Leave us.” 

Cassian complied. Even this drunk, he could tell when his brother truly needed something. He murmured something about going to get ice and a healing tonic and left the two of them alone. 

Azriel stood up and slowly walked to where Mor was restrained by his shadows. Another feeling started to mix in with the others. Shame. She’d hit Azriel. She’d hurt Azriel. She’d hurt her family. And now there was no hiding anymore. 

Azriel leveled his gaze at her and Mor shivered. He’d never looked at her that way. Never as the feared, icy, ruthless Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

“Is there something you need to tell me, Morrigan?” 

***

Mor insisted on talking in Azriel’s room. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted anyone else to hear and his was the only one she trusted to be thoroughly soundproof. 

She sat on Azriel’s bed, clutching a pillow in her lap while Azriel stood over her. A blush crept onto her cheeks.

“Don’t stand there, Azriel, like I’m a teenager in trouble. Sit.” 

It was his room and his nose and jaw that she’d tried to break but still, he sat.

Mor took several steadying breaths and begged herself not to cry. She wouldn’t be able to get out the words if she cried. But still, her cheeks and eyes warmed as fat tears began to pool in her eyes. One of Azriel’s shadows came up to wipe them away. 

And Azriel’s scarred hand gently placed atop hers.

“Mor…” His voice was tight. He’d only seen her cry on a few occasions: when Rhys was captured by Amarantha, when Rhys returned, when Nyx was born and he and his parents almost died… It wasn’t a sight he enjoyed. 

“I just–” She heaved a sob. “I need a minute, okay?” 

Azriel squeezed her hand. 

“I’ll wait.” 

Azriel had waited. He’d waited 500 years for something to happen between them. Something that would never happen. Something that Mor had communicated in a roundabout, cruel way. Gods, she hated herself for it. But who could blame her for being skittish? For being so scared that she’d kept this part of herself hidden from even her family? 

…Azriel wouldn’t. 

Mor took another breath. And another. And another after Azriel had conjured up a glass of water for her. 

They sat there for close to 20 minutes before she finally spoke. 

“The first fae I ever loved…” Mor sighed. “Was a female named Andromeda.” 

She weaved the tale over an hour and a half, detailing the first flicker of confusing affection she felt for females, twined with the lesser but still present affection for males. The sexual politics of her taking Cassian as her first lover. Andromeda. Their love story that culminated in the loneliest sadness Mor had ever felt. Loving and losing and her heart caving in all while her family was unaware. The lingering fear and panic she felt regarding her father and Beron and Eris. How she’d avoided Azriel by sleeping around with other males. All leading up to you. How the two of you met at Rita’s one late night after you’d finished a set. How she bought you a drink. How she bought you a second drink. How you became quick friends. How your friendship spiraled into something steamy and undeniable. How Azriel saying your name had unlocked a river of white-hot rage buried so deep inside her that she didn’t even feel like herself when she’d launched herself across the table at him. 

Her throat was dry and raspy by the time she was done talking. She’d cried through a lot of it, especially when talking about Andromeda. She braced herself for Azriel’s reaction. 

“I am sorry that you have been hurting, Mor. But I am also hurt that you thought–” Azriel’s head whipped to the side like he’d been phantom-smacked. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “I am hurt that you thought I would… what? Berate you? Drag you kicking and screaming into the Court of Nightmares and drop you at Kier’s feet? Be so heartbroken that I would resent you?” 

Mor shuddered.

“Don’t you?” 

Azriel sighed.

“Mor, you are… dazzling. Beauty and wits and heart is what you’re made of. It’s no mystery why I fell for you. It’s no mystery why anyone would fall for you. You’re also kind, and caring, and family.” 

Azriel’s hazel eyes burned into hers and she shifted slightly on the bed, unnerved by the intensity of it. 

“You were always going to be one of the most important people in my life. And no, our relationship didn’t fall into place the way I desired it to and yes, it hurts but what I can’t get over is that you didn’t trust me. You didn’t trust any of us.” 

Mor pulled on the end of her dress, just to have something to do with her body aside from sit here in this uncomfortable conversation.

“Um, actually… Feyre knows.” 

Another deep sigh from Azriel. Mor has never felt so small. So unguarded. Her secrecy was the only armor she had and now it was dust in the wind. No going back. 

“Do you hate me?” She whispered.

Azriel scoffed.

“By the Cauldron, Mor, have you been listening to me?” Azriel reached for her hands. “I could never hate you. I don’t care if you like females or males or both or neither. I don’t give a shit about any of it. You are my family. In 500 years, I have never felt safer than I have with all of you.”

She sniffled, tears welling in her eyes once more.

“Really?” 

“Of course.” Azriel said, his voice softer than it had been all night. “Look, I’m not saying I’m happy with you for toying with my feelings and this might take a while for me to process the fact that it’s never going to be us but… I love you, Mor. I’m happy when I’m around you and it kills me to know that you haven’t been completely happy around all of us.” 

Mor felt a swell of relief in her chest. She slipped her arms around his neck and hugged Azriel and hugged him and hugged him until she felt like crying again. This time, she let the tears fall until she was sobbing into his chest.

They spent two more hours talking, ironing out their feelings, and crying. Well, mostly Mor cried. Azriel conjured up more water for her and some food as well. It was practically dawn anyway with the dark blue sky conceding to a blushing, orange sunrise. 

“How do you feel now?” Azriel asked over a strawberry flake strudel. He was now sitting at the foot of his bed, his back leaning against one of the four posters as his wings draped lazily on the ground. 

Mor loosed a long sigh and pulled the straw in and out of the plastic coffee cup she had long since drained until Azriel told her to stop because the sound was annoying.

“I feel like… I want to go see my girlfriend.” She was spent. Her emotions had all spilled out of her like nightmare vomit and she was utterly empty. She craved nothing more than to curl up in your warm bed and stroke your soft hair until she fell asleep. 

Azriel barked out a laugh. 

Mor’s brows knit into a line. She kicked at Azriel’s foot but he quickly dodged. 

“What?” She bit.

“That’s a funny word.” Azriel said, smirking as he finished off his breakfast treat.

Mor sat her cup on his nightstand and sat up.

“What do you mean?” Sure, you two didn’t have a label yet. But you were basically girlfriends, right? You spent most nights together, you slept together, went shopping in Velaris together, had lunch dates all the time. At least, she hoped you’d want to be her girlfriend.

Azriel rolled his eyes at her.

“Morrigan. You flew across a ten-foot long table and beat the shit out of me just because one time, a decade ago, I slept with–” 

Mor growled. That same feeling she got when Azriel first said your name last night was building up again. She felt it from her navel all the way up to her chest. A dark, swirling vortex of negative emotions and yet, somewhere within was a bright white light. 

No, not white. 

Golden.

Mor’s entire world cracked open. Every scar. Every ounce of pain and trauma that she’d collected split open and filled with a shimmering golden liquid that came from the reservoir of your soul and bled into hers. 

“...mate.” 

Azriel said it the moment Mor realized it. Everything aligned for her in that moment. The seas were bluer, the birds chirped a perfect melody, and everything made sense. It had all been for this. All been for you. Every awful horror, every fitful night of sleep, everything… it was all aligning for Mor to find you.

She scrambled to get up, all the while Azriel was laughing. She couldn’t find her shoes. Where were her godsdamned shoes? 

Mor decided to forgo the accessories and just go straight to you. Barefoot and in love. And although the bond was pulling at her, willing her to find you, she turned back to Azriel. 

“Az? Are we… are we going to be okay?” She was scared to ask, but it was high time to stop being afraid. To stop keeping Azriel–her entire family, really– at an arm’s length. They all loved her and she needed to embrace that, or else she’d never be truly happy.

Azriel leaned his head against his four-poster. 

“Of course we will, Mor. Maybe not today, but we will be.” 

Mor nodded slowly and headed for the door. She looked back one last time at Azriel. At her family. She knows she hurt him and she would have to do some serious groveling to earn his forgiveness. Even though he was a good male and would likely not accept any gifts or excessive sweetness, she would do it anyway. Mor would win back his trust and help heal the scars she inflicted. But the cage she had trapped herself in had suddenly combusted. The world was wide open. And she liked it. And so Mor said, for perhaps the first time in her life, but meaning it fully:

“I love you, Azriel.” 

***

Rushed knocks were all she could manage. Feeling a mating bond that had yet to be reciprocated was suffocating and intoxicating all at once. She was shaking and bouncing on her feet like she’d had 300 coffees. If you didn’t open the door in three seconds, Mor didn’t know if she could keep herself from knocking it down. 

Mercifully, it swung open. And there you stood.

Her mate. 

Her perfect, beautiful mate. 

You wore a pair of tiny shorts and a very thin, very see-through white tank top underneath a red kimono robe that Mor was almost certain had once been at home in her closet.

Despite dawn just rising up to wish Velaris a good morning, you didn’t seem perturbed at Mor’s early intrusion. You gave her a lazy feline smile.

“Hey, good looking—” 

You never even had a chance. Mor pounced on you like a jungle cat, claiming your mouth with hers and grabbing at whatever skin she could get her hands on. Although surprised, you didn’t waver for even a moment. You slid your hands up through the fae’s hair and walked her backwards into your apartment. 

Mor’s heart sang a golden chorus that blended in with chirping birds and distant water fountains.

Mate. Mate. Mate. 

Happy. Happy. Happy.

You pulled Mor off of you for only a moment, but she chased after your lips, her hands practically pawing at your chest like a needy housecat.

“What’s gotten into you?” You asked, giggling. But the second Mor’s wide eyes looked into yours. You saw it. You felt it. That golden tether tying you to Mor. 

The noise you let out was something between a happy gasp and a squeal. 

You surged up and kissed her again, parting and letting her claim your mouth and claim you. She tugged the kimono down, shoving it off your perfect shoulders. You tried to do the same with her dress but she insisted on wearing those cross-back ones and intricate tit chains and it was so complicated to get off in a rush. 

But eventually you both worked all the offending garments off and onto the floor. Mor lifted you up and carried you to your kitchen table, her mouth never leaving your neck as she did so. 

She laid you out on your back and attacked your neck with kisses, nipping and biting at your jaw, your ear, anywhere she could reach. Her fingers went down to trace the insides of your thighs, drawing a shudder of pleasure from you. 

Her hand dipped even further, her middle finger tracing the outside of your entrance, barely ghosting over your skin, playing in the wetness that was already there. 

“Wait!” You shouted, just before Mor could get her fingers inside of you.

Her brows knit together in concern and her perfect lips formed a pout, but the distress melted when she saw you reach across the kitchen table grabbing at a tin of cherry pie you had made. You pulled it toward you and grabbed a sloppy handful from the middle. You held it out to Mor, your eyes wide from both love and lust. 

“Eat.” You gently nudged the pie up onto her lips. 

Mor watched a stream of cherry juice drip down your hand and wrist. She leaned in and traced it with her tongue, collecting it off your skin. She dragged her tongue down your arm and back up until she took your entire pinky in her mouth, sucking on the digit. Then she did the same with your ring finger and your middle finger and so on. Her teasing was utterly unfair and you pouted as she took her sweet time sucking on your fingers until she finally ate the handful of pie you’d extended out to her. 

A pang of jealousy sang in her chest, remembering that you baked pies for Azriel after every time you did it but the solidification of the bond quickly stamped that out. 

Mor ate every bit of pie you offered her and licked the palm of your hand clean. Her lips were stained red from the cherries and the sweetness rested pleasantly on her tongue. 

“I love you.” She murmured, placing kisses along your bare chest and over your boobs. She wrapped her mouth around a nipple and sucked and nipped at it, drawing precious little “ah!”s and moans from you. 

“Mm… I love you too, Mor.” You said, twining your fingers in her hair, not caring that you were getting pie crumbs all in your lover’s blonde hair. Because she wasn’t just your lover anymore. She was your mate. 

She fixed her attention on your other nipple and her fingers found her way back to your entrance, teasing, grazing. 

Your mate sat up, eye-fucking you as she took in your form. It didn’t make you shy. You were never shy with Mor, or at Rita’s when you were belting out a song. It was one of the things she loved about you. One of the reasons you were perfectly matched to her. The Mother did a good fucking job. 

“How much do you love me?” Mor said in a sing-song tone, dragging her knuckle up your slit. 

“So much.” You gasped. You truly did love Mor. She was confident and carefree and fun. She made you feel like every day only happened so you could experience pleasure. Like mornings were made for strolls in the sun and evenings were made for lovemaking under the moonlight. There was no pain and no turmoil when you were together. There was just you and your mate and the golden love that flowed through you and around you. 

“How good do I fuck you, baby?” She whispered, sliding one finger inside you. 

You gasped and grabbed her wrist. Not to stop her but just to have any sort of contact with you. Mor rectified this immediately by holding one of your hands in her free one and pressing kisses to the back of it. 

“So good, Mor.” You murmured as she lazily dragged her finger in and out of you. It wasn’t enough. You needed more. 

Sensing your needs, knowing exactly what her sweet mate needed, she added another finger and amped up her speed ever so slightly. You moaned your affirmation.

“I know what you like.” She whispered. The minx. You could hear the smirk on her face.  

She pulled you right to the edge and then retracted her fingers faster than you could comprehend. Your eyes shot open and tears quickly filled them, so close to your peak and then denied so quickly. 

Mor shook her head, grinning at you the whole time.

“Sweet girl… you know how this goes. We don’t ever finish that quickly. Besides,” Mor dug her fingers into the pie you had decimated, plucking out a single cherry and holding it up to the light, admiring it like a lost artifact. “You haven’t had breakfast.” 

She dragged the cherry around your lips, painting them red. Your tongue darted out to lick at the tips of her fingers and she placed the cherry on your tongue. You chewed and felt the bond growing stronger, more prominent in your chest with every little bite. The second you swallowed, Mor was on you again, kissing you desperately, licking into your mouth. 

She hiked your leg up and started grinding her wet cunt against yours. The warmth was perfect and you felt your body and soul practically singing with how right it felt, how perfect you two were. 

Mor’s warm, wet pussy was like a dream. You grinded against her, creating more friction and soon you were both shouting, both unable to contain your moans. Mor sped up, bouncing against you and that simply wouldn’t do. You couldn’t let her have all the fun. You broke from the kiss and took her nipple in your mouth, sucking on it as she had done to you. Except, you had a little payback in mind for her edging you. You let go of her nipple with a wet pop and started sucking a love bite onto the skin of her breast, right on top where it would be visible in those low cut dresses she wore. Everyone would know she had a mate. Everyone would know she belonged to you. 

Mor moaned your name in a desperate whisper, increasing her speed. The two of you weren’t going to last long. The pressure was building up and it was already too perfect, too all-consuming. 

Once you were satisfied with the darkening mark on her chest, you latched onto her neck, kissing and sucking. But that wasn’t enough for your mate. She gripped your chin in her hands and kissed you desperately. Like she needed you to breathe. 

That was what sent you over the edge. 

You came and Mor followed soon after. The pleasure flowed through you two freely like the love through the bond. You’d never felt so connected to someone and by the pulsating you felt at the other end, you knew Mor hadn’t either. 

“I love you.” She slurred, pupils blown wide with lust. You swore they almost looked like little hearts. 

You returned the sentiment, murmuring it into her skin as you kissed up her sternum and across her jaw before she finally gripped a fistful of your hair and dragged you up to her lips. 

You sighed in contentment against your mate. But Mor wasn’t done with you yet. 

She sunk to her knees in front of you, eye-level with your glistening wet pussy. 

“So…” she drawled, licking a stripe up your slit, collecting both her and your wetness on her tongue. “When were you gonna tell me you fucked Azriel?” 

At the same moment you uttered “what?” Mor plunged her tongue inside you, swirling around and suckling at your clit. You clawed at the table, wishing you had laid a tablecloth down so you’d have something to grip onto. You were still so, so sensitive but Mor was relentless as she toyed with your bundle of nerves. 

“I know you fucked him…” She mumbled against your hot core. 

You laid your head back in pleasure, unable to form any thoughts. Mor knew you liked a little overstimulation and the mating bond was amplifying it by one hundred.

“Was a long time ago…” You murmured. Utterly pussy-drunk. 

“Don’t care.” Mor said, plunging a finger inside you. “Should’ve told me. I almost broke his nose.” 

Some part of you deep down felt bad for Azriel but that part was trapped beneath an ocean of pleasure and right now, you’re not sure you could even remember what Azriel looked like. 

“Mmm…” You moaned, your clit twitching as Mor sucked on it. She added two fingers, pumping in and out of you faster than she did before. 

Mor brought you to the edge again and you could barely register her lifting you up and carrying you into the bathroom. You were so lost in your own pleasure and the feeling of your mate holding you that no other sensations even mattered. Your body simultaneously roared at you to fall asleep and to hop onto Mor’s lap and grind your pussy against hers over and over again. 

“Sleep, my love.” Mor said. 

You felt her easing the two of you into a hot bath, her keeping you tight against her chest.

“No.” You grumbled petulantly, though your eyes fluttered closed. She did wake you up awfully early and make you cum twice. Mating frenzy or no, you were exhausted. “Need to fuck you.” 

Mor giggled against your ear.

“We’ll have a lifetime of that, baby.” Mor ran her fingers up and down your arm, the sensation calming you and sending tiny tingles of pleasure to your brain. She was most definitely moving you into the river house once the frenzy was over. Or she could move in here with you. Or maybe you two would build a new property. You could design your dream home together. Whatever. Permanent decisions could wait until after your mating ceremony. Because you would be having a mating ceremony. A spectacular, classy, romantic affair. Candles everywhere and her whole family in attendance. All of fucking Velaris. She would marry you in front of anyone anywhere in the world. 

You nodded your affirmation and slumped against your mate as she took to washing you both with your nice smelling soaps. 

When you woke up, Mor would find your vibrator and make you come two more times with it. She loved getting you worked up because once it was her turn, you were relentless. You would pull orgasm after orgasm from her until she was in tears and screaming your name so loud, the cranky neighbors pounded on your door demanding you keep it down. 

“Tell me, mate.” Mor whispered as she shampooed your hair. “What flavor pie did you bake Azriel after he fucked you?” 

You hummed and pinched Mor’s thigh for fixating on silly things and pulling you out of your sleep. You and Azriel had a fling that lasted less than a winter season ten years ago and had only ever been casual friends since. It was nothing compared to what you felt for Mor. How pleasure overtook every cell in your body when you were together, even if all you were doing was sharing a turkey sandwich at a bistro down by the Sidra. 

If you peeked into your skull, it would be filled with images of Mor. Your lover, your best friend, your mate. She was your ending and your beginning. Nothing before or since matters. 

“Blueberry.” 

Mor nipped your ear and your moan signaled you liked that a little too much. Even as your eyes fluttered shut, you grabbed her hand and guided it to your center. You wanted her to make you cum one more time, just one more teeny tiny orgasm before you fall asleep. 

Mor massaged your wet, soapy breast with one hand while the other lazily circled your clit. She pressed hot kisses over your neck, occasionally licking and nipping the skin there too. 

“You’re only making cherry from now on.”

[wannabeschyulersister]

so long, chicago

Without the warmth of your things in the apartment, it looked sad and cold. The boxes that you packed were stacked along the hallway. Movers were scheduled to help you in the next hour.

Your belongings would be traveling across the country with you following.

After one last sweep of the apartment to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything, you stood at the large bay window facing the city. A city that you once considered home.

You’d miss Chicago. You’d miss the people that you’d met. The connections that you formed. The memories. The laughter.

The sound of the front door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned and saw Carmen walk in. You didn’t expect for him to be home anytime soon. You’d hoped that you could avoid the last interaction.

“Hey.” You said softly.

He nodded, “I thought you’d be halfway outta town by now.”

“The movers should be here any minute.”

Carmen took off his coat and placed it on the right hook near the door. Yours would normally go on the left but it was currently sitting on top of one of your suitcases.

“Richie said you stopped by the restaurant last night.”

“Yeah, I wanted to tell him goodbye.”

“I guess that’s nice.”

“You guess?”

“What do you expect for me to say, (Y/n)? I love that you’re abandoning me and everyone you’ve met here?”

“Abandoning you?” You couldn’t believe that he really said that.

“We’ve been together for six fuckin’ years! One day you wake up and realize you don’t want to be with me anymore out of the fuckin’ blue!”

“Out of the blue?,” you raised your voice, “Carmen, I dreaded making that decision for months! You were so out of touch that you didn’t even realize that we had stopped acting like a couple long before I ending things.”

Carmen chuckled bitterly, “That’s not true.”

You hadn’t planned on leaving on ugly terms with Carmen. If anything, you wanted it to be civil. You were huge parts of each other’s lives. Under all of the pain and heartbreak, there was love.

“I was the only person trying in this relationship. You would get home at one or two in the morning and I’d try waiting around just so we can have a conversation after not seeing each other all day. I planned date nights and tried to pry you out of that kitchen to notice that I was practically falling apart at the seams!” You confessed. It hurt you that he hadn’t even noticed.

“Relationships are hard! That why you have to make them work!” Carmen was visibly upset at how the conversation was going.

“I was the only one fighting for this, Carmen! When was the last time you bought me flowers or texted me to see how my day was going? I barely even heard an ‘I love you’.”

“I do love you. So much that I don’t want you to go and move to San Diego. You belong here with me and- and with your friends. People that care about you!”

“Sometimes love isn’t enough. I’m tired, Carmen. Tired of feeling like I don’t mean shit to you. I need to be with someone that wants to be with me. I want someone that won’t make me feel alone when we are together.”

Carmen closed the space between you two. It was the closest he’d been to you in days. He still smelled of the cologne that you bought him for Christmas with a faintness of the cigarette he must’ve smoked before.

“I thought we’d spend the rest of our lives together.” He said softly.

“If you thought so, then why aren’t we married? I’ve had friends in shorter relationships that have taken the next step. I’ve waited for so long for you to ask me to be your wife and every anniversary that passes, I know that it’s not going to happen. I don’t want to leave. I really loved living here. This felt like home more than any place I’ve lived in, but I can’t stay here.”

“I’ve been a fuckin’ selfish asshole. I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please, I’ll make things up to you. I’ll change.”

“And when things get hard? When you get busy and stressed at the restaurant, then what? It goes back to how things were? I can’t put myself through that. I can’t take that chance.” It killed you seeing him so upset but when you broke up with him, it was like you could breathe again.

You were becoming the person that you used to be. You didn’t want to sacrifice yourself for someone else that didn’t give you the time of day.

Three knocks to the front door made you step away from Carmen. You opened the door and saw the movers with a dollie and a couple of extra boxes.

“Excuse me.” You felt Carmen grab his coat and brush past you. Part of you wanted to chase him down and wrap your arms around him. You didn’t want the last image you had of him to be so hurt.

As you watched the movers grab your boxes and take them down to the awaiting truck, you grabbed the letter that you wrote for Carmen. You planned to leave it on the kitchen counter.

You didn’t know if he’d even read it. Maybe he would rip it up into tiny pieces. Maybe he would read it over and over again.

It wasn’t up for you to wonder. You were at peace with your decision and that’s all that mattered.

[1-800-hwahui]

romance at mistletoe inn

member  |  seungcheol x reader genre  |  smut, some fluff word count  |  ~4,600 warnings  |  reader has a vagina and breasts, unprotected sex, very very soft dom!cheol, sub!reader, wap reader, monster cock cheol, like seriously his dick is BIG, size kink (it comes with the territory wbk), strength kink (?), oral (m receiving), oral (reader receiving), grinding, deepthroating, motorboating, praise, slight manhandling, creampie (they don't talk about reader taking birth control so PLEASE do not be like them irl), cursing, cheol is Whipped, they hold hands :(, teeny bit of aftercare oops sorry, reader's mom accidentally cockblocks, please ignore that the plot actually makes Zero sense this is just pure sex atp notes  |  this is a nsfw sequel to a sfw fic on my main writing blog @junkissed called mistletoe inn! however, this can be read as a stand alone, you don't have to have read the other part to know what's going on here. for the heathen @onlymingyus. i hope you enjoy. p.s. thanks to @duhnova @heartkyeom for making me insane while i wrote this. i know i say this every time but this time i mean it when i say this is definitely the filthiest thing i have ever written - 💒 june

a knock on cheol’s door brings him out of the book he’s reading. it’s late in the evening and it hasn’t stopped snowing all day, leaving everyone at the inn snowed in. at least for the next day or so until the city snow plow comes around. he slides a bookmark into the pages and sets it on his nightstand, grinning as he walks towards the door.

as it usually is every winter, the inn is practically empty, except for one guest. it’s a small town, and people don’t come to stay unless they’re visiting friends or family.

cheol’s really enjoyed talking with you the last few days. he’s learned that you came to surprise your parents, but they’d actually left town without telling you to spend their christmas in hawaii, leaving you alone in a city where you don’t know anyone. 

he doesn’t mind being your friend for the week you’re here– in fact, he loves it. you’re great company, and after a little not-so-subtle prying he’s also learned you’re single. with your work less than an hour away by plane, the distance isn’t bad, and if he’s been reading the situation right, he’s hoping you might feel the same. it’s been too long since he’s taken a break, since he’s traveled out of the little town he’s lived in all his life. maybe it’s time to pass the inn along to someone else in his family. but for now, one step at a time.

of course, it’s you standing on the other side of the door. he can’t help the way his face lights up when he sees you. “hey, what’s up?”

you smile back shyly. “just bored. are… are you busy?”

he grins. “not anymore.”

“do you maybe, wanna, come to my room?” you ask. “i made cocoa.”

“of course i would,” he says, shutting his door with a quiet squeak.

fifteen minutes later the cocoa is long forgotten as you desperately press your lips against seungcheol’s, hands roaming everywhere across each others’ bodies.

you’re suddenly very grateful that you packed your nice pair of panties for a trip that was supposed to be for visiting your parents. and you’re also very grateful that you wore them tonight, just in case.

the muscles in his shoulders flex as he yanks his shirt up and off with one swift movement. you watch, until his hands are back on you, whining as he pulls on the hem of your sweater. you giggle and lift your arms so he can help you tug it over your head.

“can i?” he breathes, reaching for your bra, his gaze fixated on your chest.

you nod, and strong arms wrap around you, carefully unhooking your bra behind your back. you hold the fabric in place with your hands as his fingers tenderly slip the straps down your shoulders. 

when you finally let go, allowing the material to fall to the floor, seungcheol inhales sharply. “god, you’re so beautiful,” he rasps.

he looks up at you for permission, and you smile. hands still clasped behind your back, he pulls you over to the chair by the couch, sitting down so his face is level with your chest. 

his hands glide over your skin, pushing your breasts together and shoving his face in between them with a groan that reverberates in your ribcage. you moan and he lets go, hands skating down your sides to rest at your hips as he leaves wet kisses along the curve of your boobs.

your fingers find his head, weaving up through his hair. he shakes his head back and forth and his hands grab at your ass, roughly kneading the skin. his mouth moves to one of your nipples, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly.

his lips leave your breast with a pop, half-lidded eyes looking almost drunk with pleasure. you shimmy out of your pants, throwing them out of the way but keeping your panties on. 

cheol’s eyes widen and his hands fumble to remove his own jeans, shaking as he slides them down his muscular legs. 

you sink down onto your knees, settling between his legs. he groans when you look up at him with wide eyes, tentative hands resting on his thighs. god, his thighs… just one is probably bigger than your entire head. 

your fingers dance at the band of his underwear, nervously toying with the elastic but not going any further yet. he’s only half-hard beneath the fabric, but you can already tell he’s big, way bigger than you’re used to.

you must’ve paused for too long, because he reaches down to cup your cheek, bringing your gaze back up to his. “what’s wrong, baby?” he asks gently, his voice breathy and low. 

your cheeks heat up, not used to hearing that pet name on his lips. “um, you’re just, uh… big,” you squeak out, a little embarrassed to admit to him.

his expression softens, relieved that he hasn’t done anything to hurt you (yet). “you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, his tone lightening a bit.

immediately you shake your head, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. “i want to,” you say sincerely. “just– don’t know if i can.”

he smiles like you’ve just told him he won the lottery– and with you, he might as well have. “we’ll go slow,” he promises.

you exhale and gently tug at his underwear, finally releasing his cock. it’s big, like you expected, and covered in pretty veins. you wrap your hand around him, but he’s so big, your thumb and index finger aren’t even close to touching. so you add your other hand, completely gripping him, and he moans at the sight of his cock resting in your tiny hands.

you’re just about to put your lips around his tip when you hear your ringtone go off. you whine in annoyance at being interrupted and move your head away from him, taking your hands off of his cock and laying them on his thighs. 

“who is it?” you ask, nodding up at your phone on the table next to seungcheol.

he groans at the loss, but leans over to check your phone for you. “uh, it’s ‘mom’?”

you whine and reach out your hand. “give it here.”

“baby, please,” he grumbles, handing it down to you.

“i’ll be quick,” you whisper before accepting the call. he pouts and leans his head back against the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling.

“hi mom,” you say into the phone, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intend.

“hi sweetie! how’s your trip going so far? sorry again that we missed you,” she starts, and you know you’re in for a long phone call. the woman could talk for hours, days even, and now is definitely not the time.

when you look up, seungcheol is staring at you again, a mischievous grin on his face. he puts a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet, then hooks his arms under you to help you stand. his hands slide to your hips, guiding and pulling you down onto his lap.

“mom, i’m– a little busy right now,” you choke out, trying your damn hardest to keep your voice steady with cheol’s hands on you.

“oh?” the surprise is evident in your mother’s voice. “i thought you didn’t have any plans? did you find something fun to do? you better not be working on work, i told you you’ve been needing a vacation for way too long! your boss can have whatever it is in the new year, you–”

cheol grips you tightly, rolling your hips against his dick, and you have to slap your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from whimpering out loud. he looks up at you, wordlessly asking if you want him to stop. 

you squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. as much as it mortifies you fooling around while you’re literally on the phone with your own mother, the thrill of being caught only turns you on even more.

“no, mom, i’m not working, but i am– busy,” you interrupt.

“well, do you want me to call back in a bit?” you can hear the frown in her voice, the tone she gets when she knows you’re lying.

“no!” you cry out as your clit rubs against the head of seungcheol’s cock, giving you a jolt of pleasure. “i–mean, i’ll call you later. when i’m done,” you recover, hoping to god she hasn’t noticed anything off about you.

“sweetie… are you at the gym?” she questions, and you breathe a sigh of relief that it doesn’t seem like she’s caught on to what you’re really doing. “i’m so proud of you, honey, i know you’ve been trying to do that more lately! well, i’ll leave you be then. have a good workout!”

well, you will be having a workout today… just not the kind she’s thinking of.

“th-thanks,” you stutter. suddenly cheol thrusts hard against you, and the movement makes you lose your balance and fall forward a little. you catch yourself on him, your hand flat against his firm chest. “bye, mom.”

“bye, sweetie! have fun!”

he shoots you a satisfied smirk and you sit back as you fumble to hang up as fast as you can, tossing your phone on the carpet behind you and climbing back down onto your knees.

you finally wrap your lips around him, fingernails gripping his thighs as you struggle to take him in your mouth. not only is he long, but he’s girthy, and you have to stretch your mouth open wide to fit him in. even then, you can’t fit all of him, so you put both hands back around the base of his cock where your mouth can’t reach and you begin slowly bobbing up and down, swirling your tongue around him.

his hips buck up roughly into your mouth and instantly tears prick at your eyes. “sorry,” he moans, but you just shake your head and keep going. he grips down hard on the armrests of the chair to stop himself from moving.

you can feel him hitting the back of your throat with every move and you know your mouth is gonna hurt like a bitch later, but the almost melodic sound of his moans is enough to make you want to have his dick in your mouth forever. knowing that it’s you making him feel like this could give you enough energy to suck him off for days on end.

your abdomen throbs with neglect, but the weight of his cock in your mouth is too good to stop. if you didn’t literally need both hands to fit all the way around him, you would’ve already started touching yourself, but both your hands are… occupied elsewhere.

desperate for any kind of stimulation, you press your thighs together, shifting to rub them against each other. at the angle you’re kneeling you can feel the thin fabric of your panties pressing against your pussy, and you buck your hips, trying to get the lace to give you what you want.

but it’s nowhere near enough, and seungcheol notices when you whine frustratedly around his cock, eyes squeezed shut and hands shaking. he grips your head carefully, pulling you off of him with a groan.

you look up at him with watery eyes and he takes in the sight, your mascara smeared and running down your cheeks and your eyes red and wet from choking around him for so long. 

“can i eat you out? please?” he practically begs, breathing heavily.

“o-okay,” you rasp, the words coming out hoarse.

his eyebrows furrow as he catches his breath. he’d tried so hard not to go rough on you, to stop himself from fucking your throat. it’s only your first time with him, and he really, really hopes it won’t be the last, so he’s mentally kicking himself for losing control.

you see his worried expression, so you cough, trying to clear your throat. “i’m fine,” you reassure him, voice a little less coarse than before but still more than he would’ve liked. 

“are you sure?” he asks cautiously.

“mhm. please,” you whimper.

he smiles and wraps his arms around you, helping you stand. your knees crack and he looks concerned again, but you shake your head. “just sore from kneeling. don’t worry.”

you give him a reassuring look, and he finally relents. suddenly he lifts you with terrifying ease, carrying you across the room to toss you onto the bed like nothing.

he climbs on top of you, his face hovering over your lower half.

“you gonna give me a few, baby?” he asks, his tone saccharine sweet. “gotta prep you enough.”

you croak out a yes, watching his movements with vigilance as his calloused fingertips play with the delicate hem of your panties, teasing.

but he doesn’t move any further, just stares up at you through his eyelashes, and you assume he’s waiting for you to say something.

“p-please?” you sniffle, thinking maybe he wants you to beg him for it. and he does, and you would, but you both know that’s for another time.

he presses a light kiss to your cunt over the fabric, moaning into your skin. “god, you’re so good for me, baby. gonna give you everything you want.”

as much as he wants to rip your pretty little underwear off your body and eat you out like his last meal, he knows he has to start slow, give you both a chance to get used to what the other likes instead of jumping straight into the deep end.

so he keeps his eyes locked with yours as he slips the lacy fabric down your hips, carefully so as not to tear them by accident.

you’re embarrassingly wet from nothing at all, your panties completely soaked through. a thin string of your arousal connects from your cunt to the fabric, and he groans lowly, watching it break.

his gentleness is unbelievably hot, and you can’t deny that him being so deliberate with taking them off makes you want to let him rip them off of you in a heartbeat. so what if they’re your favorite pair? you’d buy ten pairs to replace them if you have to.

you lift your legs, helping him slide your panties off so he can toss them away. he settles back down and tenderly pries your thighs apart, setting each leg to the side and leaving you wide open for him. he stares at your pussy for a moment, glistening with wetness. his intense, focused attention on you makes you gush, your muscles clenching around nothing as he watches enraptured. using two fingers he spreads your folds apart, exposing your dripping hole to his fervent gaze.

“cheol,” you mewl out his name in desperation. 

“‘m right here, baby,” he says, his eyes flicking up to your face for a second to make sure you’re okay. you nod, silently begging him to continue. he cups your pussy, and the feeling of sheer size as his massive hand envelopes you is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

automatically your hips buck into his hand, grinding against his palm as you toss your head back and forth against the pillows, grateful to finally feel some relief. 

he coos and you throw your arm over your face in embarrassment at his reaction, sheepish about being so desperate for a man you only met a couple of days ago. but his response isn’t to tease you or degrade you, but to admire you. so needy, so beautiful. and for right now, all his.

his hand still cupped against you, he slowly slips his ring and middle finger into your hole, letting out a pleased hum when you immediately clench around him.

“so wet for me, baby,” he sighs, gently curling his fingers inside you but otherwise keeping them still to let you adjust. “you’re so fucking sexy.”

you whimper, and he removes his fingers, seeing you’re ready for him to give you what he promised. even after being inside you for only a few seconds his fingers are soaked, completely coated in your juices. he looks up at you to see if you’re still comfortable with everything he’s doing, and when you open your mouth without hesitating even for a second, he thinks he might cum on the spot.

“so well behaved,” he praises, pushing his fingers into your waiting mouth. you close your lips around them eagerly, sucking yourself off of him in earnest.

you sigh when he pulls them out again, moving back down to sit between your still-open legs. he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of both your thighs before pushing his face into your waiting pussy.

when his mouth first makes contact with your cunt, you let out a high whine, back arching off the bed in pleasure. his lips completely surround your swollen clit, and your hand flies down to his head, gripping his hair as your hips writhe against his face.

his tongue is everywhere, gliding over every inch of you, licking and sucking and working you towards your orgasm impossibly fast. you can feel your clit throbbing in his mouth, and your breath hitches when he grazes his teeth over it, making you jolt.

his hands loop around your hips, spreading the skin and forcing you open so he has better access to your cunt.

heat pools in your stomach and you feel the familiar burn start to build in between your legs. “co-coming,” you gasp. “cheol, i’m–”

he groans into your cunt in response, sending waves throughout your body.

you sneak a glance down at him. his eyes are squeezed shut as he devours you, fucking you with his tongue with the most blissful look on his face, as if there isn’t anywhere in the world he would rather be right now than with his face buried in your pussy and your thighs trembling around his head.

the sight alone is enough to send you over the edge, muscles contracting and fingers grabbing desperately at the sheets to ground you as you stumble into your orgasm.

your whines stick in your throat as you gasp for breath, vision going white as you cum harder than you ever have in your life. no vibrator on earth could compare to the way seungcheol feels between your legs— and you’ve got quite the collection of toys back at home.

he keeps sucking, carrying you through your orgasm until you flop back on the bed, thoroughly exhausted. he finally pulls off of you for just a second, catching his own breath.

“god, can’t wait to get my cock in you,” he murmurs before diving back in, barely giving you time to recover before he’s building you back up for another.

you sob out his name as his tongue slips inside your hole and back out, dragging up and down your folds and spreading your juices everywhere. you can feel it dripping down your thighs and onto the comforter below.

“coming, coming, please, cheol, please, i–” you pant, struggling for words.

instinctively your legs snap shut around his head, trying to hold him in place, but he easily pries them apart again as you hurtle towards another orgasm. you cum on his tongue, again, sobbing his name like it’s the only word you know.

when he finally decides you’re ready to take his cock, you’re nothing short of a mess. pretty face smeared with makeup and tears, pretty cunt smeared with cum and saliva. he sits back on his heels, admiring how you look. your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving as you gasp for air, and he thinks he hasn’t seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

“you okay, baby?” he hums, massaging your thigh.

a weak “yes” is all you can manage. he runs a hand over your skin soothingly, this time giving you plenty of time to recover. 

when you’ve finally caught your breath enough to sit up, he’s still watching you cautiously. 

“all right?” he asks, and you nod. “if you’re done, we don’t have to keep going…” he starts, but you stop him, shaking your head.

“i told you before, i want to,” you say, taking his hand and lacing your fingers with his. 

he smiles, and you lay back down, pulling him on top of you. he adjusts back in between your legs, positioning himself at the entrance of your pussy. he drags his cock through your folds, collecting what’s left of his frantic makeout session from earlier and spreading it over his length, using it as lubrication.

still holding your hand, he starts to press into you, just barely the tip. you gasp as he keeps going, carefully pushing inch after inch into your tight hole. 

you squeeze his hand and he freezes, not even halfway inside yet. “okay?” he murmurs, rubbing your hand with his thumb.

“yeah, just– one second, please,” you stutter, breathing hard.

he wants to kiss you, so badly, but he can’t bend over without moving and hurting you. so he settles for bringing your entwined hands to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

the new feeling subsides, the pain of being split open beginning to lessen as you adjust to his size.

“you can… keep going,” you exhale softly.

he nods and starts to push in again, stuffing you full. it takes a while, but when finally he bottoms out, you both let out moans: him at the feeling of your tight hole clenching around him, and you at the feeling of being so full in the best ways.

after staying still to give you more time to adjust, he begins to pick up the pace, starting slowly and gradually building up until he’s pounding into you.

your back slides up and down the bed, each thrust sending you closer and closer to the wall above your head. attentive as ever, cheol notices, and stills his hips for just a second so he can grab your waist with both hands and yank you down away from the headboard. you yelp and clutch at his back, holding on for dear life as he continues pounding into you.

the bed squeaks with each thrust, and for a split second you worry about breaking the bedframe and having to pay for the damage. but then seungcheol is brushing your hair out of your face and cradling your head between his forearms, and all the thoughts in your head disappear when he stares into your eyes, your faces inches apart.

“can i– kiss you?” he groans, his eyelashes fluttering.

“please, ch-cheol,” you gasp. your hands claw at his shoulders, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

he leans down, closing the distance between you and pressing his lips to yours, somehow too gentle and too rough at the same time. your senses seem to explode, so much happening at once, and you move your hands up to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair and tug, pushing him to kiss you deeper.

he moans into you, a deep, rumbling sound you feel all the way in the pit of your stomach. his thrusts get rougher and rougher, and you know he’s getting close. he pulls his lips off of you with a gasp. “whe–where do you want me to–”

“inside,” you plead, your voice coming out throaty. “please, cheol, inside, please–”

he cuts you off and captures your lips again, moaning into your mouth. his hips continue to rut into you desperately and you can only hold on, coming closer and closer to your own orgasm.

you can feel him throb deep in your abdomen, the tip of his cock kissing your walls with each snap of his hips. he shifts slightly and suddenly he’s fucking you like you’ve never felt before. the new angle has you seeing stars, and you clench around him, letting out a choked sob as you come undone on his cock.

your hoarse voice crying out his name over and over again while you quiver in his arms is too much for him, and with a guttural moan he lets go, his own orgasm washing over him and flooding your insides with his cum.

his hips begin to slow, rocking into you with a lazy rhythm as you both come down from your highs. his arms still surround either side of your head, and he moves his wrist to brush your hair out of your face. your hair is sticky with sweat and your eyes are puffy from crying, your mouth hanging open slightly as you struggle to catch your breath.

cheol lays on top of you, resting his head on your chest but careful not to put his full weight on you, letting you cockwarm him for a while. you’re both exhausted and you just lay there together, basking in the afterglow of pleasure.

but as much as you never want the moment to end, you can feel his cum leaking out of you, and you know you probably look like a horrible mess. you whine and push weakly at his shoulders, making him sit up quickly in concern.

“could you… in my bag,” you mumble, pointing a shaky hand towards your cosmetic bag. “m-makeup wipes.”

he slides off of you, leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead before crossing the room to grab them for you. you stay laying on your back, staring at the ceiling, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“here,” cheol says softly, handing you the wipes. you give him a faint smile and prop yourself up on your elbows. you wince when you sit back on your tailbone, sore from how hard seungcheol had fucked you.

he sits at the edge of the bed and gives you an apologetic pout, knowing it’s mostly his fault. “do you… need anything?” he asks shyly, not sure what you need him to do.

“stay?” you ask, voice small. “gonna have to shower, and i’ll– um, need help,” you finish. there’s no chance you’ll be able to walk straight for at least the next few hours, let alone stand in the shower by yourself.

he smiles and puts a hand on your thigh, rubbing at the bruises that have started to form there. “i’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

you scrub at your face, getting the last of the mascara off your cheeks before tossing the dirtied wipe into the trash can by the nightstand. 

with a bit of effort, you manage to throw your legs over the side of the bed, sitting at the edge. you glance behind you at the bed covered in both of your fluids, and you wince, knowing most of it is your fault. “sorry about the sheets,” you whisper, resisting the urge to hide your face in embarrassment.

“baby, we’ll wash them,” he smiles. “don’t worry about it.”

“okay,” you say quietly. you look over to cheol, still sitting beside you, and reach out with both hands for him to help you up.

he jumps up, taking your hands and tugging you to your feet. your legs wobble when you stand, and he slides his arm around your waist to support you as he helps walk you to the bathroom.

you flop down onto the toilet while seungcheol starts the shower, and you have to hold back a laugh at the sight. the buff, sexy innkeeper, butt-ass naked in your bathroom, leaning over the edge of the tub to test the water temperature and make sure it’s not too hot for you.

you know you’re only here for a week, but you could really get used to this.

taglist | @shuatm @yeosayang @noniestars @dkakapizzaboy @enhacolor @kimy3na @candidupped @berrryshortcake @tinkerbell460 @haraethx @iheartyeonnnnn @mxnghao8

[arcanestage]

THESE ALLERGIES! THESE FEELINGS!

characters: yuno / fuegoleon / nozel x gn!reader

summary: you keep having these brief but pretty intense allergic reactions when they come near you and perhaps the only cure is to confess and tell them about your feelings. (antihistamines won’t work sorry!)

a/n: inspired by marta cabrera from knives out (2019) where she literally vomits every time she tells a lie. this is 100% crack like i don’t even know what is going on

also hello sorry i haven't posted anything since *checks notes* january of last year ok anyways enjoy!

yuno

the exact moment you felt your heart beating erratically every time you look at yuno, you knew it was over for you. you were in love and hated every second of it.

it started out as harmless little sneezes with you sniffing every now and then. but then as the days went by, your symptoms started to become bothersome and pretty intense. intense in a way that mere eye contact with him would set off your allergies. crazy, right?

at one of your missions, he flew right beside you on the way to the location. you sneezed so hard you fell off of your broom. yuno, of course, having lightning speed reflexes, swooped you up before you could hit the ground.

these feelings of yours will get you killed quite literally.

the very close proximity to him, however, triggered a massive wave of sneezing.

“y/n, are you alright?”

“fine, fine.” you waved him off with your hand. “must be the awful weather.”

you were so embarrassed you couldn’t even look at him. you needed to look unbothered though, so you got up but felt pretty lightheaded and with knees wobbling. yuno grasped your forearm to try and steady you.

“t-thanks,” you reeled back, suddenly feeling something itchy. true enough, rashes were forming on the area on your forearm where yuno had touched.

you muttered curses under your breath. yuno said nothing but was quite worried upon seeing you distressed.

you took a deep breath and clasped your hands together. “you can go on and catch up with the rest of the gang. i’ll just fly back to the base and get some rest,”

“let me accompany you th—”

“NO!” you blurted out a little too loudly.

“no,” you say again, this time more composed.

“okay,” he said, ever so stoically, and then handed you your broom. “page me if you need anything,”

what are you, my boyfriend? you thought.

“what?”

so you might’ve said that out loud. whoops!

you pretended not to hear and instead tried to mount yourself on your broom. yuno is usually not one to pry or meddle into other people’s business. unfortunately for you, today is not that day.

“y/n.” he grabbed ahold of your wrist. “what did you mean by that?”

you pulled your hand back out of reflex but yuno’s grip only tightened.

rashes were forming on your wrist and they were starting to get itchy. you sighed really loudly.

“it means that you are not my boyfriend and therefore not required to act so concerned about me,” you huffed, your impatience growing each second. “can i go now?”

yuno glitched for a minute; no movement, no reply, nothing. he was still holding onto your hand but you felt his grip loosen.

“do you…” he hesitated for a bit. “do you want me to be… your boyfriend?”

oh you felt like you were going to be sick.

much to your horror (and yuno’s), you were caught up in a seemingly neverending loop of sneezing.

yuno kind of panicked, the shock very much evident in his features.

“let me call mimosa. i’m sure th—”

“no it’s okay! *sneeze* i know how to stop it,”

“okay. how can i be of help then?”

“just… listen,”

a slight pause and then…

“i like you. more than squadmates, more than even being friends. i wanna be with you but like if you aren’t into me that way then that’s cool too like i’d be okay with us being friends i guess—” you rambled nonstop, stumbling over your words.

before you could continue, yuno suddenly pulled you into his arms. you were pretty shocked at first but soon relaxed and let yourself melt into his embrace. he was so warm.

after a few moments, he finally released you. he cupped your cheek and looked at you ever so fondly. “let me repeat. do you want me to be your boyfriend?”

“yes,” you whispered then proceeded to close the gap between your lips and his.

fuegoleon

never in a million years did you think you’d develop feelings for this man.

you admired fuegoleon from afar like any of your squad mates would. every time he was around, you would subtly stare at him because let’s face it he’s good to look at! most of your squadmates admired him in a way that differs from yours but hey, they’re admiration all the same.

apart from being super good looking, he had an equally amazing personality too, reinforcing your infatuation with him all the more.

so now, the mere sight of him makes you feel sick — the butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach non-metaphorically. you couldn't believe that a MAN could possibly have this much effect on you. you'd been so in denial for a few days, ignoring whatever feelings you were harboring for him. it was manageable at first. but then your darned body started to react violently in the form of allergies.

you and your team were summoned by fuegoleon for a post-mission report. while your other member was giving out theirs, you suddenly sneezed.

“s-sorry,” you apologized immediately, covering your face in embarrassment.

fuegoleon chuckled. “what a cute sneeze, y/n.”

your life has never been the same after that. these allergies of yours were so bad that sometimes you could feel your throat tighten seemingly not being able to breathe.

all these over a man? CRAZY

you were afraid of dying so you tried as best you could to avoid atleast being in the same room as him. every thing was going well until…

“y/n!”

your friend made their way over to you during lunch break. they seem so giddy, like a toddler with too much sugar consumption.

“y/n, how come i never see you anymore?”

“well we somehow never get shuffled into the same team lately,” you laughed.

which was obviously a lie. you had always been in missions spearheaded by fuegoleon himself but ever since The Thing happened, you always begged off from anything with fuegoleon in them.

"i miss being team mates with you!" your friend sulked. "even captain fuegoleon notices your absence,"

you almost choked. the butterflies in your stomach were going feral.

"yeah, he's always looking for you. y/n this, y/n that."

needless to say, this whole ordeal changed your life yet again. so instead of being a pussy for eternity, you thought about telling him. no, you WERE going to tell him.

you lingered for a bit outside his office, suddenly not as confident as you were 5 minutes ago. but before you could completely chicken out, the door swung open revealing a startled fuegoleon.

"y/n, i didn't expect to see you here. did you need to discuss something with me?"

you stood there as frozen as a block of ice. you couldn't breathe, you couldn't say anything.

"y/n? is there something wrong?"

"no, i just...i--"

fuck it, you thought

"i'm here to tell you that i like you. that is all."

(that was embarrassing and did not go as planned but atleast you're now free from those dreadful allergies.)

you were about to run off but before you could move your feet, fuegoleon spoke up.

"you know," he cleared his throat, as if he was preparing to say something embarrassing. "i find myself thinking about you a lot these past few days,"

the allergies may have gone, but the butterflies were still there.

"oh. that's... that's nice?"

he said nothing. an uncomfortable silence then proceeded to fill the space between you.

"so um, is this the part where you tell me you like me but not enough to be in a relationship with me?"

"no, no. not at all. this is the part where i ask you out on a date." he chuckled. "forgive me for my silence, i was trying to think of places i could take you to for our dates,"

nozel

it would be a lie to say that you didn’t look up to nozel. you’ve occasionally worked with him in a couple of missions and your relationship sprouted for nothing to casual hi-hello’s when passing by each other around the silver eagles headquarters. sometimes you’d notice him looking at you, his eyes lingering more than you think they should. that or you could be delusional or maybe even hallucinating.

the thing about him is that he notices EVERYTHING. he is quite perceptive, a characteristic fit for a captain of a well-renowned squad in the kingdom. so when you started showing up at his office looking sick, he was concerned.

“y/n, you look quite ill.” he put his pen down and frowned. “and you have rashes all over your face. have you had those checked?”

he got up and made his way to you to inspect your face. the closer he got, the itchier your face felt.

and when his fingertips touched your chin to tilt your head up little? you felt like you were about to combust, your heart banging around inside your ribcage.

that’s when you knew that your rashes were triggered by no less than nozel (and your feelings for him).

you backed up a little, a shaky laugh coming out of your mouth. “i-i should go and get this checked like you said, captain.”

with that, you sprinted out the door and headed towards your room. as if on cue, your rashes disappeared. you dusted yourself off as if nothing happened and continued with your day praying you won’t run into nozel by the corridors.

the whole afternoon went by without a hitch with you successfully avoiding nozel… or so you thought.

you were finishing up your last chore for the day aka cleaning up one of the rooms in the headquarters when suddenly someone entered the room.

you’d been sneezing like crazy a few minutes before that someone entered the room. you knew it was him.

“y/n—”

“DON’T come any closer,” you spun around and held up your broom menacingly.

in his list of things he did not expect to occur today this was at the top. he was stunned, and gave you a “what is WRONG with you” look then proceeded to just roll with it.

“i do not know why you’re acting this way but i came by to ask about how your check up with the doctor went. hopefully those rashes of yours don’t pose any serious threat to your health?”

“they’re just allergies,” you quickly responded, still hypervigilant, watching him like he was a predator on the loose.

nozel ignored whatever the hell was going on with you and took a step forward.

you took a step back.

nozel quirked an eyebrow up. “are you perhaps in a delirious state because of your illness?”

“what? no!”

“bitten by a rabid animal?”

“NO!”

“then wh—”

“okay fine! i’m so in love with you and it’s making me sick!!!”

in the same list of things he did not expect to happen today, this was second. he was — yet again — stunned to say the least.

he was silent too. so silent you swear you could hear your confession echoing through the room.

after realizing he had spaced out for a while, he cleared his throat. you knew he was embarrassed.

“come have dinner with me at 7 o’clock. wear something nice,”

as turned around to leave, you caught a glimpse of his cheek and giggled. he was blushing.

guess that's enough proof that he likes you too!

[loveswrites]

omg poly cullens taking care of a sick reader- i just wanna be doted on frfr

Poly Cullen x Sick reader

I loved writing this it took me 3 hours with people bothering me. I hold you like it. Lemme know what else you would like to see!

Currently you were at the Cullens house for a sleepover. At least that’s what charlie thought, and that’s also what you thought it was as well. You thought you’d have an exciting chill weekend with your secret lovers. That was until you had woken up with a tingle in the back of your throat, your eyes watering, both of your nostrils clogged, and you just simply felt like you were dying. 

“Stop being dramatic.” Roseilane said, rolling her eyes.

“You don’t know how it is Rose, you’ve been dead for like a thousand years.” You said snapping but sneezing mid sentence. She frowned in response. 

“ I may be dead but at least I’m not spreading my germs everywhere.”

“I blame Emmett.” 

“ Wait, what why me?!” He said standing up from the desk he was sitting on.

“ Because you were the one who insisted that we go spend ‘Alone time’ together and go skinny dipping even though you know damn well I can’t swim! That water was cold as hell.” You answered, lifting your tongue as Carlise put a thermometer under your tongue.

When you had woken up immediately complaining you were in Edward's room sleeping with him, because the two of you hadn’t had any alone time together in a while and you could tell it was bothering him. Though he wouldn’t admit it he was grateful that you had chosen to sleep with him without him asking.

I’m not saying it was easy to do so, It was practically like prying a child's favorite toy away with Rose and Emmett. They did not give up without a fight.

“What do you mean you don’t wanna sleep with us?” Rose questioned. 

“ I just wanna sleep with Edward tonight, You’ve done nothing wrong Rose.” You replied in attempts to comfort the defensive vampire.

“But we wanted to watch the game with you, You said you would.” Emmet argued back.

“I know I know but I’m tired, I just wanna take a bath and lay down. Me and Edward haven’t had any time alone together so I thought that me and him could cuddle while I fall asleep. I promise you two did nothing wrong.” You said kissing Rosalie cheek then doing the same to emmett. The frown on their beautiful faces pained you but they weren’t the only one’s in this relationship. 

In Fact you had to think about the last time you spent alone time with Carlise and Esme. They always say that “Your presence in the house alone is enough time for us.” But you know that’s just them being the adults of everything and that is not the case. You knew that just like the rest of the Cullens they went through their own version of possessiveness, it was only right with the soul bond between you all. It’s just they had a better way of hiding it than the others.

Rosalie and Emmett would pout and huff like children. 

 Edward would hide himself in the woods or stuff himself in his room. Saying that he just needed ‘alone time’. When we all knew he needed the exact opposite.

Jasper would be more distant than normal, lost in his thoughts.

Esme would clean. Like there would never be a spot of dirt around this house when she was feeling alone.

And Carlisle would just bury himself with work. Always taking up extra hours making sure he is busy enough to not think too much about it.

All of your partners were just begging for attention but none of them would voice it out loud. 

So right before you went to sleep you stated to yourself in your head that you would make time for each Cullen the next day even if they each only got a hour alone with you, Something was better than nothing.

That was until you woke up feeling like shit.

Carlisle shook his head, taking the thermometer from under your tongue. “You have a fever.”

“I could tell that from down the hall she’s sweating like she’s a witch and we just set her on fire” Edward said with his emo attitude upset that his time with me got cut short because of Emmett’s shenanigans 

“Edward please.” Carlisle said tucking your hair behind your ear while pulling you closer to him to kiss your forehead. This made you smile. You had middle his forehead kisses. You felt like he always gave the best ones. You wouldn’t dare say that out loud ever though. You know Rose would kill you out of jealousy.

“I’m going to get you medicine okay? You’ll be okay.” Carlisle said, pulling away from you when Jasper walked into the room. You nod in response.

“Esme and Alice are making you some soup.” Jasper said with a sly smirk on his face know your next words.

“Soup? Ew You know I can’t stand soup! That shit is nasty. I'm not eating it.” You said, shaking your head and frowning in distaste. You heard soft laughs in response.

“It will make you feel better, I promise.” Jasper said in his southern accent that just honestly was a panty dropper you would always tell him.

“That doesn't help me at all, I’d rather eat sand.” You said rubbing your eyes as you felt a pounding headache come on.

As if sensing your discomfort, Carlisle was right by your side again with supplies in his hand. Rubbing your back with one hand he put his things down on the table you were sitting on.

“You need to rest, Whose room would you like to sleep in? I’ve already contacted Charlie and told him you fell with a cold so you shouldn’t worry about him. He’s fine.” he stated but you were now faced with the most difficult decision of the day.

Looking around the room Jasper was standing by the doorway watching you with calculating eyes still with the sly smirk of his which always made your heart pound. Him hearing it he chuckled, his actions made you look away in embarrassment.

Looking towards Emmett and Rose. Emmett was sitting on the table near the window and Roselie was sitting in between his legs and they both were looking at you with their signature puppy eyes. Moving your eyes to edward very quickly because you knew if you stared at them for too long you would give in.

Edward looked lost in his thoughts which would always make you put him because you felt that he felt like he was lonely. You would call him the lone wolf of the pack which he hated. But he couldn’t stay mad at you just like you couldn't pick just one of them right now. You need all of them right now. And that’s exactly what you would have.

Jumping down from where you were sitting with the help of Carlisle you didn’t respond verbally. You  just did your hand moment you would always do when you wanted all of the Cullens to follow you but didn’t feel like saying it out loud. And they always answered.

Walking to the kitchen where Esme and Alice were, like she could smell you in the air she turned around with a smile on her face.

“There you are my beautiful, Your soup is almost done. Would you like me to add anything to it?” She said so softly, like if she spoke too loudly you would melt aways in pain. Which was a high possibility the way you were feeling. 

“Nope, you didn’t even have to make me anything you know, I would’ve been fine without.”

“Oh no, you know I love a chance to use the kitchen for you.” She said making you smile because you knew it was true.

“Well if you must, can you come up to the room where you're done?” You asked which she nodded in response to. Satisfied with your answer you turned around walking up the stairs to Carlisle and Esme bedroom. 

All that could be heard behind you were soft footsteps of all of your lovers following you.

Once you made it to the room you sat on the bed finally speaking. 

“All of you, all of us, and all of me. Here in this bed now.” Leaving no room for argument, you got comfortable.

The first to get in the bed with you was Jasper surprising you. He claimed his spot behind you so that you were in his arms and laying on him. 

“The best spot in the house.” He whispered into your ear making you giggle at the ticklish feeling.

Soon following along, each Cullen claimed their spot next to you. Everyone getting one piece of their love. They were satifisty. Meaning so where you.

Once everyone was relaxed Esme came up to the room to feed you the soup she had made you. Though you tried to fight it, you were falling weaker and weaker each minute. This ‘cold’ was kicking your ass. Soon after she was done feeding you she also claimed her spot between you and Caslise. 

A few minutes into laying there you felt your eyes growing heavy. The feeling of hands all over you. The coolness of your lovers cooling you down. You felt content. But you had One question.

“Guys, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” Each of them said collectively.

“Would you love me if I was a worm?”

“Oh my god-”

“I’d probably step on you.”

“I’d keep you in a beautiful enclosure.”

“I’d give you a little cowboy hat-”

“That’s so stupid.”

And just like that. You were out like a light.

[reveristcalicocan]

HUGS PLEASE

genshin men X f!reader

characters: Albedo, Ayato, Childe, Cyno, Heizou, Kazuha, Thoma, Wanderer, Xiao

synopsis: asking them for a hug

warnings: none! pure fluff and comfort

ALBEDO

“oh, of course.”

He doesn’t pull away until you do, even if it means delaying his experiments for a little while.

Your arms were wrapped tightly around him, face hiding in the crook of his neck. Neither of you said anything, Albedo would plant a few kisses on your head, rubbing circles on your back.

Although he wasn’t the greatest at understanding human emotions, he could tell that you weren’t feeling your best and refrained from pushing you too much.

AYATO

You fidgeted nervously outside the door, it had been a few days since Ayato and you had some time together. You were feeling quite upset and lonely so you decided to approach him yourself.

Sliding open the door, Ayato looked up and gave you a warm smile. “Good evening love,” he gestured for you to sur next to him.

Positioning yourself on the floor, you mustered up your courage to ask him.

“Ayato, i know you’re busy but um do you think we could just hug for a bit…?” You looked down at your hands when he doesn’t give you an immediate response.

You were enveloped by his arms as he pulled you into his chest, ignoring the tall pile of paperwork. The moment you made your request, Ayato realised how long it’s been since he paid you much attention.

“Forgive me, i’ve been so caught up with my work that i neglected your needs.”

CHILDE

You didn’t exactly ask him, you kinda just went in from behind and refused to let go.

“oh? my, what do we have here!”

Childe would try to tease you a bit but upon seeing the way your grip just tightened around him he knew you weren’t feeling your best.

“Now now, there’s nothing to worry about, i’m here.” Wrapping his arms around you, the two of you would stay like that for some time.

Childe offers to talk about what’s been bothering you but whether you accept or not, he’d still happily give you all the encouragement you need.

CYNO

“you want a hug?” Cyno had to question you back to make sure he understood you correctly.

“mhm” you nod your head.

Cyno approached you and wrapped you in a warm hug. No words were exchanged, just the two of you relishing in each other’s presence.

Once you let go, he would ask if anything’s wrong. If you decide to tell him he’ll do whatever he can to help. If not he wouldn’t pry too much, just let’s you know that you can always talk to him.

HEIZOU

It was in fact Heizou who approached you and hugged you first.

“!!”

Heizou’s arms wrapped around your waist as he lay his head on your shoulder, giving you a smile. Before he could pull away, you grabbed hold of his hand, bringing him back to the hug.

He would tease you a bit, definitely squishes your cheeks.

KAZUHA

It was a quiet and windy night on the crux fleet, the two of you were stargazing. Despite the time, there were still a good number of people walking about.

“Kazuha it’s cold…” You whispered to him as a cool breeze brushed past you.

Instinctively, Kazuha scooted closer to you, taking you into his arms. You snuggled into him, a content smile gracing your face.

The sound of the waves slowly lulled you into a deep slumber.

THOMA

A hand around your waist and the other in your hair, keeping you close to him.

“is there anything you want to talk about?” Thoma gently brushed away a few strands of hair from your face.

“no, i just wanted to hug you.”

The two of you fell into silence once again. It wasn’t awkward, no. Just an understanding silence between the two of you.

WANDERER

“I don’t give hugs for free y’know?” An annoyed expression surfacing.

When you remained silent and didn’t continue talking, he felt just a tiny bit of guilt for saying that to you.

“Ugh fine come here…”

He opened his arms inviting you into a hug. A light blush tinted his cheeks as he looked away from your smiling face.

XIAO

“No, it’s too dangerous.”

Although he didn’t move away from you, you could tell that he had his doubts of being in such close proximity.

When you continued to pester him, he couldn’t help but give in.

“Just for a few seconds.”

You happily agreed, going in for the hug.

‘a few seconds’ turned into minutes. Neither of you pulled away, perhaps sensing that this hug was much needed.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level Two

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter. “I’m gonna need you to stay late tonight,” Murray said through a mouthful of his sandwich. You startled, realising he was talking to you. Robin sunk down in her seat, her eyes trained on her microwaved pasta. “The games are getting serviced, but they’re not gonna be done until, pshh, midnight? Maybe.”

“What?” You stared at your boss, your own lunch forgotten about. “But Robin was working that, wasn’t this already, uh, discussed?”

“Buckley has a medical appointment,” Murray replied, too busy staring at some coffee stained sheets of paper to give you any attention. “And I don’t like to pry into my employees personal lives, so, you’re it, kid.”

You turned, neck snapping to the girl. She was already grimacing, knowing fine well that you knew there was absolutely no appointment. Your friend had spent all week gushing about a date she had at the weekend, you just assumed it was Sunday, not Saturday, seeing as she was already on the rota for the late shift. 

“Oh no. I hope you’re not too sick, Robin,” you said through clenched teeth. 

The girl sunk further down, her nose level with the table and her lukewarm pasta. She had the good grace to wince and mouth ‘sorry’ at you, eyes wide and apologetic. 

“Anyway, you and Harrington can utilise your time and do something productive, like cleaning the popcorn machine,” Murray waved a hand, distracted, knocking his coffee mug dangerously close to the computer. 

The popcorn machine hadn’t worked since 1973 but you didn’t bother mentioning that, too hung up on the other name that Murray had lumped yours with. “Harrington?” You glared between your boss and Robin, who was now positively morose. “Steve? Steve’s on the late with me? No. No.”

Murray laughed, a mean cackle that told you there wasn’t really any point in arguing, but you tried anyway. “Murray, please, c’mon. Can’t Argyle do the late? Carver? Literally anyone else?”

The man snorted, finally turning on his computer chair, the wheels protesting and he was grinning at you, gaze amused through his wire rimmed glasses. “They’re busy.”

“So am I!” You attempted, voice cracking. 

“You owe me approximately…” he turned back to his desk, rifling through the mess there until he produced what looked to be your timesheet. You bit back a swear. “…five hours this week. And that’s not including the forty minutes you were late this morning, so, I think we can compromise on you doing the late and keeping your job, alright?”

You didn’t say anything, just turning back on your chair to slump down to Robin’s level, arms folded and eyes stormy. The girl knocked your ankle with her own, mouthing another apology across the table, and if it weren’t for the fact she’d been trying to work up the courage to ask Nancy out for months now, you would’ve definitely have done something childish, like knock her pasta off the table. 

But you didn’t. You were fine. It was fine. 

“Make sure you lock up properly when you leave,” Murray reminded you unnecessarily, ‘cause that was Argyle’s bad habit, not yours. “And play nice with Steven - but not too nice.” He ruffled your hair as he passed, already leaving for the day despite the fact there was four hours left of opening. “There’s cameras everywhere, and some of them actually work. We don’t gotta see that, and I got out of the porn business years ago.”

Silence settled over the staff room as he slammed the door behind him, his last comment making Robin firmly push her lunch away. You blinked and stared at her, both of you thinking too much. 

“Is he… was that a joke?” She asked, hesitant to know the answer. 

“I have no idea.”

—————

Steve arrived as the last of the staff left, coming from his day off to spend the next six hours with you in the dark arcade, waiting for a team of greasy haired men to push some buttons on each machine, wiggle a joystick or two and then demand a couple of hundred dollars for their effort. 

It was unnerving to see the boy in normal clothes, no real need for his staff shirt or name badge. His white t-shirt made him look even more tanned, sunkissed from the afternoons spent by his pool, the cotton lit up ultraviolet under the arcade lights. 

“What time are they comin’?” He asked in lieu of greeting, heaving himself up to sit on the desk, narrowly avoiding the bag of chips you’d been snacking on. 

You huffed, an annoyed sound that the boy was so used to, snatching your chips away before he could crush them further. You shrugged, moving away from Steve, eager to put some distance between you and him, ‘cause he smelled too damn nice. 

Like sunscreen and summer, leftover chlorine and a cologne that was probably more than his last paycheck. It was annoyingly distracting. 

“Don’t know, Murray said anytime between seven and ten.” You were already tired, draping yourself over the counter, used ticket stubs sticking to your arms. “This fucking sucks.”

“Didn’t you miss me?” Steve grinned, spinning on the desk to face you, his legs crossed in front of him as he leaned forward, taunting. He was good at giving you the eye, that gaze he gave all the girls, thick lashes fluttering, honey brown stare all soft and warm. 

Too bad it didn’t work on you. 

“No. But I’m glad to see you managed to pick up a sense of humour as well as an STD by the pool today.”

Steve laughed, unperturbed by your vicious comment. It hurt less when you smiled at him like that, all pretty and pleased with yourself, smug about it. “You’re particularly catty today, princess. Still not managed to reclaim a Dig Dug victory?”

“Fuck off.”

Steve grinned. Riling you up was his favourite thing to do. But all too soon, you were pushing yourself away from the desk, chips forgotten about, and rounding the counter. You sighed, looking around the empty arcade as if doing anything was better than talking to him. 

“I’m gonna refill the ticket machines,” you declared, not looking at him when you spoke. “Murray said you need to clean the popcorn machine, so, Godspeed.”

Steve blanked, staring at you as you walked away, bare legs lit up in pinks and blues under the lights, your shorts a constant distraction for him. He hated them. “Wait, what? The popcorn machine hasn’t worked in fucking years.”

“Not my problem!” You waved him off before turning the corner, disappearing behind the chunky machines that had stood since the beginning of the seventies. “Have fun, Harrington.”

Steve let the service men in an hour later, the silence that had fallen over the arcade interrupted by mechanical beeping and the switching on and off of each machine. He hadn’t seen you since he’d first arrived and the fact that he’d only managed to get one rise out of you was severely disappointing. So he searched through the large room, navigating the rows of games in a way he knew all too well, each screen flashing invitingly, the promise of a new adventure stuck behind each one. 

He knew where to find you, it wasn’t all that hard. But he still stopped to watch from afar as you bashed the buttons on the Dig Dug machine, swearing softly to yourself when the game didn’t do what you wanted. It beeped angrily, the screen flashed and a patronising ‘game over’ sign flooded the black background. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” he called out, too happily. 

You spun, scowling at the sound of his voice, his cheery negativity, his wide smirk. A sound of dismissal left your throat, annoyance clear on your face, but you couldn’t resist the bait. “There’s like, three buttons and I only need to use one of them,” you snapped, “how can I be doing it wrong?”

Steve joined you at the machine, leaning on the side of the bulky game, lit up by the flashing neon lights that hung above it. He was six different shades of yellow and orange, all golds and ambers and peaches across tanned skin and brown eyes. He was smug looking, eyes flickering from yours down to your fingers that were prodding at the button, bashing it furiously as you tried to blow up the Fygar’s that were in your way. The game beeped again, angry, and you were back to the main menu. 

Steve’s name flashed obnoxiously from the top of the leaderboard, the number one beside it, setting your teeth on edge. You pushed another coin into the slot, took a deep breath and tried to ignore the boy beside you. 

Steve only managed another minute or two of polite silence before he was sighing. “Jesus, look, like this, yeah?” His hand covered your own, the one hovering over the button and you froze, staring at him from the side of your eyes. “It’s about timing, not how hard you can mash the button into the board.”

You knew how to play. You were number one last week, you weren’t a novice, Dig Dug was your favourite game. You should’ve shaken him off, snarled something mean about men thinking they always knew best but you were frozen, still staring, looking at the boy like a deer trapped in headlights.

Steve pressed his fingers over yours as the game restarted, the tinny, electronic music beginning all over again. He was methodical about it, pressing the shooter only when the enemies got close enough, a vast difference to the way you manically shot on sight. But he frowned when he realised you weren’t moving at all, the joystick frozen in your other hand. 

“C’mon, you’re not exactly helping,” he complained moodily. “S’wrong? Scared I’m trying to seduce you or somethin’?” 

You scowled at that, shifting under Steve’s touch, glaring at him from where he still stood beside the machine; one, warm, wide hand still covering yours. His fingers were so much bigger than your own, swallowing your own against the buttons. 

“As if you could,” you were quick to shoot back, but you ducked your chin, glaring at the screen through your lashes. “More concerned about where your hands have been.”

You heard him huff out a laugh, a breath through the smirk that seemed to always be on his lips when he was around you. He pressed your fingers down again when you tilted the joystick, successfully blowing up three of the little pixelated enemies on screen. 

“Now, now, princess,” Steve’s voice was low, smooth. You hated it. “Don’t act like you weren’t letting Carver drape himself over you last Wednesday.”

You wrinkled your nose at the memory, not liking Jason Carver any more than you did Steve, but at least the latter didn’t invade your personal space like Jason did. The blonde boy seemed to think his old letterman jacket was a one way pass into a girl's pants, no matter how long it had been since high school had ended. 

You had absolutely no interest in Jason, you never had and you told him as such on the daily. But it was still fun to say, “you sound jealous, Steven.” You smirked the same as him, letting your gaze slide to him from the side of your eye, watching as he frowned, cheeks rosier than normal in the arcade lights. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” he bit back, eyes focused on the screen, his fingers jabbing over yours a little harder than before. “You’re not my type.”

It shouldn’t have cut you as much as it did, a cheap jab, wrapped in barbed wire but it stung all the same. You sneered, a nasty thing, shrugging Steve off, his hand moving from yours and leaving it cold. You pressed the button alone, blowing up the pixels until there were none left and the level cleared. The screen flashed with a new high score and you tilted the joystick with more force than necessary as you typed out your initials. 

Your name took first place on the leader board, knocking STEVE H. to the number two spot. The boy didn’t say anything as you walked away, his eyes on your bare legs, as usual, the taste of regret sitting heavy on his tongue. 

[star-girl-05]

Bedhead: Three

James Wilson x reader

Part One Part Two Part Four

~★~❤︎~✦~

Both of you get back to work unaware of the prying eyes of House down the hall. 

House makes his way back to his office ‘Wilson you dog’. House has been with Wilson through many girlfriends and wife's. If he's being honest he's surprised Wilson could land you in the first place. You're not his usual type for one you're not dying of anything.

He knew something was up with Wilson; he just didn’t know that thing was you. Wait a second… Wilson's sex hair this morning. He can not believe goody two-shoes Wilson would have sex at work. He couldn't believe that you would have sex at work.

He wonders when this all started, Wilson started acting strange three months back but when did he seal the deal with you? That's the question on his mind when all of you enter back in the room revealing each of your findings. 

At House's lack of response Cameron speaks up sass lacing her words. “Are you even listening?”

“No, I've got something more important on my mind.” he twirls in his chair looking over the five of them, his eyes stopping on Wilson for a second before turning back to Cameron. 

“What's more important than our dying patient”

“When Wilson and Y/n started sleeping together” The nonchalants of his tone contradicted the reaction of everyone in the room. Cameron, Chase and Foreman whip their head around while you just go bright red. Wilson on the other hand is glaring at House silently fuming at his audacity. 

“You're sleeping with Wilson” Cameron couldn’t believe it, neither could the boys both shocked into silence. 

“Not that it's any of your business” your eyes fall to House giving him a glare of your own “but yes me and Wilson have been seeing each other” 

“What are..” you're interrupting her getting things back on track and talking about the patient instead of your love life. 

After you finish the case hours later they decided it was finally time to play twenty questions. House and Wilson were having their own argument conversation in Wilson's office. Leaving you to fend for yourself against the three of your colleagues. 

Cameron was the most excited she was grilling you asking millions of questions: When did you start dating? Do you love him?, Who all knows?. It was like talking to your little sister, you did your best to answer all her questions. Once she ran out you looked over to the boys to see if they had any Foreman just shook his head saying a quick warning that now House knew he was bound to treat you differently.

That's one of the reasons you didn’t tell anyone you're nervous about what this means for your working relationship with House. Cameron forced him to take her on a date and he doesn’t treat her any differently than the rest of us so you should be okay but no one knows when it comes to House. Chases just shakes his head saying nope. 

With your interrogation being over you are grabbing your things and heading out the door. Wilsons waiting for you at the entrance, a sweet smile on his face when he sees you. “I hope you weren't waiting to long Cameron had a lot of question”

“No I just got down here a few moments ago had to put House in his place” his face soured at the thought, pulling you close to him. Now that House knew he didn’t really care if anyone saw. “I’m sorry he did that”

“You don’t have to apologize he was bound to find out, on the bright side now we don’t have to hide our relationship” Wilson nodded in agreement placing another kiss on your lips. 

“I love you” he whispered against your lips.

“I love you too” 

Part One Part Two Part Four

[remersgf]

his toy

matt stone x fem!reader

2.9k words

cw: smut, sex toys, biting, meanish!matt, some dom(m)/sub(f) dynamics, degradation, praise, fingering (f!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, daddy kink, size kink if you squint, roughish sex, dialogue heavy!!!

enjoy :3

“you look so pretty, mama.”

you blinked awake, yawning and adjusting your head against the pillow to find the familiar voice coming from behind you. 

“did i wake you up? ‘m sorry.”

“s’okay… when did you get home?” 

he let out a deep sigh; and even though it was nearly pitch-black in your room, you could make out a grimace on his face. he had been working his ass off at the office, you were lucky if he even came home at night. which he hadn’t been doing often. you missed him, and you knew he missed you too. he was just busy, and you had to be okay with that; even if it was lonely. 

“a little bit ago, you were on my mind all day. had to come home to you,” he mumbled, occupied with prying the shoes off his feet and stripping down to his boxers.

his hand met your hip as he shuffled in next to you, giving your plush flesh a small squeeze while he settled in. planting soft kisses on your bare shoulder and breathing you in. you felt his lashes flutter against your skin when he gently sunk his teeth into you.

“you smell so good, baby. you’re so soft,” he whispered into you, kisses traveling up to your neck.

“did you miss me?”

“‘course i did, can’t you feel me?” he rolled his hips slowly into your ass, proving his point and letting you feel his hardening cock, “did you miss me?”

a breathless gasp escaped your lips when you felt him rutting against you, the only barrier between your bodies was each other’s underwear. his hand splayed over your belly, pressing you closer to him. 

“mhm. i didn’t think you’d come home tonight, had to make myself cum before i went to bed.”

“i’m sorry, sweetheart. i’m here now, though. what were you thinking about?” punctuating his question with a flit of his tongue against your ear.

you softly shook your head ‘no’, hiding your face in the pillow underneath you. 

“c’mon, don’t get shy on me. i wanna hear,” he chuckled lowly and nipped your earlobe.

“thought about you between my legs,” you breathed before continuing, “thought about your tongue on my clit and your fingers in me. thought about how you know exactly how to make me feel good, sometimes better than myself.” 

he nodded, taking your words in. you didn’t need to tell him how well he knew your body; he was well aware. the cocky motherfucker prides himself on the very fact. he was rutting against you with a purpose now, fingertips teasing your panty line just to ignore your core and moving down to grab at your thighs. his touch was gentle yet firm, taking his time to feel the silkiness and pudginess of your skin. he loved how you were always so soft, so squishy compared to his rough hands.

“how’d you do it? how’d you make yourself cum?”

you squirmed at his question, memories from earlier flooding back and making the wet spot on your panties grow. 

“i had two of my fingers inside at first, but it wasn’t enough.”

“what’d you do about it?”

“i- i got my dildo and my vibrator out. i sat on your side of the bed and rode it like it was your cock, and i held the vibe against my clit until i came. is that what you wanted to hear?”

he groaned in response, fingers dancing up until they met your flimsy, white tank top. he squeezed your breast, kneading it before pinching your adjacent nipple.

“dirty girl. that’s exactly what i wanted to hear, thank you, sweetie. is that why the sheets under me are sticky?”

“shut up! i know they aren’t, you’re just being mean.”

“you think this is mean? i can get a lot meaner.”

shaking your head in disagreement, you sighed and let a hand cover his. grabbing his wrist to slide it under your shirt, guiding him to squeeze your bare tits. 

“no need to get grabby…” he laughed. 

“quit teasing, then.”

“just wanna take my time with you, i miss you.”

you whispered it back to him, gasping barely a second later when he tugs on your nipple. your back arches and a whimper leaves your lips, pressing your ass further into his groin. you’re reciprocated with a low moan in your ear and his hand leaving your tit, trailing back down to your belly to slip his fingers just underneath the waistband of your panties. holding them there to show you that you’re his, the smallest indication of possession, just to remind you whom you belong to. his lips latched onto your neck, sucking a dark purple bruise into you. he’d gently bite your neck and shoulders, soothing his tongue over the teeth marks he left behind. 

you reached your arm behind blindly to find the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his curls and pushing him further into you. you tried murmuring, ‘harder’, which only made him pull away from you.

“what’d you say? harder? you’re gonna have to ask nicer than that, y/n.” he said calmly, the contradiction of his words and tone making you dizzy.

“please, daddy, do it harder…” whispering, shame bubbling in your stomach.

“daddy? you gonna be my good girl tonight?” if you could see his face right now, you bet his eyes would be lit up like a christmas tree. it’s not often that ‘daddy’ came out, but when it did, a flip switched in matt. you underestimated how much he’d like it the first time you called him that, and you ended up not being able to walk the next morning.

you whined a ‘yes’ to him, bucking your hips up in an attempt to get his fingers further down your pants. instead of calling you names and putting you over his knee to abuse your cheeks, like he normally would at your bratty attitude, he simply tsked and sunk his hand down to circle your clit. 

“okay, baby, whatever you want.”

his middle finger made tight circles around your clit while his teeth sunk into your shoulder once again, this time biting down deeper and staying there for a few seconds. he pulled away to admire his work, before moving closer to your pulse point and biting down again. your eyes squeezed shut when two of his fingers slid past your sopping folds, squeezing your thighs together to make sure he’d stay there.

“does that feel nice? i can’t really move with you squeezin’ me like this. spread your legs ’n make it pretty for me.” he grumbled, grabbing your jaw with his free hand so you’d face him.

even through the darkness, you saw his half-lidded eyes staring you down. you felt small, threatened almost, in this position. you meekly spread your legs for him, also taking it upon yourself to slide off your panties. he pulled back the covers slightly so he could watch you, taking the dainty panties from your hand when you had finished undressing.

“look, honey,” he flipped them inside out to see the wide glistening spot on the fabric and waited for your eyes to focus on him before licking the wet patch. his eyes fluttered shut as he tasted you, bringing it to his nose to inhale deeply afterward.

rendered absolutely fucking speechless, you could only look at him with wide eyes. you listened to him moan, just from smelling you. it was kinda sick and it made your stomach churn, but it made you throb at the same time. 

when he decided he was finished, he tossed the panties to the floor and slowly returned his hand to your aching pussy; only after taking the time to leave lingering touches across your stomach and thighs. his eyes scanned your face when he slid a finger in, watching your jaw fall open and your neck strain. he leaned into you, brushing his mouth over yours, and licked your puffy bottom lip. he slipped his tongue inside but you were barely able to kiss back. it became exceptionally harder when he slid another finger inside. 

“you’re so cute,” he giggled, “all messy with rosy cheeks, and all i’ve done is fucked you with a few fingers. are you that pathetic?” 

nodding, obeying, agreeing with whatever he says in hopes of getting what you want. but you know that what he’s saying is probably accurate; if you looked in a mirror, you’d see a fucked-out mess staring back at you. 

“can you hear yourself? listen,” he grabbed your hand off its place on his head and put it over your mouth, pressing down hard so your moans would be muffled, “shhh…”

like this, you could actually hear the wetness reverberating off his hand and your crotch. sickeningly sweet squelching sounds filled the space in between you and it made you drip, how good he was making you feel and how he knew exactly how to do it.

he watched you as he toyed with your pussy, gauging your reaction every time he pulled his fingers away and laughing in your face when you’d whine at the loss. with every curl and stroke of his fingers, your back jolted away from the bed and your head tilts upwards. he’d bring you so close to the edge, just to still inside you.

“i want y’cock, i wanna feel full,” you cry, whining to get your way.

“you wanna feel full? like how you felt earlier?”

his words made you freeze, you had almost forgotten that you told him how you played with yourself earlier. a whimper tumbled out of you and red washed over your face, trying to hide in your pillow again. 

“you don’t have to be embarrassed, princess, it’s just me. go get your vibrator and i’ll fill you up nice.” he cooed, ripping his fingers from your core and sucking them into his mouth.

you begrudgingly got out of bed and hobbled over to your dresser, digging around in the top shelf before revealing a small, pink toy. you threw it across the room onto the bed, aiming for the empty space next to matt but it ended up smacking against his chest and landing in his lap. you sucked your lips in to hold back a laugh as he stared at you blankly, finally laughing when your eyes widen. he mumbled ‘rude’ as his giggles died down and picked up the silicone toy, bringing it to life with a click of the button. 

sitting at his feet, you watched him inspect the toy. he seemed enthralled with it, even though this definitely wasn’t the first time he’s had it in his hands. he ran his finger over the length of it, pressing the button over again until it was at its highest speed. his eyes locked with yours as he brought it to his clothed cock, running the tip of the toy over his balls first until he reached the head of his dick. you watched as his jaw hung open and gentle moans left his mouth, how he whimpered when he circled the vibrator over his slit.

“i bet this is even better than my mouth, huh?” he said lowly, choking on a groan as he took the vibrations away from his painfully hard cock.

you shook your head fervently, assuring him that his tongue is much better than some buzzing inanimate object. it was the truth, you’ve never made yourself cum as hard with it as he has with just his fingers and tongue. he raised his brows at you in disbelief, but he didn’t argue. he slid off his boxers and carelessly threw them on the ground, joining the growing pile of clothes next to the bed.

“alright, mama. come here.”

you crawled into his lap, settling yourself on his thighs and grabbing his broad shoulders to hold you in place. he smiled up at you before dipping down and kissing your neck. it was chaste, a sheer distinction to what was about to happen. his fingers fiddled with the hem of your tank top, pulling it up and over your head and taking your breasts in his hands once they fully appeared. 

“are you gonna show me how you made yourself feel good? my pretty girl…” he babbled, pinching your nipples before tucking your hair behind your ears. 

you nodded sheepishly, sitting up on your knees and wrapping your fingers around his cock. you smiled at his expression as you pumped over his length a few times, squeezing the tip ever so slightly when you reached the top. a groan bubbled out of him while he watched you jerk him off, your small hands such a stark contrast to his hard length.

he peeled your wrist away, taking himself in his own hand and lining it up with your wet pussy. he flicked his tip along your folds, pressing it up into your clit before sliding it back down. he pressed his fingertips into your hips, pulling you down to sit fully on him. 

you swallowed each other’s airy gasps as he stretched your walls, hot breath on your chest and yours fanning onto his forehead. he held you in place like that for a little, letting you adjust to his size.

“feel full?” he asked, not even waiting for your response to an answer he already knew, “don’t move.”

he blindly reached for your vibrator, tossed somewhere to the side and briefly forgotten about. he never turned it off, so when he finally put the pink toy to your clit, you jolted in shock.

the hand gripping your hip tightened when he felt you clench around him. with your head thrown back and your nails digging into matt’s freckled shoulders, you didn’t even realize he was laughing at you. and honestly, you wouldn’t mind if you knew.

every time your hips stuttered on his cock, trying to add to the friction, he’d wrap his arm around you and cement you in place. your gaze went from the ceiling to the arm around your waist just to see his bicep and forearm flexing and holding you tight. 

“love how small you are in my arms,” he whispered, noticing your infatuation with his arms, “love how easy i can toss you around.”

“please, please let me move- i wan’ it…”

“please, what?” 

“please, daddy,” there was that red-hot shame again, dripping down onto matt’s thighs.

“okay, honey,” he placed a kiss on your cheek before continuing, “you can move.”

without a second thought you were rolling your hips against his, his tip continuously rutting against the spongy spot inside you. he held the vibrator against his pubic bone so you could grind against it simultaneously, thrusting it against your clit deeper every time you moved forwards. 

“feels so good, mama. so tight around me. you feel like heaven.” he said in between planting kisses to your ear, his deep voice going through your ears and straight to your crotch. “you’re dripping all over my thighs, i can feel you fucking gliding on me. are you just so desperate?”

“yes- mphmmfuck, matt,” you moaned, “need to cum, ah!”

he cut you off with a thrust of his hips upwards, sending you toppling onto him and burying his face in your chest. he sucked a nipple into his mouth, biting over the hardened nub before soothing it with his tongue. his kisses went up your chest and to your neck, suckling the skin harshly to leave another bruise. 

“sweet girl needs to cum.” he cooed, “already? i didn’t know my girl was such a slut.”

he groaned, almost whimpering in your ear before he started again, “who am i kidding, we both know how fucking slutty you are. just for me though, right baby? like how you were so needy you bounced on a plastic cock and pretended it was mine? were you sad there was no cum to fill this pretty pussy of yours?” 

his tone compared to the filthy things he was saying to you pulled you over the edge, spasming against him and clenching around his cock. the haze he had pulled you into made you feel drunk. you were so gone you didn’t even notice him start to fuck you, one hand on the bed for leverage and the other holding you upright. thrusting his hips into you at a ruthless pace, chasing his orgasm: desperately needing to give you what you craved. 

he finally released inside you, his warmth spreading over your walls as he slowed. he relaxed and fell backward, bringing you down with him and making you squeal softly when his cock hit a sensitive spot in the process. 

you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow down, counting every beat. his hands found your hair and massaged his fingers into your scalp. 

“so good for me. thank you, baby.”

“thank you?”

“mhm. you deserve to be thanked. you know i’d get on my knees for you in an instant.”

you buried your head in his chest, not letting him see the stupid giddy grin adorning your face.

“love you s’much.” you whispered, muffled by his skin.

“i love you too, y/n.”

[wildsupernova]

roses, chocolates, and a heart shaped box.

summary: valentine’s day had always felt like a joke to you. nobody had ever taken the time to do anything nice for you, but when the sickeningly romantic steve harrington falls in love with you, of course you’ll have the best valentine’s day ever.

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

warnings: some suggestive language, nothing too crazy

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hey everyone! i know it’s been a while since i posted anything, but my second year of college has been kicking my ass and making it near impossible to get motivation to do anything. i figured what better way to get back in the swing of things than with a valentine’s day fic! i know it’s a day early, but i wanted to get this up before i got too busy and forgot about it. anyway, hope you guys enjoy, and happy valentine’s day!

masterlist | prompts list | ao3

Valentine’s Day had never been something you looked forward to.

Even as a kid, you associated it with loneliness, watching on as all the little second grade boys gave their crushes a dandelion they picked fresh from the playground at recess. You detested it when they started selling candy-grams in middle school, because every year it seemed that you were the only one who never received one. You’d check your locker every day for the whole week hoping that maybe someone had slipped you a note only for nothing to fall out when you opened it, held your breath when they handed out the candy-grams only for your name to never be called, and dressed yourself up nice in the hopes that someone at the Valentine’s Day dance would ask you to dance with them only to end up with sore feet and running mascara by the end of the night. By the time high school came around, you gave up on the idea of Valentine’s Day altogether, never having a relationship last long enough to celebrate it. 

You’d turned into a stone hearted cynic, and just the mention of the words ‘Valentine’s Day’ had you rolling your eyes. 

That was, until you met Steve Harrington. 

You’d never met someone so…romantic. He was the kind of guy to show up to your house with flowers for no reason other than that he wanted to, or buy you a pair of fake diamond earrings (hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?) he saw at an antique shop because he saw them and immediately thought of you. He was the type to leave small little love letters in your locker between classes, and pick you up and spin you around and cover you in kisses because he missed you. 

But that didn’t change the fact that you hated Valentine’s Day. 

Steve had never been able to understand how someone could hate Valentine’s Day. ‘Come on!’ He’d say. ‘It's a whole day where people who love each other do something special together. What could be better than that?’ You’d always respond the same way; that to you, Valentine’s Day was nothing but a commodity and an excuse for boyfriends who did nothing for their girlfriends all year to make up for it with a fancy dinner and a box of chocolates. You don’t need a special day to show you love someone. If you really love someone, everyday is like that. 

It took him prying it out of you before you finally admitted the real reason you hated Valentine’s Day. 

“Nobody’s ever done anything nice for me on Valentine’s Day, okay?” The words come out with a bit more bite than you mean for them too, and Steve’s face scrunched a bit. 

“What?”

“Nobody’s ever done anything for me for Valentine’s Day.” You repeat yourself. “I’ve never gotten…flowers, or chocolates, or a nice dinner or anything. It’s not a big deal, I’m used to it.”

“Nobody has ever done anything nice for you?”

“I mean, my parents always got me chocolate every year but…nobody ever really made the choice to do anything.” You picked at your nails and tried to make your voice sound like it didn’t bother you, but Steve could hear the disappointment. He tried to question you about it further, but you changed the subject before he could. “It’s not a big deal. Let’s just talk about something else, okay?”

For the next month, Steve took it as a personal challenge to give you the best Valentine’s Day you’d ever had. He even made a stupid little flow chart in one of his notebooks, chicken scratch and scribbles covering 3 whole pages while he tried to brainstorm the best way to make up for all of your shitty Valentine’s Days. He probably looked crazy, the way he was scribbling like a madman during class, but it would all be worth it in the end. 

The plan he came up with was simple, really.

Everyday for the week leading up to Valentine’s Day, he put a single red rose in your locker or left it on your bedroom windowsill. Never anything more, other than a note he’d sloppily tied to the stem of the flower with a pink ribbon, the words ‘I love you’ written in red ink. Every day you placed the new flower in a small glass of water you used as a makeshift vase and put the notes in an old jewelry box you didn’t use anymore. 

Everyday you’d tell Steve he didn’t have to do that, that you were content with not getting anything, but your smile that spread ear to ear told him more than your words did. 

By the time Valentine’s Day finally arrived, you had a full bouquet of seven red roses sitting on your bedside table, and a stack of sloppily written love notes sitting in a box on your dresser. It made you hold your head just a little bit higher, smile a bit brighter, and feel a little bit happier on a day that you always associated with something lonely. 

When you opened your locker that morning, you were met with another red rose and a note, except this time the note had been clumsily cut into the shape of a lopsided heart, the words ‘Be my valentine?’ written in glittery pink pen. Two arms wrapping around your waist had you clutching the flower tighter, leaning your back into Steve’s chest. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He whispered the words against your ear as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, a smile pressed against your skin. You turned in his arms and draped your own over his shoulders. 

“Where’d you get a pink glitter pen?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shut up anymore questions with a kiss, and you giggled. A stupid, girly, lovesick giggle. Steve had a dopey smile on his face when you parted. “Got you something else too.”

He reached into your locker and pulled something out from behind the textbooks, a heart shaped box tied shut with two white ribbons. You went to untie them before he stopped you, placing a hand over your own. 

“Don’t open it til’ you get home, okay?” You gave him a skeptical look but nodded anyway. 

“Okay?” You slipped the box back into your locker and closed it, cradling your books and the rose in the crook of your arm. “Hey, I gotta get to class, but I’ll see you at lunch, okay?” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, and as you went to walk away, he grabbed your wrist lightly. 

“You never answered my question, you know.” Your smile grew impossibly wider. 

“Yes, I’ll be your valentine.”

When you got home that afternoon, you untied the note from the stem of the rose, clipped it, and placed it in the cup with the others, hand delicately adjusting the flowers until they fell just the right way. You pulled the box from your backpack and plopped down on the bed, untying the ribbon and pulling the lid off. 

Inside was an assortment of fancy chocolates, the kind you’d always eye at the grocery store as a kid but your parents told you were too expensive to buy. In a small empty space in the center sat a small black velvet box and another note, folded over in a rather well made origami heart. You picked it up and unfolded it, smiling at the words written inside. 

‘I’m picking you up at 7. Wear something nice. 

I love you.’

When you opened the velvet box, you almost cried. 

Inside the box sat a small promise ring, a silver band swirling in dainty, earthen patterns until they curled around a single pink gemstone fashioned in the shape of a rose. Underneath the lid was a matching pair of earrings, and when you picked up the ring, you noticed an engraving on the inside of the band. 

‘I’ll love you until the last rose on Earth dies.’

It all felt like too much. You’d gotten so used to being alone, so used to never getting any gifts at all, that it felt like you didn’t deserve all of these special things Steve was doing for you. It was almost overwhelming, to have someone choose to show you how much they love you, instead of it feeling like some sort of obligation. 

Someone chose to love you. 

And you really, really liked that. 

By the time the clock hit 7, you felt butterflies swimming in your stomach. You knew you had nothing to be nervous about, but that didn’t stop your heart from beating far too fast and your face from keeping a constant blush. It didn’t help that you felt out of place dressed the way you were. 

You hadn’t had a reason to dress particularly nice since middle school, nor had you really had a desire to. When you’d pulled the nicest dress you owned out of your closet-a tight black dress that went to just above your knees and made you feel more than a little self conscious-the hanger had been covered in a thin layer of dust, as had the heels you decided to wear it with. The makeup on your face felt heavy, something you’d had to ask your mom for help with, and you coughed as you sprayed perfume straight into your mouth. You slipped the promise ring onto your finger and watched as it sparkled in your bedroom light.

When a knock on the door echoed through your living room at exactly 7:01 pm, you tugged the bottom of your dress down and walked over to the door, swinging the door open slowly. On the other side stood Steve, far better dressed than you had ever seen him, white button down and suit pants pressed smooth without a single wrinkle. He had a few of the buttons on his shirt undone for the fabric to fall open, revealing just enough of his chest to have you blushing. His hair, perfectly quaffed as always, fell into his eyes a bit, and a lovesick smile hid behind a large bouquet of roses. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.” You took the bouquet from him, letting out a soft laugh. 

“I think you’ve given me enough roses for one week.”

“Well, you said nobody had ever gotten you flowers for Valentine’s Day, so I figured I’d give you enough to make up for it.” You thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and left to put the new roses with the rest, and as you arranged them all to fit, you noticed that there were 18 roses, one for every Valentine’s Day you’d missed out on. You smiled.

After a quick goodbye to your parents, the two of you were on your way to wherever Steve planned to take you, heat on blast to try and counteract the bitter Indiana winter. When Steve pulled into the parking lot of Enzo’s, your heart sputtered.

“Enzo’s?”

“You said you’d never been, but you’d always wanted to go, so I figured I’d take you out to a nice dinner. You know, to make up for all the times nobody ever took you.” He seemed almost nervous, fidgeting in his seat while his hands tightened a bit on the gear shift as he put the car in park. A smile slowly found its way onto your face, and you leaned over the center console to press a kiss to his cheek. When you pulled away, you giggled at the lipstick mark now staining his skin, and he wiped it away with a blush on his cheeks. 

Dinner had been a bit of a culture shock. You weren’t used to anything this ‘high end’, the entire restaurant filled to capacity with couples dressed to the nines to celebrate the holiday. A few of them were around your age, but they ran in a social circle so far away from yours that you didn’t know any of their names. 

That night was how you found out you weren’t really one for ‘fine dining’, portions far too small for the outrageous prices listed on the menu. Regardless, you had enjoyed it, even though you much preferred the burgers at the fast food place a few minutes away from your house. It helped that Steve was great company, and by the end of the night you were wishing you didn’t have to go home. 

“You could always come stay the night with me.” Steve’s hand snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer, mere inches away from your front door. “My parents are gone for the week. Again.”

You swatted at his shoulder when his face morphed into a suggestive smirk. 

“You know my dad would kill me.”

“Just don’t tell him.” The words were a whisper against your ear as he pressed a series of kisses to your cheek. “Just sneak out. I’ll move my car down the street so they don’t see me and everything.”

“Do you want me to never be able to see you again?” You let out a small laugh, gently pushing his head away from your face and neck. “If they find out I snuck out I will literally never be allowed to talk to you again.”

Steve put on an exaggerated pout, earning him an elbow to the side.

“Don’t give me that look, I’m serious.” Despite your scolding tone, the smile hadn’t dropped from your face. Steve held his hands up in surrender. 

“Fine, fine. But next time your parents are gone for the weekend you’re staying the night.” You let out a laugh and pressed a kiss to his lips, Steve chasing after you when you pulled away. 

“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you, for everything you did for me tonight.” He gave you another soft kiss as he smiled against your lips. 

“Can’t have my girl thinkin’ I’d just let her wallow on Valentine’s Day. I had to show you what you were missing.” His tone was borderline smug, and all you could do was kiss the smirk off his face. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.” You’d said those words to him before, but somehow, this time, they held a little bit more weight to them. 

“I love you, too.” One more kiss. “You better go before your dad comes out here and chases me off.” Reluctantly, Steve began heading back to his car, flashing you a wave and a smile as you headed inside. 

Valentine’s Day was still overrated, but it was a bit more bearable when you had someone like Steve.

[undobutton]

White Towels! Damien x Reader

warnings: Swearing ofc, yelling, arguments, suggestive, mentions of sex, no actual sex.

genre: fluff? established relationship

wc: 702

characters: #1 prince of hell! Damien LaVey!

synopsis: You and Damien argue over who gets the top bunk

a/n: I wrote this forever ago, it's been in my drafts for ages but now it's all done! i will cry when it comes time to update my masterlists I colored what you say since there's a lot of dialogue. Damien. Reader.

“NO, YOU FUCK HEAD!”

“NO, YOU FUCK HEAD!”

“JUST SLEEP ON THE BOTTOM BUNK!”

“NO!”

“WHY NOT! YOU’RE ALWAYS FINE WITH BEING UNDER ME!”

“OH HARDY-HAR-HAR!”

“IT’S TRUE!”

“WERE GOING TO BED, NOT FUCKING!”

“THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK”

“YEAH WELL- what?”

“what?”

“What did you just say Damien?” You ask, arms crossed, throat sore.

The two of you are out on a mini vacation for a date, it was your anniversary gift to him (The ability to gain a reputation for trouble in another dimension before blowing it up.) 

But the hotel you’re staying in only has bunk beds for sleeping arrangements. And this dimension has bunks for most- if not all arrangements. Bunk sofas, bunk chairs, bunk banks That Damien is especially excited about, bunk bookshelves, bunk airplanes, and much more. 

But unlike everything else where you two are able to go for top or bottom without so much as thinking about it. The top bunk is where you both want to sleep. 

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you have yet to share a bed outiside of sex. but the idea of sleeping together has been skilfully avoided, causing this mess.

“What I said is not important! What is important is that you let me sleep on the top bunk!” He pouts. matching your mannerisms.

“No it’s not! this is so insignificant!”

“Well, if it’s so insignificant then lemme  sleep on the top!”

“No!”

“Well I’m a the prince of Hell so-”

“Put your royalty card right back up your ass!”

“Put it there yourself!”

“don’t threaten me with a good time LaVey!”

“Don’t use your horny on my threats!"

“You started it!”

“No!”

“Yes!"

“No!”

“Yes!”

 As you two pointlessly argue Damien steps closer and closer, you do the same. Until you’re practically chest to chest glaring into eachothers eyes. 

The funky part about this is that neither of you are mad. Damien lost the ability to cover his feelings for you with rage ages ago, and you just think he’s too pretty to be mad at. So this is truly just a fun game you’re playing. 

Looking into his golden eyes, you remember that. The thought makes you smile. He frowns in response.

“What’s so funny, fucknut?”

“Well-” You start.

“Uhm, I-I have towels.”

You both look to the door and see a bear-dog hybrid (don’t ask) holding white towels with a look of terror on their face. Temporarily dropping the ‘argument’ you and Damien head over to them.

“I don’t mean to interrupt. I just forgot to drop them off earlier. And then I heard you two arguing and I thought I should leave you alone. But what if you got-”

“Give us the fucking things and scram. We’re busy.” Damien growls. Making the poor bear-dog whimper. 

“Thanks!” You say taking the towels off their hands. They look at you and relax a bit.

“A-also, I don’t mean to pry but. Why not share the top bunk? This hotel was made for couples on double dates…”

You and Damien look at each other, heat capturing your faces.

“Uhm�� go away please.” You beam. Taking a step closer to your boyfriend.

“Oh yes of course! Be sure to call down if you need anything!” They say running off.

“Do you want to share the bed with me Damien?” You ask. 

The demon blushes, leaning against the white bunk couch next to the door. 

“I don’t fucking know… I’ll share the bed with you if you want.” he mumbles.

You sigh, placing the towels on the living room table. 

“I want to sleep on the top bunk, and if there just so happens to be a spicy red adult who is already laying in that bed. Then I think I’d be okay with that. I might actually prefer to have him there than sleep alone in that big bed.” You state, batting your eyelashes at him. He smirks, walking to sit on the bottom bunk of the couch.

“Well, I wanna sleep on the top bunk too. And… I’ll beat you there!” He yells, taking off.

“Hey no fair!” You shout after him. as your joint laughter fills the room. 

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