#CAN YOU BELIEVE NO ONE HAS TAGGED THEM ON AO3 BEFORE???
Note
Merrick/Raphael for 27, "pulling the other one towards them"
modern (professors???) AU, babyyy!! also on AO3 with some silly bonus content i didn't feel like formatting here 🙃
“What about that new girl in your department?” Minna asks. “Grace…something?”
“Grace Carrow?” Merrick offers dubiously. When Minna nods emphatically, he adds, “Grace Carrow isn’t in my department. She’s physics, I’m bio.”
“Oh, whatever,” Minna says. “It’s all science, isn’t it?”
“So is archeology, for that matter, but you’d never say she’s in your department.”
Minna turns to Clem, who’s been blessedly silent during this whole conversation. “Well, someone’s in a mood.”
“Em is just put out because Grace is younger than Mori’s boy, and we all agreed Mori’s boy is a bit young for him,” Clem replies, looking ambivalent.
“Which makes Grace far too young for me,” Merrick adds.
“I thought we agreed not to call Thaniel a boy anymore,” Minna says, distractedly.
“Did we?” Clem asks, interested now. “How magnanimous of us.”
“Besides,” Merrick interrupts, before this gets too far away from them, “Grace Carrow is engaged.”
“She is?”
“She wears a ring.”
“Oh, that could mean anything. It could be her mother’s, for all you know!”
“It doesn’t matter, really,” Merrick says. “She’s too young for me. And I’m not interested in her.”
“That’s very much the problem, dear. You’re not interested in anyone, and yet you complain about being a third wheel. I’m just trying to help.”
Merrick sighs and sinks further into the overstuffed armchair in Clem and Minna’s living room. The staff mixer for the end of the semester is always a source of stress. It’s important to go and be seen by the head of your department and any other higher ups who chose to attend, not only to come off as a team player who showed up to social events but also to appear calm and prepared, like someone who definitely has all their finals graded already and is looking forward to winter break like a professional and not like a desperate shell of a human.
As long as Merrick’s been at the university, he’s never had a date to bring for this party, and while that’s certainly not a requirement, there does always come a point in the evening where all the couples have clustered together to have actual intelligent conversation while the single faculty members are left to commiserate over the slog to get to the end of the semester and pair off unenthusiastically, if possible. It is not a pretty sight. He recently made the mistake of complaining about this in front of Minna, who has now taken it upon herself to pair him off with any faculty member she happens to know is single. And she knows everyone.
“I wasn’t really complaining,” he says, to head her off at the pass. “Just thinking out loud about how annoying these events are for the singles among us.”
“Besides,” Clem says, reaching over to fill his wife’s wine glass, “if Em’s that desperate for a date, he can just grow a pair and finally ask Raphael.”
Minna perks up immediately, reminding him, both amusingly and terrifyingly, of a hunting dog who’s caught the scent of its quarry. “Raphael?” she asks, with a look that tells Merrick his goose is officially cooked.
Clem, to his credit, looks sheepish. “Ah, I take it Minna didn’t know about the Raphael situation.”
“Well, she does now,” Merrick says, draining his own glass and holding it out pointedly for a refill.
“She certainly does not,” Minna exclaims. “What is the Raphael situation?”
“It’s nothing. Really.”
Minna gives him an unimpressed look that could puncture a lung on a lesser man, and then swivels to look at Clem. “Markham,” she say, firmly, “you know there are no secrets in a healthy marriage.”
“That’s not fair!” Merrick shouts, but it’s a lost cause.
Clem wavers immediately under his wife’s gaze. “Merrick attended that lecture Raphael gave last month at the opening of the Inca exhibit at the museum, and they chatted briefly afterwards, and he hasn’t shut up about him since,” he admits in a rush.
“That’s not totally accurate,” Merrick hedges.
“He also had a dream about him.”
“Clem—!”
“WHAT?!” Minna shrieks at the same time. Merrick debates pointing out that they have a sleeping baby upstairs to worry about, but decides against it. “I cannot believe you kept this from me. I’m way better with this kind of thing than Markham here is and you know that.”
Merrick rolls his eyes. “You two met when you were twelve and have never been with anyone else. Neither of you are an expert on dating.”
“Fine. Just for that, I demand you tell me about this dream of yours.”
“Absolutely not!”
Minna turns in her seat. “Markham—”
“Christ, Minna! It was nothing,” Merrick says, feeling his face warm with a blush that immediately contradicts him. “I just had a dream that he and I were hanging out again and then…it’s stupid.”
“Oh, dear. You don’t have to be embarrassed. We’re all adults here. Sex is nothing the be ashamed of!”
Merrick makes a useless gesture with his hands that he hopes conveys his frustration. “That’s the stupid part! It wasn’t about sex at all! In the dream, all Raphael did was hug me goodbye before he left and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. It’s ridiculous!”
Minna and Clem exchange a look at that, which is not precisely reassuring. When Minna’s gaze returns to him, she reaches out to take his hand across the coffee table. “Darling, I think you’ve been single a little too long,” she says, not unkindly.
Merrick laughs, shakily. “No kidding.”
“Do we need to hug you more?” she asks, and she is, unfortunately, serious. “Are we failing you as friends? Are you completely touch starved?”
“Okay, I’m going to walk into traffic now…”
“Em is fine, Minna,” Clem says, placing his hand firmly on Merrick’s shoulder, so they’re all connected in a tiny triangle. “He just needs to buck up and make a move.”
“Again, you’ve been in a relationship since before you hit puberty,” Merrick says. “I’m not taking notes from you on this. Besides, I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to date Raphael. I thought you two were rivals.”
“Yes, well, I’m an exceptionally generous friend like that,” Clem replies with a smile. “And there’s every possibility that if Raphael were to get laid, he might argue with me less during department meetings, which would suit me just fine.”
“You have enormous faith in my sexual prowess, Clem, if you think I can do anything that might make Raphael despise you less.”
Clem raises his wine glass in a mock toast. “You’re like my own personal Mata Hari, Em. The anthropology department thanks you for your service.”
“I don’t even know if he’s single,” Merrick says, ignoring him. “Or if he likes men. Or me, for that matter.”
“Ah, but these are things we can find out,” Minna says, with a mischievous smile.
Merrick recognizes an uphill battle when he sees one, and resigns himself to Minna’s machinations, whatever they turn out to be, with a very large sip of wine.
*
Grace Carrow, it turns out, is very fun to hang out with at faculty mixers because she’s as unhappy to be there as he is. They spend most of the evening being cranky bastards together at a mostly empty table, and he’s honestly kind of disappointed she turned out to be so cool. She is engaged, though, a fact that he confirms when she abandons him fairly early on in the evening by announcing her intention to meet up with her boyfriend, who’s working on a PhD in Japanese poetry at a university across town, for a late dinner.
“Boyfriend?” Merrick asks, keeping his tone light enough that she won’t mistake his curiosity for romantic interest. “I assumed you were engaged, what with the ring and all.”
“Oh,” Grace says, looking embarrassed. “Yes, I suppose I’m going to meet my fiancé. It’s recent so I just can’t get used to saying it. I never could with Thaniel either.”
“Thaniel?”
“Steepleton. I thought you two knew each other.”
“We do. I wasn’t aware you did.”
Grace waves a hand. “We were engaged very briefly a few years back, before he and Mori…well, you know. It’s a very long story for what was ultimately a very short relationship, and I’d rather not talk out of school, you understand.”
“Of course,” Merrick says, magnanimously, but he’s already looking forward to sharing this bit of gossip with Clem and Minna. Every small piece of information they can gather about Mori’s life is a boon, given how private Mori is with the details now that he’s happily in a relationship. “Have a good night.”
Grace waves again, this time as a goodbye, and heads for the doors. No sooner has she disappeared from the room than Merrick feels someone sit down heavily in the chair Grace recently vacated.
“Dr. Tremayne,” Raphael says, by way of greeting.
“Professor Santos,” he replies, turning to face him, “at what point in our relationship do you think you’d be open to using my first name?”
Raphael’s expression gives away that he has to, with some effort, bite back a sarcastic retort before it mellows out into something genial and vague. “My apologies, Merrick,” he finally says.
“Much better,” Merrick says. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far. Your first name isn’t that fun to say.”
Merrick feels himself blush. Stupidstupidstupid. “I meant, at the party.”
“Oh, of course,” Raphael says, not looking the slightest bit chagrined. There’s amusement lurking around the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to be indulging it at all. “Truthfully, I’ve always found these end-of-semester affairs to be a bit of a slog.”
“Really?”
“Don’t tell Dr. Wellesley,” he says, tipping his head in the direction of the tall woman who’s deep in conversation with Clem and Minna on the other side of the room. She’s the head of the anthropology department and thus Raphael’s boss.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Merrick says. “Besides, I feel the same way.”
“So, if my secret gets out, I’ll go straight to the head of your department as revenge.”
Merrick snorts, thinking about how Sing left this party after five minutes and wouldn’t care at all to hear anyone disparage it. His boss would probably agree with the sentiment. He doesn’t say that, though, because he has the distinct feeling Raphael is flirting with him and he doesn’t want that to stop anytime soon.
“Mutually assured destruction,” he replies, instead. “What a lovely idea.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
There’s a lull in their conversation, which allows Raphael to look around the room and Merrick to panic about what to say next to keep this possible flirtation going.
“Are you finished with your grading for the term?” He finally asks, after many moments of deliberation, and he really could die of embarrassment. That’s apparently the best he can do for flirting.
Raphael seems to find this offering pitiable too, if the ways he raises his eyebrow inquisitively is any indication. “Yes, I finished grading the last essay this afternoon, as a matter of fact,” he answers, clearly trying to put Merrick out of his misery.
“Lucky bastard,” he grumbles under his breath, and Raphael surprises him by laughing. Merrick always finds an odd sort of pride in getting Raphael to smile or laugh, given his no-nonsense, straightforward demeanor. He thinks it’s a reputation he courts, being seen as serious and unapproachable, but he also knows that his classes have waitlists every semester and his grad students are utterly devoted to him. The only professor more popular in his department is Clem, but Merrick chalks that up to Clem being more widely published and outwardly jovial. Once the students see what a brutal grader Clem can be, he loses some of his shine to them. Raphael, on the other hand, seems to only grow in popularity with his students as the semester goes on, so he can’t be a complete tyrant in his classes.
Still, it’s the rarity of his smiles that endeared him to Merrick in the first place. It’s hard to say now, when he’s felt it for so long, when exactly this stupid crush started, but it certainly wasn’t from the beginning. It takes a while for Raphael to really open up and be himself, for all he is notoriously blunt with everyone at all times, and his sense of humor does require some getting used to, in all honesty. That only made it more rewarding for Merrick, though, to realize that Raphael was cracking jokes with him and seeking him out at faculty functions.
And then there was that damned opening for the new Inca exhibit at the museum. Merrick had gone out of general interest—he comes from a long line of academics, though everyone in his family chose disparate fields of study, and some of them had spent considerable amounts of time in South America, which meant he learned a lot about the Inca as a small child—but also because he and Raphael are friends in a vague way and he wanted to hear his remarks for the opening. He’d heard Clem complain enough about how popular Raphael’s classes were getting that he’d been curious to see him in action.
He hadn’t been disappointed. Raphael is an engaging speaker, without trying too hard to be entertaining or relatable. He has a way of presenting even the driest information so that it feels vital and interesting, but he doesn’t speak down to anyone. He assumes his audience is intelligent and interested, and by some weird transitive property, that’s what they become. It had only been a short speech about the subject and the importance of the exhibit, but Merrick had fully understood the fuss surrounding his classes. Even if he hadn’t gone into that situation with a small crush on him, he probably would have left with one. Now, though, it’s anything but small. His crush on Raphael is raging out of control.
“I’m guessing that means you’re not finished yet?” Raphael asks, somehow still maintaining that insouciant flirtatiousness despite Merrick’s unsexy topic of choice.
“No,” he says, flustered in spite of his best efforts. “Not even close.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage. You’ve got, what, 24 hours until they’re due?”
Merrick checks his watch, the one Mori gave him for his birthday a few years ago. “A little more than that, but yes.”
“You’ll be fine. You teach botany, right? Isn’t their final exam just, like, growing a seed in a paper cup? How long could those take to grade?”
“I think you’re confusing my undergrads with third graders,” Merrick replies, drily. Still, he can’t help the smile that’s taking over his face, which ruins the effect a little.
“My mistake,” Raphael says, smiling back, unrepentant. There’s another brief pause where they sit in comfortable silence before he suddenly asks, “Markham says you might need a ride?”
Merrick stares back at him blankly for an embarrassing amount of time before he can form any sort of response. “Markham says—wait, which Markham? Minna?”
“Yes, I only know one Dr. Markham here.”
“That is objectively untrue.”
“No, it’s not. Dr. Markham’s husband also has a doctorate, but given how terrible his syllabus always is, I refuse to believe his degree is from an accredited university,” Raphael says, sincerely.
Merrick rolls his eyes. “Regardless,” he says, “this is another instance where using someone’s first name would be both helpful and appropriate.”
“Two things I always strive to be,” Raphael quips. “The one and only Dr. Minna Markham suggested you might need a ride home tonight.”
“She did? Why?”
“I foolishly assumed it was because you actually needed one,” he says, with a nonchalant shrug. “All she said to me was something about you probably wanting to leave earlier than her and her husband would, and that they’d been your ride to the party, so she felt like she needed to help get you home in one piece. I didn’t realize I would know more about this than you would.”
Merrick looks over to where Minna is now standing with Clem and several other professors he doesn’t know well, and she’s watching him and Raphael with her wine glass held up to her lips. She offers him a small smile—not overly gloating, just vaguely pleased—and makes a point of returning her gaze to her conversation partners—in a bid to give him some privacy, he supposes.
“Now that you mention it, she did say they might be staying late,” Merrick says, not entirely certain he’s even slightly convincing at it.
“Well, I told her I’d be happy to give you a lift.”
“Oh, well, you don’t have to, just because Minna twisted your arm—”
“Christ, Merrick! It’s a ride home, not a kidney,” Raphael says, but he looks amused. Maybe even charmed, though that could just be wishful thinking. “I am leaving now, though, so if you’d rather stay—”
“God, no,” Merrick immediately interjects. “I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”
Raphael smiles again, that stupid, rare smile of his, and nods. “I assume you’ll want to say goodbye to the Markhams, and I need to talk to my boss before I leave, so let’s meet by the doors in five minutes.”
“Alright,” Merrick replies, trying to sound like leaving this party with Raphael isn’t making him incredibly nervous. He reaches for his cane, propped up against the table next to him, with sweaty palms and prays that his crush isn’t obvious to literally everyone.
He makes his way over to where Minna and Clem are standing and tries to capture their attention without completely interrupting the conversation. Minna catches his eye and turns towards him with arms already outstretched.
“How’d we do?” she asks, sotto voce, which saves him only a little embarrassment.
“Well, he’s driving me home, so I’m thinking maybe spring for the wedding,” he replies, with an eye roll.
Minna whacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Don’t be absurd, Em! You’d never be able to plan a proper wedding by spring! Summer, though…”
He’s spared from having to come up with a clever retort by a sudden pain in his knee that makes him wince and lean more heavily on his cane. By the time he’s collected himself, he looks up to find Minna watching him with concern.
“Everything alright?”
Merrick waves it off. “Oh, it’s fine. Just hurts worse when the weather’s bad. You know.”
Minna nods. “It’s supposed to be particularly nasty tonight. You’ll be careful getting home?”
“I won’t be the one driving, but I’ll do my best not to distract Raphael too much with my good looks,” he says.
“Don’t joke about that! You know, you’re very handsome, Em.”
“What’s that?” Clem asks, choosing this moment to join the conversation.
“I’m telling Merrick to stop being so damned self-deprecating and admit that he’s very handsome,” Minna replies, without shame. “Don’t you think he’s very handsome, Markham?”
“Oh, exceedingly,” Clem says, in that mild way of his where it’s impossible to tell if it’s sarcastic or not. “You’re not bad to look at at all, Em.”
Merrick is certain he’s blushing furiously now. “Thank you both so much for the pep talk, but unfortunately I must be going now,” he says.
Minna pulls him into a gentle hug, careful not to throw off his balance now that she knows his knee is bothering him. “Like I said, be careful,” she whispers to him.
“Yes, yes. I will be.”
“You don’t suppose Raphael would be willing to carry you to the car, on account of your leg and all, do you?”
Merrick groans and pulls back from her. “You’re a menace,” he says, blushing even more now.
“He’s just so strapping,” she says, with a diabolical look in her eye. “I bet he could do it.”
“Unfortunately, we’ll never know,” Merrick replies, breezily, and turns to hug Clem goodbye.
Clem embraces him, but has the audacity to say, before they break apart, “The entire anthropology department is rooting for you, my friend.”
“You are both terrible,” Merrick says, “and I cannot believe you’re my best friends in the entire world.”
“You’ll be much more appreciative of our efforts once you’ve gotten laid, my dear,” Minna replies, cheerfully, as she reaches out to fix his collar.
“We’re not—I didn’t say—That’s not what’s happening!”
“Keep an open mind, darling,” Clem says, toasting him before effectively ending the conversation by turning back to the other group of professors.
“Safe travels,” Minna adds, “and we’ll see you for the holidays!”
Merrick sighs, defeated. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheeks before departing.
True to his word, Raphael is waiting for him by the exit when he gets there, and with nothing more than a nod in his direction, heads out of the room. Tonight is definitely not going to end in a win for the anthropology department, Merrick thinks, glumly, as he follows. Once they’ve crossed through the lobby of the building and out into the actual night, the force of the cold, damp air hits Merrick like a wall and he pauses to button his coat all the way up to his neck and readjust his grip on his cane. There are fat snowflakes the size of doilies falling through the air and landing uselessly on the ground where they melt almost immediately. Here on the main campus, the groundskeepers have salted the pathways generously, so it will be a long while before anything can accumulate. He imagines the roads will be just the same, for the moment at least, and he’s glad for multiple reasons to be escaping the party at this particular moment. Driving home any later would likely be a nightmare.
He’s thinking about texting Minna and Clem a weather update and is halfway through pulling out his phone, when he remembers that he’s not alone. Raphael stands a few feet away, waiting patiently and looking amused. It’s neither of those things that truly capture Merrick’s attention, though.
“Is that really what you’re wearing? In this weather?” he asks, instead, gawking at him.
Raphael looks down, as if he’s never considered his own clothing before. “What’s wrong with this?”
“It’s a suit.”
“We were at a party, Merrick. Suits are appropriate.”
Merrick shakes his head, disbelieving. “Usually, in the middle of snow storms, an actual jacket is helpful.”
“This is a jacket,” Raphael says, plucking at his lapels.
“It’s a suit ja—wait, are you honestly telling me you don’t have a coat? You didn’t just forget it inside?”
“This is what I wore to the party,” Raphael says, slowly, like maybe Merrick is the moron here.
“Aren’t you cold?!” Merrick asks, indignant and just barely holding himself back from stamping his feet to keep warm as the chill settles in.
“Not really,” Raphael replies, with a shrug. “You are, though, so maybe we should start walking.”
Merrick reluctantly lets this argument go, and nods. He’ll text Minna and Clem about the roads once they’re on their way, but he focuses now on getting to the parking garage without falling on his face. This part of campus is very pretty, especially in the snow, with its quintessential liberal arts college architecture, big, stone buildings with massive arched windows and cobblestone paths everywhere. But the very things that make it quaint and picturesque can make it harder to navigate with a cane, Merrick finds, as his gets stuck between two uneven cobblestones in the path they’re taking to the edge of campus, where Raphael is parked. He swears under his breath, but not enough to avoid Raphael hearing, apparently, because he looks over with concern.
“Alright?” He asks, eyebrows drawn together.
Merrick feels himself flush even in the bitter cold air. “Yes, fine,” he says, trying not to grit his teeth. He usually doesn’t struggle this much, but the cold and the dampness are making his leg ache and the unfamiliarity of the situation is making him nervous.
Of course, the moment he waves off Raphael’s concern is also the moment he loses his balance. His foot simply slips out from under him on the wet stones and he starts to fall for a terrifying split second until he feels himself yanked back as Raphael pulls him upright by his elbow and into his side, though presumably that last part is an accident. Merrick is trying to catch his breath while keeping his eyes screwed shut to avoid facing the embarrassment of what just happened when he realizes Raphael is still holding him.
He opens his eyes to find Raphael watching him carefully, with an expression of mild terror across his features that Merrick suspects has less to do with fear over his near-fall and more to do with how close their faces are right now. Merrick is a little taller than Raphael under normal circumstances but in their current configuration—Merrick still slouched over slightly and Raphael keeping him close with one hand on his elbow and the other on his waist to steady him—they're eye-to-eye. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Raphael look nervous, although maybe he just always hides it better than Merrick does, but he certainly looks it now.
“Thanks,” is what Merrick manages to say, as faintly as humanly possible. If he’d been actively trying to do an impression of a cartoonish damsel in distress whose heart is racing more from the broadness of her rescuer’s chest than the danger she avoided, he couldn’t have done better. Then again, in his defense, Raphael does have an impressively broad chest.
“Sure,” Raphael says, and it was probably, given his general demeanor, meant to come out breezy and nonchalant, but instead he grits the word out stiffly, as though it takes all his concentration to say it correctly.
“I don’t—” Merrick struggles to find his words. “What I mean is, I’m not normally this…”
“I know,” Raphael answers, without waiting for him to finish. His look has been upgraded from nervous to petrified, and it almost makes Merrick want to laugh. It turns out all he needed to get calm, cool, detached Raphael off his game was to get within kissing distance of him. He wishes he’d thought of this months ago.
Raphael’s eyebrows draw together even further, adding a layer of guardedness to his expression. “Why are you smiling?” he asks, without a hint of amusement.
Merrick hadn’t realized he was. “There’s snowflakes landing on your eyelashes,” he says, because there are and he’s never had the opportunity to view that particular feature of Raphael’s up close before.
“Oh,” Raphael says, blankly. He doesn’t look happy with that answer, but Merrick is.
From anyone else, it would be a letdown, a mixed signal to worry over later when he’s home by himself. But for whatever reason, coming from Raphael, it is a clear sign that he’s doing something right. Nobody flusters Raphael. He might be the first in human history to manage it. All this time he’s been waiting for Raphael to catch on to his crush and make a move or reject him accordingly. It had never occurred to him that maybe Raphael had maybe been doing the same thing, circling around him, seeking him out at staff meetings and work parties, and hoping he’d be the brave one. He took Raphael’s confidence and self-assured demeanor in his professional life for granted as his de facto personality in every part of his life, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he’d found the thing that intimidated the otherwise unflappable anthropology professor that everyone admired. And it was him, of all things.
“It’s cute,” Merrick says, meaning the snowflakes and the eyelashes and the swooping in to save him and the fact that he’s nervous about it all now.
Raphael nods, the gesture both absent and enthralled, and clearly tries to think of something to say, but he gets distracted when Merrick wets his lips, which is all the encouragement Merrick needs to lean forward and kiss him. Raphael’s mouth is stiff under his for a long moment, which Merrick attributes more to surprise than disgust and vows to give it a few more seconds before he panics and backtracks. Raphael doesn’t so much burst into reciprocation—the way people do in the movies, like a switch from shock to passion has been flipped—so much as he melts into it. His disbelief and restraint mellows into something more yielding and he kisses Merrick back cautiously. He allows himself to be kissed, following Merrick’s lead and inclination, which on paper shouldn’t be sexy and yet, here and now, it is driving Merrick a little bit wild. After months of thinking about it, the best way to go about pursuing him, Raphael’s submission to him here feels deliriously good.
Merrick tests the waters by tracing Raphael’s lip with his tongue, and he’s rewarded with a small groan of pleasure before Raphael opens his mouth for him. He’s also rewarded with Raphael’s hand coming to tangle in his hair, wet from the snow that’s still falling and probably growing rattier by the second. He doesn’t want to deal with that reality right now, though, or the one where his leg is still bent at an awkward angle and starting to ache. He just wants to be able to ignore all that for another few minutes, to keep this going, because he can feel Raphael growing bolder by the second and he wants to encourage that way of thinking.
Eventually, though, he can’t help making a noise of protest as the pain in his knee goes from an ache to a stab. Raphael rears back immediately, looking dazed and alarmed, but thankfully not getting too far away. His warm breath clouds up the cool night air between their bodies.
“Sorry,” he says, more a reflex than anything else.
“Why are you—?” Merrick laughs. “What are you apologizing for?”
“I don’t…know,” Raphael says, sounding lost. It’s both concerning and flattering in equal measure.
Merrick shakes his head, amused. “It wasn’t you. It’s just my leg. With the weather being bad, it was already hurting and then I sort of landed on it weird. I’m sorry. It’s not normally—”
“Don’t apologize to me. Not for that. I should have thought—”
“It’s not a big deal. It’s just bad luck, with the snow and all. I promise I’m not always complaining about it, it’s just—”
“Merrick,” Raphael interrupts, solemnly, “I don’t care. I mean, I care, but not like…you don’t have to minimize it. You’re not turning me off. Am I—Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” he manages to reply, even though his throat feels kind of dry. He knows that he spends a lot of his time trying to wave off concern from well-meaning people who don’t understand how someone so young and healthy could need a cane, and diverting the attention of less well-meaning people who want to ask a thousand questions about how it happened or tell him exercises that helped their third cousin’s bridesmaid with their mobility after their accident. He finds it hard to believe that this could be the reason someone wouldn’t find him attractive at all, but he’d never actually realized before how much time he spends minimizing his complaints about bad days and the lack of accessibility on campus in order to not come off as a bummer—or, god forbid, high maintenance—to other people. He didn’t realize how nice it would be to have someone give him blanket permission to talk about it, or not, to his heart’s content without the risk of judgment.
“Minna suggested having you carry me,” he adds, stupidly, after a moment. He can’t think of anything intelligent to say, because his brain is too focused on getting back to the kissing part of the evening.
Raphael’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “She did?”
“She said you were strapping.”
“I suppose compared to her husband, anybody would seem—”
Merrick shoves his shoulder, though not particularly hard. It makes him feel like a teenager again. “Be nice,” he says, fighting off a grin. “She’s rooting for us.”
“Oh?” Raphael’s eyebrows climb higher, but his tone betrays some amusement.
Merrick shouldn’t have said that part, but it’s too late to backtrack now. “What?” He asks, indignant instead. “Did you think tonight was the first time I thought about kissing you?”
“I guess I hadn’t thought about it that deeply,” Raphael says, pensively. When Merrick laughs at that, he scowls. “My mind was, as you might expect, elsewhere.”
“Oh?” Merrick says, trying to match Raphael’s intonation. “Would you like to elaborate on where exactly your mind went?”
Raphael wets his lips, eyes on the ground. “When you kissed me, you mean?” he asks, without looking up.
“Yes.”
It had never occurred to Merrick before this that maybe Raphael wasn’t haughty or aloof, but rather that he was shy and cautious. He also thought his infatuation had been extraordinarily obvious, to everyone, yes, but to Raphael above all. Now, he’s thinking maybe it wasn’t. The idea he’d had in his head of Raphael as cool and unaffected, as the person holding all the cards in their interactions, might have been a fundamental misunderstanding of him, he now realizes. Because the man in front of him is nervous, is holding himself back out of an abundance of caution. The man in front of him has made it clear Merrick is, in fact, holding all of the cards. That doesn’t stop him, though, from making a move, as he lifts his gaze to meet Merrick’s again.
He smiles, softly. “You still want me to take you home?”
#i know the world is on fire but here is my pitiful offering in case anyone needs a lighthearted distraction#THIS PROMPT IS FROM SIX MONTHS AGO OH MY GOD#also please read it on AO3 the bonus content is my greatest achievement yet#yes i am writing a part two#im deranged <3#touch prompts#fic#firstelevens#homelywenchsociety#that's just my writing tag don't worry about it#the bedlam stacks#merrick tremayne#raphael#(no last name)#dont worry i gave him one in the fic#minna markham#clem markham#CAN YOU BELIEVE NO ONE HAS TAGGED THEM ON AO3 BEFORE???#trailblazer of the year award to meeeeee#grace carrow#is also here because i love her#it's just for flavor don't let that turn you away#mori and thaniel don't appear but they are mentioned and YES I HAVE THEIR BACKSTORIES FLESHED OUT MOSTLY#once again.... deranged!!!#anyway here's wonderwall
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Drippin’ [Dream ‘00 line]
“It's too late to run away, you started this game first.”
It was a joke, you swear. Sharing something like that with your group of horny man-friends was definitely a recipe for disaster. That one little tweet sets off a string of events that prevents you from pretending that you wouldn’t fuck your friends. Because you would, and they know it.
or the one where you’re considered a tease with the shit you share privately online, and they’re just about fed up with the way you act innocent and uninterested in what they’re packing.
― this fic is based around this tweet.
ao3 | m.list | leave feedback and reblog to give ‘00 line a boner.
minors do not interact.
WORDCOUNT― 16.2k
PAIRING― ‘00 line x afab reader
CONTENT― birthday sex, orgy (?), comedy, use of a camera
WARNING ― mild dub-con, jaemin kinda fruity, full bladder/squirting ―this fic is not entirely inclusive like my others because it’s written for someone specific. reader can be lifted up by the members, when she blushes it is visible to them but colors still aren’t used to describe it, she has huge tits too. don’t like it, don’t read it.
NOTE― this is my birthday gift to @neopuppy! I hope it scratches somewhere in your brain but I also hope this means you’re aware of how much I love and appreciate you!! I am happy to have met you and i just need you to know that you’re definitely stuck with me at this point ♡ so, happy birthday to jeno’s real life gf!!! he’s a lucky dude fr. ― not proof read tho lmao
smut tags under cut::
smut tags :: pussy eating, eager haechan, neglected renjun, confident jeno, (un)solicited dick pics, huge cock jeno and renjun, recording of sexual acts, masturbation, tongue fucking, dirty talk, finger fucking, overstimulation, tit fondling, actual fucking, (forced) full bladder, squirting, blowjob, handjob, unprotected sex, cum eating, cum stuffing, cum dump reader, bunch of horny guys + one competitive horny guy
~
Scrolling on twitter is a normal part of your night especially when you’re bored. Your birthday is coming up and there’s not really anything planned. Aside from the spamming of messages from family and friends demanding to know what you want, or what you’d like to do, it feels like it’s just going to be a normal day rather than a celebration of your life.
No plans. You kind of just want to enjoy the day alone, relaxing, watching stupid videos, and maybe going for a coffee.
Unknowing to you though, your future plan is slightly skewed when you run across a specific tweet. You share it as a joke, just like any other thing you’ve shared. Straight into the circle it goes, side eye emoji and all as if to imply something yet again, because you’re good at that apparently. Teasing, as Haechan would call it.
To you, retweeting it with the side-eye emoji directly into the circle is normal and not asking for it to be considered by your friends. As much as you’d love to lie to yourself and believe that they’re down to earth, they’re really really not.
It’s not like you actively want to fuck your friends, but it’s also not like you wouldn’t. With all of the sexuality you all share online, it’s kind of difficult to not think about them inappropriately on some days. There was once a tweet that Jeno shared with absolutely no context involving some manga panel drawing of a man on a leash with his cute, unassuming girl standing in front of him.
You hate to say that sometimes the images they share makes you think pretty hard. Learning their kinks, their sexual interests, and wondering if they’ve ever gotten to actually partake in them before. It’s a strange kind of feeling to think about your friends when these types of images pop up. The feeling is definitely arousal, but it’s kind of like a guilty arousal?
After all, your friends may be constantly sharing their sex lives and blatantly liking all of the porn on twitter that they get off to, but it doesn’t mean they’d want to get you off.
The funniest part about it is that you truly do view the circle tweets far differently compared to your group of friends. You, thinking they share stuff to show off, to be funny, or just to be a typical horny man. Then you have your friends and how they view it.
Some of the tweets are intentionally for you to see, for you to get off to. Some are blatantly shared in the heat of the moment as one of them imagines you performing in the content. It’s a game to them really, to see which one will break you first. They love it for the most part, how you pretend you don’t notice. How you play dumb, even when they’re sharing images and videos of two people that could resemble you and said friend if you squint. It’s been this way for years.
The entire friend group has spoken about you in their own group chat before. They’ve fantasized together about you through text and they’ve even discussed how there’s no way you don’t know what they’re doing. Time and time again you prove them wrong. So fucking aloof even when one of them blatantly makes a suggestion straight to your face.
Jokes can only be funny for so long before it starts to be serious.
To Jeno, it’s flooring to see you just a day after you liked one of his nastiest tweets, knowing you saw it, you probably watched the video too all while parading around like it didn’t get you wet or something. For Renjun, he finds it cute that you’re so different online. He almost feels lucky to be able to see that side of you.
Haechan and Jaemin are the two in the group who will blatantly try to fluster you face to face. You both love and hate it, because sometimes you can’t tell if they’re being serious or not with you. The constant sarcastic and cocky smirks tend to make you lean more towards the fact that they must be joking.
Either way, that tweet is nothing more than a funny joke to you. Since it was referring to a birthday it really is probably a crime to like, not share it. So, you did.
Haechan was the first to read it, instantly screenshotting it and sending it in the secret group chat with a question mark.
Haechan: ??
Haechan: she’s doing it again
Jeno: she’s too dumb to actually follow through with it though
Jaemin: me first :)
Haechan: shut the fuck up jaemin
Renjun: it’s just a meme
Haechan: a meme about eating her out for her birthday
Haechan: that she specifically shared to her circle
Haechan: with. the. eyeball. emoji.
Jeno: he’s got a point.
Renjun: well
Jaemin: it would be rude if she declined a birthday gift too y’know
Haechan: do you guys think she would let us?
Renjun: um
Jeno: at some point she’s gonna have to learn that sharing all of this stuff with us is going to end in her getting fucked.
Haechan: yeah, by me specifically
Jeno: you’d be lucky if she even thought of you when she shared that tweet
Haechan: It's gonna be so funny when you hear her moan my name, you gonna get mad?
Jeno: fuck around and find out.
Jaemin: really though
Jaemin: we should just go for it this time…….
Jaemin: bet she would love it
Renjun: lol…count me in too
~
The last thing you expected to be waking up to on your birthday was a fucking birthday party.
You wake to the sound of your front door opening, frantic footsteps, and then your bedroom door swinging open. Before you can even scream out of the assumption that it’s a fucking break in, Haechan is quite literally pouncing on you, shoving his face into the crook of your neck with muffled words of “wake up, baby.”
You’re definitely awake.
“How the fuck did you guys get into my house?!” You shout with a raspy, sleep filled voice, trying to focus on the four faces staring back at you and landing a glare at Renjun specifically, standing meekly at your bedroom door.
He shoots an uncharacteristic smirk at you before raising his keys and dangling them at you. Of course you forgot that he had a key. He’s the only person outside of your family who has a key and it was strictly from when he helped you move in. You forgot to get it back from him all those years ago.
“Might want to change your locks.” Haechan laughs against your neck, lying his body weight against you.
“What time is it?” You say, relieved now that your place isn’t being broken into, but still trying to shove Haechan off of you.
He fights to stay in place, grabbing you in a bear hug, holding your arms down at your side, and not letting you go.
“It’s noon.” Jeno calls out from the other side of your room in a nonchalant voice, letting his eyes search around before he opens one of your drawers. “What’s in here?”
You, again, try to shake Haechan from you as you go into panic mode. What kind of joke is this? Fucking room raiders?
“Stop looking through my stuff!” You shout, glaring at Jeno, who definitely goes through your drawers now that he knows you have something to hide.
“Haechan, hold her down,” Jeno laughs, opening another drawer, and then another, before coming to your bedside and looking at you. “What’s in this one?”
Actual panic now.
Before you can even get the words out, Jeno is opening the drawer and letting out a breathy chuckle.
“Guys, look.” He laughs, glancing over at you before pulling one of the toys out. “You get off with this?”
Jaemin comes over, looking into the drawer with two other toys that Jeno hasn’t yet pulled from their place. Renjun continues to watch, or stalk, really.
“Did you wash them?” Jeno asks, waving the dildo in front of your face before bopping you on the nose with it.
“Of course I fucking washed them!” You continue to glare, feeling Haechan squeeze you tighter to prevent you from moving.
“Shame,” Haechan laughs at you, and then he very slowly lightens his grip on you. “Wanted to know what you smell like.” He says in a single breath, looking between you and the dildo, in deep thought. You stare at him before taking advantage of his loosening grip and rolling him off of you in one swift motion.
You ignore the “oomf” sound Haechan makes when his head hits your headboard, and instantly rip the dildo from Jeno’s hands before throwing it back into the drawer and nearly slamming Jaemin’s fingers shut in it.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?” You narrow your eyes as you look at each of them. You feel annoyed, and quite frankly, a little pissed because this is kind of crossing a line you didn’t even know you had.
“It’s your birthday,” Renjun smiles, moving himself from the door and finally coming into your room. “You’re not seriously planning to just, like, stay home all day are you?”
“Yeah, actually. I am.” You grouch, rolling your eyes as you sit up and against your headboard with crossed arms.
“That’s too bad, we’ve got a whole day planned for you.” Jeno says, seating himself next to you and softening his voice. “So get up and go get dressed.”
If it weren’t for the fact that all four men are practically holding you hostage right now, you’d kick them out and enjoy your birthday as you planned it. Why is this year so fucking different? Why are they all over you like this? Poking fun at your toys, Haechan being weird and gross about it?
As you get dressed, they make it incredibly obvious that there’s a shift in the air. You feel like prey, four pairs of eyes struggling to allow you to dress yourself without them in the room. You do eventually get them out though, so you can at least do as they say.
When you open the door for them again, they’re all right there. Jeno, front and fucking center with his dopey smile that seems more menacing today than the usual, soft smile.
You feel cornered in your own home, by the only people you trust, and you hate to say that it’s kind of getting to you in an uncomfortable way. It’s surprising to admit that you kind of like the uncomfortable feeling they’re giving to you right now.
The sheer amount of attention on you is overwhelming, and you wonder when they’ll let you in on this joke.
~
The second you step into Jeno’s car, then tension dies down a little bit and the excitement rises. You haven’t done anything for your birthday in years so it’s kind of nice to think that your friends would plan something for you, and not being alone in your apartment with them solidified that they’re not about to eat you alive with a side of A1 steak sauce like you originally thought.
As the drive starts and continues, you think about the dynamic between you and your friends. From how you met to how you became the group you are now. You realize that for the past few years, most interactions with them have felt more intense than they used to. Still, you’re a believer that women can be friends with men without the weird sexual tension ruining it.
Until you keep thinking. Piling up all of the sexual jokes and implications they’ve made at you up until this morning.
One time, Jaemin took a photo with you, sent it in the group chat and said “she’s giving out blowjobs for $5 if anyone wants one.” and you’d be lying if you didn’t receive three cash app notifications of five dollars.
Another time Jeno blatantly gave you a popsicle and told you to show him how deep you can take it in your mouth before laughing and shoving the popsicle deeper when you reached your limit. And god, don’t even get started on Haechan, that motherfucker has blatantly adjusted his length in front of you after staring at your chest for an entire conversation.
Renjun is another story. The shy one who does a shit job at hiding that he absolutely has whore thoughts. You see it. That $5 donation for a blowjob didn’t go unnoticed, nor did his approval of you accidentally liking one of the porn videos deep in his retweets.
Still, you prefer to think that you wave off the jokes face to face despite how difficult it’s become to dodge said jokes.
You turn to look at Jeno for a moment, noting his calm face as he drives, then you turn slightly to see the three in the back seat on their phones. Jeno’s phone is buzzing at lightning speed, and the boys in the back are typing miles per minute.
You narrow your eyes.
“What are you guys planning?”
Jeno flashes a smile at you.
“It’s a surprise, don’t try and ruin it for yourself.” He smiles wider at the implication that you really do always ruin this type of thing by pretending you don’t want it. That you don’t want him.
You continue to glare at them, one at a time, and each of them just beams at you before you cross your arms and slump yourself back against the seat.
“Better not be anything weird.” You grumble.
“Define weird.” Jeno comments before moving his hand from the steering wheel and lying it against your leg. When you stiffen up against him, he rubs a gentle circle against the flesh of your thigh before continuing. “Relax, we already know you’re a freak.”
You whip your head around at the laughter, feeling flustered at how they’re not keeping the circle in the circle. Except, they are. It’s just being voiced now, and your leg is being caressed at the same damn time.
“My favorite was when she shared that video of the girl getting her head pulled back by the hair, and dude spit in her face,” Jaemin says with a shrug, eyes still glued to his phone. “Went straight to the bookmarks.”
You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and when you go to protest, Haechan jumps in.
“What about the video where the girl took it in every hole? She even had a dildo because apparently she just wasn’t full enough.” He ticks his tongue when he says it, examining the way you shift in your seat.
“Oh god, I remember that one. I didn’t think you’d be into that–” Renjun laughs, leaning forward between the front and passenger seat. “But you are into that, aren’t you?” He lowers his voice when he asks you.
You shift again, and note only slightly the way Jeno also shifts similar to the way you do at those words.
“It’s just a video–” You try to defend, but Jeno speaks up and cuts you off.
“Did you get off to it?” He asks blatantly, turning the car onto a wide street and seemingly keeping his eyes on the road.
There’s nothing but silence in the car and all four of them wait for your answer, but it never comes.
“So you did.” Renjun chuckles, leaning himself back to the seat and unlocking his phone again.
You’re kind of at a loss for words at this moment as you stare directly out of your window and try to avoid continuing the conversation. You hate the way your body is reacting to the way they’re talking to you. Of course you got off to the video. Of course you’re into that. It just looks bad when you’re sitting in a car full of men with cocks that seemingly want to talk about how much you’re into it.
Implications.
And god, the implication gets worse when you realize where Jeno has been driving this whole time. You can’t even protest either.
“Let’s get our girl some better toys to have fun with.” Jeno comments as he stops the car in the parking lot, turning to look at you and then at his friends as if this is the most normal birthday outing in the world.
“Your girl?” You ask, side eyeing Jeno and then turning your entire body to look at the other three men in the car.
Suddenly, it feels like an intro to some porn video. Where the poor lonely woman is being eaten alive with eyes in a public space before it pans to her quite literally drowning in a bukakke scene.
“Just for today, relax.” Jaemin smiles his stupid smile, shoving Haechan at the door of the car as if to force him to open it, and he does. “Besides, the toys you had seemed boring.” He laughs again, before sliding out of the car as well.
So, here you are now, walking into an adult store with four very attractive men, unsure as to why you’re even agreeing to let them bring you here. You don’t know what to do with yourself seeing as you’ve only ever bought toys online.
Jeno is the first to drag you away with him as the others disperse around the store. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel awkward, or like today isn’t entirely charged by sexual energy. Unfortunately, Jeno amplifies it with a casual voice and a slouched, relaxed posture as he snakes an arm around your waist and lifts your chin with his thumb so that you look directly at what he’s looking at.
He barely lets you react to the way he’s being somewhat intimate with you, ushering any protest you could possibly have into a little insecure space in your brain. One that tells you that, based on how he’s acting, he would probably call you stupid if you said he was acting weird.
Jeno knows damn well though, that he’s touching you right now more than he ever has. Brief hugs and brushes of the body are normal and expected, but this? This is intentionally not normal. He knows you’re picking up on the differences, and actively chooses to let you stew over it. He can see the confusion in your eyes and plays it off as if, yeah, this is normal and you’d make it weird if you decided to say it’s not. You’d be the one making it awkward, not him.
“How do you feel about that?” He asks, eyes staring straight at an item hanging on the wall and pretending he doesn’t feel the way you let him touch you in the way a boyfriend should.
“What? The vibrating panties?” You ask, looking at the item directly next to it.
“Oh,” He chuckles at you, releasing your chin and pulling down the product with ease. “You’re looking at these?” He adds, keeping his other arm around your waist and pulling you right up against his side as he flips the box over and reads it.
“Eight settings. Three pairs of panties are included–” He nods with a pleased face. “What are you looking at these for?”
You looked at them because it’s what you thought he was looking at too.
“You gonna wear them to work? Staying wet all day in them?” He smiles, saying these words as if it’s not sexual at all. “I bet you’d wear them in front of me too. Wouldn’t even tell me how you’re getting off, would you?”
He loves the way you react when you’re flustered, looking away from him but not quite denying it or pulling from his grasp.
“Dirty. I’ll buy them for you. ” He says, keeping hold of the box and reaching for the actual item he was originally looking at. “What about this?”
You feel like your body is on fire with this one sided conversation. Honestly, your mind is still thinking about what would happen if you wore these panties to work. What would happen if you did wear them when hanging out with him? Surely he’d know, it’s not like you’re capable of hiding your pleasure.
Still, you try to remain calm. Rubbing your legs together briefly, you stare at the way he tangles a leash in his fingers all while still holding the box with the vibrating panties. His hands are big, and his fingers are long. The material of the leash appears to be flimsy but the collar he grabs just next to it appears to be much stiffer.
“A leash?” You ask, still not making eye contact but keeping your eyes on his hand and the way he holds all three items with ease.
“And a collar.” He adds, encouraging you to think about both items together, being used with him.
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
Jeno smirks, knowing damn well you know what he’s into.
“You know exactly what you’re supposed to do with it.” He teases you, keeping hold of the toys and letting his eyes devour the way you buckle under every implication. He tunes in to the way your legs rub together, right here in front of him. God, you’re so cute with the way even the slightest implication seems to have you suffering.
In your head, you do know what to do with these items for him, but the confirmation of Jeno’s words have reality hitting you like a bag of bricks. Is he really implying that these toys are to be used with him?
And just as you try to mutter up a response, you can feel your arm being tugged at.
“Stop hogging her, dick.” Jaemin seethes through his teeth and narrowed eyes at Jeno, prying you away from him.
You look back at Jeno and his confident glare at you as you’re being pulled away. He seems slightly annoyed with Jaemin for taking you away just as the conversation was getting good but, overall proud of himself for making you think too hard. You practically see the confirmation in his hooded eyes when they trail down your body as you’re being pulled around the corner, up until he’s out of your view and you are forced to look at whatever the fuck Jaemin is trying to show you.
“Look at this.” Jaemin says in a much sweeter voice to you, grabbing a box and presenting it to you. “There’s a sample thing too, hold on–” He continues, reaching up and grabbing the presumed sample that states “FINGERS ONLY.”
“Go on, try it.” He smiles, eyes staring straight at your hands.
“You want me to test out a uh–”
“Pocket pussy.” He finishes for you, nodding his head and encouraging you to do it.
Reluctantly you do, sliding your fingers into the silicone hole. Weirdly enough, you’ve always wondered what the inside of a pocket pussy felt like and well, it’s about what you expected.
Jaemin’s intense eye contact on watching your fingers slide into that toy did not go unnoticed though. You can see the way they darken at the act in an instant. A once bright looking pervert now matching the word far too much to be comfortable doing this in front of him. If only you knew how he was imagining that this is how you touch yourself. Reluctantly at first and then sliding your fingers in deeper to feel everything it offers.
“Well?” He asks, feeling his length twitch in his pants at the image. Wondering how much prettier your fingers would look glistening in the arousal that would spill out of you while doing this. “Do you think yours feels better?”
“Wha–” You go to ask, pulling your fingers from the sample and shoving it back into his hands.
“You heard me,” He laughs as he drops the sample onto the floor and quickly picks it up before tossing it back onto the wrong shelf like an asshole. “Compare it. Give me something to work with here.”
You dead-pan stare at him, processing the fact that he’s literally asking you what your pussy feels like.
“It’s, um–” You stop yourself again, not avoiding Jaemin’s eye contact this time as his smile fades into something a bit more serious.
“Not as warm, right?” He asks, “not as wet?”
Then he leans in to the point that you feel his breath below your ear, blowing gently as he continues his string of questions.
“Not as tight–” He pulls back to look at you. “Hm?”
It’s insane how fast your little friend group seems to have switched on you. When you compare yesterday to today, the last thing you could imagine was Jaemin saying such a thing against your skin before pulling back, and looking at you with a face that seems to expect a genuine answer to his dirty questions.
You’ve never felt so….shy before yet, into it entirely. You just don’t know how to process it all happening at once, with multiple people. Jeno, now Jaemin?
You stare forward at him, cheeks warming up beyond belief as your fingers tingle from the recent silicone hole they fucked into. You think hard for a moment about all of the times you’ve plunged your fingers into yourself, comparing the feeling to the toy. You almost want to tell him that you’re definitely warmer, you’d definitely be wetter, and perhaps even tighter than that toy could ever offer him.
And just as you were about to become the pick me girl of his dreams, an angel wearing a dick-head costume (Haechan), appears much like Jaemin did before. He prevents you from furthering the conversation, but he does little to nothing to help the warmth you’re feeling between your legs.
“Stop being a freak,” Haechan stares at Jaemin, having heard the entire conversation and definitely liking where it was going, but also not wanting Jaemin to be the one to get you to break. “Come on, I have something a lot less weird to show you.”
Haechan drags you across the entire store before you can even protest, nearing the entrance. You almost want to get on your knees and thank him, assuming he’s walking you straight out the doors to safety before you realize he’s definitely not.
“Lace or latex?” He asks, grabbing two skimpy outfits he presumably placed on the end of a rack for easy finding when he wanted to show you.
“Lace.” You say without issue, still reeling from all of the other questions you’ve been asked within the past twenty minutes. Plus, clothing is much easier to discuss compared to things that fuck your friends, and things that fuck you.
“Hm,” He stares down the lace outfit on the hanger, knowing for a fact that your tits would look fucking immaculate in it. Surely they’d be bulging out of the top, plush and bouncing with each movement. “If we got this for you, would you actually wear it?”
At this point, the feeling in your gut may or may not be matching the energy they’re giving you. There’s a hint of flirtiness coming to your mind now as you think of how to respond. You’ve flirted with them plenty, so it comes easy this time when you manage to actually answer him.
“I guess,” You start, noting how his eyes light up. “I don’t see why not, because I do like lace.”
“Would you wear it for me though?” He corrects his question, proud of the way you look a bit confident now, not at all as flustered as you seemed when Jaemin had you back there finger fucking a sample toy.
“In front of you?” You ask, staring down the outfit and reaching out to feel the soft texture of the lace, trying to ignore the hefty price on the tag.
“Yeah? I expect to be the one to take it off of you.”
There goes your confidence. He’s so forward and you’re not sure if you can ever get used to such jarring comments toward you by the people you seem to be the closest to. They could talk to you like this all fucking day, and while you’d like it, your first instinct is to buckle, to hide.
“So quiet now. Why? Because I want to see you in this?” He smirks, rubbing his fingers in circles against the lace before hardening his expression.
“You can pretend that this isn’t happening all you want,” He narrows his eyes at you and the way you avoid his eye contact, taking a step forward and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But I think you’ve gotten your fair share of teasing me online. I think it’s time you finally give it up.” He finishes his train of thought with a frustrated whisper when you pull away from him slightly.
It’s a lot of information to take in all at once. Jeno implying things, Jaemin asking about what’s between your legs, and now Haechan stating that he wants to see you in lace before sliding it off of you. It’s not entirely insane to be drawn in and then push yourself back. Really, it’s not. You can’t just let them in on the fact that you’re into it though. All of this, you’re so fucking into it.
“You thought I was teasing you?” You ask, finally making eye contact as you look him up and down, taking another step back. “Haechan, it’s just porn. None of it was because of you.”
He tics his tongue at your words, smirking and shaking his head.
“You’re going to stand there and pretend like you don’t think about it?” He tilts his head knowingly before shaking the lace outfit in front of you. “If we leave here today with this, you’re going to wear it for me.” he continues with a cheeky voice, “and i’ll make you feel so good when I take it off of you.”
And for some reason, you find yourself turning away from him and walking away. You can hear him mutter something at you as you create a bigger distance, and can’t help the smile on your face. Your cheeks are tingling, your body is tingling and there’s a type of confirmation happening right now, that all of those thoughts you’ve had about them before aren’t entirely one sided.
You find yourself in search of Renjun, the only normal motherfucker in this group. He hasn’t hunted you down within the aisles of toys, sex movies, or lube. He hasn’t pulled you away as if he’s a savior before forcing you to realize you fell into the grasp of another hunter. No, he’s normal. And he fills that role so well too, as you find him near the back of the store standing alone, looking at the most mundane and boring sex toys in the world. Dildos, just like what he saw being pulled out of your drawer this morning.
“Do you think this one is a good size?” He asks you offhandedly as you stand next to him with a sigh of relief. Almost like he could sense it was you without even checking for himself.
“Yeah, it’s a little big but–” You go to say, comfortably and confidently because he’s not being a weirdo.
“Have you ever taken something this big before?” He looks at you, glancing down to your thighs before smiling.
“Um, well-” You start, but he interrupts you again.
“It’s the same size as mine, you know.”
Anyway, fuck Renjun.
He’s just like the rest of them, except apparently he doesn’t hunt. He prefers to be hunted himself, he prefers you come to him. A wolf in sheep's clothing, perhaps.
The sexual innuendos and jokes are a bit overwhelming considering you’ve never been fucking attacked with them before. You really can’t lie to yourself though. As much as you pretend to be unnerved, you love the attention they’re giving you. Years worth of sexual things shared online seems to be making today feel like it was going to happen now or never. All of those stray thoughts you’ve had about each of them as you watched their shared porn and read their dirty words? They’re in the front of your mind right now.
Perhaps staying home all day today was a bad idea, because you find yourself genuinely enjoying the overwhelming tension in the air. You’re quite literally in a sex shop surrounded by friends who are implying they want sex from you.
Even if it’s all just a prank-birthday thing. You know, like how friends get each other dildos and sex merchandise for a laugh. You can’t help but stare down the bulk of items all four of them begin to pile onto the counter.
The vibrating panties, leashes, collars, lingerie, dildos, more vibrators, and lube. Not a single condom in sight, not a single pocket pussy either, implying that it can't be purchased because, well, you very well may be the pocket pussy.
The price goes from fifty dollars to a sum of over six hundred, and none other than Jeno himself pulls out his wallet and slides his card into the machine. Signing his name on the device smoothly, almost prettily, before watching the cashier bag each item carefully and curiously.
You hate to say how attractive it is to see Jeno pay for things specifically meant to be used behind a locked door. He’s paid for your coffee plenty of times, but the act right now is seriously just so…..cocky? With the way his posture is perfect, his confidence is exuding when he presses the buttons, god. Is it the money or is it him doing this to your mind?
You can’t make eye contact with the woman bagging your gifts, and for some reason find yourself reluctantly making that eye contact with Jeno instead. He gives you that droopy eyed smile, the one he usually gives on a normal, non-sex-fueled day to something endearing you said. Like he didn’t just drop hundreds on things to fuck yourself with, or wear while being fucked. He can tell you’re thanking him though, appreciating him.
After leaving the store, four big bags being carried by four men, you realize that it’s really not a joke this time. There’s a clock in your head counting down to where Jeno will drive all of you to next.
“Why’re you being so quiet?” Haechan pokes you from the back seat, pulling some of your hair and forcing your head back against the headrest.
“What the fuck?” You ask in a panic, turning your entire body to look behind you at him. You can tell he can see the way that little tug had you release a hint of a moan before you started asking him the question so aggressively. “I’m just enjoying the drive, what? I can’t have a moment of silence to myself?”
You ignore the chuckle coming from Jeno, driving smoothly and keeping his eyes on the road. Then you glance at Jaemin, who is looking at you much the same way Haechan is.
“Are you not enjoying yourself?” Renjun asks, leaning up to the center console again. “You’ve been acting kind of weird all day.”
“I’ve been acting weird?!” You huff. The audacity he has to say that you’re the one being weird.
“You’re just trying to pretend that we don’t want to fuck you like always.” Haechan blurts out while rolling his eyes before Jaemin elbows him in the side.
You stare at them wide eyed as Renjun slowly leans himself back defensively, as far into the seat as possible.
“Relax, you act like you weren’t picking up on the hints,” Jeno glances at you as he pulls into another lot. “Secrets out now though.” He shrugs, searching for a parking space.
“We weren’t even trying to make it a secret, damn.” Haechan rolls his eyes again. “She just likes to play dumb.”
“Or maybe she’s actually dumb.” Jaemin plays off of Haechan’s words.
“Were you guys not planning on letting me have any say in this?!” You ask, voice raised a bit from feeling incredibly flustered.
“What, you don’t want to?” Jaemin asks, narrowing his eyes at you and trying to search for a hint of a lie when you answer.
“I–” You stop yourself.
Any normal person would say no, right? Or would a normal person absolutely be down for this? Are you even a normal person?
“Hm?” Jeno encourages you to finish what you were about to say as he parks and turns off the car. “You don’t want it?” He continues, glancing down and between his legs as if to imply he’s talking more about himself than the group.
Your eyes follow his and you struggle to swallow around the lump in your throat, averting your eyes to the building that this parking lot belongs to. The fucking mall?
“I don’t know what you guys are wanting me to say but, this is all a bit too much.”
The three in the back nod happily at your half-assed rejection, messy hair waving with each nod, and then you look at Jeno as he responds.
“With all things considered, we know you like it when things are ‘a bit too much’.” He says to you, shutting down any form of rejection you could possibly give.
You stare at him as he unbuckles and opens the door to get out of the car. Your body is tingling just a little bit at his words. Goddamn that fucking tweet. Goddamn those fucking twitter circles. Goddamn you for having a bunch of horny burn out friends who suddenly feel the need to jump at the opportunity to fuck you that you would have given ages ago had they tried.
“Always acting like you don’t want it, it’s kind of cute, you know?” Haechan says, pulling himself out of the car now. Jaemin continues his string of thoughts as he gets out of the car after him, “and fucking annoying.”
There goes any ounce of self respect you could imagine having. Your brain is flooding with everything they said to you in the sex shop and, well, you’re well aware that it’s about to be a birthday to remember.
~
Walking through the mall with your friends should be normal, and it is. But the air is different now, knowing now a hint of the plans they seem to have for your birthday. If they hadn't said all of that in the car, surely you’d know now what the plan was.
You’re sitting in front of Jeno with your drink, Renjun beside him, Jaemin beside you. Haechan ran off to the bathroom and was in there for a while. You’d make a joke, honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that your phone buzzes and the notification states it’s from him.
Jaemin silently and curiously watches you open it from the side.
Silence. Unnerving silence from the entire food court as you glance at your screen for a split second before slamming your phone face down on the table and refusing to look at any of them.
You feel seen, and you know for a fact that Haechan is probably laughing his ass off in that fucking bathroom stall with the way you leave that image on read.
“You’re blushing–” Jeno says, watching the way your eyes shift and you suck down your drink like there’s no tomorrow. “Why?”
You pretend you don’t hear him before Jaemin laughs.
“Haechan showed her his dick,” He smiles, leaning down onto the table and scooting close to you. “I think you liked it.”
“I barely saw it!” You defend in a tone louder than expected, continuously sipping your drink until it’s nearly empty.
You can’t bear to make eye contact with any of them right now, not after seeing a raging cock like the one Haechan is sporting. He’s a menace, truly, and it’s not that you wouldn’t have wanted to see it or anything but like maybe sending it to you in such a public space was a dick move on his part.
Sensing the eyes of three men on you right now, judging to see what you really think of Haechan’s junk, you refuse to look up from the table.
Jeno definitely takes advantage of your blind spots. Wanting so badly to see those cheeks blush the same way they’re doing for Haechan. If anything, for his own ego boost. He wants you to break for him, not for that slut Haechan who is obvious in his attempts to make you want him the most.
Your phone buzzes again.
“Go on,” Jeno smiles. “Open it.” He encourages you, noting the way you still won’t look up at them. Loving how you’re somehow both entirely shameless and entirely cautious about this situation.
You realize only now that these men are taking advantage of every single situation.
Of course you didn’t notice Jeno skewing his phone down and under the table. How could you notice? You’re still trying to comprehend the fact that Haechan is in a bathroom right now raging hard and proud of it.
You don’t even know why you listen to him, opening the text from none other than Jeno himself and seeing a photo of his hand gripping himself. You can see the outline of his length and the way his fingers grip against the sheer size of it. Right fucking here, under this very table. You can see your shoes at the corner of the photo briefly as you stare at the photo a bit longer than you truly meant to. Kind of wishing he had just sent you a raw photo of it.
Now he can fucking see you imagine what’s under these pants. The lump he’s gripping only offers so much to your imagination and it leaves you wanting more. He knows it’s doing something for you with the way you stare at it, eyes no longer darting over the screen of your phone but pointed at one specific place.
Your eyes shift up to him on instinct now.
Buzz.
You whip your head over to Renjun when you see his name pop up on your screen. He does not look at you nor your reaction to the text but is smirking devilishly just like the rest of them.
You’re a little thankful that his photo must’ve been a picture he took on some other day. You feel relief that at least he’s maybe not entirely hard like Jeno and Haechan are right now. (He is.)
“You guys are pussies,” Jaemin comments, shaming his friends for simply sending photos when you’re right here, looking all shy and reserved as if you haven’t been rubbing your legs together all day. “Come here.” He says quickly and quietly, grabbing your hand as if it’s to warm it up before blatantly pressing it between his legs and flexing his length under your palm.
He’s hard. Like, incredibly hard and it takes everything in you not to grab it.
Then you hear him chuckle, looking at you and the way you haven’t even removed your hand from him yet.
“So shameless,” Jeno side-eyes, annoyed. “We’re in public, at least act like you’re not enjoying this right now.”
You’re quick to retract your hand, feeling Jaemin’s hips shift up and against it until he can no longer chase the feeling of your fingers.
There, you’re left feeling a mess. The worst part is that they’re not even alone in being turned on right now in the middle of a food court. You regret wearing these shorts, the arousal is easily seeping through your panties and offering a very, very, uncomfortable sensation against you. Each shift of your legs feels like a jolt of pleasure and also a raw and rashed feeling of the denim being too harsh against an extremely sensitive area on your body.
Many times over the years, you’ve thought of each of these men at least once or twice. With all that porn they share on twitter, it really really is hard not to. Never did you expect them all to act this way toward you while together though. It was always a one on one thing in your head, but now? You’ve seen Haechan and Renjun’s cocks, you’ve gotten an idea of how big Jeno’s is, and you’ve blatantly felt Jaemin’s.
The body tingles are worse now. There’s a burning in your stomach, and it travels straight between your legs. The arousal is there, but a release isn’t. At least not yet.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” You jump up.
Not only is this bathroom break there for like, actual bathroom purposes seeing as how you’ve had a coffee, an entire bottle of water, and now that tasty tea that you just downed within the span of three seconds, but, also because you need to breathe. You need to gather your thoughts desperately, and maybe get a better look at those photos.
“No,” Jeno laughs, standing up after you. “You’re just trying to avoid it.” He looms over you as he stands, looking down at you with a smirk. “You don’t need to use the bathroom.”
“No, I actually do need to. I just drank that entire tea in less than five minutes thanks to you guys.”
“That’s too bad,” He says in a mocking tone. “We have places to be.”
And you just look at him, seeing Haechan appear in your peripheral vision as he talks in an animated way with Jaemin and Renjun.
~
Store after store, you can feel the atmosphere become heavier and heavier between you and your group of friends. They’re entirely shameless in how they’re interacting with you and at this point, you can barely remember how the dynamic used to be.
There used to be flirting, but it was all based on a joke. At least that’s what you thought back then. Now, after seeing specific parts of them as they were sitting right in front of and next to you, save for Haechan, all of this flirting seems more like fucking foreplay.
It feels like torture, watching Jeno spend and spend his money on anything you so much as glance at. Haechan’s hands constantly stay on you in some way. Jaemin? Fucking Jaemin, cornering you alone every chance he gets, whispering things, pressing his dick against your ass when he’s behind you, asking you to touch him again.
You feel like you’re going insane with the amount of nervous arousal shaking within you. Your body loves it, your mind loves it. Every suggestion bursts vividly in your head, to the point that you very nearly feel like all of this could be a dream.
Then, the very not normal Renjun shocks you when he tries to lace his fingers in yours as you walk. You did find comfort with his warm hands in yours, despite having a photo of his hard cock sitting in a text message. It was kind of grounding, maybe? Reminding you that this isn’t a dream at all. All four of your friends are trying to fuck you.
Renjun kept fiddling with your fingers as you walked which, arguably, is a bit detrimental seeing as how you’re just a group of five people wandering around a mall with a desperate need to like, fuck something.
Safe to say you’re the one who may have shocked him. Thinking too hard about the way his fingers move and play against you. You focus on his birthmark, the way it contrasts with his skin tone and appears to be more like a bruise than anything else. The way his veins pulse languidly when he squeezes your fingers in his, you wonder if he moves his hands the same way when he’s using them for pleasure.
Renjun looks down at your fingers intertwined through the silence, loving the way you allow him to do this. He knows it’s not forward like everyone else even if he’s chasing the same thing. He likes to study the way you react, testing his own methods and noting how he’s somehow got you not even watching where you’re walking because you’re too busy staring at his fingers laced with yours.
“What’re you thinking about?” He whispers right up against you as you walk behind the others, shifting his eyes to check and see that they’re not paying attention to this little moment.
When you look back up at him, your attraction burns in your eyes and he sees that shit instantly.
“About my fingers?” He smirks.
You look away and relax your hand in his, as if to remove it from his grasp, but he takes this opportunity to show you the strength he has in his hands alone, squeezing tighter.
“You were imagining what they could do to you, weren’t you?” He says it so proudly, like he could possibly be the first of the four to get you to actually incriminate yourself in wanting him just as badly as he wants you.
“And if I was?” You glare before glancing down again. “What then?”
“We could slip away right now, into that bathroom over there and I could show you–”
Bathroom.
You still need to go to the bathroom, but the arousal of fucking everything right now is taking high priority when it comes to how your body feels. The burn is…interesting when you think about it. You feel heavy between your legs, entirely turned on, and honestly, if he hadn't said that word you likely would have continued to pretend you don’t need to go.
“Speaking of,” You announce so that the three walking in front turn to listen. “Bathroom break?”
Jeno doesn’t stop walking, shaking his head.
“No, this is the last stop and the bathroom is like, across the mall.” He offers a genuine excuse, causing you to huff and completely miss the way he smirks at the small win.
“There was a bathroom just back there.” You protest, halting where you are before turning to look at the door.
“Employees only.” Jeno continues, now turning himself around and walking backwards. “What? Gonna throw a tantrum? Just hold it, stop whining.”
You huff again, looking at Renjun and rolling your eyes.
“Was that for me, or do you actually need to go?” He asks as you try to speed up and walk with Jaemin instead.
“I actually need to go, but I guess I’ll just deal for now.” Another eye roll.
Damn, rejected. Still, you admitted to possibly thinking about what his fingers could do for you, and that’s a win in his book.
~
There’s a specific type of effort in the way you pretend you don’t care for what’s going on. You know they don’t believe your act, and they know you know. It feels like a game, and at some point all games come to an end.
The car ride back to your apartment felt like hell. Your body is far more aroused with the need to be filled compared to the need to be emptied. Thoughts of going to the bathroom are so far out of your mind with the way the silence in the car feels heavy and sex fueled.
Every sound feels like it’s implied to be sexual. Haechan stretched for a moment and every single head turned to him for the sound he made. On any other day, that’s just a stretch. Today though, that’s probably what he would sound like if he were plunging into you.
Jeno’s hand remains on your leg in a somewhat possessive way. Rubbing his thumb in circles and moving that touch higher and higher as he drives. The warmth you feel under his fingertips are forcing images to bleed into your mind. You wonder if he wants to move them higher, if he wants to tuck his fingers under the fabric and feel around the skin that’s not shown. You wonder if these simple touches would feel just as warm caressing other places on your body. Slipping under your shirt or down your shorts. Running through your hair, holding your chin up to look at him–
You’re thankful they can’t read minds. You’d blow your whole cover at this moment, as you finally let your mind truly think about what’s happened today, and what will likely happen soon. If you were in your right mind, you think you would be able to understand where all of this is coming from. It truly was sudden with the way they’re acting, but it’s a natural instinct for you to not care why it’s happening, and only care about the fact that it should happen.
There’s no telling what will take place when you get back into your apartment. You can picture it so clearly but then again, you also can’t. There’s so many things you can do with four men at the same time but, the issue is that you want to do all of the things.
“So, you want us all to eat you out.” Jaemin deadpans through the silence. What he says should be a question, but it comes out more like a statement.
In all fairness, he’s so hard that being quiet right now? Waiting like he has been all day? It’s too much. He needs to talk about it.
Only now do you tear your eyes away from Jeno’s hand on your leg.
“What?” You ask, searching your brain for any sober thought that would indicate you ever invited them to do such a thing with your own words.
“You said you want us to eat you out on your couch.” He dead pans, sucking in a breath and adjusting himself in the seat to offer his length optimal comfort.
“No? I didn’t?”
“Bullshit!” Haechan argues, already pulling up the receipts on his phone and leaning forward to put it directly in your line of sight. “Eyeball emoji and all.”
You stare at the tweet you shared with the implications it gave to your friends. Now, you’re in a car with said friends, on your birthday, after an entire day of sex fueled conversations and acts.
It definitely was an implication at its finest but it’s not like you knew this would come out of it. This specific tweet seems to have been the final straw for them and you can’t help but feel fucking proud of it.
“Technically, I didn’t say that.” You still try to keep the energy you’ve had all day, but Jeno’s hand offers you a squeeze against your thigh and instantly you’re turning your head to look at him.
“But you do want it,” Jeno says, pulling into the lot of your apartment building. “And we’re going to give it to you.”
You stare at him much like you have tried to avoid all day.
“But–”
“Stop.” He warns, cutting you off from any argument you try to form. “You want it.” He repeats again, this time letting his eyes scan you for a moment.
He’s not wrong. If anything, you want it more now than you did three seconds ago based on that tone of voice alone. That cold, scolding, deep voice that would make you agree to anything he says anyway.
You don’t even turn to look at the nods of approval as Jeno shuts you down. Instead, you wait for him to park.
~
First things first, bathroom. Except that’s not anyone else’s priority. You wouldn’t be able to go even if you started running for the door.
Why? Because the way Jaemin closes in on you before the front door is even closed. Shamefully, his eagerness does manage to push that need for a release into the back of your mind for just a little longer.
After a full day of fantasizing, wanting, and needing, Jaemin made damn sure he was the first. Kicking his shoes off and helping you to get yours off before blatantly ignoring his friends and swooping you up in his arms.
You briefly glance back at the others, offering a pleading look of “save me please” but, there is no saving to be had here. All three of them have a dark look in their eyes, leaving the bags of gifts bought for you right there at the door as they watch Jaemin give in to his fantasy first.
That, he does. There is no room to protest, to play games, or pretend like you’d push him away. Because you won’t, and he fucking knows it.
He carries you to the couch with such ease, tossing you down onto it and adjusting you before you can do it yourself.
You can’t look away from him. For a moment it feels like this instance with him is entirely hidden. Like there aren't three other guys watching the way he pushes you back against the couch, falls to his knees, and spreads your legs with a strong grip.
“Oh fuck,” He comments to himself, noting the way you smell from the day of their hard work on arousing you. He stares directly between your legs and loves the way your shorts have ridden up to the point it must have been uncomfortable. “Look at you.”
You can’t bear to admit the blatant truth of what he’s seeing. These shorts have been dampened over and over again today. You’d be shocked if they were dry. You can imagine how pathetic you look right now too, pussy nearly on display already while still being fully covered.
On instinct you shoot your arms up to cover your face as if to avoid this embarrassment. The confirmation of wanting this all day, just like them, is shameful. Even as Jaemin unbuttons your shorts and starts to tug at them, you can’t help the way you feel like you’re spiraling.
You want this so badly, and now Jaemin has the dirty, messy, wet proof.
“So shy,” You hear from behind you, now feeling another pair of hands pull your arms from your face and hold them at your side, as he dips down to your neck from behind the couch. “You tried to hide it but,” He continues, blowing softly at the spot at the dip of your neck. “You were squeezing those legs together all day wanting someone between them, weren’t you?”
Goddamn Jeno for being a talker. Fuck Jeno for having these strong hands and holding you down for Jaemin to toy around between your legs. Curse that man for having such a sensual voice as he talks to you, dumbing you down to the point that all you can do is fucking agree with him.
Jaemin listens intently to the way Jeno talks to you as he continues to bask in the scent. Your shorts are now crumpled to the floor and your blatant arousal was evident in all forms of the word. Your panties leave nothing to the imagination, soaked to the point of not being able to hold any more of that dripping heat. They rode up much like your shorts did, exposing both lips and folds to envelope the fabric tightly as if you were intending to gain some sort of friction from them throughout the day. He thinks that you were, quite literally, fucking yourself against these flimsy panties for the majority of the time you spent with them, pretending that they weren’t rubbing against your clit the entire time.
He hums from between your legs, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs to spread your legs out more. Haechan comes over now, wanting to see what it is that has Jaemin entirely speechless and holy fuck, anyone would be.
Your folds are glistening in wet, unsticking and settling around your tightly stretched panties in a different way now. Haechan makes no attempt to pretend it’s not a beautiful sight.
He’s the first to moan at the image of how pathetically horny you got for them. All while trying to hide it, parading around all fucking day with your panties hugging that clit in a way you wished he was– for sure. Him. You want him the most, and he’s going to fucking give it to you.
“Aww,” Haechan coos, his eyes scanning you entirely. “You really do want me to eat it, don’t you?”
The heat that runs down your body at those words is more telling than the small sigh that forces itself out of your throat. Your entire body jerks at the feeling of goosebumps reacting to his words, and for some reason, you shoot your eyes to Renjun as if seeing him right now will calm your embarrassment. It doesn’t though. Renjun is looming near the entry of your living room, staring blankly at what’s been revealed with the heavy length in his pants twitching and making itself known to you. He appears to be waiting for your response.
You don’t respond. How could you? There are no words in your head right now. Not with all of the sensations you’re feeling, not with all of the eyes on you. You try to offer a nod, feeling pathetic, but your hips answer for him.
Haechan watches the way they buck up at his words and instantly he’s shoving Jaemin over with a confident chuckle, slotting himself between your legs alongside him. He shows no shame in the way he hooks his fingers under the panties, digging in deep just to get a hold of them. You can feel his knuckle bump your hole and you clench at the feeling. Then, as if he’s making a show of it, he groans as he stretches your panties out of your folds and away from your body.
“Damn,” Haechan says nearly in unison with Jaemin, both entirely too eager to be in a shared space between your legs right now. They barely even acknowledge the other, but there is a silent form of encouragement between the two.
Never did you think you’d find your eyes glued to the way Haechan slips the panties off of you, or the way Jaemin pockets them instantly. Like they’re working together, even if not on the same team.
You breathe in audibly at the air that hits you. It’s cold, sending a shiver down your entire body. Jeno feels those goosebumps under his hold on you, his cock twitching wildly in his pants at seeing how you’re just letting this happen.
“So, so, dirty,” He starts in a whisper against your neck, so silent that it almost feels like he doesn’t want the others to hear. “I knew you’d get off to this.”
You release the smallest of groans and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s calling you out or if it’s because someone down there just slid their fingers up your slit.
Holy fuck, whose fingers are down there doing this right now?
Haechan is beaming up at you, giving himself the title of public enemy number one because he definitely centered himself between your legs and shoved Jaemin out of the way entirely. He wants to be the first one to taste you, and he fucking means it.
He shows no shame in how desperate he is, which kind of makes you feel a little better as you watch him and his head of messy hair nearly lose sight of the goal while he spreads your pussy apart repeatedly just to see you clench around nothing.
God, he adores seeing your body reacting to what he’s not yet giving. The way you clench, the way your legs tense with each slide of his fingers. He’s inspecting the damage of your untouched and utterly soaked pussy as if it was entirely his fault that you’re in this state.
The other’s let him have this one though, because they know for a fact that when they get between those thighs, they’ll humble him with confident ease.
Jaemin, specifically, believes this. Taking defeat in being shoved from between your legs and losing his chance at being the first to fuck his tongue into you. The image of Haechan doing his thing is enough to give him the confidence to do twice as well when it’s his turn anyway.
He busies himself instead.
There, as Haechan slides his fingers up your slit before landing right on your clit and pressing harshly against it, Jaemin unlocks his phone and opens his camera without a single hint of hesitation. His other hand goes straight to his jeans, skewing them down to let his cock spring free. Then, he’s reaching for your soaked panties and simply…hanging them off the head of his length as he records the scene in front of him with an eager glint in his eye.
“Mm, look–” Jeno says as he nudges your cheek, holding you down more now in case you make an attempt to lunge forward and knock that phone out of his hands. “You must look so good down there for him to wanna record you like this.”
You don’t even protest, because the clench of your pussy that’s being recorded in 4k would tell on you. Jaemin’s eyes are glued to the screen of his phone as Haechan continues to spread you open, exploring, feeling. Your eyes are tuned in to the only bare cock in the room now, seeing your panties shield the majority of it but loving the imagine of how tall his length stands, and then, finally–
“Oh? What was that?” Jeno perks up at the now, louder, sigh you release from your shamed lips. “Do you like what he’s doing?” He adds, trailing his eyes down to see exactly what caused you to make such a pretty sound.
You moan a confirmation, feeling a warm pair of lips wrap around your clit and suck harshly. The sounds of Haechan’s pleased hum at the taste only amplifies the touch beyond belief. Your entire body tingles at how insane all of this feels. Lips on you, Jeno’s voice in your ear, Jaemin recording it for later use, and Renjun slowly inviting himself to join?
Your legs immediately try to close around Haechan’s head when he continues to assault your clit with small grazes of his teeth, and wouldn’t you know it, Renjun finally approaches. Taking the struggle of your legs as a fucking invitation. He holds your legs with a stronger grip than you ever imagined he could have, spreading them wide enough that your ass nearly lifts from the couch.
The stretch of how wide he spreads them burns, and you try to look up at him in a pleading way but he's too busy pressing his surprisingly large cock against the side of your leg as he watches Haechan lick against you.
Haechan is appreciative of what Renjun offers to the scenario, feeling your pussy spread out across his lips and chin. It’s enticing when he doesn’t have to spread it open with his fingers, and it’s hard not to lick the entirety of it as he abandons your clit. Tongue slipping through each fold, licking flat right against your hole, then pressing in slightly before returning back to your clit and skewing his head to really get at it.
So, this is actually a thing that is happening. All four of your friends are entirely tuned into you and you’re being held down as if you’d run away. As if you’re not enjoying it. Goddamn, you are though.
In a split second decision, you prove that by overpowering Jeno and his weaker hold against you now. Seeing as how he was entirely lost in watching the way your legs and stomach tense at whatever Haechan’s tongue was doing. You rip your arms from his grasp and instantly grab Haechan’s hair, holding his face down and against your clit. Rubbing his nose in it, bucking your hips up against the pressure of his lips and tongue, wildly chasing what his lazy tongue struggles to offer.
There’s the desperate need to fuck all of your friends that you’ve been hiding, and it’s showing.
Jeno chuckles, nodding against your neck, still not touching and waiting for you to just fucking moan louder. More than Haechan, just overpower his sounds so he doesn’t have to hear how fucking good you taste, or how good you smell, or how good your pussy must look down there.
Still, you don’t give them everything they want. You stay reserved in the sounds you make in terms of reactions, even as you use Haechan’s face like a toy. Even as Jaemin audibly gasps at what you’re doing, even as Renjun releases one of your legs out of a desperate need to hold the other one against him so that he can feel some type of release.
Haechan knows his friends are jealous of him at this moment though. He’s lucky to feel your fingers tugging against his hair, he’s blessed to have your clit bumping his lips. He can feel your pussy drip against his chin the more you ride his face, and goddamn he must be doing a good job at being used.
That, he is. You only struggle more and more to not moan at the feeling of the way he just…lets you. If you knew he was always this submissive when it comes to eating pussy, you would have jumped on his tongue years ago.
Jaemin continues his recording, trying to zoom in and out to get a good angle that doesn’t involve the boners of his own friends, eventually deciding that he simply doesn’t care if Renjun is in the frame fucking that monster he’s got in his jeans against your leg. You’re the center of the world right now, and he’s a part of this just like his friends.
He tries not to focus on the image of Haechan gripping your couch for dear life either.
Slowly though, he begins to realize there’s a strange type of arousal in this room, one that isn’t entirely burning just for you. There’s something about seeing Haechan being used, seeing Jeno try to remain in control, whispering cocky little words into your ear, like he’s not pressing his cock against the back of that couch, seeing Renjun blatantly lose his composure against you when he’s never so much as hinted to the others that he was into this sort of thing.
Jaemin really feels like he’s going insane over the realization of how alluring this situation is, how alluring his friends are, how alluring he must be.
The speed of which he tosses the panties from his cock and shoves Haechan out of his way is not to be discussed. He feels a fire behind his thoughts at this moment that surely, Haechan won’t mind. Surely, you’ll not feel that split second of abandonment that’ll take place in the time span it takes for him to replace Haechan’s lips.
He forces his phone into a dazed Haechan’s hands who lazily raises the camera up to see Jaemin take his place. The way you barely even take a breath, the way you don’t even react to the change of mouth against you– goddamn, Haechan may very well fall into obsession with you at this moment.
Replacing him with Jaemin like he’s trash? Why does he love it? The way you grab Jaemin’s hair the same way you did to his own? Is that what he looked like when you did that? Spreading your legs and fucking against his face? Seeing it from a different angle, with a different person to Haechan, makes him believe you may be the sexiest woman he’s ever had the pleasure of licking.
And if you knew of the crisis happening below, perhaps you’d be able to focus on that more than the sound of Jeno’s deep sighs against your neck. Really, maybe you would have realized that the hair tangled in your fingers is now Jaemin’s.
Your brain focuses solely on the way Jeno’s lips brush against your skin, the wet feeling of his tongue darting out every few minutes, whispering deep mutterings of the things he loves about what’s happening. Words like “I can hear how wet you are, is it for me or for them?” and “You want more, don’t you? I could bury myself so deep for you–”
It’s kind of crazy how Jeno’s words somehow feel more intense than Jaemin’s tongue on you. There’s something within his words that feel damning. Like he’s belittling his friends despite blatantly seeing how they pleasure you. Like there’s a promise sprinkled in that after all of this, he would be the one you’d think about the most. He would be the one to leave the lasting impression.
Arguably, he already has. Spending his money on you without question, calling you out in a way that shows he knows exactly what game you’re playing. You think that if you let Jeno have at you, it may very well be a lasting impression on everyone, not just you.
Still, you try to focus on Jaemin’s lips through Jeno’s muttering.
You can feel the way he uses more tongue than Haechan and you know your hips are chasing his mouth right now. You can also feel the vibrations of his moans against you and while that is a heavenly feeling, Jeno’s small grunts penetrate straight through that pleasure and center itself once again. Briefly, you almost imagine it’s Jeno between your legs.
You’re moaning softly right next to him, hips chasing a feeling that he’s not even offering to you but god these sounds are for him. You’d never tell Jaemin that the moans aren’t directed at the beautiful work he’s giving to you though. Never.
These moans are for Jeno to react to, to take in, to use as encouragement. And he eats it up, tensing himself against your couch and finally using his hands for something other than helping you hold Jaemin’s head in place.
He runs them up, now moving his head to the other side of your neck and leaving small kisses there as he lifts your shirt up, up, up until it’s bunched up under your arms. There, he cups the flesh of your chest and uses his pointer finger on both hands to tease your already hardened nipples through the fabric of your bra.
He’s thought about playing with your tits so often, now that he can do it? He’d be damned not to savor it while his friends are busy fucking themselves and being used by you.
He teases, and teases, and fucking teases.
“Sensitive?” He whispers against you at the way you arch your back into his touch more than the way your hips fuck up.
You nod mindlessly, throwing your head back against the couch. Then, finally, he pulls your bra up too. An uncomfortable fit against your collar bone but his warm hands overpower the feeling of fabric that you’d rather have removed completely.
At first, he just holds them in his hands, feeling the weight of them, bouncing them, and then caressing them.
“Could drive me insane with these.” He whispers against your neck in a pleased sigh, pinching one of your nipples before mindlessly playing with them. “I’d like to slide my dick between them and feel how fucking soft they are,” He continues, losing his train of thought as he stares down, imagining how the slide would feel. “Fuck, so pretty.”
At that moment, you think he might have lost composure. The sound of his voice indicates that he was really thinking about it. You can feel the couch budge at the way he tenses up against it, and that paired with his teeth biting against your neck, you feel like the most desired person in the room. Which is true.
The more Jeno talks, the more you find yourself willing to give him just about anything he asks for. His big hands grope your chest in such a firm way, blatantly showing interest in the way he touches and plays with them. Every fleshy expanse of skin there is warmed up by his hands and it’s not strange at all to feel incredibly turned on by it.
Haechan audibly moans at seeing your tits jiggle in Jeno’s hands, probably ruining the video he’s recording but god damn. He knew they were huge but they’re pretty too and that’s just the ultimate combination when it comes to tits for him.
Just as Haechan goes to make his mouth useful again against a different part of you, Renjun takes what he needs. Which is fair, Haechan thinks, knowing that he’s already gotten to taste you, the least he can do is let Renjun suck some titties.
Jaemin, is still below enjoying himself and shockingly, Haechan is keeping to himself as he records, slipping his hand down his pants just to edge himself every few minutes as he watches the situation unfold. Almost in a daze at how insane it is that finally, you’re letting them see and touch you like this.
Feeling Renjun finally put his mouth on you though? Damn. Feeling three of the four touching you is a lot to take in but you still manage to do it. Jolts of pleasure are sent straight to where Jaemin continuously grinds his lips against your clit. Renjun shows no shame in inviting himself onto the couch next to you, swatting one of Jeno’s hands away and laying claim on one of your tits, immediately sucking against it and feeling himself spiral at the way you arch into it.
Jeno can’t say he’s too pleased with that though, staring straight at the way everyone has had their lips on part of you, but all he’s gotten was your fucking neck? All he’s gotten was to hump up against this couch to satiate his needs, and feel your nipples?
Renjun doesn’t notice the dark look on Jeno’s face, but Haechan sure does as he double takes at both the image on the phone screen and Jeno.
He recognizes that look and knows for a fact that Renjun better open his eyes and pay attention, or–
“Jaemin, get her off or move–” Jeno says, halting his fingers on your nipple as he backs away from the couch and now comes around in full view.
You stare, feeling Renjun continuously suck against your nipple, sending ripples down to your belly. Jeno’s pants are much tighter than before, and you can see the outline of his cock much like when you saw the photo he sent you.
It looks even bigger than before and your mouth nearly waters for it. The eye contact he’s keeping with you doesn’t do anything to help the situation either because he loves the way you struggle to decide on if you want to meet his eye or stare at his length.
There, he grabs himself, thrusting his hips playfully toward you with a quirk of his brow, as if to suggest you could have more than just his tongue if you ask.
You take in the implied suggestion, releasing Jaemin’s hair and struggling not to shove him clear across the room just to see what Jeno has to offer to you. It’s honestly like no one else in the room exists when he stands between your legs, looming over you and not at all falling to his knees.
You, Haechan, and Jaemin watch as he stands there, making a show of unbuttoning his pants to get his cock out. Renjun remains in his own little world though, sucking your nipple as if his life depends on it while shoving his pants down and shamelessly fucking into his fist.
Then, Jeno makes his move. It’s not exactly unwanted but damn, he really fucking goes for it. Dropping his pants to the floor and gripping Renjun by the hair, pulling him away from you as well.
“You got what you wanted while I had to watch,” Jeno comments harshly at his friends, grabbing your legs and pulling you down to wrap them around his waist. “Now, you watch me.”
Instantly, your pussy is throbbing at the image of how huge he is. His cock lays easily against you, heavy and leaking as it twitches to be inside of something. He’s going to fuck you. Jeno is going to fuck the life out of you. This wasn’t at all in the plan, then again, was any of this in your plan for the day?
Do you want Jeno to fuck you? Your eyes scan the room, all three men and a camera pointing their eyes at you. There seems to be a bit of a hopeful glint in each eye.
You nod weakly, watching Jeno take a good look at your pussy before smirking.
“So wet for this, no wonder they were moaning more than you were,” Jeno smiles, staring down at your hole before licking the tips of his fingers and dipping them into you without so much as a warning. “Feels good to finally have something to fuck, right Birthday girl?”
You’re speechless, wincing at how deep he buries his fingers. Never realizing just how perfect they’d reach inside of you. He bumps areas inside that you desperately need with so much ease.
Oh, oh fucking no.
There’s that burn. The reminder of a different release, pressure building up at lightning speed as your wet walls squeeze his fingers.
“How long have you wanted this?” Jeno comments at how tight you’re squeezing his fingers. “How long have you wanted me?” He continues, ignoring the other three in the room and paying no mind to them.
You can barely answer, your body reacting in all sorts of ways that it never has when it comes to a pair of fingers and dirty words. Perhaps it’s the sudden burn of needing to get to the bathroom, or perhaps it’s just Jeno. He leaves no room for any of that though, as he continues to chase what he wants.
“You want me?” He asks, urging you to nod, leaning over you and gripping your cheeks with one hand to look directly into his eyes.
His other hand pulls from your pussy and he coats his length in that wet that soaks his fingers. There, he tugs, leaking just like you are for it.
You blink up at him, sparing a single glance at the others and hoping that they don’t protest when you ultimately nod your head innocently.
“Take it then.” He seethes the words through his teeth before instantly adjusting his length and sliding into you in one go. Bottoming out entirely and holding himself there.
The sound you let out is embarrassing and slightly choked. The stretch of him inside of you makes you shake, your legs falling open from around him at the weakness in your muscles trying to adjust to the intrusion.
His two fingers were not enough to prepare for how thick he is inside of you. Every twitch he offers hurts, every breath he takes feels like he’s already fucking you senseless and you genuinely couldn’t muster up a single word of “wait,” if you wanted to.
Because you don’t want him to wait. You like the searing pain of fullness both inside of your pussy and bladder. It’s overwhelming and almost blinding to feel so utterly out of control of your body.
“Oh, my god.” Jaemin whispers out, experiencing first hand how huge Jeno’s cock is and the way he makes it fit into you.
He can see how tight you are around him, knowing for a fact that if Jeno were to jerk his hips back, your pussy would resist it. He shifts his eyes to the other’s in the room, seeing how Haechan has blatantly abandoned his phone and propped it up on the table to get his pants off, probably because he wants to see if he can fuck you after Jeno.
Renjun is just fucking gone, already having a fair share of cum on his shirt and breathing hard as he stares directly at the point of entry in a dazed and hopeful way.
Then there’s himself. Jaemin wants to fuck something so goddamn bad that he’s actually a little upset that he left that store without a pocket pussy. If Jeno gets to do what he wants, why the fuck can’t he?
So, he not so reluctantly finds him moving to his feet and over to you– avoiding eye contact with Jeno as he kicks his pants off followed by his shirt and lounges next to you on the couch.
He’s reluctant to reach for you at first, but when Jeno relieves that pressure inside of you for a moment and slams back in, he finds himself immediately reaching for your hand and lying it directly against his cock simply because of the sound you make.
You can barely think straight through the stars of Jeno’s cock spreading you open so slowly like this. He barely pulls out before pushing back in when you feel Jaemin grab your hand. You do your best, honestly, with all things considered. Opting to simply hold his cock tightly so that he can at least fuck into it. And that he does, especially when he hears the continuous string of whimpered moans spilling from your lips.
Jeno really does pay no mind to Jaemin because the point is, he’s the one who has his cock in you. They can take what they can get but he’s going to take exactly what he wants.
You’re incredibly tight around him, strangling his cock in such a beautiful way despite still dripping around it. The slide is harsh when he pulls back again. He looks down, watching the way your pussy grips him before pushing back in a bit harder this time.
“God, fuck,” He groans, gripping your legs and now pushing you back and fully onto the couch. He crawls over you, somehow managing to plant his cock even deeper when he thrusts this time. “You can barely take it–”
The way he moans breathlessly makes you feel proud despite your body feeling as if it’s on fire. Not a single mouth on your clit has gotten you close to orgasm because of his words overshadowing it. Now, though? With his cock bumping repeatedly against the softest spot in your pussy? You’re fucking shaking.
His moans do little to help the situation as you clench tightly, panicking slightly at the familiar feeling in your gut. You shoot up, nearly knocking heads with Jeno and abandoning Jaemin’s pathetically needy cock all together when you continue to push Jeno away.
He barely budges, forcing his cock in and out of you, smiling at your panic. This is what he was waiting for, he can see exactly what you’re trying to do.
“Just take it,” He laughs slowly, picking up the pace of his hips and watching that panic in your eyes. “Let it go.”
You can’t bring yourself to do it. That burning sensation in your bladder making itself far too known when his cock bumps that spot inside of you. You aggressively shake your head.
“Come on, let it go.” He encourages, now snaking his hand down and rubbing your clit at such speed that really, it’s not intentional.
Your body tenses and you let out that breath you’ve been holding through this. On instinct your body pushes, it shakes, and you let go. Jeno knew exactly what he was doing throughout the day too, so he’s fucking beaming when your pussy forces him out along with the gushing liquid of your long awaited release.
“God, so messy.” He compliments you, trying to force his cock back into place to feel that release in its full intensity. “Let it go, drench me–” He continues to talk, losing his goddamn mind at how soaked he’s getting. Fucking so harshly past your clenching walls, burying himself as deep as he can go just to feel the way your pussy jerks him off in an attempt to push him out.
He rumbles out a pleased sound, side eyeing Jaemin and the way he sits there fisting his own cock at a speed that is likely very painful. He can’t bear to turn to see the other’s though, but hopefully they know now who is calling the shots here after this.
It goes on for so long that you can barely even open your eyes by the time your body stops releasing. You choose not to comment on what just happened, knowing full well that you’ve never squirted in your life and feeling embarrassed that Jeno fucked you for a total of four minutes to force that out of you.
The relief you feel inside of you right now is…interesting to say the least. Still, you choose not to focus on the fact that Jeno is fucking beaming at you, still fucking into you, and the wet sounds below are far more telling than any porn you’ve ever watched.
The room falls into silence save for the slapping of Jeno taking you for all you’re worth and the sounds of palms hitting the base of their assigned cocks, and– oh?
“You’re just taking it–” He groans out, short of breath as he drives himself deeper, harder, and then suddenly emptying you completely.
“Renjun,” Jeno says, lazily pumping his cock as if he didn’t just go fucking feral on top of you, and then abandon you.
You’re shocked at how fucking fast Renjun jumps up though, following orders as if he was born to do it.
No words are spoken after that, all Jeno does is nod his head to the space between your legs and immediately you feel Renjun’s hands gripping your thighs and his tongue lapping away at the mess.
Your legs start to shake again, feeling sensitive to the point that your hips try and fight to get away from his relentless probes of the tongue. He won’t let you go, holding you down and letting his lips follow wherever your hips go.
You can’t get away, all you can feel is Renjun’s mouth cleaning up every single drop of that embarrassing mess that Jeno created, and the desperate whines that are coming from your lips only drive Renjun to eat harder. Making out with your clit in the way he’s wanted to do all fucking day, stiffening his tongue and tasting the insides of you, fingernails digging into your flesh just to prove how badly he needed this.
It all happens so fast, a second orgasm approaching at the speed of light when Jeno coos out at the both of you. You both look pathetic, and it’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.
Renjun goes, and goes, and fucking goes until– you realize how close he is.
So close that, despite already having gotten off once without so much as letting anyone know, he’s standing to his feet and instantly fisting his cock. The speed of which he does it allows your clit to swell even more at the image despite your orgasm trickling back down.
You focus on his face and the way his brows knit together, his mouth falls open, and then– a breathy moan. You can feel it spill, dripping down your slit and onto the couch. You’re shocked he has so much to offer as you lay there shaking, watching him empty himself entirely onto you.
And then, the fucking whiplash you feel when Jeno moves him out of the way and, quite literally, drags you onto the floor before spreading you out wide for ultimate use.
As long as he gets his cock in you again, they can do whatever they want for their release.
You’re so silent, never feeling more like prey than you do now when you feel Jeno tuck a cushion up under your ass and fuck Renjun’s cum right into you in one slow and languid thrust. It’s animalistic in the way this turned from them trying to pleasure you into now, them trying to pleasure themselves.
You can barely comprehend the way Jeno forces you to take his size again. Your mouth is left hanging open and Haechan uses that as a damn invitation, pressing his length past your lips and bumping the back of your throat. He holds your head there, feeling your throat constrict around him and releasing a long awaited moan that he’s been needing since he originally got to taste you.
Relief is what they’re getting right now, and for some reason, you don’t feel ashamed at all with the way you let them. You’re a fucking mess despite Renjun cleaning you up and then promptly dirtying you twice as much. You open your eyes through your gagging at Haechan.
He pauses at that. Staring down at the way the tears start to run down your cheek, but you’re implying with your slow blinks that you feel good.
“Fuck, it’s just like the video–” Haechan chokes out, fucking his hips into your mouth at a rapid speed, reminding himself of that video you shared with the girl needing to be filled in every form of the word.
And you know, Jaemin would totally take you up on that offer, forcing all of you to stop just so he can get under you and fuck into that same hole Jeno has claimed, but, well, listen.
He’s so fucking close. He’s been edging himself this entire time and he will be damned to spill anywhere near someone else’s cock. Why? Because he’s way too attracted to everyone right now and he’s a bit concerned about getting off to someone other than you right now.
Which, that’s a hurdle he can deal with when he gets to it. He, instead, takes this opportunity to go for your hand again. Obsessing over the way your weak fingers grip him in an instant, dragging up and down his length with the help of Jeno’s insistent and harsh thrusts.
He watches the way you moan with stretched lips, the way your legs lift to wrap around Jeno’s waist to try and hold him in place and then– Oh? You gain your composure back and grip his cock like you’re hell bent on milking him dry.
He groans with a smile, sinking down on his knees next to you and letting you work him up just like you’re doing for the others.
You’re going with your hands, with your mouth, and with that tight little pussy of yours apparently because everything else happens in a blur.
To Renjun, he takes it upon himself to grab that phone and be sure to capture every messy second of what happens.
First one down is Haechan. Once again, he grips your head and holds your face flat against his abdomen when he releases deep into your throat. His hands shake as he struggles not to suffocate you like this. He could feel you swallow around each spurt of his cum, utterly spending him of all energy before he releases you and lazily throws himself back against your floor in a huff.
Then, Jaemin. Despite being in his head, promising himself that your hand was good enough for him to finish, he couldn’t resist the absence of a cock in your mouth at that point. He immediately replaces Haechan, being far more gentle with the way he fucks himself against your tongue. Didn’t take long at all to have his hips stutter. He was more particular about his release though, snapping his hips back when his orgasm approached and jerking himself off right there against your face. He intentionally misses your mouth, wanting to see it drip down your cheeks and chin and onto those tits that have been long abandoned by now.
Which is a shame because he really likes those.
Then, Jeno, pulling the power moves he always does.
He waits, and he waits, changing his pace time and time again to prevent you both from releasing. He does this until you’re practically gone. Your eyes roll back, your mouth is slack, and he can tell you have no thoughts at all in your head when you start babbling. Finally, he rubs your clit.
There, he holds himself off as your orgasm sends you straight into another dimension. You tremble through it as your entire body falls limp and out of breath and only then does he pull out and release the most pornographic, deep, moan you’ve ever heard in your life.
The amount of cum he releases on you is fucking obscene. To be fair, you drenched him first but holy fuck does he lay claim to as much of you as he can.
It spurts up to your tits, some lands on your belly, a majority of it spills directly onto your clit and thighs.
You can’t help it when your fingers move to trace some of it around even more, feeling entirely sticky both inside and out. You help him lay his claim on every other part of you, even going as far as smearing that cum on your clit and gently dipping it inside of you with the tips of your fingers.
Jeno, out of breath and fucking watching you do that takes in a pained breath.
“Don’t” He warns, amazed by you. “Don’t do shit like that.”
You tilt your head with a dazed smile, pushing your fingers in deeper as if to ask “why not?”
He shakes his head, a smile creeping up on his face.
“Always such a damn tease.”
~
a/n: there was a lot more i wanted to add to this, such as jeno getting his chance to eat and stuff, but i was writing too much so I hope you liked it anyway!
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@scooprtroopr ur tags on this post inspired a lil something and well, here you go friend <3 / also omg this fits for @steddie-week’s prompt pining! tehe / you can also read it over on ao3 :)
Steve gets that this is how karma works.
You do something bad, you don’t have the best intentions, you trample on one or two people’s feelings selfishly, yadda yadda. Then what do you know? Next month, it’s happening to you. What goes around comes around, right?
That’s how karma works. Steve gets that.
And yet, the sting in the morning when another hookup has crept out in the night feels so goddamn unshakeable. It slices through his ego, hitting every feeling on the way, and cuts right down the bone, and it hurts.
But it’s karma though, Steve knows that. He’s left a girl more than once or twice, and snuck back out the window he had crept into. Stumbled back to his car in the early morning hours.
(Steve pointedly ignores the old part of him that was- is so hesitant to stay — after the iciness of his first ever hookup, who had wrinkled her nose at the thought of him staying the night.
Who had patted him on the cheek in a near condescending way, a girl the year above him, and said, “Don’t overstay your welcome, yeah?”)
So when the other side of the bed is empty when he wakes, he knows he’s lost another game of ‘who can sneak out on who?’
Which Steve hates — it’s why he stopped going over to his dates house and instead started bringing them back to his. Hoping they might read that his invitation to stay the night extended right out til breakfast. Hell, til lunch if they wanted.
No one has come close to overstaying their welcome in the Harrington house.
Empty sheets rip a new ache in Steve’s chest and he groans, a pitiful noise because— of course, he hasn’t stayed.
Karma has the biggest bone to pick with Steve Harrington and he was really hoping it would be done after all these years. Evidently not.
But… Steve can’t help how much more this one hurts because this one was Eddie.
Steve tries to not let regret coil in his gut. Rolling over he buries his face into his pillow, eyes scrunched shut as he tries to think it over logically. Rationally. Ignores the burning in his throat.
Maybe he’s a fool for thinking Eddie would be different from the past.
But the buildup — before there had been flirting, there had been friendship, proper company between the two of them where there were no expectations. That may very well be due to the fact both of them were dudes but… Steve was so sure. So much of him believed Eddie would still be here when he woke up.
Steve huffs a loud sigh into the pillow. Pretends his chest doesn’t hurt a little bit.
“It’s fine,” He murmurs to himself, voice thick with sleep. His fists clench into the sheets for a moment. “It’s fine.”
He drags himself up and out of bed. Tugs on some stray sweats hanging over the back of his desk chair and ducks into the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, hair tousled and eyes still sleepy, Steve eyes the shower through the reflection. He should, probably, but he might get stuck on a loop in there.
Where did he go wrong this time? Why didn’t he stay? Why didn’t any of them stay? Why did—
Steve splashes cold water on his face instead, rubbing probably a bit too forcefully at his eyes. He spies the faint pink shape of Eddie’s lips, a mark left on his neck. His fingers grace over it lightly, softly, like a lover would.
Memories hazed with lust remind him of how it had got there, Eddie’s body on his, Eddie’s hands in his hair, Eddie— without thinking, Steve scrubs at the skin harshly. He wishes it wasn’t there. Wishes there wasn’t any remnant of Eddie left behind.
Steve doesn’t need any mementos to remind him he’s been left behind again.
He needs food, needs to get on with his day, Steve decides. The bathroom door swings closed behind him and Steve tries his best to wrangle his thoughts as he wanders out to the top of the stairs.
A run. That’s what he needs to clear his head. A long run til his heart is pounding in his chest so hard it hurts, til his muscles start burning, breathes coming too fast and his head is finally fucking quiet. Yep, that’s precisely what he needs to shake the sting of last night.
Steve’s so enwrapped in his head, thoughts swirling, that he get manages to get halfway down the hall to the kitchen before he hears the radio. It’s not loud, just enough to carry out the kitchen. Strange. He doesn’t remember leaving it on last night.
His feet carry him into the kitchen, another yawn creeping up and he rubs at his eyes, blinking a bit blearily and— and stops in his tracks. There’s someone at the stove.
Eddie’s at the stove.
Standing in the morning sunlight, hair lighter than ever, puckered scars along his arms standing out. He’s clearly ransacked Steve’s drawers, a pair of Steve’s plaid pj pants hanging low on his hips, his own softened band tee from yesterday still on. It’s had its sleeves hacked off, the fabric curling up into little rolls. Steve feels his stomach rise halfway up his throat, his hopes going with it. His heart does a strange stumbling pitter-patter.
He must make a noise because suddenly Eddie’s peaking over his shoulder and smiling at him.
“Hey,” Eddie says, shifting a bit to turn more toward him. Steve can see that he’s cooking, something delicious wafting up from the sizzling pan. His chest tightens, pure surprise wrapping around his sternum and gripping - so much, he can’t control the expression on his face.
“Hi,” Steve breathes. He’s still frozen where he is. He stayed. Steve blinks, taking in the scene before him; Eddie has clearly been puttering around, putting together some sort of breakfast. He fucking stayed and he’s cooking.
Eddie takes it the wrong way. He skittishly looks over the benches, covered in his mess, and tugs on the ends of his hair nervously. “I- it’s a mess, I know, I’m real sorry. I was gonna clean it, I just thought you might like…”
He trails off, unable to get a read on Steve’s expression. Steve doesn’t blame him but he can’t fucking stop his chest from feeling like it’s being pulled open, his heart from feeling like it’s soaring. He huffs an awed laugh, a smile curling at his lips.
Eddie deflates a bit in his relief, giving his own smile. He turns back to the stove quickly, giving the skillet a bit of a shake to keep it from burning and Steve draws closer, feet finally moving. Eddie watches him from the corner of his eye, barely biting back his grin as Steve gets closer. He hovers, feels the heat of Eddie’s back they’re so close.
He tries to feel brave — he stayed — and keeps his closeness, peering over Eddie’s shoulder at the skillet on the stove. It’s the Munson Special that Eddie’s cooked a few times for him over at the trailer; eggs, potatoes, shit tons of cheese, maybe a vegetable if he’s feeling healthy.
“Was gonna bring it to you in bed, but,” Eddie laughs, still tinged in nervousness. He sets down the spatula to tuck his hair behind both ears, glancing sideways at Steve as if trying to understand his silence.
He stayed and he cooked and he’s nervous. Steve thinks he might be holding his breath in disbelief, head dizzy with relief. With affection.
Very slowly, Steve’s hands move and, like he’s waiting for Eddie to flinch away, settles then very gently onto Eddie’s waist. His fingers curl into the soft fabric and Eddie makes a little chirp of happiness and leans back.
Leans into Steve a bit, like he wants his touch the morning after everything and Steve releases a shuddering breath, hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder. His hands grow a little more bold, sliding around to hug him around the middle.
Eddie’s cheeks have turned pink and his grin hasn’t faltered.
“Made me—” Steve starts, but his voice is a bit raspy. He clears his throat, avoids Eddie’s burning stare. “Y’made me breakfast?”
Eddie nods, his curls brushing against Steve’s cheek as he does. His tummy is warm beneath Steve’s hand and his hair smells good and Steve just wants to burrow into him- he tucks himself closer and is rewarded with a content noise from Eddie.
“That’s not weird, is it?” Eddie asks suddenly, picking up the spatula again and beginning to fiddle needlessly with the food. He flips it once, then again, so it’s on the same side as it was before.
He sounds a bit sheepish when he says, “I’m not sure- I haven’t ever really— I’m actually just gonna shut the hell up before I say anything stupid.”
Steve laughs quietly. His hands tighten around Eddie’s middle, head tilting so he can bury his grin into his shoulder— his heart is going haywire, going a million miles an hour, because karma is finally through with Steve Harrington and he gets to have this.
“S’not weird,” Steve mumbles. He thinks about pressing a kiss into Eddie’s shoulder.
“Ha, you said snot,” Eddie retorts with a childish snort and Steve can’t help it, he laughs at that too, muffled laughter into his t-shirt. Then he presses a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder, quick as lightning. Rests his chin back on it like nothing happened.
Eddie still stiffens just a bit- turns his head just a bit to glance at Steve and fuck, Steve can’t help the way his stomach swoops.
Because Eddie softens him unbearably with those nervous brown eyes, his pink lips twisted as he tries to hold back his grin. Steve’s beginning to understand that both of them seem equally surprised that this is happening.
Eddie’s free hand moves, pausing only briefly in a moment's hesitance, before it covers one of Steve’s on his tummy. It’s cold, much colder than Steve’s, and he covers it with one of his own instinctively.
Eddie’s trembling fingers give him a little squeeze. Steve thinks he must be able to feel how hard his heart is beating from where his chest is pressed against his back. It’s a lot to deal with; this perfect morning in the sun, the soft sound of the radio, the sweet boy in his arms.
They’re both grinning to themselves. Eddie focuses back on the food before him, doing all his work with one hand, and starts a little hum.
The radio switches to a love song.
#[holding my hand to my ear like im tryna harmonize] gaYyyYYy people in my PhOooooNe#enjoy some short and sweet mutual pining#both can't believe this shit is happening to them#but steve especially#but it IS! eddie thinks he's the cat pajamas!!!#ruby writes steddie#steddie#steve x eddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steddieweek2023
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simon sees a familiar face. (AO3 mirror)
tags: darkfic. ghost x nude model! reader. (given a stage name but no discerning characteristics.) violent intrusive thoughts. objectification. rough sex. marking. dacryphilia. possessiveness. dubcon photo sharing.
It's the slip of her skin in his periphery. Moisturised, gold shimmer body glaze. Tucked up against the bar and nursing a negroni in both hands, her dress riding high up on her thigh. Sticks out like a sore thumb in a pub like this, where seedy men come to drink their woes away. Just a little too clean, prim and perfect polish. Pretty enough to make his teeth hurt.
He has to do a double take before he can be sure. Where he would know her calves, those hands and varnished nails, anywhere, he can hardly believe it until she turns a quarter angle and her face comes into full view. Lips he's seen perked up and glossed into erotic O's. Eyes so often half-cast and sultry, lined in kohl, that it's odd to see them wide like this; looking around, searching for something.
Yeah. Simon knows her. Knows her like the grip of a gun, the rip release of a hand grenade, the flat lining of barrack cot mattresses. Knows her so well that his cock chubs up in an almost pavlovian response, fat and heavy and leaking already, like a bloody sixth former seeing a pair of tits for the first time. In all honesty, this might just be the equivalent for a man like himself. Aching jowls, frothy lips. Ageing, dirty beast – thrown the most delectable fucking bone.
Because it's her. Cut straight from the centrefold of his favourite magazine and pasted a mere four feet away. Just as alluring, as provocative as she is in the poster he'd gifted Johnny on a deployment birthday. The object gracing every page not adhered together with dry cum. The one thing that gets him – and frankly, every other mutt on the task force – through long missions.
He throws back the last of his bourbon and slips his mask back over his chin. The haunt is emptier than usual. He assumes the big guy by the doorway is responsible, no doubt hired to follow her around and scare the creeps away. Simon must count as one – if his intentions, latched like filthy claws in his stomach, are anything to go by – but he's also bigger. Bolder. Probably has tattoos that outlast her bodyguard's experience in the field. So he takes his chances as he stretches up and prowls up to where she's sitting.
"Selene Harlow." It's a stage name, of that he's certain. But he has nothing else to call her by, not having fallen short of searching for her true identity. She's good at keeping herself safe from perverts like him. A good fucking girl, if not a little minx.
"Only on the clock." She smiles softly, dipping the orange peel in and out of her drink. It looks untouched, glass sweating onto the bar top. He thinks of holding her head back by her hair and knocking the concoction down her throat. "You don't look like my date."
Simon makes a sound. "No' your usual type, then?"
"I didn't say that." Her dress is low cut, bandage tight. When she breathes in, he devours the way her chest heaves out of the material. Begging to pop free, or else be ripped open right here. He can't imagine she would be opposed to being stripped in public. Not with her breasts plastered on a million different publications, issues displayed in the illicit material case behind every gas station counter.
"Well, he must be soft in th'head."
She shrugs. "Don't sound so surprised." Simon wonders, if he were to press his thumbs down onto each collarbone, how much pressure it would take to snap them in place. He's always liked the delicate arch of her shoulders, the swan-like column of her neck. With how he fixated he is on them now, he can hardly place the dejection in her voice. "Not a lot of people wanna go out with a girl who does what I do. It was only a matter of time before he found out."
"Can' be too pissed at him, a'suppose."
"Hm?"
"His loss is my gain."
"Aha." A flash of teeth. She turns on the bar stool to fully face him, and her knees knock his. Soft fucking legs, plush like a chew toy and he knows– he knows what they look like completely nude and spread open. But nothing could've quite prepared him for how different it is to see them in real life. To see her – real, fleshly, blood full – and not be able to take. Have to hold himself back despite the way he's pumped himself raw to her arse almost a hundred times now. He lost the plot some time ago. His mind must think of her as his. "Is that what this is?"
And what is this? Simon doesn't have a name for it. All he knows is the way his head itches, the tantalisation crawling in his skin. The sheer self-restraint it takes not to pocket her home and chain her to his bed. He wants to dig his teeth into her cheek.
Instead–
"Could be."
"I think that's up to me." She crinkles in a wily little smile and he chuckles because it's funny. Funny because she takes him to be a good man. But with the way her bodyguard is eyeing him from across the room (fucking muppet), he knows that's not the quality he's projecting. There's the urge to crack a sick joke, something about clipping a bird's wings, just to see her pick up on the rot he carries with him. "You military?"
"Tha' obvious?"
"Hm, no. Wild guess." She straightens her back and the vague gesture she makes with her wrist is enough to drive him up a wall. It sets a timer, ticking time bomb, in his brain that'll detonate if he doesn't get his nasty old hands on her waist. Thirty seconds on the clock. He can never be patient when it comes to sweet things. "Your... stature. And I tend to be popular with servicemen, anyway. What's your name?"
"And why do you wan' to know my name, bird?"
She flutters her lashes, pointedly looking down to where he's bulging in his jeans. Bird is right. She shines like one with pretty feathers, begs to be plucked, because why else would mother nature create things like her if not to appease men like him?
"Figure you'd want me to moan it later."
And it's like watching one fly into a cage on its own accord. His blood boils hot and thin, flooding his head until his eyes strain with something ferocious. "Why wait." Simon says. He can't wrap an arm around her waist fast enough, scooping her from her seat and wrapping her tight against his side. Tight enough that, if she changed her mind, she wouldn't be able to flap her way out of it. "Name's Simon, and there's a bathroom 'round back."
It's nasty. Depraved. Graffiti lines all four walls and it's no coincidence that the one he pins her up against looks the filthiest. Something in him craves to see her degraded (the same part that marked a picture of her in black ink, chicken-scratch body writing proclaiming her as his), brought down to the same peg that he occupies. Beasts with too much baggage stored in their marrow. Humans, men, with moral compasses that skew a tad too far left. Animals. Animalistic.
"I don– Don't usually do this..." She breathes, excuse stuttered through little whimpers as he mouths at her jaw. Maybe she's afraid of living up to her name, or whatever image Selene Harlow projects. Not a prostitute, he can almost hear her say. Tastes the fear of misconception, sour on otherwise tart skin. He hums and tugs her breasts free with one, scarred paw.
"Doesn' really matter, bird. Were fuckin' made for it." He squeezes the two mounds, pinches knotted nipples and rolls them between his fingers until she cries. Her voice breaks in little bubbled sobs – starts crying so fast that, christ, it must be some sort of record – and he aches in his trousers. Ready to burst if he doesn't bully his cock into a hole soon, just like she's been ready to be unravelled all night. "Made to be mine, yeah? Bloody 'ell, jus' look at you."
Frayed little tapestry. If he weren't so mad with lust, he'd obsess what drove her to this point. What brought her to some shitty pub in Manchester to meet a good for nothing lemon. Why she mewls and completely melts into him when he slaps her tits, just to see the way they jiggle. He's an ugly bastard, definitely punching just by breathing the same air as her, and yet she's so perfectly willing. Flaying herself open, skinned alive. Gasping selfish gulps of air when he finally pulls off his mask to sink his canines into her shoulder.
He's so used to seeing her posed, perfectly still. To have her like this, a trapped worm underneath him, feels like concentrated lightning on every artery. Overstimulating. Paralysing. He never thought he'd see the day where she exposes herself in motion: folding her dress up over her wide hips, slipping soaked panties down to her ankles.
(In fact, he vividly remembers brooding over an interview her magazine had added to the corner of a cover page, once. Selene Harlow tells all! Answers inquiries on video pornography and more!
I don't think I'm the right person for that sort of scene. Not much of an actress, I'm afraid.)
Not that her feigning was ever a concern. Simon knows the giddy gossamer over her eyes can't be artificially replicated. She's too clumsy, too amateur in the way she readies herself for him. Used to doing all this prep in a frilly dressing room with apathetic staff members directing her. Sways a bit on her heels and holds onto his thick forearms as she widens her stance. He stands until she's steady, then drops to his knees in search of the star of this show.
And the sight is as much a bludgeon to his self control as seeing her for the first time was, trigger for the feral mongrel that barks and chomps on his ribcage. Her cunt is just as perfect up close in this grimy bathroom as it is well lit, professionally oiled, and printed on coated paper. A little fuzzy, swollen enough that it flowers open for him on its own. Shyly inviting him to dig his nose right under her clit and inhale, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of her, undiluted. Salivate blooms around his teeth.
When he flattens his tongue against it, she tries to find purchase in the roots of his shorn hair. Nails scrambling along the buzzcut until she forfeits and clamps her hand behind his ears, head thrown back to knock against the wall. If he were a nice man, he would spend hours buried between her legs. Sated by licking her slick from its source, like a kitten given a bowl of cream. Would make her cum until she forgets how to keep quiet, until she screams his name loud enough for the world knows their muse is off the market now.
But if he were a nice man, he wouldn't be defiling her here. He would've taken her out to the Greek place that never seems to have room for him alone, and then back to her apartment, where he'd drop her off with a chaste kiss and a promise to call her tomorrow.
So Simon combs through her lips once, twice, three times. Coats her in enough spit to be able to shove two fingers with little fuss, and scissors them apart. The little thing stretches to accommodate his ministrations immediately, clutch swallowing him up to the second knuckle and sucking around him when he spreads her hole for his leering eye. It's cute – so fucking cute how she clenches and keens and cries. Neck arched up above him. Apple of eden, blank canvas. His fingers leave her cunt as he rises to bite into it.
(Truthfully, she could've done with more prep. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't do this often, whatever this is. But the way silver pebbles brim on her lash-line makes his chest twist, the dog rearing on its haunches, ready to pounce – and he thinks he'd like to see her babble in pain as he splits her open on his cock.)
"Gonna take you home after this, y'hear? Fuck you well 'n' good, all proper like. Fold ya over a mattress and print my cock on your guts, birdie. Never let you forget it. "
"S-Si! Simon, please. I n-need..."
Ichor beads in the shape of his teeth, streaking oxygenated red down her throat. He makes a mess of it, smearing it across the marred patch of skin, and brings the fluid up to her face to rub it into her cheek. The type of marking he'd reserve for his third or fourth going with someone – if anyone ever lasts that long – but is absolutely necessary right now. Here, with her. Technically their hundredth something time together, if he were deranged enough to count the various times he'd spent himself over her spreads.
But nothing can supersede the truth of the matter. He streaks blood along her face and licks it off in a show of merciless possession. Pretty things like her get plucked off streets and ruined everyday, despite her cynicism on her value, and he can point to at least three other men by name who would slaughter to be in his place. Best to stake his claim now, clamp a collar on the exotic fowl he pulled down from the sky.
"Need wha', hm?" His tongue laps at her cheek, laving over the contour of her nose and swiping right under her eye to catch the tears that freely fall. She winces when he gets too close, hands faltering along his waistband.
"Your... d-dick. Please, please. Just wanna be fucked, Simon."
He plants a rough kiss onto her mouth, all teeth and tongue, and finally ladles himself free of his jeans.
Just wanna be fucked.
Daft, silly girl.
She should've chosen anyone else.
It takes a bit of pressure to feed himself into her cunt, pinning either leg to the sides of his hips as he guides his cock toward the opening. If she was putty before, she's positively liquid now, boneless rag doll slumped onto him. Dead weight. Letting him take control of this fight. Content to do nothing, slack-jawed and empty eyed as her hot walls come to embrace him completely. Her breath halts, the air recalibrating to just the sound of his ragged grunts, and he considers it an invitation to wrap a fist around her neck.
"I'll do more than jus' fuck you, pretty thing. Won' ever let you out of my sight."
And he means it.
It's impossible to withdraw completely from her – vacuum sealed too tight, too good, around him. So he fucks in short thrusts instead, snapping his pelvis back, only to shove forward once her legs begin to flail about. It's brutal even by his standards, rough in a way that supplants pleasure with pain. A small pity surfaces when her lip trembles, discomfort wringing her darling face up like a dish towel. Wet and pathetic, but he sneaks his free hand down to knead at her swollen clit anyway.
Like oil, it slips and hardens, tense enough that he knows she won't last long if he keeps it up.
Simon feels his own release encroaching. Unfurling at the base of his spine to form something cruel and primal. His vision tunnels to fixate on her – not the filthy bathroom or the lewd squelch of her pussy taking him in. Not the banging on the door by a customer desperately needing to piss, or otherwise, her bodyguard concerned at the choked screams carved from her lungs. Just her. Little bird.
The howling in his head doesn't stop, but it sure as hell quiets down when she soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. Squirts, off-white fluid gushing from her and trickling onto the tiled floor. His movements grow stilted, off-rhythm, at the sight. His want grows claws and scales, grows wants that have wants. Beastly. He sees red.
"N-noghonbirfcontraahl." She gasps, suffocated still by the fingers pressing crescent-shaped scars beneath her jaw.
"Don' give a shit." He growls, then cums.
(Really, he doesn't. To see her swell up with his child is just one more added temptation, carrot on a stick. He bucks like a rabid animal and bookmarks that thought away for later.)
His seed doesn't stay put when he pumps her full of it. It gathers and drips out of her, undeterred by the barrage of his softening cock. When he pulls out, it draws milky treks down her legs. There's the instinct to shovel it back into her, tape her lips shut until the spend takes; but as he pockets her panties and helps her readjust her dress (after polishing himself clean on the expensive fabric), he finds he quite likes the thought of parading her around like this.
"C'mon," He nips her earlobe. "let's walk you home."
Simon does end up making good on his promise. They hardly get any sleep that night, sweating on every available surface her flat affords. By the end of it, she's so tuckered out that he has to lift her to bed. Hardly cognisant as he strips to his boxers and sidles up right next to her.
What doesn't escape her notice, however, is when he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of her like this. Fucked to oblivion, puffy pussy oozing about three loads worth of cum.
"W-what are you–" Stuttered. Panicked, like a pet that has at last realised it's been caged.
"Shhhh, birdie. You're my model, ain't you? Let me show you off, yeah? Won' let it get into the wrong hands."
"Promise?" She whimpers, tucking into his broad chest. She isn't in the condition to give her proper assent, but he takes it anyway, kissing both eyes and carding his fingers across her scalp.
"Promise." He mutters, then sends the portrait off. "Jus' to men like me."
Sgt. Garrick: ?! Is that
Capt. Price: Christ, Simon. Someone ought to muzzle you.
Johnny: I don't believe you.
Johnny: Pick up my calls.
Johnny: SIMON.
#should've made this a proper fic#it's longer than i expected it to be#anyway.#simon 'ghost' riley x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon 'ghost' riley#simon riley#ghost#x female reader#call of duty#fanfiction
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OK OK you just gotta hear me on this one,, Astarion and gn reader where reader is little spoon and Astarion can *sense* just how relaxed reader gets. Instead of their pulse racing from his touches they slow down. Muscles relaxed. Happy little sighs.
^^ he can’t handle this btw he’s absolutely fucking bewildered
A Person to Hold
Synopsis: Fluffy post-game epilogue
Tags: fluff
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
He looks at you, unable to stop smiling.
"They deserve happiness. We all do. And I will forever be grateful to have found it with you," Astarion says.
You make a step forward with open arms. Astarion hugs you, closing his eyes like a content cat.
A mere half year ago these hugs scared him. It was weird. It was scary. What did you want? Did you want to hurt him? Did you want his body?
No.
None of that.
You taught him not to be afraid. You hug him daily and if he occasionally flinches you don’t let him go. You hold him in your arms when he has nightmares and kiss away his tears when it's just too much.
"I feel bad keeping you all to myself! After all, I get to see you every night."
"Are you sure? You won't be bored?"
You kiss his cheek and leave. In a few seconds, you look back, trying to see if he hasn’t changed his mind.
"Darling, I can spend some time with myself. Go on, go and mingle. And I will be there, when you’re ready. I will always be here, my love."
He hasn’t. Astarion sits down beside a campfire sensing its warmth.
He doesn't feel like talking. He didn't manage to make friends with the others and now can sense hostility from them. He is a vampire. His strength isn’t suppressed by the tadpole and apparently once the vampire's master is dead, spawns become lesser vampires. Astarion doesn't feel the difference, to be honest, but he knows people feel something is off with him.
Well, it doesn't matter. What matters is that he feels good. He has never thought his head might be so clear. He can make a working ambush plan in a blink of an eye and it won't lead to a disaster because he actually can think everything through. He can walk on ceilings and walls again, he regenerates before you manage to notice he is wounded.
He has the world to explore, places to see, things to do. He is going to make up for all these decades of misery, to bury them under the pile of happy memories.
And he has you.
Probably the weirdest thing that could happen to him.
You, who forgave his lies and manipulations, who gave him the second chance when it was the stupidest thing to do. Who made him believe the world isn’t an evil place.
You are the first person he sees when returns from his reverie. Your breathing soothes him, so does your heartbeat.
Astarion never had anything. Everything he had a right to was stripped away from him including his own life.
But now he has you.
To hold, to kiss, to talk.
To travel together, to hunt monsters, to be independent adventurers. You are there to save him from nightmares. And he is there to save you from death.
How could he become so happy?
“I am going to sleep, are you with me or do you want to hunt?” he feels a soft “pat” on his shoulder.
How come he has you?
You are a bit drunk and very sleepy.
“Let’s go to the tent.”
“Good, I got used to sleeping with you by my side.”
Astarion looks around as if ashamed of what he is going to do and, having made sure no one sees you, takes you in his hands bridal-style.
You are weightless to him thanks to the vampiric strength. He could walk many miles carrying you and not getting tired.
In the tent, you get to your bedroll and immediately cover yourself with a thick blanket. Then, you open it a little, inviting Astarion to join.
He takes his clothes off and crawls to your side. The night is warm, so are you. But since you have to share your body heat with him, you sleep under the thickest fur blanket.
You are his and he is yours. If a year ago someone told him that would be his future he would bitterly laugh.
Astarion presses your back to his chest, placing the chin on your shoulder.
Your muscles relax, the pulse slows down. You are falling asleep in his arms.
"My love, thank you" he whispers in you ear, tugging you closer
“Hm?”
“Thank you for finding me."
You squeeze his hand. “You were worth it.”
He doesn’t want to meditate. He wants to hold you like that until you wake up. Astarion concentrates on your breathing and heartbeat. You are already sound asleep.
“Sleep well, darling,” he kisses your cheek. “We still have plenty of things to do together.”
--
Tag list
@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96
#astarion#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 astarion#astarion bg3#astarion romance#baldurs gate 3#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion angst#astarion drabble#astarion short fic#spacebarbarian fics#astarion fluff#astarion comfort#baldur's gate post game
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The Ken to whose Barbie?
-> Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader
Summary: He's supposed to be Ken this Halloween, as in Barbie's Ken, but he doesn't think he looks the part. But you insist that he does. He's blonde, he’s literally named Ken, and he's just oh so very handsome.
Tags: halloween party, established relationship, fluff, smut, jealously, alcohol use, spit kink, oral sex (f!receiving), implied (m!receiving) oral sex, kisses on the feet, bath scene, aftercare, she/her pronouns used for reader, unedited
Word Count: 2.5k words
Author's Note: wanted to release this on Friday the 13th but I couldn't :/ Also, sorry the smut was quick. I was horny and then I got un-horny
Read on AO3
"Wow, don't you look... flamboyant."
Shoko walked towards him as Nanami barely smiled. He greets her with a small nod. In truth, he feels absolutely fucking ridiculous in this outfit of his. He's supposed to be Ken, as in Barbie's Ken, but he doesn't think he exactly looks the part.
But you argued he does. He's blonde, he's named Kento, and he's oh so very handsome. Your words, not his. And so, of course, he agreed, albeit his reluctance.
“How have you been, Shoko-san?” Nanami inquires, hoping to divert her attention from his incongruous appearance.
"I've been good," she says, Shoko extinguishes her cigarette against the stone wall with an insouciant flick, her gaze sweeping from his exposed chest to the opulent fur draping him. "Did you lose a bet or something?"
"I do not engage in wagers," he says. "It's imprudent," he remarks.
Shoko smiles, ever so slightly. It's been years and yet some things don't change. She may not have an intimate understanding of him, not really, but she did know he would never show up in such an outfit, or in fact, any halloween outfit.
"It’s because of her, isn’t it?" Shoko probes.
He feels another of wave of chill wind hit chest, noticing the lack of a cigarette in her hand. Maybe she threw it in the bin while he was looking away. He doesn't say anything.
Shoko's expression changes now, and she smiles. He can't think of the last time he's seen her smile. She brings a hand up, placing it on his shoulder. “She’s a nice girl.”
“She is,” is all he says before Shoko pulls out another cigarette, as she vanishes back into the door.
There’s so many words to describe you, Nanami thinks. Nice is one that stands true, but it only really scratches the surface.
There’s so many words to describe you. So, so many but he can barely think of any as you walk towards him.
You're adorned in a tiny pink and white dress, the edges of your skirt just about hitting your upper thighs. And you're walking towards him with a sweet sweet smile. You look pretty.
"You look beautiful," he manages to utter as you draw near.
You leave a soft peck against his cheeks, "Thank you. You look beautiful as well," you move back to give his outfit a look.
"So, now you're taunting me. All after begging me to wear this shitty costume," he says.
"I didn't beg," you frown with a squint. You didn't beg. All you did was call him handsome, and he conceded.
"I can't believe you talked me into this," he says, as he holds out his hand for you, you stretch your hand out to loop yours into his.
Your free hand reaches for your phone, opening a QR code up, so the security could scan it.
"But you look handsome," you say as your hands shift from his forearms to his hand, as you pull him into the crux of the party. And so, he stops grumbling because as he's mentioned before — it's really all it takes from you.
The party scene is not quite what he expected, he was expecting chaos and sticky floor, but it's a bit lax and he can actually hear his thoughts out loud, even though he wishes nothing more than to turn them off now. Because you looks so fucking cute in your outfit, and every time you sit, your skirt rides up — just a little — to reveal your thighs, and he finds himself wishing he could just take you back home. He wants to leave.
No, he needs to leave.
Self restraint has always been one of Nanami's strong suits. But with you, it's always faded to dust.
His first kiss with you happened on a whim, it wasn't planned or anything. He saw you sitting outside on a park bench, on a normal forgettable park bench, and he thought you looked pretty. And so, he leaned in for a kiss.
He then met you days later for your third date, but he could barely let you get past your front door. The dinner reservation had gone to waste, but he just couldn't help himself, you looked too good in your dress.
"Let's leave," he says, bending down to whisper in your ears as you take a sip from your glass.
"What? No," you protest, a soft frown marring your features. "We just got here."
Mirroring your frown, he presses, "But I want to leave now."
He can't help but think about how unlike himself he sounds, he sounds like a child begging for a treat. You could sternly tell him you want to stay, and he'd listen, none too alike to a child.
"Hey," he hears a gruff voice from beside you.
It's a man, dressed in a military outfit, but neither of you know him, at least to his knowledge. He turns to look at you and he confirms the same because you're looking back at him with a similar expression.
"Can we help you?" you ask.
"I know you're dressed as Barbie," the man says. "But I think you're missing wings because you look like an angel."
Apart from the fact that the compliment is just too wordy. Nanami thinks he's pissed because this man has no etiquette, Nanami's hand had been clinging to your waist all night, so what made him think he could come over and hit on you?
But most of all, what pisses him off is that he's not wrong.
"Well, I'm Barbie and Barbie has a Ken so," you say, turning to him and he could swear your eyes twinkled just then.
The stranger persisted, with a chuckle, "Some Barbies have G.I. Joe boyfriends. You should ask my little sister."
Before you can respond, arms encircle your waist, pulling you close to Nanami. "Not this one." His words are curt and final, "Now, leave."
At that the G.I Joe guy's eyes widens, before he wordlessly takes his leave.
And that's all it takes from Nanami to take your glass from your hand before he leaves it on an unoccupied table with a loud clink. He guides your hand into his.
"We're leaving," he says plainly as you nod.
—
Your hands slide to Nanami's neck, and you pull. Your jaw flex as your mouths move. You're so used to his languid movements, that his quick movements leave you reeling.
His torso is completely flush against yours as he lifts you off the ground, still kissing you as he walks to close the front door shut.
Your ankles hook around his back, his hands slide down to grip the undersides of your bare thighs.
It doesn't take too long for him to drop you onto your bed, he quickly takes fur coat off, as he's coming back down to kiss you.
You taste like mint cranberry with a tinge of alcohol remnants around your lips, he thinks.
You cart your fingers through his undercut, before tugging on the roots of the hair above.
He parts away from you now, and this time he slows down. Not because he needs it, but because he doesn't always act this way, he's not always this harsh with his movements, he loves treating you with soft caresses and gentle grips, but there are times like this where you just bring out a different, more untamed side of him.
You take his headband off, as your hands stay on his hair, but this time you play with it, carding through. You know he's thinking, and you know what he's thinking about.
"Kento," you say, soft as a whisper.
He hums. "Are you jealous of the little G.I Joe man?"
Little.
"Why would I be jealous of him?" he asks, as though you've insulted him by implying so. He admits it pissed him off, he admits there is a strange, more concerning side of him that wishes he could keep you all to himself, that he could keep you away from eyes that could see your beauty, but truly, he doesn't worry about other people much. He has all his faith in you.
"It did annoy me," he says. He bends down, leaving a soft kiss forehead.
And that's the last of his softness for you today, he comes back up. "Open," he says, his thumb grazing over your chewed up bottom lip.
And you do, as you often do, your mouth opens, and your eyes stare up at him, wide and waiting with devotion he can only think of deserving at times like this.
Nanami purses his lips and hocks a glob of spit directly into your mouth, as you swallow.
He pushes your legs apart. He bends down, placing the softest kisses all around your neck, "You're so good to me," he says as you groan in tandem.
His hands move up and down, tracing inconsequential patterns before they go up to tug at the straps of your underwear before he pulls them down your legs.
Nanami moves back from your body, your skirt is bunched up to your waist, and you sit upright as you stare down at him in all of your half-naked glory. It takes merely one look at your face— your lips ajar, your hair mussed, your stare hazy — for him to decide he should be on his knees for you.
His knees hit the ground, and his hands come to hold your oustered foot.
His lips come down to press a steady kiss to the arch of your foot as he maintains a painstakingly unwavering eye contact with your eyes.
Slowly, his kisses move higher. He presses the second one just past your ankles, his lips touching the flexing muscles of your calves. With his kiss, your muscles relax.
And then he moves even more higher to the sensitive skin behind your knees, it's ticklish almost so your toes curl to suppress the sensation. And then finally, he settles, he dedicates some time, stopping to leave more than a few kisses to your inner thighs.
Now as his face remains near your inner thighs, Nanami can’t resist, and he sucks twin hickeys onto each side of your thighs. His thumb coming to trace his work of art, as his eyes come back to find your eyes. His brown eyes entrapping you in place.
For a solid minute, Nanami can't do nothing but stare at your pretty cunt. You refuse to squirm but every time he does this, it makes you feel squeamish and seen, you feel the need to kick off and run away. His warm breath dances over the sensitive skin, and you squirm — just a little, begging for the return of his mouth.
He smears his mouth against your cunt with open mouth kisses. Wet trails of his spit glister in the wake of his lips. He uses his fingers to pinch at your hood until your clit peeks out for him.
“You're so good to me Kento baby,” you whisper.
“Yeah?” Nanami asks. He likes hearing it every time, he asks you over and over and over again, until it's all you can seems to say.
You nod eagerly, "Yeah," you say with a soft gulp.
His hand continued to toy with your clit, your hips bucking greedily against the anchor of his hands at your hips, begging for more pressure, more, more, more. And it's just like him to give you more and beyond.
He moves in again — his tongue to his nose both buried in between your legs, as he laps and sucks on until finally your thighs start to show its very first quiver.
With that he moves, focusing his attention on your clit, he is persistent and needy in the way he moves, like he's a starved and depraved little thing. It's so unlike his usual self, so you commit it to memory every chance you get.
The foot that was once laying limp on his shoulder, now clenches, drawing him closer and closer by the neck with every move he continues to make. He can tell you are going cum soon.
It's the part he commits to memory— the way your hips arc, humping to get what you need to fly over the edge, as your eyes are shut with pleasure.
And you come into his mouth at one consequential contact, he relishes that familiar tang as he laps it all up.
He wipes his mouth with one hand and he looks up to you, you look at him and a quiet moment passes by, he can hear a vehicle outside, making it's way across the road.
And then you break out into soft chuckles, it comes out restrained because you're just so out of breath.
You move to the ground, your hand hitting the ground beside him, you're still breathing heavily as you force him to take your place on the bed.
Your hands settle on his thighs, as you caress it his high from over his pants. You look up, as you reach for his belt. "Your turn now, Kento baby."
—
“Tell me why it annoyed you,” you murmur, punctuating your sentence with a small yawn.
The warmth of the bath makes him feel even more drowsy than he’s been feeling, but this feels too nice to wake up and make or even order dinner.
Nanami lies with his back propped in the bath, his knees are spread, sitting against the bathtub to fit your body. Your back lays warm and wet against his chest, and the crown of your head just below his chin. His hands hold your breasts in each palm, slowly caressing your nipples.
Maybe it's because he's feeling drowsy. Maybe it's because you've drained him of his all his energy tonight, but he speaks up. “I guess, I just want you all to myself sometimes."
"Of course, you do. I'm a catch," you say with a giggle.
Nanami tweaks your nipple, and you squeal. The water around him sloshes over the edge of the bathtub, drenching the mat as you move in his hold.
“You can be cocky sometimes,” Nanami says mournfully.
You laugh, and the vibration of your chest shifts your breasts in his hands. "I am yours though," you say. Sweet as you are, he feels like you have to say this to him, you have to reassure him constantly. He doesn’t think he could just know this, as blind faith or by the look in your eyes.
Nanami may look a man confident of his abilities and status, but with you, he thinks you could do so much better. You deserve more than half-truths, and repressed staggering feelings, and so he needs to hear it
"You are," he says. "I guess it's just odd then."
"It's not," your response is immediate. "I understand."
"You do?" he asks.
"Yeah, did you see the number of women looking at you today?" you say, and there's a hint of agitation there, and Nanami hates to admit it but it does something to him. To have this knowledge that you could even care that much for him.
"I didn't see them," he says moments later when you’re both in bed. You nestle in deeper against his chest, barely awake at all. I only see you.
"I know," you smile, and he feels it against his chest.
#genuinely hate the headers and the format of it all but this is the best i could do ://#nanami smut#nanami x reader#nanami x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x y/n#nanami kento x reader fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#nanami kento x reader smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader fluff
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ʜᴛᴛᴘꜱꜱᴇʀᴇɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜰ1 ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ
ᴜᴘʟᴏᴀᴅ 1 : ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇꜱ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ / ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ |ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴋɪɴᴋ
📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things.
📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: 18+ only. smut. corruption kink. orgasm delay/denial. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. hair-pulling. possessiveness. slight choking (glimpse and you miss it?). brief reference to previous dub-con (very minuscule, not charles or max). no penetrative sex.
📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8k words
📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader
📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot
📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: all mine • brent faiyaz
ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: the strength i had to summon to post this is something crazy. it's my first smut fic if you can believe it or not, but the way i feel exposed to the world is wild. i almost forgot to include the actual kink because i got carried away, but it's there i promise you, don't get disappointed too early in! can confirm that while i was writing this i had to take several breaks and stare at the ceiling. the black!reader is vague i think, it's not noticeable until the end, but i had written it with all shades of my poc girlies in mind < 3. n e ways: hope you guys like it!
want to be added to my f1 kinktober taglist? or my general tag list? send me an ask!
huge thanks to my beta readers @lorarri and @sweetpiccolo-blog ! i appreciate y'all so much :)
cross-posted on my ao3, htpsss
here's the link to the masterlist for my f1 kinktober special, and send me a private message if you would like to be added to the list to become a beta reader in the future!!!
it’s late. you’ve kicked jimmy and sassy out of the bedroom, and locked it shut. you’re standing with your back pressed against the door, staring with unfocused eyes. you moved your stuffed animals inside the closet and had them facing the wall even though you closed the closet door. the window curtains are drawn shut, and the only light in the room is the warmth of one nightstand lamp. one of the plushest towels max owns is spread across the bed. in the center lays a single pillow.
this is the last chance you have to get off before max and charles get home in a few hours. they’ve been gone for a triple-header, and you haven’t been able to orgasm once in the near month they’ve been gone. you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one).
the obvious thing to do would be to talk to your boyfriends, and tell them that you’re ready to start exploring the sexual side of your relationship. you’ve been dating them for two years now, and you’re afraid that they’re getting tired of waiting for you to be comfortable enough to have sex with them. but, you’re also afraid that once they learn how inexperienced you really are—they’ll make fun of you, leave you, and find some other woman who knows how to please them. you know that’s outrageous and never going to happen. they’re the sweetest boys you’ve ever dated (way better than that one dude you dated who tried to get you wasted enough to persuade you into having sex with him), and they’ve been very respectful concerning your boundaries. always pulling away when they feel themselves getting hard, and constantly reminding you to tell them to stop if you feel uncomfortable and that there’s nothing wrong with that, and that they’re willing to wait as long as you need, and will continue loving you regardless even if you decide to never have sex with them. so—of course you know that they won’t be assholes about your innocence—it’s just your own self-esteem, insecurity, and overthinking that prevents you from saying you’re ready.
you make a deal with yourself. if you can’t manage to get off grinding against your pillow one last time, you’ll force yourself to sit down with your boyfriends, stare them in the eyes and state that your ready to have sex. who are you kidding—you’re going to get off right now one way or another even if it kills you, because you definitely will wither away and die if you have to have that conversation with your boyfriends.
you walk over to the bed, heart beginning to race as you start playing one of those curated “songs i’d like to be railed to” playlists, before throwing your phone somewhere up the bed. you move to straddle the pillow, and begin to calm your heartbeat. you take a few deep breaths and let your mind wander. the first thought that comes to your head is the goodbye kiss you got from your boyfriends before they left.
they had gotten all their luggage together and were pulling on their shoes at the entryway. charles was pouting at you, wide green eyes and all, “you are sure that you don’t want to come with us? for at least one of the races? we’ll be gone for almost a—“
“yes, cha. i’m sure,” you cut him off with a firm nod, “lemme give you a kiss before you leave, okay?”
charles frowned at max who laughed—like he wasn’t the one begging you to come with them last night before you all went to bed. with a little upset ‘hmph’ charles leaned down and kissed you softly. you had pulled away, only trying to give him a peck, and charles grunted disapprovingly. one of his veiny hands rose and gripped at your waist over your t-shirt, strongly pulling you forward, causing you to tumble into his chest. “oh, i am going to need more than that, mon ange,” charles smirked down at you, “i am leaving for so long, and that’s the goodbye kiss you’re leaving me with? no, i do not think so.”
you glanced away from him, cheeks beginning to become warm as you make to hide your face is his broad chest. charles tutted at you, tightening his grip on your waist, and his other hand gently pushed your head up to look at him, “c’mere and give me a real kiss, pretty girl.”
you made a suppressed little squeal in the back of your throat, a noise max and charles became very familiar with, often present when they start teasing you. you surprisingly leaned up and initiated the kiss, causing charles to let out a shocked gasp into your mouth. his hand on your waist moved lower, falling to the small of your back and pushed your body completely against his. his other hand caressed your jaw, soothing you enough to allow him to control the kiss, as he flicked his tongue at the seam of your lips. you shakily sighed, allowing him entrance and the kiss deepened, a pleased humming noise in the back of your throat escaping.
you impatiently shift side to side on top of the pillow, not yet allowing yourself to get any friction. sliding both of your hands underneath your sweater—well, max’s sweater, and you start playing with your chest. flicking gently at your nipples, just the way you like.
you could feel charles chuckle into the kiss, but you dismiss it, and keep kissing at him eagerly. however, you failed to recognize that he wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at max. cockily making eye-contact with him, before he let his eyes flutter shut and devoted his attention to you.
max stared on, his mouth slightly open as he watched his two loves give him a show for free. charles’ hand slipped lower, gliding over your ass, across your criminally well-fitted jeans, and found its home on the back of your thigh. max is well acquainted with how skilled charles’ mouth is, so he knows he must have done something spectacular to cause a choked-off moan to escape you, your hand raised to grab at charles’ polo in a fist, wrinkling the pressed shirt. max huffed, deciding to no longer spectate, and took the few steps to reach you across the foyer.
you let out a shocked gasp, eyes fluttering open in surprise at the feeling of your other boyfriend pressed up against your back. you attempt to break the kiss, but charles doesn’t let you. hand slipping from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, tangling in the hairs there and keeping you exactly where he wants. one of max’s hands came to rest at your hip, while the other rested on your navel. your eyes fell shut again in pleasure at how charles gently nipped at your bottom lip, and max’s presence is pushed to the back of your mind.
you didn’t register max’s hand disappearing from your abdomen, but suddenly, the air was cut with a pained moan from charles and his lips were ripped away from yours.
your eyes flew open, and max’s hand was buried in charles’ hair, tugging his head backward and maneuvering it into what must be an almost uncomfortable angle, but with how pleased charles looked—you wanted to feel it too. his eyes rolled backwards, before he pressed them shut and re-opened them to reveal dilated pupils and half-lidded lashes; panting hard, lips covered with your shared spit, and a fucked-out look in his eyes.
you struggle to pull off your sleeping shorts, eventually managing to tug them off to reveal your white cotton panties. your hand leaves your breast to touch at your heat, and you’re shocked at how wet you’ve gotten already. you use that same hand to adjust your pillow, before you let your hips fall all the way and make contact with the pillow. you sigh in relief.
now, max is the one to laugh with his hand firmly keeping charles in place. “oh, you know better than to tease me charlie…” he started, and you barely heard him. fixated on the way charles’ tongue frequently slips out to lick at his lips, but you could hear the smirk max was wearing.
“and you’re also not the only one leaving our sweet girl for a month. you should be nice and let me have a taste too, hm? isn’t that right, schatje?” he directs at charles. max’s other hand made its way up your abdomen, copping a feel at your chest, before it rested across your throat. he wasn’t squeezing at all, but the weight of his hand, how it spans across your neck, and how you can feel the strength lying underneath his skin, caused you to lose your breath. he guided your head back and dropped his to get his own goodbye kiss.
the kiss felt like it lasted for a lifetime, but realistically it had to be less than a minute of max forcing charles to watch how he ravaged your mouth, before charles started whining loudly. max patted your neck gingerly before pulling away and laughing at charles’ teary eyes. your legs were trembling and you were pretty sure if max wasn’t behind you, you would’ve fallen long ago. in one smooth motion, his hand fell to the monegasque’s throat from his hair and pulled him closer, completely sandwiching you between them, as their lips met in a wild kiss.
your hips start to rock against the pillow, keeping it slow in the beginning, learning your lesson about friction burn the last time you got too erratic with your moves too quickly.
charles—completely desperate—whined deep in his throat and max kept pulling consistently depraved moans and grunts out of your boyfriend. max’s other hand moved off of your hip to smack at charles’, a nonverbal command for him to calm down and let max take care of him. you felt charles practically vibrating against you in need, but he slowly started to calm; his posture slackening and lips slowing, allowing the dutch full control.
the two of them were completely ignoring you. caught in their own world, putting all of their energy into their kisses, and in turn gave you a front row seat to something you're never going to forget about. you felt so small in between the two of them, like the only thing that kept you from floating away is the fact that you were stuck in between their bodies.
eventually, max released his grip on charles and separated from the kiss, giving charles air to breathe. the blonde stepped backwards away from your body, and you stumbled embarrassingly. max’s hands went up to hover around your waist (suddenly so shy to touch you) to make sure you actually didn't fall. charles shook his head, physically trying to clear the haze in his mind before he stumbled away from you as well, pressing his back against the wall.
his chest was heaving with exertion, cheeks flushed a pretty red color, while his hands went to tug at his uncomfortably tight pants, failing to adjust himself to make his erection less obvious. he suddenly turns shy as well—it probably doesn’t help that max was laughing at how easy he is to turn on—, and charles tries to try and tug his shirt down to cover up his problem as best as he can.
your hips start to pick up in speed, movements more sure and less shaky. the friction between the cotton pillowcase and panties is multiplied on your cunt, and when you rock down deep enough, the catch of the panties on your clit is nearly immobilizing.
thinking about the moment before your boys left leads you into fantasizing about their dynamic, and how they are in the bedroom. that morning alone proved who was actually in charge; charles will tease and take whatever he can, as long as max allows him to. you can recall many instances of max guiding a well-fucked charles out of the bedroom and depositing him on your lap, before he went on to clean up and run the monegasque a bath.
the multiple post-sex facetimes you’ve gotten from the two when they’re across the world always starts with max softly speaking, “i’ve worn him out pretty good, but he refuses to fall asleep unless he gets to call you.” and the phone is passed to charles, who’s voice and lips are ruined to hell and you have to decipher what he’s attempting to say.
you’re starting to acclimate to the current tempo, so you pick it up another notch. you lean forward, bracing your hands on the bed for support as you focus on doing deeper and slower grinds against the pillow, allowing your clit to get constant attention.
you find comfort in the fact that charles allows max to take him to such a vulnerable state, and sometimes—you even find yourself getting jealous. you started joining them to see their aftercare for yourself, and found out that you're aching to be taken apart and put back together like max and charles do to each other.
the sound of max’s constant praises of charles being “so good for him,” and charles’s constant stream of “thank you, thank you, maxy” has you losing all train of thought.
you abandon the slow-and-steady technique, you’ve tried it several times this month and it’s failed to get you to come. you bite your lip, letting out a frustrated groan. your hips slow, and you grab the front of the pillow with one hand and pull it upwards, hoping that a tighter space allows better friction. you start moving quicker, doing smaller more shallow motions and it’s tons better. you can’t stop thinking that it would be even better to ride charles’ face.
even though your eyelids are scrunched shut, the thousands of tiktok edits you’ve seen of your boyfriends post-race; balaclava lines, sweaty, messy hair, and all—are playing behind them. you moan out desperately, toes curling in your socks. you hear the phantom noises of monegasque moans along with the imagined whispers of dutch-accented praises.
the knot in your navel tightens, your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. this is it, the feeling that’s escaped you for a month, it’s returning, you can finally come.
you start to rut against the pillow, uncaring of how your wetness has seeped into the pillow cover and sticks against your thighs—if anything, it’s just another pleasant sensation. unfiltered squeals and gasps start slipping out, you’re too blissed out to regulate your volume at this point.
but then, a minute passes and you still haven’t fallen over the precipice. it’s right there; you can see it, you can even hear it, but you can’t fucking feel it.
your moans of pleasure turn into cries of frustration. your legs start to quiver with exhaustion, and the orgasm you almost had fades. tears spill from your eyes, as you frantically rut against the soaked pillow, not caring about rhythm or technique anymore. and your chance is gone, your sobs echoing around the room at another failed attempt.
you climb off the pillow and fall on your side, crying into the towel trying to muffle your anguished noises. you have the fleeting thought to think that you're overreacting, but fuck that. you’ve literally been unwillingly denying yourself for a month.
after you’ve cried yourself out, you get up and start to clean up the mess you made. when you lean down to pick up the shorts you flung across the room, you hear jimmy and sassy start yowling outside of the room. and faintly, you hear the front door open.
fuck.
a giggle slips out of charles as the cries of the cats are heard outside of the apartment door. max shoots a glare at charles for laughing at his children, before he loses the fight and a smile slips out in response to the monegasque’s. finally managing to slip the key into the lock, max speaks, “we’re supposed to surprise her by being early, cha—maybe we should’ve let the cat’s know when we called earlier today?” they step through the threshold, quickly shutting the door behind them so the cats won’t run out. charles makes a questioning hum as they both start slipping out their jackets, “they are cats, mon minou. i do not think they care about anything other than when you come back to feed them.”
max side eyes him heavily as he squats down to untie his sneakers, and looks around slightly confused, “i think we are missing a greeting from one more kitten, wouldn't you say, charles?” the man in question nods in agreement, while finally petting jimmy and sassy to calm them down a little bit. whenever the two of them return home, you usually race to the door along with the cats. you give them warm hugs and sweet kisses, help them take their jackets off, and let them know if you cooked a meal for them, or prepared a bath.
but tonight, they don’t hear the sound of your footsteps coming towards them. it’s rare for them not to be greeted at the door, most of the time you beat them to unlocking it, with the alarm system the cats provide.
charles questions, “maybe she fell asleep? we did not tell her that we moved our flight earlier. and we did tell her to go to bed because we would be arriving late.”
max snorts disbelievingly, “when has she ever gone to bed when we’ve told her to,” he starts, “she’s probably just in the bathroom or something.”
the two spend a few minutes paying some attention to the cats, before they begin to get suspicious at the fact that you still haven’t come to welcome them back. they straighten up and start heading towards the bedroom.
max pushes the door open, and everything looks normal except for the fact that you’re nowhere to be seen. the bed is put together, one nightstand lamp is on, and the bathroom is empty. max and charles stare at each other with matching baffled expressions, before you clear your throat in the doorway.
max jumps, “shit!” and charles flinches, “oh, what the fuck!”
your giggles reverberate through the air, and the two men can only laugh along with you. “oh? so you find scaring us funny, schat?” max teases gently. you pad over to him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight hug, nodding softly into his neck as you breathe him in. charles huffs after he’s deemed that you spent too much time loving on max before he pulls you into his own grasp, one arm braced tightly around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head resting in his chest. “she’s absolutely frightening, max, can’t you tell?” he teases back, defending you jokingly.
max hums, “definitely. where were you hiding, baby?”
you freeze for second as you pull away from charles’ grasp, before stuttering your way through an explanation, “u-uh oh, i was-um, i was just in the laundry room! i was just putting a few things i had accidentally spilled uh- spilled juice on-yes juice of course, in the uh-washing machine, yes,” you nod firmly, to fully convince them.
the monegasques raises an eyebrow at you and dragged out an, “…….okay, i guess?” max follows up with a sarcastic, “yeah….we definitely believe you!”
you narrow your eyes at him, “are you calling me a liar, max? because, why would i lie about—“
charles cuts you off, turning your head back towards him as he squints at your face. he runs his thumb underneath one of your eyes, and speaks softly, “were you crying, mon ange? your eyes are red and swollen.”
you shake your head rapidly to attempt to dismiss his worry but it’s already too late. max practically teleports to your side and scans your face and with a gasp he reveals, “yes, you did cry. i can still see the tears stained on your cheeks.”
you shift uncomfortably, “yes, okay! i did cry! but it was nothing serious,” you pause and mumble the last part of your sentence, “i was just overreacting anyways, it doesn’t matter.”
max smacks his teeth at you disapprovingly, “hey, don’t be mean to yourself, schatje. anything that causes you to cry does matter. tell us, and we can try and make it better for you.” the two boys wear you down with earnest eyes; the monegasque brushes his lips against your hand comfortingly and the dutchman tucks your hair behind your ears soothingly. they wait patiently and don’t attempt to push you any further, but there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of them; they won’t let this go until you explicitly ask them two. and suddenly, your resistance falls and words start rushing out of your mouth.
“im so tired, okay? i’ve been trying for ages, ages, and i can’t get there! everytime i try, i-i-it’s like i’m right there–right there! and then it never comes! it’s torture. the harder i try to reach for it, the more it slips away, and then it doesn’t even feel good anymore! i thought this was supposed to feel good–and now what’s the point?! i don’t even wanna try again if i’m just going to be–”
“woah, woah, woah.” max cuts you off, “what are we talking about exactly, schatje? have you not been getting enough sleep or something? because we can try and–" you interrupt, “NO! i haven’t came in a MONTH! are you even listening to me?!”
charles chokes on his own breath and max damn near faints. most importantly, they’re shaken at your bluntness around the topic; every time they try to ask if you’ve been finding…relief–for lack of a better word, you tend to snap shut if they use any ‘explicit’ words with you– you tell them not to worry about it. so, to hear you say it plainly reveals how much distress this has been causing you. secondly, the thought that you’ve been desperately trying to get off for a month on your own, is a paralyzing thought. they nearly convinced themselves that you had no idea about anything sexual due to your refusal to answer any of their questions—which there would be nothing wrong with, they’d be happy to teach you how to please them and them alone. it’s a seductive thought, the fact that you’re untouched, that no man has had the opportunity to taint you and ruin your perspective on how you should receive and give pleasure. they’ve been praying for the day you’d be ready to let them teach you how to be good for them. maybe that makes them monsters, for taking advantage of your naivety and innocence, and molding you into their perfect girl, but they stopped feeling guilty for desiring this long ago.
you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy! i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”
charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating, to not cum,” you gasp softly, “especially when you’ve been edging yourself accidentally for so long, hm?”
a questioning sound slips from your lips, “hm? what’s edging? i just haven’t,” your voice drops to a whisper, “cum.” max thinks that he’s seriously fucked-up in the head, because he watches how you bury your face into charles’s chest after your whispered word, refusing to make eye contact with them out of embarrassment; and relishes at the fact that you absolutely have no idea about what exactly you’ve been doing to yourself. he’s going to enjoy ruining teaching you everything he knows.
“edging is repeated instances of sexual stimulation and stopping before your orgasm. it’s called that because you are kept ‘on the edge.’ you can do it to yourself or with others,” max states in an unfazed manner. he sees you start to relax, knowing that you find comfort in his matter-of-fact tone.
a pout lowers your lips, “who would enjoy that? it feels terrible.”
max breaks out in a grin, slipping an arm around charles and squeezing at his tapered waist, “you know somebody who enjoys it very much, liefje,” charles blushes at the sudden call out, and watches the way your eyes widen in shock. max continues, “anyways, you may find that you enjoy it when it’s done properly—with people who are experienced enough to make sure you’re feeling good and keep you feeling good… and show you how to have a proper orgasm, hm?” max segways into the important topic, not allowing you to deflect any longer.
charles stops your attempt at hiding in his broad shoulder this time around, and firmly holds your face to keep you facing max. the dutch give charles a nod of appreciation and watches how he shifts on his feet at the acknowledgement; he might have to take care of him after he’s done with you, too. max allows your eyes to avoid meeting his, letting them roam his face as you battle your own insecurity.
“liefje,” max deepens his tone, knowing how you melt at any pitch similar to his morning voice, “there is no need to be embarrassed about your virginity and innocence. you had your boundaries set, and never bent or broke them to make someone happy at the cost of your comfort. no matter how much pressure someone applied to you, you refused to let them have you in one of the most vulnerable positions you could ever be in because you felt unsure or plainly uncomfortable with them. that is something you should take pride in and no one should make a joke out of your virginity for that instance. tonight, you can still make that decision if you are not completely sure on allowing charles and i the privilege of teaching you how to feel satisfied. we will continue to wait for you; you have the power here, not charles or i. do what is best for you at this moment, and if that changes, tell us so, and we will continue or stop at your will.”
the room is silent as the three of you digest max’s spiel. charles and max seem to be completely nonchalant about the matter, but they are trying to hide how anxious they are about your possible refusal, for your sake. of course they are hoping that you’ll accept their helping hands, or lips, or tongues, or coc—but, that’s not their main intention tonight. the goal is for them to start building a deeper level of understanding and trust with you, to where you allow yourself to be in your most vulnerable state with them. and that will take time; they’re not expecting you to completely reveal your innermost workings to them instantaneously. however, they most definitely want to show you how good they can make you feel and how good you can make them feel. and once you internalize that, then they can start working on showing you the wonders of sex—or plainly put, they can start tainting you.
you nod. charles eyes brighten and his cheeks dimple with the appearance of a wild smile. he leans in to kiss you in thanks, but max halts him with one finger to the forehead and a quick ‘aht aht,’ “that won’t do, liefje, i need verbal confirmation—words, please.”
“y-you can…you can help s-show and teach me how to…how to feel good. i am ready to have…,” your voice thins out, and suddenly you shake your head, eyes meeting max’s straight on in an unusual act of confidence, clearing your throat, “i am ready for us to have—i’m ready for you to fuck me.”
max wasn’t exactly ready for that wording and faltered, a little shook. charles on the other hand has to struggle to refrain from laughter. at the mixed reaction, your bravado slips away, and you add, “please?” charles loses the laugh automatically; your timid but desperate widened brown doe eyes stare up at the two of them, flickering between them anxiously, plump lips parted with your tongue flicking out—he has a few ideas of something he can offer to keep that mouth of yours busy.
max rumbles in satisfaction, “see, that wasn’t so hard, was it pretty girl? we’ll work on that confidence of yours for sure—but, i have a few rules for you first before we get started. charles, why don’t you tell our girl the first two?”
“number one, always answer our questions with words; if you don’t, we’ll stop and wait for you to respond. two, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell us, and we’ll stop what we’re doing and make it better for you or stop completely if necessary,” charles answers assuredly.
you nod, and max raises an eyebrow at you, “i mean, yes!”
max praises you, “you’re already doing so good for us,” he watches your breath catch at the sentence and figures he may have another praise kink on his hands, “you wanna be a good girl and tell me what you were really doing before we came home?” your cheeks burn and your previous embarrassment returns full force, but you fight through it, not wanting to break the rules right off the bat.
“well, you remember how i said my usual method wasn’t working anymore? i wasn’t lying about that. i only g-get off when you guys leave, andidoitbygrindingonapillow—and i have to put down a towel before becauseimakeamess. so! i really was doing laundry, i just didn’t spill juice on it…i kinda, spilled on it.”
charles’ hands fall away from you in shock, and max really doesn’t know if he can handle another revelation like this from you without actually passing out. you continue to over-explain, “and i i-i didn’t even get to, y’ know (oh my god, she soaked the pillow without even cumming, max!), and i got that wet anyway…and i can’t really control it, but if you guys don’t like it i can try and—“
“NO!” “PLEASE DON’T!”
you flinch away, and they apologize heavily for their overreaction.
“please, don’t, mon ange. i can tell you that max and i aren’t ever going to hate what’s between your legs, or what comes from there,” charles suggests with a smirk, before his face shifts to a more blank state “wait. did…did you have a chance to change?” you hum a little “mm-mm” glancing down at yourself still clad in max’s sweater and cotton panties, “uhm. no, i was a little more concerned with cleaning up the bed before you guys saw it so—sorry, i’m not a little more presentable—“
“are you wearing the same panties, mon ange?”
you freeze, brain lagging at what the monegasque had noticed. “mhm, yeah,” you whisper softly, playing with the hem of the sweater self-soothingly.
“can i,” charles takes a deep breath, “can i touch you, mon coeur?”
you squeak, “yes please, charlie.”
max watches as charles places his massive hand on one of your thighs, spanning the front with no struggle, and gently caresses his hand up, slowly making his way up your thigh. charles taps two fingers gently against you, and you spread your legs a smidge wider, and the sound of your thighs peeling off one another from the stickiness you leaked, reverberates around the room. max can’t help but let a moan slip out. charles slides his hand in between your legs, both of your own hands fisting at the hem of your borrowed sweatshirt, and you gasp at the lightest touch of charles pointer and middle finger against your soaked panties. max sees charles pupils blow wide and mouth drop open in awe—and he can’t wait anymore.
max presses his front to your back, sandwiching you in between them once again, and impatiently asks, “schatje, can i?” you let out a breathy ‘yeah,’ and max doesn’t hesitate to bully his hand in between your legs as well. he cops a more generous feel of your cunt, and groans at the state of ruin your panties are in.
“liefje,” max starts, “walk with me to the bed, please.” max pulls away, and unfastens one of your hands from the sweater to guide you. you turn around stumbling through your first few steps—charles sets you upright more prepared for your legs becoming jello than you are, and helps you over to the bed, one hand firmly set on the small of your back. max sits on the edge of the bed, man spreading comfortably, and watches how your eyes automatically fall to stare at his thighs with a smirk. he glances at charles behind you, who mouths ‘can’t blame her’ with a smirk of his own. the dutch pats his lap, “c’mere and give me a kiss, pretty girl.”
you rush to sit in his lap, slowing at the last minute, not wanting to sit your full weight on him. he huffs, and grabs at your hips situating you firmly on his lap, before leaning in and kissing you stupid. your gasp of shock transforms into a hum of pleasure, letting max have complete control of the kiss. his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head and moves you exactly where he wants, sucking on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue against yours. max kisses like he’s going to run out of time, he ravishes you completely. you squirm against him, pulling away to pant against his cheek needing air. max chuckles, and you only get to whine at his teasing for half a second before charles, who’s now sitting next to max, pulls you into another kiss. charles, on the other hand, kisses like he has all the time in the world, he draws it out. he keeps the kisses slow and closed in the beginning, pausing to pull away and thumb at your lips, relishing at how they’ve already swelled from max’s abuse, the surrounding skin already beginning to turn raw and sensitive from their friction of their facial hair. he continues kissing you, all tongue and sloppy not caring about about the way your hands come up to grasp at his chest in desperation, before switching to absolutely bruise your lips by nipping and tugging at them.
your hips jump forward against max’s, and he can’t stop the groan that tumbles out. you jolt away from charles’ assault and stare at max with an embarrassed expression, “s-sorry—“ max narrows his eyes and dismisses your apology, “don’t apologize for that. you feel good, you’re allowed to show that unless i tell you differently.”
“yes, max,” you answer, even though he didn’t ask a question.
“oh, you’re such a good girl for us, liefje,” he tests. and his instincts didn’t fail him. your hips twitch against his again, and a near inaudible moan slips from your lips.
he turns towards charles, “yeah, that works doesn’t it, cha?” charles nods, eyes still stuck on your lips. max smirks at charles being completely entranced, before turning back to you and clocks the glaze beginning to form over your eyes, “alright now, liefje, i need you to pay attention to me really quickly, hm?”
you hum, bobbing your head a few times, before you manage to get out a “yes, max.”
he holds your head steady with his thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin, “i’m not going anywhere, baby, take your time and focus.” it only takes you half a minute to truly focus in after your heart stops racing to give him another verbal confirmation before he continues. “tonight, neither one of us is going to make love to you—“ your shoulders drop and a frown is quick to spread across your mouth. you really only prepared for the situation that you’d tell them you were ready, and then you’d get railed into next sunday. you start to panic; maybe you came off too depraved, and he’s letting you down slowly—
“hey, hey, hey. no overthinking yet, let him finish, mon ange,” charles calls out to you worriedly, he’s experienced the same thought process you're going through before and would rather try and prevent the self-doubt from overtaking you.
max pets at your waist over the sweater and continues, “not tonight. we’ve just gotten off a flight, and had three back to back races. it’s late, and i’m sure all three of us are tired. we should initiate something like that with a clearer mind,” you feel a little selfish now, his points very valid, “but, i still want to give you an orgasm, okay? sure, you may not be able to get off by grinding on a pillow anymore. you’ve probably just acclimated to it and need to give it a break. so, to compromise: you’ll get off by riding my thigh.”
charles and max wait for your reaction. your frown lightens into a pout, but you’re disappointment doesn’t completely fade away. “how is that any different from riding the pillow? it’s the same thing.” charles laughs shakily, “oh, mon ange. you have no idea. listen to max and give it a try before you take it off the table completely.”
you shrug, and agree, “fine. how do i….uh how do i do the thigh riding, i guess?”
charles turns to look at max, wordlessly asking for permission, and max grants it with a wave of his hand. charles scoots up closer, and shifts your straddle from max’s whole lap to his right thigh. as soon as your pantie-covered cunt firmly presses on the muscle of max’s jean-clad thigh, a soft ‘oh’ croaks out of you. max flexes and relaxes his thigh once and your hips jump up and away from him. max and charles glance at each other; you’re ridiculously sensitive, they’ll have to see if that’s your natural state or if it’s just the result of your prolonged edging and the fact that you were grinding against a pillow not too long ago. charles squeezes your hips, bringing your attention to him, “i’m going to start guiding you now, you ready, mon coeur?”
“mmm, yeah—that felt really good, i want more,” you speak timidly.
“good,” charles states, and then he pulls your hips forward dragging you against max’s thigh, and a flash of heat zings up your spine. you moan, a small, breathy exhale, and charles keeps it slow at first, not pushing you down to roughly or making the motions too quick—he wants you to learn to love the friction again. barely a minute passes before your hips start fighting charles’ guided rhythm, and a frustrated groan slips out of you, not able to fight your boyfriends grip. max clocks back in from where he was watching the pleasure start to flicker on your face and asks, “what are you supposed to do, baby?”
“more-ah, please, charlie,” you moan shakily. charles smirks, “look at you, still using your manners like a good girl—“ a louder moan echoes, “okay, okay, mon coeur. i’ll get you there, i’ll get you to cum like you need, okay? i’ll make you forget all about your manners too, hmm?”
you stopped listening to anything after charles reassured you that he’s going to get you to cum, you believe him. he adjusts his grip on your hips and starts incrementally increasing the pace and pressure for you. your moans start to become more frequent, and increasing in pitch rapidly, the drivers can tell you’re hurtling towards your long-awaited orgasm, sooner than they thought. charles slowly releases his grip on your waist letting your hips take over once he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it. you throw your head back in pleasure, your hips have a steady grind and…and you’re feeling good. a suprised laugh slips out of your lips at that and shifts into a sharp moan when max starts flexing his thigh rhythmically giving you a little more texture to work with. max lets his heavy hands fill in for where charles’ and presses you down into deeper slower strokes.
you cry out, it’s a little too much for you, but it feels so good, that you bear with it, they know what’s best for you, anyways. max grins down at you smugly, and you start to tear up a little; he can still feel your hips twitching away from the pressure sometimes. not wanting to push you too far with that motion alone, he lightens up on the pressure but starts bouncing his thigh. the shriek you release surprises all three of you, but you don’t run from it, if anything you lean into it more. one of your hands fists into charles’ shirt for support, and the other falls to max’s, tugging it off your left hip so you can hold it tight. max’s grin softens into a small smile and he kisses your joined hands, and charles leans into press kisses on your neck, praise slipping out of their lips freely.
“doing so good for us, pretty girl.”
“yeah, baby, that’s it. take what you need.”
“don’t be shy, let those sweet moans out for us.”
“just like that, oh! look at that, you’ve leaked all over his thigh,” charles points out. max looks down and registers that his pant leg is sticking down to his thigh and the denim has darkened with the amount of wetness. “oh, yeah. look at that, baby,” max pats on the side of your face, and you can’t even recall when you screwed your eyes shut, but you look down, and a mortified squeal leaves you. not much longer and you’ll have drowned his thigh. the dutchman sucks his teeth at you, “don’t be embarrassed, liefje. i can’t wait until i can taste it straight from the source,” he moves his other hand underneath the sweatshirt, and slips two fingers between your inner thigh while gathering your wetness. he sucks on one finger moaning explicitly at your taste, before offering both fingers to charles to clean off. the monegasque flicks his tongue out teasingly tasting them first, before he makes a quick motion of sucking them in and fully running his tongue in every crevice to get every last drop of your taste.
you moans start to become pitchy little ah-ah-ah’s, and you frantically start rabbiting your hips. you’re so close. max squeezes you hand, and starts up the praise again.
“i wasn’t joking, schatje. when i finally get my mouth on your pretty little cunt, you won’t be able to pull me off of you until i force at least three orgasms out of you.”
charles pulls off of max’s fingers and adds, “i need to give her three or four from my mouth too. i don’t think she’ll be able to handle that many.”
“yes, she can. she’s such a good girl for us, she’d let us keep going until we tell her when she’s done.”
“mmm, yeah—she’s right there, look at that cute little face she’s making.”
“her pretty little o-mouth, we should fill that up for her too.”
“thinkin i’ll fill that sweet little cunt of hers first with my dick—“
what escapes your mouth is definitely a scream, and max can’t bring himself to muffle it even though it’s the middle of the night. he pays a hefty sum of money for this penthouse, they can deal with hearing how charles and him make you scream with pleasure. your orgasm completely whites-out all of your senses; ears ringing, eyes rolled back, skin feeling raw and thighs shaking. max and charles work your hips back and forth a few more times, helping you with the aftershocks until you squirm out of their hands. you fall forward into max’s chest, body trembling, and tears streaming down your face.
max cradles you close and scratches at your head, calling your name a few times to get a gauge of how out of it you are. with no verbal response, he sends charles to get water and a towel to clean you up. max softly murmurs praises at you constantly, and charles joins in with the affirmations when he returns. the both clean you up when you’re still floating; they put you in an oversized tee, not bothering with undergarments, wiping all wetness and cream away from between your legs trying to avoid looking at your cunt directly, they even manage to get your bonnet on for you, and even have time to change the duvet before you start becoming aware again.
you turn and automatically move to snuggle into the crook of max’s neck, but he gently presses a straw to your mouth so you can hydrate after the amount of fluids you seem to have lost. your eyes open, and you croak out a disapproving hum at not being able to go to sleep, and max shakes his head at you, “drink, schat. non-negotiable, pretty girl.” after slowly draining ¾ of the bottle, you pull away and with a shattered voice, start mumbling, “thank you, thank you, thank you—“
and charles leans over to cut you off with a soft press of lips, “no, thank you for letting us give you that, mon coeur.” you hum, whispering out, “i love you, charlie. i love you, maxy.”
they both respond with resounding ‘i-love-you’s back, and start soft conversation just checking up on you before they let you fall asleep.
“i’ve never felt this good before from an orgasm,” you start, “i wanna—i wanna keep being good for you guys. i wanna learn how to feel good like this again, and i want you both to show me how because i trust you. please?”. charles and max both murmur affirmatives to you, and you continue speaking softly, “you guys can take showers now, i’ll probably be asleep before you come back.” after making sure you’re truly comfortable, max and charles head to the en-suite to take the world’s speediest shower so they can cuddle up with you sooner.
shutting the door, max and charles stare at each other in completely silence. charles starts, “are we sure that we’re the ones corrupting her and she’s not corrupting us? because, i’ve almost came in my pants three times tonight.”
max stares at charles with unseeing eyes, “i will never forgot the way she soaked my fucking leg, charles…i’m pretty sure i did come in my pants.”
taglist: @lorarri | @soph1644 | @jaydensluv | @fanboyluvr | @nissaimmortal | @redgonerogue | @hollie911 @saintwrld | @buendiabebeta | @butterfly-lover | @lana-d3l-rey | @dylan1721 | @spicybagel14 | @dhhdhsiavdhaj
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#f1 smut#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#max verstappen#max verstappen smut#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#lestappen#charles leclerc x female reader#max verstappen x female reader#charles leclerc x black!reader#max verstappen x black!reader#poly!formula 1#poly f1#f1 x reader#f1 x black!reader#f1 x female reader#formula 1 x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#max verstappen fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fanfiction#serene’s chapters.#serene’s fave.#⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1#♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: cl.#♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: mv.#httpss :// kinktober 23
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So there's this post with a troubling number of notes going around insisting that "dead dove" is not a genre, it doesn't inherently have anything to do with darkfic, and that the tag could be applied to fics that are "100% fluffy where everyone's having a good time" if they happen to contain some abnormal (though entirely non-problematic) content like an unusual kink. The claim is that "dead dove: do not eat" is simply a "courtesy tag" that means "this is a very specific niche, mind the tags." And that's just... wrong.
I wrote up a whole rebuttal to this post since I can't stand misinformation and frankly OP was being kinda rude and judgey on top of their wrongness. But right after I posted my reply, OP turned off reblogs because, and I quote, “some fuckwad added some dumb shit onto this post and it is no longer educational” (the “fuckwad” being me and the “dumb shit” being proof that they were wrong). A couple people have asked me to make a rebloggable version of my response, which I've decided to do because this isn't the first time I've heard similar claims and I want to help set the record straight. However, I'm not linking the original post on the off chance this gains traction because OP did the right thing by turning off reblogs, preventing it from circulating further, and I don't want them to get hate for being unfortunately misinformed.
For those who don't know the history, "dead dove: do not eat" was originally proposed as a catchall "hydra trash party" alternative label for any fandom to warn that the content of a fic may be considered problematic or potentially upsetting and to read the tags carefully so you know what you're getting into and won't complain later. Specifically, DD:DNE was intended to convey that the Bad Things in the fic would likely be reveled in and not explicitly condemned by the narrative, which some people tend to get up in arms about, hence the need for the extra warning in addition to the tags. Don't believe me? Here's the original proposal (note DD:DNE can be found on a handful of fics dated before 2015 but this is when it really took off and became a Thing).
There are currently around 50,000 fics tagged as "dead dove: do not eat" on AO3 and close to 50% of those also include the rape/noncon warning (which of course is not the only type of "dead dove" but is one of the most popular and most consistently tagged). The normal percentage of noncon fics in any given fandom? Around 1-3%. That's a HUGE disparity. So don't tell me that dead dove is just a general "courtesy tag" and doesn't or shouldn't have dark connotations. Even the context of the original joke on Arrested Development has a dark undertone. Micheal Bluth casually finds an animal carcass in a bag in his refrigerator with the label "do not eat", as if eating it would be any sane person's first thought. The whole situation is kinda fucked up. And this fucked up vibe very much carries over into fandom usage too, as was intended.
The claim that dead dove has nothing to do with the content's genre and could just as easily be used to describe a 100% fluffy fic in which everyone's having a good time is straight up Wrong, or at the very least, severely warping the original meaning. Also, when someone these days says that they like/dislike "dead dove" most people in fandom automatically understand what that means because of the consistency of its usage over the years and the way language evolves. Whether you like it or not, "dead dove" IS a genre now and the term does carry a specific connotation. I do agree that DD:DNE should definitely still be used in conjunction with other tags, when applicable, to be explicit about the exact type of fucked up content you may find, but to say that the term is meaningless on its own is patently false and I'm tired of people who don't know what they're talking about pushing this narrative and causing even more confusion.
You want a generic term that also means "mind the tags" and doesn't have any inherently dark connotations? Just use good ol' "what it says on the tin" instead of trying to force dead dove to be something it's not.
#fyi I've tweaked my response slightly to remove specific references to OP and make it read better on its own#I hope I don't regret making this post and inviting The Discourse#but dead dove is a topic that is very near and dear to me#I feel like someone has got to say something and put a stop to all of the misinformation around it these days#fandom#long post#my words#psa#wendy's help desk
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Tension
Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost
A/N: Back in November, I posted a fic where @nerdieforpedro wrote a comment in their tags that said ‘I need you to crack my back, sir’. This is stupid but it stuck with me, so here you go. I suppose it’s also my own way of saying that I see everything you all write about my stuff. I love y’all.
Summary: Your husband cracks your back when you come home from work. Also, you are trying for a baby.
Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)
Tags: +18 smut, back-cracking, massages, a good girl, fingering, dirty talk, hard and fast piv sex, javier whimpering is its own warning, clit stim, breeding kink, creampie, they’re in loooove
Word count: 2k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54705589
Tension
You drag yourself into the living room where Javier is currently napping on the couch, arms crossed over his chest and chin pointing downward. He looks peaceful but the tension in your back is enough to disturb him from his slumber and not feel bad about it.
You bend down over him, gently shaking him.
“Javi,” you call softly. It takes you three tries before he stirs, opening his eyes with a little confusion as he tries to figure out where he is.
“What is it, baby?” His voice is slightly raspy from sleep. You smile apologetically.
“I need you to crack my back,” you say.
You don’t know how it happened but it feels like something is pinched, probably from an awkward position during the night or even during other activities. You have tried to relieve the tension all day by twisting your body from side to side but to no avail.
“What?” He grabs the back of the couch to pull himself into a sitting position. You take a step back.
“I think something’s… I don’t know, it’s just so frustrating. I’m tense as hell,” you explain, turning your back to him to try and point to the spot that’s been aching since you got into work in the morning, “It’s right here. Between the shoulder blades.”
“Right,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, inhales deeply, and breaks into a yawn, “Take your top off and lie down on the floor.”
You do as he says, smiling a little to yourself as you hear the groan that he makes when getting up from the couch. Perhaps you should return the favor. You lay down on the floorboards of the apartment, flat on your stomach, face turning to the side, and your arms along your sides.
Another grunt is heard as Javier gets down on the ground with you. He places a knee on either side of your thighs, hovering above your legs, and then he takes a hold of the hem of your pants, “Okay if I pull them down a bit? Then I can do the whole spine.”
“Go ahead.”
Javier yanks down your bottoms, turning them into something that resembles low-rise style. He then heats up his hands by rubbing them together, “How rough can I be?”
“Can’t believe we’re doing something that requires you to ask that and it isn’t sex,” you wiggle your hips a bit but then wince as pain shoots through your body again.
“Answer the fucking question,” he says with a roll of his eyes, smiling but impatient.
“Don’t hold back.”
Javier’s now-warm palms settle on your back. You sigh softly at the feeling of him touching your skin so carefully, treating you like something delicate until you feel him place one hand on top of his other to center the pressure right between your shoulders. He pushes down and you exhale sharply.
Crack.
You moan in relief. Endorphins flood your system.
“That was so nice, baby,” you praise, “Thank you.”
“I’m not done,” Javier kisses you right where he has just relieved the tension. Then he moves down and does it again.
Another crack is heard. You curl your toes, eyes fluttering closed as another wave of feel-good hormones begins to flow through your system.
“Good girl,” Javier compliments, and you don’t have to ask if he is smirking because it’s evident from the tone of his voice as he sees the shiver that creeps up your neck, “More?”
“Please.”
So he does it again.
And again.
And again.
Until you feel like putty underneath his touch. You want to say something but with each skim of his fingers, each rough push of his entire body’s weight, you only manage to groan in pleasure.
Above you, Javier has gone quiet but his breathing has turned more erratic. He has switched from cracking your back to massaging your sore muscles instead, kneading along your sides whilst you reward him with small sighs and moans of satisfaction as well as gratitude.
You shiver as he presses his thumbs into the place where your neck meets your shoulders, holding it for a while before dragging his whole palms outwards. It feels good, almost like an embrace.
He repeats the move until you feel sweat starting to break out on your skin from how warm his hands are. A moan escapes your mouth, the same kind that you usually make when he kisses your neck.
“You like that?” He asks in a tone that you know too well. You nod. He does it again but goes closer to your neck this time, fingers skimming along your pulse point.
Something in the atmosphere shifts after that.
Soon, he descends on your body, going achingly slow as he searches out his goal. He ends up digging two thumbs into the very top of your ass. He isn’t downright groping you but there’s a hesitation each time he pushes into the plump flesh there. Teasingly, you push up into his hands.
“You’re so sexy like this,” he mutters and you can hear him move on the floor, crawling backward so he can kiss the small of your back when he leans down.
“With a sore back?” You snort to hide how excited this is making you, a dull ache settling between your thighs.
“In any way,” he clarifies. He doesn’t even hesitate when he starts pulling down both your pants and your underwear, and you don’t protest but instead lift your hips to help him yank them down until they sit around your ankles.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he dips a finger inside of you, pushing down towards your stomach to make you squirm on the floor. You whimper. He makes a come-hither motion to rub against your g-spot and you immediately move your arms forward to grab at the ground. Your cunt squelches and Javier swears again, “You’re soaked.”
“Of course, I am, was so fucking good the way you were touching me, and… I’m like a damn clock with being wet for you when I ovulate,” you moan, pushing back against his hand. He groans at the realization of what time of the month it is. He gets to put a baby in you.
His fingers work you open, teasing you towards an orgasm by doing exactly what he knows gets you there quickly. The sounds of your wetness are obscene, only getting more lewd when you come right there on the floor with your pants around your thighs.
“Baby, shit, more,” you pant with a desperate whine, clenching around Javier’s digits as they continue rubbing against your front wall even though your orgasm has long subsided. He doesn’t relent but you don’t mind, relishing in the pressure inside of your cunt. It’s good but it’s not his cock, “Fuck me, baby. Please, I— I need you in me.”
You hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone and then the shuffle of denim being pulled down. You look over your shoulder to find him with his jeans sitting around his knees, too desperate himself to get fully undressed.
“Eyes forward,” he commands you and ignores his own desire until you do as you are told. You hold onto the floorboards with flat hands, only spreading your legs slightly to make him as tight a fit inside of you as possible.
His whole weight crushes you so heavenly in the next moment, and his generous length sheaths itself in the warm embrace of your soaked walls with ease until he bottoms out. Your face screws up with the intensity especially because he leans down over you to groan hotly into your ear.
“Love this little pussy,” he moans as you both adjust to being connected like this. He rests a forearm beside your head, biting into your shoulder and soothing the mark with his wet tongue. It drives you insane that he is not moving inside of you yet, and he seems to know with how he taunts you, “Want me to fuck her silly?”
“Javi,” you whimper and nod frantically, “I’ll come so good for you, milk your big cock with my pussy. Please, baby.”
“I bet you will, mi chica sucía (my dirty girl),” he answers before giving you exactly what you want; the first roll of his hips makes your mind go blank, even moreso when he starts fucking you into the floor like an animal.
His legs frame yours, his pelvis crashes into the plump flesh of your ass with a dirty smack each time, and he is burning hot against your back. You won’t last long with him reaching so deep inside of you, the thick head of his stiff cock sliding over your g-spot like his fingers had earlier. Each nudge makes your cunt suck him further in, and he starts panting above you with the effort he puts into fucking you. It doesn’t even occur to you that your knees are aching when he has you like this.
“Please,” you beg without exactly knowing what you want from him; everything he is giving you has you dizzy with lust. You tense up as your orgasm approaches with rapid motions, and he goes even harder now that you don’t fly forwards with the slamming of his body into yours, “Gonna come— I’m… oh, I’m coming, fuck, baby, I’m coming!”
“I can feel you,” he growls and barely moves inside of you anymore, having replaced it with grinding against you to not miss a single pulse of your spasming, peaking cunt. You writhe underneath him, and he treats you to a messy kiss as one of his hands comes up to cup your chin so he can turn your head.
“Come in me, please, baby, need your babies in me,” you cry against his mouth with furrowed eyebrows. He whimpers at your request, faltering in his rhythm for the first time since he started fucking you.
“I’ll make you come so hard again, mi amor (my love), want you to spasm around my dick,” he stutters a bit when he speaks. The hand on your chin slips down your body and then underneath it too, his flat palm against your pelvis until he presses up into it to angle your hips. You stay in this new position, back arched to perfection - dopamine in your body making you forget the ache - so he can stab at your g-spot and follow it up by rubbing your needy clit with no buildup.
The neighbors are bound to hear you screaming as you come again a minute later. The clenching shocks of pleasure are mind-altering and enough for Javier to finish alongside you, spreading his warm seed inside of you with a desperate groan.
You both collapse with him still buried in you. Your clothes are sticky with how much you have sweated, your knees ache with reality slowly coming back, and your body feels warm and sated despite it all.
“Let’s just lie here for a while,” you say and reach behind you to grab at him as he starts to remove himself from you, “I think this was it. I know it sounds stupid but—“
“Nothing you say sounds stupid, mi amor (my love),” he still breathes hard, brushing your hair away to kiss your neck, “Love making babies with you.”
You make a noise of agreement. Then you rest your cheek against the floor whilst he nibbles on your neck, humming softly at the feeling of it combined with the lingering pressure of him in your cunt when he finally slips out.
“Te quiero tanto (I love you so much),” you say with closed eyes and a satisfied smile.
“Love you too, baby,” he says back and you can hear the smile in his voice.
.
.
.
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Protective Carmilla x fem blind reader!
“Stay Away From Them”
(Requested by PoosayDestroyer on AO3)
A/n: I hope this isn’t disrespectful towards blind ppl since I’ve never wrote about them before-
Summary: reader is blind, and some perv tries to upskirt her, and Carmilla is there to protect the reader
Noises, noises, noises. That’s it. The only thing you could ‘observe’ was noise. Reason for it? Your blind. You’ve been blind ever since you entered hell. The sinners in hell are based off of their insecurities, their deaths, and things they hate. You? You were always called ‘blind’ because you were so oblivious to a lot of things..and hell decided to ‘gift’ you with that.
It wasn’t all bad though. Hell did give you something that you don’t regret having, your lover Carmilla. She never minded that you’re blind, if anything she compliments you and appreciates you, even if you can’t see. And even if you can’t see her, you can just imagine how gorgeous she actually is, she sounds gorgeous too.
The weapon armer has always been so carrying and sweet for you. She’s basically your eyes. She helps you get dressed if you struggle, helps you get to places without bumping into anyone, and explains everything that’s going on that you cannot see. You really love her. Another thing she does for you is keep other demons away from you, she’s pretty darn protective.
Currently, you and her were walking around Pentagram cities streets in hell. She was with her daughters, and you, helping them out with orders in this part of town since she believed it was too dangerous for young girls like them to be alone. You decided to tag along because you just wanted to help and support.
While walking, she holds your hand to help you navigate through the streets and avoid demons. "Careful my love...there's.." she looked down at a dead sinners body that has been brutally gored by an exorcists spear, deciding to not tell you that theres a dead body right below your feet. "..a stump" she corrects and lightly pulls you around it.
"why's there a stump on the sidewalk?" you ask questionably, your head turned towards where her gorgeous voice was, trying your best to show your paying attention to her even if you can't see her.
Carmilla chuckles softly, she always found it cute when you weren't aware of many things, even if it was worrying too. "Oh well, it is hell afterall..something is going to be unexpected." she responds with a softer tone rather than her usual stern one.
"I guess your not wrong" you smile a little at her words and tone, oh god how much you'd do to see what she actually looked like, you know shes gorgeous. Odette and Clara came to a halt up ahead, Odette holding her clipboard as she checks off the territory, and Clara pulling an angelic spear out of a dead sinners body, lucky for you, you could only hear the spear pop out of the sinners side rather than see it.
Carmilla held your hand, then lead you over to a wall. She gently placed your hand on it, and told you to stay right there and to not let go. She wasn't going far, maybe 5 feet away from you wince her voice was pretty clear. She was talking to her daughters about some of the areas in the town they'd go to collect more of the angelic spears. You stayed quite, but also unaware. Lets just say today, wasn't the best day to wear a skirt.
While you were unaware, and obviously not paying attention to anything you can see-well, because your blind..a middle aged small imp approuched you. He was about half your size, maybe to your hips. he had a perverted smirk on his face as he sneaks up on your unaware and oblivious state. You gasp a little when you feel your skirt get lifted a little, there was no wind, so why..? Then you felt a hand on your rear, you jumped and spoke up "hey!" you exclaim with a gasp, catching your lovers attention.
Carmilla's head shoots over to your direction when she heard your distressed cry, and saw the hellborn, fury filled her eyes as she walked over and gave him a push, grabbing your hand to let you know your okay, as she glared down at him. "you little twit..touching girls? Do you really have nothing better to do with your pathetic little life?" the overlord threats with a dangerous look on her face, she would not tolerate such an act of disgust. "You have thirty seconds to run before i send a bullet through your retarded brain." she said calm, stern and intimidating with her arms crossed as she looked down at the quivering imp. The imp nods and scurried off fast, its safe to say he won't be coming near you again. Carmilla's tone and epression softened with concern laced with it. "Mi amor? are you alright? he didn't hurt you right?" she asked, both of her hands placed on the sides of your head as she tilted your head from side to side to check on you.
You let out a soft, shaken chuckle at her actions. "yea..im fine. Just a bit shaken.." you say softly, moving your hand up to hold one of her hands that were on your cheek, you looked in her eyes, even if you couldn't see her. "Thank you my dear..i probably would have been forced into something if you weren't here.." you say in appreitation.
"Anything for you my love.." she chuckled softly and gave you a soft kiss on your forehead while holding you close in her grasp. "Now lets get going, this town is already unsafe for the girls, and now you too. I don't feel comfortable putting you three in danger." she states worried, calling her daughters back over to you two as you both start to walk.
"fine by me.." you say as she takes your hand, leading you and being your eyes once again. Yes, being blind has its cons, you can't see, bumping into things are often, and you won't be able to observe things the ways others do...and it makes you feel left out. But, it also has its pros, its advantages, and sometimes the best thing that happened in your life, and for you, that Carmilla. No doubt about it.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#carmilla x velvette#carmilla carmine smut#carmilla carmine x fem reader#carmilla carmine x reader#zestial x carmilla#carmilla x fem reader#carmilla x reader#carmine#carmilla carmine#velvette x reader x carmilla#Carmilla carmine x blind reader#blind reader#yandere hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x you#romance#carmilla
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MELT AWAY
⇢ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; the night you give your love and body to your husband.
⇢ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader
⇢ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff + smut (best friends to lovers)
⇢ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔/𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: loss of virginity, multiple orgasms, oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink, soft!dom Anthony & sub reader, missionary, doggy style, hair pulling, dirty talk. Anthony has a big dick idk if this should be tagged but... yeah. he also gets off to the fact that the reader is smaller/less tall than him. lots of overstimulation, morning sex. soft/rough sex. praise kink. lots of pet names. daddy kink.
⇢ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 10,4K (yes I’m insane)
⇢ 𝒂/𝒏: can’t believe that I’ve deleted my blog when this post was at 4K notes 😭 but yeah I’m reposting it, so if you recognise it. yes it’s from me! pls show it some love again! 🫶 can also be found on my ao3 here!
⇢ I don’t want minors to interact with any of my mature posts! thank you very much! 18+ only!
You never thought that Anthony would be the one you’d grow closest to, considering he’s a couple of years older than you. You’d think Daphne or Eloise would be your best friend. While you’re close to every Bridgerton, nothing could ever be as strong as your bond with the Viscount. It’s funny, you think, how life can bring you things and people you didn’t know you needed. People like Anthony, who became so important, it makes you question how you’ve spent your life so long without them.
But your feelings for the Viscount blossomed into something more than platonic after only a few months of knowing him.
You both fell in love with each other, fast and hard. Anthony was the first person you’ve ever fallen in love with. Whenever he would look at you or say your name or talk to you, your stomach would erupt with butterflies. You’ve never had any strong feelings for anyone before him and you knew he'd always be the one to be on your mind at all times.
Anthony was there for everything, he’d seen you grow older, he was there when you learned how to dance, or how Benedict taught you everything he knew about art, over the years he saw you become an even more beautiful woman. He was there when you debuted into society, he was there when multiple men tried to court you only for him to be overprotective and tell you they would never be good enough.
You never understood why he’d be so overprotective, but you’d be lying if you said you hated it. You’d always welcome any type of attention or care you received from him.
The Viscount has always loved and cared for you even before he could name the feelings he has for you.
He can speak about every inside joke you both have, tell everyone what your favourite colours are - because yes, you didn’t have just one favourite colour, he knows all your favourite books, knows how much you loved stargazing. He knows your favourite flowers. He knows that you’re very sensitive and have some occasional sensory issues.
He knows how much you love the arts and that you have a soft spot for animals and children. You love creating art yourself. He knows how you love with your whole heart, or hate something like your life depends on it. You like to read books during your free time, getting lost between the pages. Just like his sister Eloise. You love sunsets and sunrises, even if you’re not really a morning person.
Anthony likes to think that he knows everything about you. Except he was pretty oblivious to your feelings you had for him for many years.
Everyone knew about your feelings for each other, for so long, except for yourselves.
Until one evening, when Anthony once again refused you to accept a courtship from a potential suitor. Telling you once again that no one is ever good enough for you. That evening something snapped inside you, with tears in your eyes you asked him if there’s something wrong with you. You truly thought that one day he’d care for you too but to you he seemed like he only saw you as one of his sisters.
Or so you thought.
That evening he confessed how much he cares for you, how you’re always the one that’s on his mind. How you’re the only one he wants but couldn’t seem to admit it to himself and his family for so long. He said that the reason he kept telling you no one would be good enough for you, is because he wants to be the one to marry you. He told you how much he loves you with so much emotion that you were too stunned to speak for a while.
With tears in your eyes you eventually explained to him how much he means to you and how you’ve loved him since the first time you both met. Soon enough he enveloped you and kissed you with so much passion that every time you think about it, chills go down your spine.
Nostalgia cascades through you as you continue thinking about your relationship with Anthony. You’ve lived twenty-five years, and throughout the vast majority of it - the Viscount has been your only constant.
You always knew that Anthony would be the one for you. But being married to your best friend is truly something that you never thought would happen. For so long you thought that it would only stay in your fantasies, yet here you are on your bed on your wedding night, daydreaming about your husband.
Sighing, you pull your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around your knees and stare at the lit fireplace in front of you.
A small shy smile plays on your lips as your thoughts continue to drift towards your husband.
You’re all alone in your newly shared bedroom when you finally notice how much you’re sweating and heating up. All that dreaming about Anthony made you nervous and warm. You know he’ll join you in your bedroom soon and knowing this makes you blush harder. It’s your wedding night, the night that would change everything forever.
Why are you so hot all over? It’s so silly, you feel extremely feverish, and your heart can’t find peace and quiet, nor can your trembling limbs.
You’re warm. Tingling, like anticipation but threaded into your nerves, and heat. And you feel your body throbbing, all at once, whenever you think of Anthony.
“God,” you whimper as your thoughts keep wandering towards him and what you would do tonight.
You’re biting your lip nervously as you continue to stare off into the fireplace, until you hear the door creak open, revealing the man of your dreams leaning against the doorway.
It still feels so surreal that you’re both able to say that you belong to each other now. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how good he looks, how beautiful his heart is and how caring and loving he is.
He’s smiling as he takes you in, you’re wearing one of your night gowns that were specifically made for your honeymoon nights. His eyes continue to stare at you as you feel yourself grow even more nervous. The warmth inside you continues to rise, your cheeks becoming more hot as you look at him.
“My dear wife,” he says softly, his voice low. You start biting your bottom lip once again and his smile grows as he notices you becoming more shy at his words.
Slowly, he pulls himself away from the doorway and makes his way towards you. You gulp as you notice several buttons being undone from his shirt, showing you some skin. Heat travels to your cheeks once again once you realise you’re staring. You quickly try to avert your eyes from him but it is useless once he stands in front of you.
You could feel one of his hands reaching up to cup your face, tilting it towards his, making you look up into his eyes. The way his brown gentle eyes look into yours make you feel all hot over again. You would get lost into them forever if you could.
“It’s okay to stare, I’m all yours now.” He whispers with a small teasing smile. “You’re so beautiful.” He says as he caresses your face with fondness.
You feel yourself blush at his words, you lick your lips before clearing your throat. “You’re not so bad yourself.” You say with a shy smile.
He chuckles softly as he reciprocates your smile. His eyes continue to gaze into yours before his eyes move to your lips.
Your eyes widen slightly as your eyes catch his. “I think you’re beautiful too, the most handsome man that I’ve ever seen…” you whisper shyly. Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel his thumb trace your lips softly.
“Do I make you nervous, my love?” He asks teasingly as he leans his head down. He brushes his nose against yours gently before he grabs your face in both of his hands.
“I-I guess you do.” You answer softly.
“Why is that?” Anthony leans closer to your face. You can feel his breath on your lips, his nose touching yours once again.
You can feel your heart beating like crazy, feeling butterflies in your stomach. You wonder if he can hear your loud heartbeat as well. Your mouth feels extremely dry still you tried to swallow “It’s because,” your eyes shift from his eyes to his lips constantly “I-it’s our first night together…”
And with less hesitation and more neediness than you were expecting, Anthony’s lips are on yours. Your bottom lip slots between his while his hand moves to your jaw where he brushes his thumb against it delicately.
All your thoughts overwhelm your brain, disabling any rational understanding of what is going on. Eventually you lean closer against him and you move your hands around his shoulders as you kiss him back.
Anthony sucks lightly on your lips and then he slowly pulls away from your lips to kiss your cheek. His lips travel all over your face and neck. You whimper as his mouth presses kisses all over your neck, your hands travelling to his hair and tugging lightly.
“I have been thinking about this moment for so long.” He rasps, kissing your throat softly. Your body trembles against his as he continues to cover your face and neck with kisses.
Your brain is all over the place, eyes heavy and clouded as you try to tell him how much you’ve been wanting him. “I have as well.” You finally whisper.
“How long have you wanted this?” Anthony whispers against your skin.
He groans and stops kissing you when you don’t reply to his question yet. Anthony stares at you, waiting for you to reply. Not realising your eyes were closed, you slowly open your eyes, looking straight into his eyes.
You swallow dry at the intensity behind his eyes, your heart beating madly in your chest. A flare of heat rushes to your cheeks as you decide to tell him the actual truth, too anxious to even try and lie to your husband when he is looking at you like that. Like he’s about to devour you.
“Four years?” you answer, hesitant eyes jumping between his. “Ever since you told me about pleasure in the first place—”
Anthony groans and almost jumps at your lips. Kissing you full of passion, with everything that he can offer. You feel his tongue tracing your lips slowly. Knowing what he wants you open your mouth slightly for him. He slips his tongue past your parted lips and swirls it around yours.
You take all of his passion in, the warmth of his body, him being so close to you. The feel of his rough yet soft hands holding you close to his. You feel so lightheaded as he continues to kiss you.
After some time he slowly pulls away, finally giving you the chance to breathe in some air. Your whole body feels even more hot after the kiss, leaving you needy for his touch once again. You open your eyes as you take him in. His hair is a bit dishevelled from the way your hands were playing and tugging at it. He licks his lips as he gazes into your eyes.
“You’re so beautiful…” he whispers as his eyes travel all over your body. You feel breathless as he continues to look at you, looking at you with so much love and you suppose desire.
He slowly moves to sit next to you, he pats his thigh as he looks at you with a small smile. You blush furiously and your body trembles more as you move your body to sit on his lap. You wrap your legs around him and nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, pecking his neck softly, too shy to look at him. Your heartbeat is beating so fast and your head is swimming. He chuckles as he wraps his arms around you, one hand comes to cradle your head as he presses a soft kiss on the top of your head.
“I would have never thought you'd be this shy.” He says teasingly and you continue to nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck at his words.
He lifts your head with one of his hands and your eyes catch his, his lips finding yours in a deep kiss; not wasting any time with slipping his tongue past your lips. The atmosphere in the room changes within seconds. Anthony is wrapped around you completely, a hand coming to cup one of your breasts, the other holding your ass. You never wanted and desired someone more.
A string of moans are slipping past your lips as Anthony drops his head down to press open mouthed kisses against the skin of your neck. Your hands rest on his stomach against his buttoned shirt, his abs warm underneath your palms. You could feel him grow underneath you, making you whimper against him.
“Anthony—” you gasp after he licks the place he sucked a mark onto your neck.
He moves his head away from your neck, quickly leaning forward to press his lips to yours in a gentle but deep kiss. “Your lips are so heavenly,” he murmurs against your lips.
Your head is clouded with lust and you feel so much love for him. Your brain is quite literally mush and you can’t seem to hear what he says to you.
“Huh?” You whisper dreamily.
Anthony chuckles lightly as he takes in your state.
“I asked,” he whispers as he leans his head back down to your ear, “if I could undress you.”
It takes your brain a moment to wrap around what he’s asking, right now, to you, and when it sinks in you feel yourself heat up even more.
You want him so badly and you’re extremely turned on but you would be lying if you weren’t nervous right now. Everything seems even more real when he asks you that question. Considering that you’re a virgin, you’re very inexperienced and it makes you a bit anxious. You want to be the best lover for him.
Anthony quickly senses your discomfort and pulls his head away from your neck, only to look at you.
You’re biting your lip as you try to look away from his intense but gentle stare. His hands come to cup your cheeks, turning your face towards his once again.
“Princess,” he whispers as he looks at you with so much love and patience. “I know this will be your first time and I promise I’ll be gentle with you. I want to take my time with you tonight and I want to make you feel good.” He says as he holds your face in his hands. Anthony’s fingers caress your cheeks and you slowly close your eyes as you enjoy his touch.
You open your eyes again to look at his eyes. His eyes were filled with lust a couple of minutes ago but now you could see more than that. Love. It makes your heart feel warm as you gaze into his eyes.
You bite your lip nervously once again and you see his eyes move to your lips. You sigh contemplating whether you should tell him about your insecurities or not. Deciding to be honest with him, you speak up finally. “I want this, I want you so bad. You have no idea how much I love and need you. I just…” you sigh as you look down at your hands, “I want to be a good lover to you.”
Anthony looks at you with so much warmth and care that it makes your insides melt. He smiles as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I promise, you’ll always be a good lover to me. You’re literally perfect to me, you’ll always be good enough in every way.”
A soft smile grows on your face at his words and you lean up to kiss him gently. “Okay,” you whisper against his lips.
“Okay… what?” He questions with a playful smile. “I need to hear you say it.”
“I want you to undress me.” You whisper against his lips with a smile as you look deep into his eyes, “I want you.” Seconds later his lips press against yours.
The kiss is like velvet against yours, and there’s still no hurry when he tilts his head a millimeter to fit against you better. His lips are so soft, swollen from all the kisses you’ve shared. All your previous nerves slowly go away as Anthony kisses you so full with love. His mouth moves, delicate and slow. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world.
All you can taste, all you can feel, all you can see, all you can think about is him.
The whine that comes out of you only drives Anthony to seek out more of those sounds, they are potentially the most amazing sounds he’s ever heard. Your arms wrap around his neck, in an attempt to bring him closer to you. Your hips accidentally move against him making him groan against your lips at the action.
Anthony peels his lips off yours, about to say something, when you launch forward, chasing his lips. He groans softly and moves his hand around to hold your face in his hands. He’s trying to pull away, determined to say what he needs to say, but everytime he does he goes back in, like his lips can’t be away from yours for more than a second. After leaving a few short kisses, he pulls back fully, eyes glazed over and lips a little swollen. You’re both taking your time to catch your breaths as you both stare into each other’s eyes.
You try to catch your breath, and when your lips part and you inhale and taste him and only him and nothing but him and the oxygen refilling your lungs. Everything about it makes you drowsy, something sweeps across your bottom lip and your breath turns into a gasp. His tongue wraps itself against yours, hot and slick as he tastes you deeply and what had been a gasp is now a loud embarrassing moan.
The way he kisses you, you are convinced that he’s the best kisser ever. His kisses are so sensual, so passionate and so full of love.
“Lord, I need you so bad baby” he groans against your lips. You shudder against him and feel the sensation pool down low between your thighs. You know your underwear is ruined by now. You’re so wet and turned on. He’ll always be the only one able to do this to you.
“M-more, please please,” you whine against him.
“You know when you beg like this I can’t say no to you, my love.” He says with a big grin.
Fingertips find the hem of your nightgown and you lean back a bit. You raise your arms quickly to help him get rid of your white lacy nightgown.
You don’t know what to do with your hands at all. They’re trembling like crazy, and your core is, too, as he drops the piece of fabric to the floor and leans down to start kissing along the crook of your neck.
His large hands find the curve of your waist where it meets your hips and clutches to it, holding you tight as he works his way with kisses and nips to your shoulders and any skin along the way down to your breasts.
You can feel your heartbeat picking up as his hands reach for your hips, holding them and pressing your body closer to his. His lips move to ghost over your neck, slowly moving below your ear. “You’re so… beautiful” He whispers into your ear.
Immediately, you feel a chill go down your spine, the warm sensation pool down low and more wetness forming between your thighs.
You feel his tongue licking up a stripe of your neck, your eyes are fluttering shut and you tremble against him as a moan escapes your lips. You feel him pull away and you open your eyes slowly seeing him look at you as if he’s trying to hold himself back from jumping you.
His eyes wander all over your chest, you’re bare from the waist up and you can’t help but feel so desired as he looks at you. Feeling your cheeks heat up as he licks his lips as he stares you up and down.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters again in a very raw tone, his voice strained. Anthony breathes in through his nose, you blush harder at that comment and shiver when he exhales warmly through his mouth and onto your nipple. “God. You’re so gorgeous. I can’t get enough of you. Your very being consumes me.”
That’s all you’re given before he wraps her lips around one nipple, teeth just skimming your skin as he sucks passionately.
“My lord” you whimper, nails grabbing at his white shirt or something to cling to, and you feel the warm vibrations of a chuckle against your flesh. His tongue begins licking, long licks with the flat of his tongue over your hard nipple as his other hand goes up to squeeze your other breast.
You whine as your core starts clenching around nothing, begging for attention. Instinctively you start moving your hips against his making him groan against your skin. His lips leave your breast with a wet pop and he looks at you intensely as you try to catch your breath. You’re panting, barely able to think straight as he pushes your hair back and kisses the corner of your lips lovingly.
His lips come to kiss your lips deeply once again. He both rolls you over so that you’re underneath him instead. So lost in the kiss already, you moan as you enjoy his touch on your hips.
“Ah!” You gasp as you feel his head lean down to lick and suck your neck while one of his hands comes to squeeze one of your breasts. You feel yourself aching, the feeling in between your legs feels almost unbearable as you could feel yourself dripping against your underwear.
“So beautiful…” he murmurs as he kisses your chest.
The tone of his voice makes your body feel like it’s blazing—like the fire of a warm fireplace on a cold winter night. It burns, but it warms every single inch of you from the inside out.
“It’s unfair,” you whine as he continues to kiss you.
“What is?” He whispers as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, coaxing a loud moan out of you.
“T-that I’m almost naked and you aren’t…” you whisper as he brings his head up to look at you.
He chuckles before leaning down to kiss your forehead lovingly. “My wife wants to see me naked?” He teases as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.
“Anthony!” You gasp before he leans down to kiss your bare shoulder. “That’s improper!”
“What?” He laughs at your reaction. He shakes his head as he continues to stare at you. “Everything we have done up until now tonight hasn’t been proper.” He whispers as he leans up to brush his nose against yours.
“I’ll ask again, do you want to see me naked?” He smiles as he looks at you.
You pout as your cheeks heat up at his question. “Why do I have to say it? Obviously I want to see you.”
Anthony chuckles before leaning down to peck your lips again. “Wasn’t so hard was it?”
You huff playfully before his hands come to grab yours, moving them towards his chest.
Your hands slip onto his bare chest, pushing the sleeves of his shirt off. His skin is hot, and so firm. He feels like a dream. You feel like you could wake up any moment, as if all of this is a dream. He helps you unbutton his shirt as he stares down at you. It comes off easily and you gape at the artwork that is his chest.
“Oh lord…” you gasp.
He smiles softly as he lets you admire him, enjoying your shameless gaze.
“All of this is for you,” he murmurs gently “and it’ll always be only for you.” He whispers as he takes one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.
Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the action, making you blush even more. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. You love him so much. His mouth is like heaven to you. You’re convinced this is a dream still. He’s everything you could ever ask for. The kiss gets more heated the more you kiss each other. Your hands wander to the back of his head and you pull at his strands softly making him moan into your mouth.
The feel of his desire pressed against your heated skin is heavenly, and you roll your hips up into his to feel some friction against your core. You moan softly against his lips as you rub yourself against him.
He groans as you continue to grind up against him, grasping your hips into his hands to halt your movements. You whine as he pushes your hips gently against the mattress, so desperate to feel him again.
You gasp openly into his mouth, desire growing, and his hand moves down to your heat, into your underwear. His mouth falls from yours to unleash a heavy groan into your neck at the first slip of his fingers between your parted lips.
It's very, very wet; more wet than you'd honestly ever been and certainly more wet than he could've imagined in his wildest dreams.
There’s a smile on Anthony’s face as he slides a finger inside of you, watching the way your body squirms at the sensation.
"You're so wet for me, kitten. I absolutely love it." You whimper at the nickname he gave you and you buck your hips up towards his hand in response, silently begging for more. He notices and slips a second finger in, his pace speeding up with the addition. Your hands clutch the off-white bed sheets as you move along with the pace of his fingers, feeling him both curl them and spread them.
You gasp, his lips make their way to yours, kissing you with everything that he has. "That feels good doesn't it love? You like it when I touch you like this?" Anthony groans and rubs your clit faster. You buck your hips and nod quietly. "Use your words angel," he taunts.
"Yes, yes, oh my god, yes please. yes," you moan loudly.
“Good,” he says, a smug smirk playing on his face. It’s incredible how easy it is for this man above you to turn you on and make a mess of you.
Anthony leans down to trap your lips in another deep kiss. You can feel him smile against your lips as you whimper against his mouth.
You feel your legs spread even more open for him at the feeling of his finger pleasuring you. His tongue slips into your mouth after another gasp falls from your lips. You can’t help but moan and whine as he continues to pleasure you. Your hands wander to the back of his head pulling at hair softly making him moan into your mouth.
“God, I want you so bad.” He groans as his hand shifts, thumb settling against your clit to work it smoothly, and he thrusts another finger inside you slowly, curling his fingers forward with every penetration until your thighs shake.
“You have me, always.” You whimper as your body trembles underneath him. So overwhelmed with the arousal and emotions you’re feeling right now.
His eyes are burning holes into yours, lust and love written all over them. When he fastens his motions inside you, you moan out again and squeeze your eyes shut. That burning intense feeling, a tight coil in your lower abdomen making your back arch beautifully.
“Open your eyes for me my love, please look at me.”
You open your eyes slowly, looking straight into his eyes. His intense gaze is what it takes to make the dam break. The hot feeling spreads all over your body, your body tingling, your hips moving on their own against his hand.
“You’re doing so well for me baby girl,” He says as his fingers slow down, slipping out of you to rub your slit softly, still helping you ride out your orgasm.
As you feel your consciousness finally come back to you, you feel his fingers slip away from your heat. He slowly and gently pulls your underwear off your body leaving you completely bare for him. His eyes can’t seem to stay in one place as he admires how beautiful you are.
Standing up he slowly makes work of the rest of his clothing, leaving him naked in front of you. Your eyes widen as you take him in. You can’t help but wonder if he is going to be able to fit inside you. He’s huge. A chill goes down your spine as he licks his lips while he looks at you. He’s so handsome, his body is truly beautiful.
He slowly moves towards the bed and gently spreads your thighs apart as he fits himself between them. He positions his body against yours, you feel his hand come up to your face to caress your cheek again as you feel one of his hands wander all over your body making you breathless already.
You feel his member momentarily against your wetness which makes you thrust against him.
He pushes your back up against the bed, pressing himself flush against your body. He brings his lips down against your own once again, stealing your breath and making you whine needily in his mouth. He groans in response, his hands slowly drifting down from your waist towards your hips.
“I need you,” you pant against his lips, but Anthony pulls his hips away slightly with a small smirk on his face. “Please…”
You need him so bad. You feel him press kisses all over your face, he starts pressing tender kisses everywhere on your face and body. Panting you feel him slowly go down your body. He momentarily wraps his mouth around one of your nipples and sucks lightly making you arch your body against his. You feel him caress your arms softly, comforting you. Eventually you feel his lips move lower down your body. Littering your body full of love and affection.
You feel yourself dripping down the sheets, whining helplessly. You need him so bad.
He travels all the way down until he is face to face with your heat. Anthony gently spreads your legs further apart for him with his strong hands. You can see his arousal showing in his eyes. Licking his lips he leans down to press a kiss on one of your thighs, so close to where you need him the most.
A loud broken moan leaves your lips as his lips finally meet your wet heat. He dives between your legs, licking a stripe up through your folds and teasingly dipping his tongue into your entrance before he travels up to your clit, spreading your lips with his wet tongue and sucking your button into his mouth.
You practically scream at his actions, arching your back slightly off the bed. You feel your body trembling and you try to grind your wetness slowly against his lips.
Strong arms are locked around your thighs, he secures your hips with his biceps, holding you still despite your attempts to grind your pussy against his lips.
You can feel Anthony chuckle against your heat making you feel even more hot all over. His tongue is lapping at your lower lips. Squeaky, senseless noises come out from your throat. You’re squirming and he just sighs like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather be doing than this right now, eating you out on your shared bed, and it’s so good you can barely even figure out what he’s doing with his tongue.
Anthony moans into you, the vibrations full and hot, and you splutter.
“A-ah t-this is too much” you squeak, your voice sounds strangled and full of desperation. You’re so close to the edge “I c-can’t this is too-too much.”
“Easy my love,” he whispers as he places a soft kiss on your right thigh. Your whole body is trembling from the new sensations he just gave you.
“My lord” you mumble softly.
“It’s okay Y/N, I know, I’ve got you” he coos again, teasing. “It’s a lot. Will you let me continue?”
“Y-yeah, just uh wait a second” you whine.
“Alright.”
But after a couple of seconds waiting it feels too much. It feels like hours are passing by. You’re already tired of waiting and he is, too. When he leans down to dip his tongue between your folds once again.
You sigh at the same time he does, except yours is high-pitched and his sounds so dreamy. Anthony is lapping at you with determination, taking care not to be too rough or too fast this time and push you over the edge only when you’re ready for it.
“Oh, my god,” you whimper, trembling digits sinking into his brown hair and the other against your teeth, trying to silence yourself. “My-my-my gooooohd…”
“I know” he mumbles, his lips sealing around your clit and you almost jump out of your skin at the action. “God- you taste good. You feel so good. You’re everything.”
You’re a mess of his name, you chant his name over and over again. Eyes are squeezing shut to the point of tears, his arms press into your hip bones to pin you in place as you buck into him again, trying to get closer to that feeling of his tongue lapping on your clit and urging him to do more.
“Ah Anthony baby, oh my goooood” you cry out loud. You’re sure the rest of the people in the house have heard you by now. He sucks lazily at your clit while he moves to curl his fingers into you. Anthony eventually sucks harder on your clit, still occasionally swirling his tongue around your little bud while moving his fingers inside you a bit faster. You keep crying out his name between moans as you now hold onto his hair with both of your hands.
You are so so close. Suddenly you feel his fingers retreat from your core and you whine at the loss of his fingers. This makes Anthony chuckle. He leans down again. Slipping his tongue into your entrance, he curls the muscle upward to brush your walls, the sight of your fingers bunching the fabric of the sheets in a tight grip encouraging him to do it again.
You feel so dizzy from his ministrations. Moaning and whining, you writhe underneath him. “Fuck, Anthonyyyy.” You whimper when he begins thrusting his tongue in and out of you just as his fingers had been doing moments before, hips bucking uncontrollably into his mouth as you repeatedly whine his name. You were this close to coming on his face, but your body needed one more little push.
“Come on, kitten, come for me.”
You gasp loudly as you feel your whole body trembling even more and then you feel your body tense as you come against his mouth. Your whole mind feels like exploding and all you can see is stars. You feel so overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure and emotions you were experiencing. Your body is still trembling as you feel yourself come down from your high.
You feel Anthony still licking up your wet heat, his mouth is heavenly. He’s now licking every last remaining wetness coming out of your entrance, moaning at the taste.
You whimper because you feel so overstimulated. You tug at his hair softly trying to signal him that you can’t take it anymore for now.
“Such a good angel,” he whispers as he retreats his mouth from your heat and he wipes your juices off his mouth with a small smile while looking at you “You did so well my love.”
Anthony presses a kiss on your hip bone, then slowly moves his body, finally facing you. You’re still trying to catch your breath, trying to keep your eyes open. He smiles down at you with so much adoration, it makes your insides melt.
He leans down to press kisses down your neck to your shoulders making you giggle as he litters your body full of kisses.
“Make love to me, Anthony,” you sigh, and he groans against your neck. He pulls back just enough to look at you, stroking your hair back from your face as his eyes look deeply into yours.
He surges forward and kisses you so passionately, taking your breath away. You sigh into it, your eyes sliding shut as you bury your fingers in his hair. Anthony groans low, as your fingernails rake against his scalp. You melt into him as his arms hug you closer to him. You moan against his lips as you feel him massage your back and neck just slightly. This gave him the opportunity to swipe his tongue against your bottom lip, slipping it inside your mouth.
You let out more moans and whines against his lips as you both dance your tongues against one another. You whine as he pulls away smiling at you with a tender look in his eyes.
“You know I love you right?” He says as one of his hands reaches to rest against your cheek, stroking your soft skin. You feel yourself melt instantly as you look into his eyes and his soft touch.
“Of course I do, I love you too, so much.” You whisper and smile shyly as you lean up to him and you both meet in a soft kiss. The two of you kiss languidly for a moment, treasuring the heat of each other's bodies as your lips slot together with ease, but soon enough the kisses become deeper, and hands start to grip tighter and legs tangling together.
It's like you're both starved, this insatiable hunger for each other.
You can’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his cock. It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, and he has no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.
“Oh, fuck” Anthony rasps, and it’s because he’s reaching down and grasping himself to line up between your lips and slide. He keeps rubbing the head of his cock from your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you squirm underneath him, and back down. He loves the sounds you make as he spreads his precum around your slit, where you are still dripping for him.
You gasp openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You’re still so so wet. Anthony swallows your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against you. He kisses you full of fervour, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.
You’re trembling against him, full of anticipation. His body covers your whole body with his. You writhe against him, wishing he was just in you already and filling you up and making you see white.
“Are you ready my dearest? Let me know if I start to hurt you or if you want to stop.” He whispers as he looks deep into your eyes.
You bite your lip and nod, too shy and excited to talk.
“I’ll try to go slow at first, okay, angel?” He says before leaning back down to kiss your lips again, he reaches down and grasps himself to line up between your lips and slide. He is rubbing the tip firmly over your swollen clit and your mind is all over the place.
“P-please, Anthony,” you stutter, your body trembling even more “p-put it in, please?”
He rubs himself up and down your slit for a while longer before one of his hands lean down to spread your outer lips sliding his dick teasingly around your core. You arch your back slightly and whine loudly out of frustration.
The moment you want to beg him again to put it in he leans down to line it up with your entrance. Your legs tremble underneath him, a mix of nerves and excitement. Anthony slides in so slowly it’s agonizing. He’s careful, like he’s afraid you might break. You let out a long broken whine as he gradually pushes more of him inside you. He’s so big. He leans down to kiss your lips gently as he moves more inside, hoping the sweetness of the embrace will soften the sting.
Once he’s fully inside you, you sigh against his lips. You feel so full, as if he is made for you, and only you. The feeling of him filling you up so completely has you seeing stars and digging your fingernails into his shoulders.You feel one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them with yours as the other one reaches up to your face.
“You okay?” He asks worriedly.
“Y-yeah, I just need a moment.” You murmur.
“Anything for you, my love.” He smiles as your eyes are drifting close.
You feel yourself gradually adjust to his size and you bite your lip as you open your eyes again to look up at your handsome husband on top of you.
“P-please move.” You beg.
He nods quietly and starts by fucking you slow and deep, one hand reaching down to play with your clit, while the other holds your hand tightly. The sting hurts you for a while, but it easily changes to a more pleasurable feeling as he moves against you. You’re so overstimulated from all your previous orgasms that the sensation he’s giving you is mixed between pain and pleasure.
He grunts as he drops his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin there and to whisper sweet nothings as he sets a pace.
“So tight…” he groans.
The angle is so good, but when his pace picks up he finally leans down to wrap his arms around you, that it makes you gasp and you grab the sheets around you, to fuck you harder and faster.
“You’re taking me so well, kitten. Doing so so, good for me. Y-you’re so perfect.”
You whimper as his lips, move back up to your lips, enveloping them in a passionate kiss.
At a certain point you feel the end of his strokes slide into a pressure point in your core that has you clenching like a vise around his dick. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head from the pleasure he’s giving you. A loud noise like nothing you’ve ever made escapes your throat, a strange cry of his name.
“M-mmhmm fuck! Anthonyyyyy—!”
He leans down to whisper in your ear. “F-fuck you’re so loud for me princess, are you close?”
“Oh my” you moan, hot tears filling the corners of your eyes in pleasure, “I aaaaaam… I t-think so o-oh, fuck please!”
“Look at you, so desperate to come…”
The air is stuffy all around you, each harsh breath released only thickening it up, leaving your skin hot and your mind fuzzy. Another precise thrust has you whimpering, wrapping your legs around his hips, pushing him closer.
His mouth covers your own to swallow your mewls, you can feel the tightness return in your belly, the tight coil that pulls tight, tight, tighter. His lips slide away from yours, wet and swollen and his breathing harsh as he tries to suck in air again, and everything is too much. It’s just too much for you to handle.
He’s quickening his pace, hips snapping to a fast tempo. “This pussy was made for this cock, isn’t it kitten?” His hands can’t get enough of you, sliding around your hips and lower back, wanting to feel all of you, touch you everywhere. You moan at the feeling of his speed, your third orgasm of the night, coming so close. Your arms wrap around him and your nails dig in his back making him groan. The feeling of the coil tightening in your belly, tingling down to your legs, ready to snap any second now.
“Always, so beautiful,” he whispers, cursing under his breath when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “You look so pretty when you’re stretched around my cock, god, bet you look pretty full of my cum too.”
“Please…” you whine as you think about him filling you up and you tighten your walls around him once again. “Yes, yesyes please. Fill me up Anthony… please.”
Those are the golden words he needed to hear, groaning he buries his face into your neck as he fucks into you, making the whole bed rattle, the wooden headboard slamming into the wall.
“Fuuuffuuucck… I’m g-gonna… I-I’m g-gon…na… A-Anthony-y… I-I love you I love you I nneeeeddd yyouhhh h n-nnno I wwaaant mooorrre, I-I’m gonna–”
“Cum for me, pretty. I got you. Show me that I’m the only one who can make you cum like this. Cum all over me, princess.”
You come with a loud cry, your body squirming underneath his as you hold his body closer to yours, your nails digging in his back, scratching it. This orgasm felt more intense than the others, you’re feeling so overwhelmed by the pleasure you’re feeling. Anthony groans in your ear as your walls spasm and pulse around his cock, begging him to cum inside, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised.
“Ah fuck—“ he moans, pushing himself up as he thrusts deeper into you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. “Are you gonna take my cum like a good wife? Let me fill you up until my love is messy, hm?”
You nod vigorously at his words, whining even more at the sensitivity. “Please… please put a baby inside me.”
He groans loudly at your words, he’s a stuttering mess and his hips are jerking wildly without his permission and he’s cumming inside of you deeply. The warmth of his seed fills you up and spreads within you. He looks so beautiful coming undone on top of you.
You’re both trying to catch your breaths as he leans his forehead against yours. Eventually you feel him slowly roll off of you and he lays down next to you while he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. You turn to your side towards him as he pulls you against him, his body hot and slick from sweat.
“I love you so much,” he says, his voice low, with a huge smile on his face.
“I love you too,” you say as you blush at how intensely he looks at you. You’re giggling softly as he wraps his arms around you, holding you impossibly closer to his body.
“You’re everything to me… so perfect.” He whispers as he leans his lips down to yours to kiss you gently.
“You’re everything to me too…” you say against his lips with a smile.
The both of you soon continue to make conversation as you hold onto each other. Laughing and talking until you’re too tired to stay up anymore. The night is filled with touches, kisses and so much love.
——
When you wake up, it’s the morning, light slips through the partially open blinds and warms the room. You feel all hot, Anthony’s body wrapping around you from behind, spooning you, holding you close to him. Your legs are tangled together, and both of you are still naked, laying under the covers.
You feel him nuzzle against you, melting against him, still feeling so hot. Barely awake, you whine as you try to kick the thick cover off of your bare body and you sigh into your pillow. After a few more minutes of unsuccessfully trying to get back to sleep, your eyes slid open only to end up squinting at the offending sunlight.
You close your eyes again and yawn, stretching your limbs and a smile plays on your face once you’re done. At your movements, your husband moves closer, groaning and wrapping his arms around you, tugging you even closer to him until your back is pressed up against his warm chest. You could feel his breath on your neck, soft and slow. His morning wood pressing against your ass and you feel your cheeks heat up at the feeling. Rolling over, you’re met with Anthony’s sleepy face. You smile once again as you take in his soft and peaceful face, you bring one of your hands to trace his lips with your fingertips. Your fingers travel to his messy hair, running your fingers through his hair gently.
Anthony sighs softly before tugging your body closer to his once again. Your eyes start to drift shut again, sleep overtaking you slowly. You feel so content, being able to hold and just enjoy the morning with the love of your life. But before you can fall asleep once again, you feel his lips on your neck.
“Hmmm,” you mumble, still very sleepy. “What are you doing?” You giggle and try to wiggle away from him. His grip tightens around your waist, tugging you closer to his body once again.
Nuzzling his face against your neck, he responds, “You’re so warm and so beautiful...” He says as his fingers trace your back so gently and his fingertips feel so soft against your skin.
You giggle as he continues to kiss your neck, before you know it he reaches back to take the covers and pull them over your bodies. Cuddling you once again while holding your naked body against his.
“Anthony...” Your whines slowly turn into soft moans as he continues to kiss your neck. He’s switching between soft small chaste kisses to wet and deep kisses that you know will leave marks on your skin.
His kisses travel to your jaw, nipping at it gently making you a whimpering mess. He is so warm against you, cocooning you in his arms and making you melt against his touch. You feel more wetness pool down low between your thighs the more he touches and kisses you. Rubbing your legs against each other, to get some friction, you hear Anthony chuckle before one of his hands comes between your thighs, pushing your legs apart for him.
“I can smell how wet you are…” He whispers against your skin making you whine against him.
His mouth moves slowly towards your lips, engulfing your mouth in a deep and slow kiss. Anthony always kisses you like he has all the time in the world. His fingers move from your waist to your upper back, and his skin is so hot and wet against yours and to make things even worse his hands move once again to cup your face gently in his hands, deepening the kiss once again.
You wrap your arms around him as you hold him closer to your body. You feel his dick, so hard against your heat, throbbing against you. Bringing your leg up, you wrap it around his hip, grinding your wetness against him. He groans as he feels your dripping core against him.
“Please… Anthony… I need you.” You whisper against his lips. His fingers tighten against your hips as he grunts at your words. He removes his lips from yours, moving his mouth to your ear.
“How do you want me?” He whispers into your ear, his voice deep. Your body shudders at his words and you whine as you continue to grind against him.
“I-I want you to take me.” You stutter shyly.
“How do you want me to take you?” He groans as his dick slips between your folds. “I have some ideas…”
Your cheeks heat up as he rolls you onto your stomach. He moves himself behind you, pulling your hips up, ass in the air for him. He stares at your wet heat, clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. Your body trembles with anticipation. You’re dripping, so soaked for him.
Seconds later you feel his cock rubbing up and down your slit. You grip the sheets as he circles the tip around your entrance and you whimper as you buck your hips against him, wanting him to fill you up.
He grips your hips, holding you so you don’t make any movements any more. “Bad kitten… so impatient.” Anthony groans when you wiggle for him, spreading your legs a bit more for him exposing more of your pussy.
“I want you so bad…” you whine, your cheeks heat up at your new favourite pet name he has for you. “D-daddy please… fill me up. Make love to me, I want your babies…”
He growls at the word and you’re glad that pulled a reaction out of him. He continues to circle his tip around your entrance, pulling more desperate whimpers from your lips. Wiggling your hips you try to push back against him but the strong hold that he has on you makes it hard for you to move.
A broken gasp leaves your lips as he finally slides the tip inside you. He gradually slides more of his thickness inside you and you tremble more underneath him. The pressure of his massive dick deep within your walls overwhelms you while you clutch the sheets below you in tight fists.
“Fuck kitty,” he groans breathlessly, as his hands trace your body gently. “You’re taking me so well, we’re almost there.”
He thrusts the last parts of himself inside you, filling you up to the brim, you moan as he halts his movements, finally inside you all the way. “Fuck, angel, you look so beautiful like this, so small, taking me all the way underneath me.” He can’t control the words that leave his lips as his hips move, quickly pulling himself out of you making you whine at the empty feeling. “My wife… such a needy kitten.” He groans before he thrusts himself all the way inside your pussy again.
“A-Ah daddy… oh my god—” you hiccup as he moves his hips slowly against you. You cry out as he thrusts so deep inside you that it has your body slumping against the bed. His hands come to move to squeeze the flesh of your ass while he continues to move against you.
You moan loudly, arching your back and pressing your ass up against him, and he grabs your asscheeks, keeping the angle perfect as he starts rolling his hips deeply into you. The noises that are spilling off your lips drive him insane, his dick throbbing inside you as you start to tighten around him. He’s so deep, hitting your cervix repeatedly making your eyes roll back in your head.
“Does my wife love being filled like this?” He moans as he leans down to press kisses against your shoulders.
Your mind goes blank as all you can do is focus on the feel of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrusts deeper inside you, earning whines and moans as you continue to cry out his name. You try to tell him, breathlessly, about how good he is making you feel. The sound of your pleasure fuels his desire to fuck you better, urging him to do more. Anthony picks up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that has your body going numb.
You claw at the sheets, burying your face into the pillow to muffle your screams. The air is all stuffy around you as his hips move faster, whining you try to push back your hips against his to take more of his big cock. He moans at the sight, kneading your ass as he tries to bury himself more inside you, his tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes roll back inside your head once again as you dig your fingers more into the bed, you mewl against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.
“F-fuck fuck fuck, this feels so goooohhhood my lord, p-please more… harder please”
“Yeah? You love being filled with all of my cock don’t you?” He grunts as he slaps your ass once making you cry out in pleasure. Your moans grow louder and louder as well as the sounds of your pussy that keep meeting his dick over and over again. The sounds mix along with your desperate whimpers. “Your pussy is so tight and wet around me, begging me to fill you up in other ways… begging for my seed.”
“God, fuck Anthony, daddy fuck p-pleaaaase I—”
You whine as your eyes roll back inside your head.
“What do you want, kitten?” He groans while one of his hands reach around you to slip against your clit making you writhe against him as he applies pressure. The pleasure has the tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, dying for your release.
“Oh, o-oh m-my… please sir, h-harder, faster p-p-pleaaseee.” You squeak out in between moans. The wet noises of him easing into you over and over has your cheeks burning, realising just how wet and needy you are for him.
He growls, gripping your hips tighter as he picks up his pace once more. Your skin is all sweaty and hot. You try to catch your breath but from how Anthony is trusting inside you and the rubbing against your clit it feels almost impossible to do so.
“Does that feel good princess?” He asks as he leans down his body closer to yours making him hit your cervix repeatedly. You whimper and tremble underneath him as you nod, he moans against your ear as he whispers close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you like it.”
“Yes! I-it feels sooooo gooood, Anthonyyyy—” you whine as he continues to hit your sensitive spots inside you. His fingers press down on your little button making you squirm. The tension continues to build up as the pleasure is becoming too overwhelming. You are crying out for him, your moans almost sounding like his name, and he moves his head down once again and licks your neck.
Anthony snaps his hips into you again and again, thrusting deep, causing you to see stars from knowing just how to pleasure you. Feeling like your head is swimming once again, you whine. “I’m so close, my love, please…” you beg desperately. You only need one more little push, a little bit more attention to reach your peak.
“Come for me kitten…” he whispers against your ear. “Cum around me… let me put my heir inside you.”
His hips never slow down as he massages your clit. The coil finally snaps, pleasure erupts in waves as heat overflows your body as you arch your back. You can’t stop yourself from shaking as you come against him. You almost black out because of the intensity of your orgasm, trembling like crazy. You feel yourself gushing against him, you moan as the overstimulation is getting to you.
“Fuck!” He grunts as he looks at you and feels you squirting all over him. “I wanna fill you up, my love.” His pace is becoming erratic, with less finesse as he charges towards his own finish line. “Going to fuck a baby into you, angel. Get you nice and full…”
Your walls pulse and become tighter around him as he continues to hit your cervix. He groans as his movements become more sloppy. Loud whimpers leave your lips as he finally spills his seed inside you, coating each inch of you with a warmth that pools deep inside you.
Anthony sighs as he finally feels his climax subside. His cock finishes its weak pulses, and he gently pulls out of your spent hole, making you whimper at the loss and he watches his seed drool out of you. Your pussy continues to clench repeatedly and he feels himself harden again at the sight. He wants to take you again but he knows he needs you to recover first.
“Hmmm, I think your little cunt needs to look like this every single day, don’t you?” He whispers with a smile.
You’re still trying to catch your breath as you whine every now and then. He moves off the bed, making his way to the bathroom to get a warm, wet cloth and returns to your legs to clean you carefully. Once he’s done he comes back into bed, wrapping his arms around you instantly.
“You did so well my love,” he whispers as he places soft kisses against your temples. Your cheeks burn at his sweet words. He leans down to capture your lips in another kiss. Kissing each other languidly for a while before you feel him trace your thighs with his fingers. You pull away and you raise your eyebrows at him.
“What?” He chuckles, playing coy and tries not to laugh as you shake your head with amusement.
“I know you want more… I can practically feel how hard you are against me.”
He hums at your words with a smile as his lips move against yours again. “I’ll always want you.”
Heat rises to your cheeks at his words. “Me too…” you whisper shyly.
“I’ve been very nice, very good to you. Maybe you would love to squirt all over me again?” He smiles at you deviously as you gasp, giving him a playful push.
“Anthony!” You squeal before he holds your body close to his, swallowing your noises as he kisses you deeply. Both of your laughs turn into breathy moans as you both continue to touch each other.
As he kisses and touches you again and again, you settle in for a long day, as Anthony intends on wearing you out.
#anthony bridgerton fic#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x female reader#anthony bridgerton smut#anthony bridgerton x you#anthony bridgerton fluff#anthony bridgerton fanfiction#anthony bridgerton#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x female reader#bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x female reader#my writing
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Wrap Me in Your Skin and Bones
NSFW - 18+
Warnings/Tags : Cockwarming, Nightmares, Mentions of Trauma and PTSD, Angst, Comfort, Love Confessions
Relationship: Crosshair/Fem!Reader
Summary: After solitary confinement on Mount Tantiss, Crosshair is plagued by nightmares that lead him to seek comfort in your body.
A/N : Wrote and posted this to AO3 before season 3 but wanted to put it here too 🫡 I just had this angsty lil thing in my head about how a touch starved Cross would deal with physical contact after the empire 🫶 (even though I firmly believe Tech survived the fall - he’s dead for the purpose of this I’m SORRY)
NSFW BELOW THE CUT
The sharp hit to your ribs has you springing into a sitting position, eyes wild and scanning the room for a threat. Muscle memory from years in the war has you reaching for the blaster and pointing it towards various shadows in the room.
You would be a lousy shot with the way your hand shook from the adrenaline in your veins. But, there are no imperial agents hiding in your room, no battle droids under your bed, the source of the attack lays next to you, writhing against imaginary forces in his nightmare.
Crosshair.
Abandoning the blaster on the floor, you work on tearing the bedsheets away from him before he can tangle himself any further in the restrictive fabric. Every muscle in his body seems to be rigid, even once you manage to free him, but he still thrashes, as if fighting against invisible restraints.
The sight of his struggle has your stomach forming knots.
“Crosshair, wake up,” your pleading hands press to his shoulder, thankful that the prominence of his collarbones has eased over the last few weeks, but he’s still nowhere close to as healthy he was the last time you saw him before the war had ended.
Unlike the rest of the batch, you hadn’t seen Crosshair during his time under the empire, and although during his absence you were thankful for it, this only made it worse the day his brothers brought him home.
Crosshair had always been the leanest of them, you had even joked with him on several occasions that he resembled the toothpicks which always hung from his lips, but the breath had been stolen from your body when Echo half-carried him down the walkway. Crosshairs face was almost as hollow as Echo’s had been after Skako Minor, and it was now flecked in silver stubble, with a large scar that stretched across the side of his head where patches of hair were entirely missing.
Just as the pair passed you by, Crosshairs eyes had met your own. You were used to a range of emotions in them, from heated glares and desire filled gazes, occasionally there was even an amused look that framed his eyes with a hint of laughter lines. However, what you didn’t prepare yourself for was for them to be entirely void of any emotion, it was if you were just one of the stone pillars that lined the streets.
After a week in the infirmary, it became evident that Crosshair couldn’t sleep alone. With Hunter preoccupied with Omega, the responsibility fell to Echo the first few nights, he was the closest to understanding Crosshairs situation after all.
On the third day after the rescue, Hunter had told you although Omega was kept somewhat safe with another female clone, they had found Crosshair in solitary confinement. Something deep in your chest broke at the unsaid weight of the information. Despite his aversion to most people, Crosshair had spent years of being in tight living spaces with his brothers, only to be thrown in a cell alone for maker knows how long.
Maybe this was why he gravitated towards you once he was finally in good enough physical condition to be released from the infirmary.
Between Echo’s own complicated relationship with sleep, Wrecker’s inability to not snore and wake everyone in the immediate vicinity, and Hunters responsibility for Omega, it was you who took him in.
If Tech was still here, he would have been the one to stay with Crosshair. You push that thought down, but the pain still resonates in your chest.
You give Crosshair another shake, and the second your other hand presses to the bare skin of his face, his eyes snap open. He lashes out like a snarling animal trapped in a snare, gripping both your wrists and pinning you beneath him with a speed that causes the room to spin around you.
“It’s just me, Cross.” You speak in a hushed tone, attempting to calm him as you fight against his grip.
Reality bleeds into his eyes, momentarily easing his pained expression, but then he’s choking on the air, collapsing onto you.
“I need,” although his face is buried in your neck, you hear the emotion crack his voice, and you already know the broken look that on his face. “Please, I need you.”
“It’s okay, Cross.” You nod and widen your legs, allowing his hips to settle between them. Your bodies act on the familiar routine you had both fallen into over the last few months since he moved into your spare room - which he has still never spent a night in. Crosshairs shakes have already begun to ease with the contact, his hands have at least stilled enough so he can effectively rid you both of the few items of clothing until you were bare against each other.
He coils himself around you at first, as if he were a snake trying to suffocate its prey, but you only wrap your arms around him in return, welcoming his touch. You aren’t certain if it’s the solitary confinement that made him need the contact, or if it’s some lingering effect of the chip, but either way you still offer yourself to him.
Seemingly unable to wait for his heart to settle, he chases the comfort only you can provide, and begins the slow push of himself inside you. Crosshair’s breaths are escaping him in desperate pants and he’s pressing as much of himself to you as possible, seeking the warmth of your body to drive away the sensation of the cold interrogation table that plagued his mind.
The stretch burns with the little preparation you have, and Crosshair senses your silent discomfort. He draws his hips back with a mumbled apology, so only the tip remains inside you, and draws slow circles on your clit with his thumb. It doesn’t take long for the resistance to ease with your wetness, and soon enough he’s rocking back into you with a groan, allowing you time to adjust.
He doesn’t attempt to bring you to the precipice, or anywhere close to it. Once he fully settles into you, his hand withdraws and instead tangles itself in your hair.
Right now Crosshairs need for you isn’t sexual, despite what it seems.
Some nights it will delve into more once his body relaxes, and he’ll take his time to have you come undone beneath him with more care and attention than he had ever possessed before the rise of the empire. But tonight, as he does most nights, he stills once fully seathed inside you, his only desire being your embrace.
“Where was it this time?” Sometimes he would answer, but other times he would give a slight shake to his head in response.
“Barton-4, then the interrogation room.” His voice is strained, and you recall everything he’s already told you about these places, specifically the haunting memory of Mayday’s death.
“You’re safe, we’re both safe, Crosshair.” You press a kiss to his temple as if it would help the promise sink into his mind. One of your hands moves to the back of his head, cradling him against your neck as the other traces patterns on his back.
It takes a few minutes of silence for his breathing to fall in sync with yours, and despite his cock being inside you, the light exhale against your neck has your face heating at the intimacy. His shakes have entirely ceased now, and you think he’s fallen asleep, until you hear the broken whisper.
“I love you.”
Your body freezes at the admission, both hands stopping their comforting movements. His throat bobs against your neck with a dry swallow, and you wonder if it’s his body trying to subconsciously take back the words.
You had been somewhat together during the clone wars, but it was never emotionally intimate. He had a physical need for you in a way that led to fucking you from behind against almost every surface on the marauder. And yet, true to his cold nature he never faced you, or even kissed you. Once he finished, he would neaten his armour and leave without a goodbye, yet you would still allow him back every time he gave the word.
“Crosshair-“ you start, but he’s cutting you off before your mouth can form another syllable.
“I know it’s not the right time to say it, but I do, I always have.” He rasps, trying to force the confession out in one breath, as if ripping the bacta patch off a wound.
Always have?
Your mind begins unravelling years of your self-imposed torture during the clone wars from biting down your feelings, pretending not to care when some pretty girl inevitably threw herself at him in a bar.
“You need to sleep.” He bites out, hurt evident in his tone at your lack of response, but he doesn’t dare peel himself away from you. Despite the hurt seeping into him, he’s too selfish to let you go unless you ask him to leave.
“Crosshair.” There’s no response, but something possesses you to reach out anyways, and you’re pressing your hand to his face, craning your neck to meet his stare. His eyes are open, but still avoid your own.
Your brush your nose against his, and your thumb traces over the sharp angle of his jaw, memorising the way he ever-so-slightly leans into your touch.
“I love you too.”
His eyes close, a shaky breath of relief escaping his lips. Crosshair had never needed a helmet to mask his emotions before his brothers brought him back to Pabu, back to you. His face had always been set in an ever cold smirk, whether it be when he was taunting a reg, on a stealth mission, or when you caught glimpses of him in mirrored surfaces in the marauder as he fucked himself into you. However, at your words, something akin to peace washes over his face, allowing it to morph into a rare expression of something softer, like that of a soldier returning from battle finally setting eyes on his home.
When the morning comes, you half expect the bed to be cold, or at least as cold as it can be in the climate of Pabu, but when the midday sun casts its warming rays over your skin, he’s still inside of you. Slender limbs have tangled with your own and his face is nestled against your neck, but you can tell from his breathing that he’s already awake.
“Stay.” It’s a whispered prayer against your skin, a desperate plea to some deity that seems to have abandoned him long ago in that cell on Mount Tantiss. But you don’t think the gods, the Empire or even the force could keep you apart now, and you don’t want them to. You press your forehead to his, a wordless answer to him that you aren’t going anywhere, that he’ll never have to be alone again.
#tbb crosshair x reader#crosshair x fem!reader#tbb crosshair#crosshair bad batch#clone trooper crosshair#crosshair#crosshair x reader#the bad batch#bad batch
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Dirty Little Secret (1)
Taglist • Ao3 • Social Media • Discord 18+ • Masterlists • Chapter 2 →
↳ 1 | Unholy
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader
Gojo Satoru is many things: family man, politician, someone the public believes they can trust. It’s how he’s gotten where he is in life.
Hidden beneath the façade is a man with many guilty pleasures – you being one of them.
words: 7.3k
cw: explicit drugs use, mention of alcohol, infidelity (not on reader), vaginal fingering, rough sex, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding kink, degradation, dacryphilia, exhibitionism
an: This was just going to be a oneshot based on the song "Unholy" by Sam Smith, but then I had an idea for a small part 2
an2.0: if you would like to read part 2, that one got tagged with a community lable. Please make sure you have those on, this post will tell you how to enable that as well.
His wife probably thought she was the luckiest woman in the world when he got down on one knee, professed his love and said he wanted to spend the rest of his life by her side.
She probably felt even luckier, everything going according to their life plan when she found out she was pregnant with his children, starting a loving family with one of the most prominent politicians Tokyo has to offer.
She’d kick him out if she ever knew the way you stand between his legs, moving your shoulders, chest and hips to the beat of the bass blasting in the club. The way his eyes watch your hands trailing the length of your body before putting his own on your skin.
She’d divorce him on the spot if she knew the way you grind on his hips, the way his fingers caress every inch of your skin when he comes to see you.
She would never let him touch her again if she knew how he touched you, in all the ways she won’t let him do to her, in all the ways he really wants, the ways he enjoys.
Of course you’re aware of the wife - it would be impossible not to be. The picture-perfect family, an ideal trophy wife, two children. That’s his spiel, how he got into office and maintained his position over the years. He’s a father, a family man; understands the struggle and just how hard it is to maintain a happy healthy family - just like the average working person.
A politician you can trust because he’s just like you.
You’ve never seen or met her, steering clear of anything that has to do with Satoru during the day, but from your understanding he spends a lot of time with his kids when he has free time in the mornings and afternoons.
In the evenings he finds himself with you. Long legs spread wide as he sits back on the plush couch, you dropping your hips down onto his, grinding on him until you feel his cock harden from your touch.
It’s a miracle she hasn’t found out about the shit Satoru does behind her back; it’s a miracle nobody has. Sure he tries to be as discreet as possible, entering clubs through the back, paying for private rooms, private dances all the while spending thousands on sex, drugs and alcohol.
That’s how the two of you met. You were on stage, twirling, spinning and sliding your way down and around a pole in the most provocative positions. Satoru walked in with his three best friends; a man with long raven locks, one with a scar over the right side of his lip, and another with several tattoos over his face.
Satoru immediately caught your attention, with his messy hair, white as freshly fallen snow hanging over his eyes, eyes that were covered by dark square sunglasses, shielding them from your view. You watched him lick his lips, talk to your manager and head to a room in the back with his friends.
You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could feel his gaze burning into you with every flip of your hair, shimmy of your waist and hips in his direction.
You didn’t realize who he was at this point, not that it has ever really mattered.
It started with him coming to see you, paying to have you as the lone private dancer - sometimes for just him, sometimes with his friends. He’d tip you an exorbitant amount each time, enough of you to buy the Gucci handbag you’ve had your eye on for some time.
Eventually, when he realized you figured out who he is and weren’t talking about the shit you’ve seen him do, he easily charmed you with his honeyed words and wicked ways, inviting you to continue to the party elsewhere when your performances had ended.
Satoru likes to spend money, always seems to have too much of it, if the tips he leaves you with are anything to judge him by. Always enough to buy the latest Chanel, Louis Vuitton and Versace without batting an eye.
All because you’re so good to him, he says.
He likes to get his hands on the finest white powders money can buy; likes to snort lines off your tits before rolling the remaining into dainty joints for you to smoke; likes to watch you with his own lazy, crooked smile as the smooth burn fills your lungs.
You’re consistent, staying out of his life and daily affairs. It’s part of what he likes so much about you.
You never ask for more, knowing he’s not willing to give it. It’s why he keeps coming back to you, there’s no desire to be a part of the drama that would ensue if anyone outside of his circle of friends ever found out about you.
It’s why you had no problem signing the NDA he presented on your first night out together.
Satoru knows when he needs it, you’ll be there; when he wakes in the morning, you’ll be gone. Not wanting any part of the lives you lead outside of the clubs and hotel rooms you frequently find yourselves in.
The bright lights from the city faded from the rear view mirror some time ago. Things are different tonight, seemingly calmer than you’ve ever experienced before with the man sitting to your right over the year you’ve been seeing each other.
He shifts gears while humming along to the tune playing softly in the background as the two of you sit in a comfortable silence.
The car is extravagant. It suits him and you wouldn’t expect anything less to be honest. It’s the kind of car where the doors open up, rather than out, the leather seats are a dark black while the exterior is a stark white matching his hair.
The small space smells like a mix of his cologne, bergamot and honey, along with the perfume you always put on before going out with him.
This is the longest you’ve ever spent in his vehicle, unless he’s pulled off to the side of the road or in an abandoned parking lot either with you on his lap or spread out in the back seat as he fucks into you.
Satoru hasn’t spoken a lot tonight, just asked if you wanted to hang out after work and ushered you into his car on an empty street like usual. Obviously he’s taking you away tonight but you’re not sure where and trying not to care too much, so you don’t ask.
Doing that would change the aloof nature of your relationship and you’re not ready for any of those dynamics to be different, nor do you think he would be receptive to it.
“I can’t stay long,” he breaks the silence first, pulling into a hotel roughly forty five minutes away on the outskirts of Tokyo, “and I need to be sober. But, you can have fun and I’ll drive you home later.”
Satoru’s never taken you home before, though with his connections and power you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew where you live regardless. When you’ve stayed the night together before, you’re always up early and make sure to leave before he wakes up. Not only because you shouldn’t be with him, but also because you’ve never been one to stick around for awkward morning conversations or expectations.
You nod with a quiet “okay,” while he hands you a basic black face mask while putting on his own. He also takes off his tie, throwing it in his pocket and undoing a few of the top buttons on his shirt before putting on a matching black sock hat to cover his hair.
Stepping out of the car, you adjust your tiny black dress and hair before looping your arm in with Satoru’s making your way into the glamorous hotel, past the concierge and to the elevator.
Even when trying to be discreet, Satoru and his friends can’t help the luxuries they like to surround themselves with. He says he can’t stay and has to be sober, but that didn’t stop any of them from choosing a hotel with chandeliers, gold decor and marble floors covering every inch of the lobby.
When you get to the top floor of the hotel, there are only a few doors in the hall. Satoru knocks on one a few times before it’s quickly opened, allowing the two of you in. The space is more akin to an apartment than a hotel room - a small kitchen off to one side, a large bedroom with its own door separating the space from what serves as the living room.
There are floor to ceiling windows covering every inch of wall space, overlooking the small, lively city below. Chandeliers hang in this room too, the bathroom has similar marble flooring to the lobby with a shower that could easily fit ten, along with a jacuzzi.
Suguru is sitting on a chair reclined back with a woman who could easily be a model on his lap. He has a joint between his fingers, bringing it to his lips and taking a drag before holding it up to hers. She accepts with a grin, hand on his chest while the other fiddles with his hair.
Toji and Sukuna are sitting on a love seat next to Suguru, doing what they always seem to be doing - cutting too many lines of a soft white powder on a mirrored plate with a credit card before rolling one of their bills and inhaling, taking turns.
There are several other women in the room with a few other guys you don’t recognize - they’re all busy grinding to the beat of the music playing, glasses of champagne in their hands.
You never know who Toji and Sukuna are going to have with them - it’s seemingly a new girl each time you’re around. Aside from yourself and the girl on Suguru’s lap you’ve seen a few times, you’re the only constant.
Then again, you don’t know what goes on, on the other nights of the week that Satoru doesn’t come to whisk you away. You’ve never bothered to ask, never wanting to know how many other women he has, just like you, waiting to have his attention for the night.
Toji walks over, the mountain of a man that he is, emerald green eyes gleaming with mischief as he looks you up and down, biting his scarred lip before saying, “lookin’ great, as always.”
You’re smiling, unable to help the blush that creeps onto your cheeks from his intense gaze, but don’t respond because Satoru has moved his hand to your waist, pulling you in closer to him.
“Can you fuck off and leave my girl alone?” Satoru says without a trace of humor and you’re reeling more from his words than you should be.
His girl.
You don’t let yourself think too hard about it. You know what this is, what it always will be.
What it can never be.
You’re shrugging as Satoru pulls you away, moving his hand from your waist down to your ass, grabbing a handful before removing his hand completely, sitting on the couch next to Suguru, across from where Sukuna was before, who is now missing.
Satoru likes it when you wear the things you buy with his money - showing him you appreciate what he’s given you. Every once in a while you’ll buy a new handbag or jewelry to show off but mainly you spend it on little dresses to flaunt around in front of him, something easily accessible and removable, the way he likes it.
Sitting on the couch, resting your head on Satoru’s shoulder listening to the way his voice reverberates through his chest as he talks with Suguru, you absentmindedly draw little shapes on his chest wondering why he brought you with him tonight. The only thing you’ve been doing since you got here is listen to them discuss things you’re not interested in talking or hearing about, things that have to do with their work.
A soft quiet sigh leaves your lips as you watch Suguru pack and roll another joint for himself and his guest. Satoru hears and cocks his head in your direction before capturing your lips with his own quickly.
“You can join them. I’ll take care of you tonight.”
“It’s not fun without you,” you’re running your thumb across his lower lip, wiping away the lipstick that’s smeared on the corner. He grins before biting the tip of your thumb, swirling his tongue around it.
After a few moments, you pull your thumb away and he clicks his tongue before reaching into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and a little clear plastic baggie with a white powder that was embedded deep within, “this would be fun for you. Just need a little.”
Your brows are furrowed; it’s a different soft crystalline powder than you’ve seen him have before, “what is it?”
“A stimulant,” he replies generically, his grin is wide as he puts his wallet back in his pocket. Satoru tells you to take the water bottle that’s on the table beside you and drink it because you’ll want to stay hydrated and then to wet the tip of one of your fingers with your tongue.
You grin, looking up at him through thick lashes before putting your index finger in his mouth. He chuckles before rolling his tongue on it a few times. Listening to his instructions, you dip your finger into the baggie and suck the powder off - it doesn’t taste like anything. All you’re able to taste is the slight spearmint flavor from his spit.
After dipping your finger back into the baggie you hold it up for him. He watches you, eyes dark, stern and unamused. Satoru sees the way your shoulders slump slightly when he doesn’t accept it and the way your lower lips juts out slightly, pouting - it’s barely noticeable, but he sees it.
You’ve never asked for more from him over the last year, and you’ve been so good to him during that time too.
“Fuck, okay, but this is it.”
“Okay.” You reply quietly, the corner of your lip tugging upwards.
The boys continue their conversation and you’re not sure how much time has passed but as you watch Satoru’s sharp jaw as he speaks, the planes of his cheeks and slope of his nose you also realize his pupils have dilated tremendously. They’re more black than blue at this point.
You’ve also noticed you’ve been drawing little circles on the palm of your hand this entire time - the touch of your own skin feels so good that you can’t help but reach for Satoru and run your nails up and down the length of his arm. He tilts his head towards you, smirks and pulls you closer so your legs are resting atop his as he follows suit on your bare legs.
The contact feels incredible, like little tingles of electricity each time his nails run up and down the length of your legs slowly. Every once in a while he moves his hand up your thigh, towards the hem of your dress which makes you gasp, more and more slick pooling in the center of your panties with each pass of his hand.
“So, the wife is finally suspicious about where you go at night, huh?” Suguru asks smoothly as Toji and Sukuna come back over and sit on the small couch across from you.
Sukuna lights another joint, taking a long drag before adding, “everyone is suspicious about what we’re up to. That’s nothing new.”
Satoru sighs before leaning his head against the back of the couch, “just need to make sure nothing gets out. It’ll affect more than just us and our families if it does.”
“Awe,” you coo, “trouble in paradise?”
Satoru is snide with his remark as he glares at you from the corner of his cold blue eyes, “why? Wish I was married to you?”
You grin, leaning up to whisper in his ear, “you wish.”
“What about you?” He asks suddenly, “hiding me from anyone?”
Satoru grabs the little bag of powder and opens it again, so you do the same as you did last time; lick the tip of your index finger, dip it in and place a little on your tongue before doing the same for him.
“Nope, not worth it.”
This is the first time either of you have really acknowledged your lives outside of what you do when you’re together, typically avoiding any and all topics that have to do with personal lives.
Tonight is different and you don’t know why though you’re not exactly putting in any effort to change it.
Satoru has never worried or cared if his friends made a comment about how good you look or showed interest in hooking up with you but tonight he’s more possessive of your interactions. Holding you closer, letting details of his family and day to day life slip in conversation like he never has before.
“This feels so good,” you rasp out, taking in the feeling of his hands moving along your legs and mostly thighs at this point, so you move to straddle him. Satoru runs his large hands up your thighs slowly and under your dress to your ass, gripping hard as you press your body up against his chest, “need you.”
“I can’t tonight,” it’s a whisper filled with desperation because he wants to.
Satoru’s grip on your hips tightens as he lowers you down onto his lap so you can feel just how badly he wants you too. A whimper leaves your lips when he guides you to roll your hips on top of his before moving his hands to the insides of your thighs.
“Fuck, you’re dripping.” He hisses when he feels your arousal running down your leg and quickly loses his resolve, moving your panties to the side and running two fingers through your soaked folds.
It’s easy to forget, with the way he’s easily able to insert two fingers into your pussy and find your sweet spot, that the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room. Foreheads pressed together, mouths agape as you cup his cheek, rutting your hips in time with his hand as he brings you closer and closer to the brink of your release.
Satoru moves a hand from your hip to your throat, squeezing gently at the base while your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure. Each touch, each pass of his fingers on your g-spot is euphoric.
There’s slick coating his hand, up to his wrist - you’re wet, wetter than you ever have before and you’re doing everything in your power to move your hips with his hand so his palm stays tightly pressed against your clit. You’re mewling, whimpering, never wanting this feeling to end, almost ready to beg him to keep you like this forever.
You’re so taken back with each others touch, the way you hold him close, card your fingers through his hair and drag your nails through his undercut; the way your breaths are mingling with one another as you’re so overcome with desire and pleasure you can’t even warn him that the thread barely keeping you together is about to snap before you’re moaning out his name and he’s whispering “fuck, that’s it,” as you absolutely gush on his hand.
Capturing your lips again the kisses are messy and needy until you’re both snapped back to reality by the sounds of Toji laughing, “damn, that was quite the show. You gonna need some help with her?”
Satoru sighs, running his thumb across your lips before moving you off his lap and standing, entwining his fingers with yours, “fuck off, Fushiguro. Find someone your own age to hang out with.”
He leads you out of the room and back down to the lobby of the hotel. You’re sure you’re about to leave for the night, before he lets temptation ruin him but rather than leading you out, he stops at the receptionist's desk, where a young man is standing, asking for a room.
There’s a smile that spreads across your face and you can’t even help it, a feeling of superiority spreading through your body that he’s choosing to spend the night with you, rather than whatever obligation was holding him back earlier.
“Hi,” you smile and wave at the receptionist while biting your lip. His eyes are flicking between you and Satoru as he looks for an open room.
It’s thrilling, being out with Satoru - there’s always that underlying thought, the excitement around potentially getting caught, even though that isn’t something either of you actually want.
Your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest, either because of the reality of the two of you being caught due to a snap decision on his part to stay the night or because of the drugs you took earlier, you’re not sure but you don’t let yourself dwell on it.
Satoru tilts his head in your direction, eyeing you up and down with a frown, “don’t fucking flirt with another man in front of me.”
“Oh, jealousy is not a good look on you.”
Before Satoru is able to reply, the receptionist cuts in, handing Satoru the keycard to a room along with a pamphlet of information about amenities the hotel provides. When the receptionist finishes his spiel Satoru carefully looks him over.
“If anything leaks from here, I’ll know it was from you and I will make your life a living hell. I will take anything and everything you hold dear to your heart and ruin it. You will be nothing but a broken man by the time I’m done with you. Understood?”
The man stands with wide eyes as he replies in a hurried, shaky voice, “o-okay. Understood.”
And then Satoru grins like an angel before pulling you along with him, to take you up to the room and fuck you like the devil he truly is.
He pulls you into the elevator, hiding both of your faces from the camera by pushing you into the wall of the confined space, lips latched while your tongues glide against one another, hips rutting into the other looking for stimulation.
When the elevator dings, he stumbles backwards dragging you along with him, keeping your lips connected until right outside the space where he lifts you, and you wrap your legs around his waist while he pulls the keycard out of his pocket. You busy yourself with kissing along his jaw and neck while he finds the room you were assigned, swiping the card and kicking the door closed once he’s walked through the threshold.
The room is large, and grand but nowhere near as extravagant as the one you were in earlier, not that it really matters considering the only focus is the plush king size mattress he lets you softly fall onto.
Satoru doesn’t waste any time unbuttoning his shirt and slacks, throwing them haphazardly across the room while you slip the dress off, along with your panties, waiting in the center of the bed for him to join you.
And he does, with a salacious grin spread across his face crawling over to you, pushing you further into the mattress while you spread your legs, feeling his long, thick cock press against your soaked entrance.
“Wait, wait,” you gasp out, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his cheek, “condom.”
He stares at you like you’ve just shot him square in the chest before furrowing his brows, “No. We’ll- I’ll- fuck- I’ll pull out, I have to feel you.”
Satoru doesn’t have many rules - first and foremost, above all else, stay out of the limelight and his family's business and do not talk to anyone about the details of your relationship with him without a lawyer present if anyone should find out.
After that it’s simple, really only two other rules to abide by; take your birth control pills on time and wear a condom. And he’s been adamant about that until tonight. He’s always stated he didn’t want to risk getting anything and passing it to his wife because that would be a fucking nightmare to try and explain his way out of, but it would be an even bigger problem if he were to get you pregnant.
All of that seems to be out of the window tonight because he effortlessly pushes in past your entrance. He moans sinfully at the feeling while your eyes roll to the back of your head and arch your back, “you’re so wet, this- oh fuck- fuck, you feel so good.”
“What about your wife?” You manage to gasp out, mouth open, eyes half lidded, nails digging into his shoulder as he moves so painfully slowly that it’s amazing.
The heightened sense of touch, the feeling of him with nothing in between is intoxicating, makes your head a little dizzy, feeling every inch of his length as he pulls out and pushes back in.
“You jealous, baby?” He mutters, eyes hazy with lust, “want me to fuck you the way I do my wife?”
He pulls almost all the way out before snapping his hips back into yours causing you to stutter out, “fuck, n-no, no.”
“Think I’ll leave my wife, leave my family for a stripper?” His cock twitches at his words but he doesn’t move his hips again, doesn’t give you what you need so you wrap your legs around his waist and rock your hips against him the best you’re able, “I’ve fucking thought about it, having you like this every day.”
His large hands span your hips, halting your movements as he sits back up and pulls out to your dismay.
“Beg me.” He demands, running the red tip of his cock across your hypersensitive folds, nudging your clit a few times in the process just to watch the way you squirm below him, “beg me to fuck you.”
He takes a handful of your tits massaging them roughly before leaning down, swirling his tongue on your hardened nipple. He tweaks the other at the same time he tugs the other between his teeth.
“S’toru,” you whine needy and shamelessly, “I- fuck- please, please fuck me. Just- want to feel you, need you, please.”
Satoru watches you through his lashes the way you wriggle and writhe with your nipple tugged gently between his teeth. Cock is straining, leaking precum from the slit on the sheets of the bed - he’s just as needy as you, dying to be touched, to get the stimulation he’s craving just as badly as you but he’s being incredibly patient tonight.
His length is longer, harder and thicker than usual, twitches with your words and every whimper that leaves your lips but he still doesn’t fuck you - he’s waiting. Waiting for you to say he can fuck you, unimpeded and raw.
“Please, Satoru, baby,” tears are forming in the corner of your eyes, threatening to break free if he doesn’t work to extinguish the fire that’s burning in the center of your belly, to give you the release your body is screaming at you to have, “fuck me, please- so hard- always wanted to feel you-”
He can’t hold back anymore, not when you’re laying so pretty on the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks and begging him to give you what he knows only he can. Before you’ve realized what happened, he has you flipped over lining his cock with your entrance before slamming his hips flush with yours.
You cry out his name as he moves his hips with reckless abandon, finally, finally feeding the flames of desire burning in your core. His crystalline eyes are hooded with lust and desire as he grabs your hair at the roots and tugs harshly, other hand on your hip helping keep you in place as he pumps his hips faster and harder.
“You take all of me so fucking well,” he moans, “nobodies ever taken all of me.”
Wet, lewd squelching noises fill the space of the hotel room. You’re so wet from the jolt of electricity that thrums through your body with every touch and every time the tip of his cock grazes your sweet spot, and you’re only getting wetter as he continues to fuck into your rougher and rougher.
You know he’s comparing you to his wife when he babbles aimlessly like this, but you’ve learned to not let it bother you, not to think too much on it. After all, he’s spending his free time with you.
Sex with Satoru has always been good, he always seemed to know what you needed before you did, but tonight is different. Better somehow.
It’s all so much, so euphoric that there’s no way you’re able to hold back your impending orgasm; unable to help the way your thighs shake when the tip of his length kisses your cervix so deliciously you know it’ll ache in the morning.
The moment Satoru drapes his body over yours, fingers drawing small tight circles on your clit is the moment the flames erupt, warmth and pleasure coursing through your veins as your walls spasm and constrict around his cock so hard he has to slow his pace and take a deep shaky breath in order to not follow along right beside you.
He lets go of your hair, kissing your shoulders and center of your back several times before sitting back on the balls of his feet before taking both of your wrists in one of his large hands and holding them behind your back.
Satoru moves his hips slowly a few times before pulling you up so your back is flush with his chest.
“Like it when I fuck you like the filthy slut you are?”
He doesn’t give you a chance to reply before hooking his fingers in your mouth turning your attention to him. Your tongue immediately finds his fingers, swirling over them as you look up to him, eyes so dark and filled with lust you can barely see any of the color anymore. He lets a tail of saliva fall from his mouth into yours and you moan the moment it hits your tongue, eyes rolling to the back of your head.
He lets go of your wrist, splaying one hand over your stomach to feel the bulge from his cock each time he recklessly fucks into you, while the other finds its way to your breast, squeezing and gripping as he looses himself to pleasure inside of you.
There’s a mirror across from you, above the dresser in front of the bed - Satoru’s cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink, down his neck to the top of his chest. Lips parted with eyes on you as he watches and listens to the way you moan and whine from each stroke of his long cock.
“Satoru, cum in me,” his hips falter at your words, “fill me up, please.”
“Baby, I can’t.” But he absolutely wants to.
He pushes you back down on the bed, hand in the center of your back keeping your face pressed against the silky sheets. He takes the opportunity to grip your ass and spread your cheeks, watching the way you take all of him down the base without complaint. He lets his spit fall from his mouth, and watches the way you jolt when it makes contact with your other entrance unexpectedly and slides down to his cock, mixing with your arousal.
Satoru feels the way your pussy has a death grip on his cock again, knows you’re about to cum and he can’t bring himself to pull out. Not when you look and sound so pretty for him, not when you were literally begging for him to cum inside you earlier.
“Fuck, I’m gonna-” he’s moaning at the thought, getting lost inside you, “I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you so fucking full of me.”
His words are enough to set you off, having your pussy tightening around him like a noose as he paints your walls white, letting out a guttural groan as he rocks his hips back and forth, working you both through your releases.
There’s so much dripping out from between where you’re connected that his efforts to keep it all inside are fruitless. The view is absolutely obscene, cum mixed together and dripping onto the bed sheets below, the sounds are vulgar but it doesn’t stop him from fucking it deep and deeper inside, rolling his neck and head back through the hypersensitivity of his his tip.
Eventually he rolls you over onto your back, both panting, trying to catch your breaths. He’s still half hard, both hissing at the sensation when he runs his cock up through your puffy folds, dragging his wet, heavy cock on your stomach when he leans up and places several languid kisses to the center of your chest.
He licks a strip from your chest to jaw before sucking several small red starbursts on your neck, shoulder and down to your tits. Your nails are on his shoulder and back digging into his skin - he groans, loves the feeling, the sharp to dull pain that comes with it.
There’s been an unspoken rule between the two of you, no marks. Not on him at least. It’s more important his body be free from any unknown scratches and little red marks, should the press decide to have a field day seeing them and decide to investigate.
“Love leaving marks on you,” he whispers, voice low, gravely with desire again. “Everyone knows you belong to someone else, don’t they?”
“Yes,” you breathe.
“Tell me baby, who do you belong to?”
“You. Satoru, I’m yours.” You answer a little too honestly, holding his face a little too lovingly. He groans at the confirmation, knows he shouldn’t have made you say it but couldn’t resist hearing it.
You place several kisses on his lips and cheek. Everything is getting progressively sloppier, starting to come down from your respective highs. Satoru’s eyes are half lidded, not only from lust but from a tiredness that’s starting to seep through.
He returns the kisses languidly before you kiss along his jaw, sucking a small spot just under his jaw, nipping at the skin playfully a few times in the process. He doesn’t stop you because he knows that despite not being able to give you all of himself, he’s yours too.
Probably even more than he’s his wifes.
Slowly, he presses his tip against your entrance again, easily slipping past the ring of muscles while you wrap your legs around his waist. He hooks one of his arms under your knee, pushing it up so he’s able to get deeper.
Satoru fucks into you hard and fast like this. It’s messy, wet and sticky with your mixed arousal and cum connecting the two of you. Slick wet sounds fill the room again until you’re both on the brink of another imminent release.
“Think I might fucking love you.” He admits, voice low, filled with lust.
You want to say it back, but you know it’s not true, the shit he says when he’s buried ten inches deep in your cunt, cock bruising your cervix as he fucks into you.
“You’re so wet, already so full of me,” he moans at the thought of cumming inside you again. “G-gonna give you a baby, gonna give you part of me.”
“S’toru,” you gasp at his lust filled desires and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want that too so you move your hips up wantonly, eagerly, “yes, please.”
It’s a bad fucking idea, to let him say these things, to agree with him. But you let him move your knees back to your shoulders, holding the heels of your feet for leverage as he presses his hips into you until you’re both cumming again.
He collapses on top of you, heavy breaths fanning your ear. You lay like this, chests rising and falling against one another until you’re overcome by sleep.
There’s light peeking in through semi-closed curtains, a beam of light hitting your face at the perfect angle, right into your eye. Knitting your brows together, you stifle a yawn before stretching out, feeling a warm body pressed into yours.
Your eyes flutter open, focusing on the dim light of the hotel room. It’s the same as it was last night, pristine, perfect. All except the sheets and blankets that are askew on the bed from your passion filled night.
The silky white sheet is covering most of you, but only on Satoru up to his hips. He must have gotten hot last night, threw everything off him in his sleep.
Looking up to him, his eyes are still closed, eyes moving slightly behind his lids. Soft white lashes flutter slightly with each movement while his arm that’s wrapped around your waist twitches slightly.
Your naked body is pressed against him, skin to skin. One leg is tangled between his while one hand is on his chest.
You let yourself take in the sight, not something you allow yourself to do frequently, but last night was indulgent, so this morning might as well be too. Satoru looks peaceful when he’s asleep. He’s always so calm and collected when you’re with him but never quite like this.
Truly without a care in the world with his eyes closed. No stress about someone finding out about you, exposing his lies and his secret life.
You stay like this for too long, watching him sleep, letting your index finger run along the scar on his chest. He says your name quietly, and you smile, just slightly at the thought of him dreaming about you.
You’re still high, you can tell, feeling light and airy and great about everything, but you know better than to let it last. You’ll be coming down again soon and everything will feel mundane, pointless, bothersome.
So you go to move, push yourself away from him to do your normal routine of getting ready for the day, pretending you were never here with him. His grip around your waist tightens, halting your movements.
“Stay…” Satoru whispers so quietly it’s barely audible.
Pursing your lips you look up at him, eyes still closed, no identifying feature signifying he’s woken up and is really, truly asking you to stay by his side, despite all the shit that would come along with it.
Your heart is beating fast, irregular, but you’re sure it’s from the stimulant. It has to be. Any other reason would be less than ideal.
After all, he probably thinks you’re his wife right now. Laying next to him, snuggled in close like she probably is every other day of the week.
You let out a single low wry chuckle at the morbid thought, licking your lips and shaking your head and whispering, “that’s not a good idea.”
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down and you mentally kick yourself for leaving the incredibly obvious fucking hickey just below his jaw. Satoru’s grip loosens just enough for you to wriggle out of his grasp.
Something you quickly learned after getting involved with Satoru is to have a bag packed at all times. That way in the mornings you can shower, removing the sweat and scents of not only the alcohol or drugs but also his cologne from your skin. It’s important to make it appear like you were never with him, to never leave in the same clothes you’ve arrived in.
After showering, you do your normal daily routine. Moisturizers, hair products, make up. You bring it all and you do it all - it would be no different if you were sitting at home, getting ready for your day.
That’s all this is, isn’t it? Just a routine. Meet a man, party, have mind blowing sex, act as if you’ve never met each other afterwards. Over and over again.
When you step back into the living space of the room, Satoru is no longer lying on his back, but rather his stomach, face buried into the pillow you used last night. His own overnight back is open, evident he had rifled through it for some reason when you were in the shower before climbing back into the bed, ignoring your presence.
Sitting on top is a black Versace sweatshirt. Looking back over to him, he’s unmoving aside from his back raising and falling slightly with each breath. Pursing your lips you quickly decide to grab it out of his bag and throw it into yours.
It’ll smell like him, even if only for a few days.
Picking up your garments from last night, you throw them into your bag before pulling out oversized sunglasses to hide your obviously still blown pupils and throw them on before turning the knob of the door to exit the room.
You don’t bother turning around, checking to see if Satoru watched you walk out. There’s no point. You know he didn’t. This is all routine.
After ensuring the door closes completely, you take a few steps down the hall while the elevator dings and a woman steps out of it.
She’s tall, in a pressed black pencil skirt and blazer. She looks classy with the way her ebony hair falls over her shoulders in soft curls.
She heads down the direction you’re coming from. Neither of you acknowledge the other as you pass by, on your own separate missions. Your breathing picks up, and the air feels tense after noticing the scowl spread across her features. And you all but jump at the sound of her banging on the room door you just walked out of moments prior.
You press the button to the elevator a few times, palms growing more clammy by the second, afraid the two of you might have been caught, that the boy from the front desk didn’t heed Satoru’s warning.
You watch from the corner of your eye as Satoru groggily opens the door, complaining about the loud sound. At least he had enough sense to put on a shirt beforehand, hiding the marks you left across his chest and back.
“You missed our counseling appointment. Is this some kind of joke to you?”
He’s quiet for a moment, eyes adjusting to the bright light of the hall and you could swear his eyes flicker to you for a split second before finally speaking.
“No, of course not. I went out with the guys last night and lost track of time. You know how it is.”
“All too well.”
She pushes past him into the room and you know he didn’t have enough time to do any clean up of his own, that the room still reeks of alcohol, sweat and sex. And if she even bothers to look around, he’ll have to explain why the shower is wet from having been used when he clearly hasn’t washed up.
“Good lord. What have you been doing here? And what is on your neck?”
His hand goes to his jaw instinctively to try to hide the mark you left last night, “uh, cigarette burn. The guys were messing around last night and I got mixed up in the fray.”
He doesn’t seem to be too worried about his wife’s line of questioning because he looks over to you, just as the elevator dings, giving you a smirk.
You watch him from the corner of your eye, biting your lip as you return the sly smile, stepping into the elevator once the doors open knowing he can’t and won’t stay away from you for long.
Taglist: @petalsrdead @sofiaconlaz @lovelylashawnalee @s-witch-bitch @watyousayin
#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x reader#violetsaffronfic#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#jjk x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojou satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo x you#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#oneshot#unholy#dirty little secret#DLS
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hello, my beloved whump community. this is Emmett. but you probably know me better as this blog:
or you may remember the blog before that:
you may have even been here since this blog:
...i'm not taking you farther than that. xD
my account was terminated without any warning today. March 25, 2024. all of my blogs are gone and i have lost everything i have on them. you won't even be able to see any comments or reblogs for me on any of your posts.
if you have commissioned me over Tumblr DMs and not Discord, please contact me here. i did not have a copy of my commission list saved. i do not know who hasn't paid and who already has. i do not remember who was on the list. i do not want anyone to be cheated out of their money.
i have no idea why this happened. i was not doing anything that could justify my account being terminated with no warning or explanation. i'm so paranoid about it that i won't even type the blog names; that's why they're images instead.
but at this point, most of you know the type of whump creator i am. one who creates whatever he wants, no matter how disturbing or explicit it may be. one who loves creating whump and content in general of the Not Safe For This Website kind.
getting one of my blogs flagged, and now losing everything, is not going to stop me. i'm not going anywhere. but i am going to be changing my approach to posting content.
this is my Language Key. i will be using a system of emojis for tagging instead of words, so please read this before you go on my blog and know which tags you need to block.
if you need to block my blog for any reason, go ahead. i don't want to disturb anyone by showing up in the tags.
all of my artwork that is Not Safe For This Website will be linked to an external storage website, MEGA. it is completely free to view and you do not need an account. there will be no cropped previews unless they are 100% Safe For This Website.
all of my writing that is Not Safe For This Website will be linked directly to where i post it on my AO3. it is completely free to view and you do not need an account. there will be no writing put under a read more unless it is 100% Safe For This Website.
trust me, i'll have a better pinned post up at some point explaining who i am and my multiverse of AUs, series, and OCs, and links to my commission page, and my Ko-Fi...and i'll do my best to finish the masterlists and, once again, build myself up from the ground up...
but i'm exhausted. i never saw this coming, and it's made me realize just how unsafe i am. i lost so much content that was only posted on Tumblr and not saved anywhere else.
believe me when i say that i am fucking devastated.
but i'm not going anywhere. i will die with this site when it eventually goes down, and not because it tried to kill me.
that being said, you can find me here on Cohost, which is where i'll migrate to when this place dies or where i'll communicate if i happen to get IP address banned (probably without warning) or something that prevents me from coming back.
if you don't want to refollow me here, i totally understand. i can't say how grateful i am to everyone who does, but like...i get it. it's tedious having to refollow me all the time, never knowing when a blog (or full ass account) is going to suddenly disappear. if you want to get off this crazy, unpredictable ride now, i don't blame you.
and if you decide to stick around, for however long, thank you. this day has been one of my worst nightmares and i don't think i would be handling this with nearly as much grace if it were not for my friends and everyone on my Discord server (which, by the way, is the only safe place where i share everything uncensored).
they were my first line of communication. they helped me get the word out. they rallied for me and kept me from having one massive breakdown over this, so my heartfelt thanks go out to them.
i'm using the whump community tags in hopes that more people will see this. i had hundreds of followers on my last blog, more than a thousand on the blog before that...i know this isn't going to reach everyone, but i hope it will reach some people.
thank you so much for reblogging this to help spread the word if you do. and thank you for reading. ❤️
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more stobin nonsense from your resident trash goblin. feat. shitty harrington parents, lavender marriage, full party found family shenanigans, steddie flirting, steve&will bonding, and a severe lack of dialogue tags
rating: t
wc: 5k
ao3
“I knew it!”
Steve sighs. Listen, he knew the minute he opened his mouth that this was coming. There was always a zero percent chance Dustin was ever gonna let him get out the whole thing before bursting in with this exact interruption, but that doesn’t make it less annoying. If the little shithead would just let him finish--
"I knew you were perfect together, I can't believe you didn't tell us you were dating! How long have you been a thing? I have money to collect! Can I be your best man? Never mind, obviously I'm gonna be your best man. You so owe me for not telling me sooner! I cannot believe-"
"Henderson!"
"What?"
"We're not together like that."
In fairness, Dustin is not the only one to give them an incredulous look for that one.
"Steve. You literally just announced you and Robin are getting married. What is even the point of pretending you're not in love anymore? What are you still trying to prove? Just admit I was right the whole time!"
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and forces himself to take a deep breath, instead of wringing Dustin's weird little boneless neck. It's not his fault, he reminds himself. They haven't gotten to the second part of the announcement, so his assumptions are natural.
Now, it is Henderson's fault that they haven't managed to say the rest of what they came here to say, so maybe he can keep blaming him after all.
"Do you remember when we sat down and we asked you guys to let us say everything we were gonna say without interrupting?"
"Uh, yeah dude, it was like ten minutes ago. We're not stupid."
"Has it occurred to you that maybe we weren't done saying everything we were gonna say, considering I was halfway through a sentence when you jumped in?"
"I mean, I guess, but like, it's pretty obvious where you're going with this, Steve. You're not a complicated guy, no offense. Now, where did we land on the best man issue?"
Nancy must see the offense very much taken on his face, because before he can open his mouth and say something probably horrifically rude that would feel amazing in the moment and which he would immediately regret, she jumps to his rescue.
"Dustin, you're being very rude. Steve and Robin came here to talk to us, and we promised to listen. Let them finish."
It's nice of her to back Steve up, considering how weird this conversation must be for her. Hopefully it gets less awkward soon.
Henderson grumbles mutinously, but years of dealing with first Mike and then the rest of the little dickheads have left Nancy's control ironclad, and he waves sarcastically for Steve to continue.
This kid is spending too much time with Eddie, the attitude is getting out of hand.
"Right. Thanks, Nance. As I was saying, Robin and I are getting married, yes. But not because we're in love. I mean, I love her, obviously, but as a friend. Only a friend. Or, well, I guess a friend and soon a...friend...wife? Frife? Wend? You guys get it."
"We very much don't." Alright, well, fine, add Max to the shitlist.
He looks over at Robin, hoping for help, but she's stiff as a board and trembling all over.
He doesn't want to be the one to say the words for her. They agreed together to tell everyone the truth, it was her idea even, but the last thing he wants to do is steal that moment from her.
Maybe he can just…talk around it, until she feels up to it. And if not, he’ll just tell them his part of it and call it good.
“We’re getting lavender married.”
Okay, so that’s probably not like. A normal way to say that or whatever. Robin just used that term like fifty times last night, alright? She was really excited about the article she just read about it, something about how it was a thing in, like, olden times or whatever, and now it’s coming back because Reagan is a fucking tool, Steve’s not sure, he was only kind of listening. Regardless, now it’s stuck in his head. Sue him or whatever, geez.
Anyway, he isn’t sure how many people in this room will actually understand what that means, but Nancy’s mouth drops open in a perfect little O the way it only does when she’s genuinely surprised by something, and there’s a tiny gasp from over by the table that he thinks might have come from Will, and Max mutters to herself “Oh shit, that explains so much,” so it’s not none of them, which helps. No pitchforks yet, at least.
Jonathan is eyeing him speculatively, and Argyle is offering him an enthusiastic thumbs up, which is nice.
Unfortunately, the other boys and El are giving him blank, expectant stares, and Erica is eyeing him with both confusion and annoyance, so it looks like he still has some explaining to do.
“What the hell does your color scheme have to do with this? I’m not helping plan the wedding, dude, I don’t care that much.”
Steve mumbles a “Language,” on reflex, but his heart isn’t in it. This is somehow more nerve-wracking than evil Russians.
“Mike, that’s not what it means. Now shut up and listen, or I’ll tell Mom how that red sock ended up in her load of white delicates.”
“Oh come on, she’ll kill me!” When all he gets in return is a single raised eyebrow, he groans and slumps further into his seat, glaring at Steve.
“Right. Okay. So basically, last night, my parents--”
“I’m a lesbian!”
There’s a beat of dead silence, which in this group is more unsettling than just about anything else.
Steve keeps his eyes on Robin, who looks just about as shocked at her own outburst as everyone else in the room. He takes her hand, squeezing gently until she unfreezes a little and looks back over at him. She looks terrified, and it breaks his heart a little.
“You okay, babe?” He keeps his voice low, murmuring just loud enough for her to hear. He knows this moment is the opposite of private, but she needs him to pretend for a second, so that’s what he’s gonna do.
She nods, a little jerkily, but she grips his hand back and intentionally evens out her breathing. She’s so fucking brave. He would burn the world down for Robin Buckley, and he doesn’t care who knows it.
He can’t believe she’s willing to do this for him, but he’s so grateful he feels like he’s choking on it.
“Henderdork will literally never shut up and let you live it down if we do this and he doesn’t know the truth. Not even for a single second for the rest of forever, and I, for one, am not putting up with that shit until death or legal marriage reforms do us part, Dingus.”
It was a solid point last night when they came up with the plan, curled on her bed while she stroked his hair and generously pretended he hadn’t soaked the shoulder of her shirt with his sobs, all his worldly possessions packed into a duffel on her bedroom floor, but he knows her insistence was more about knowing how much he hates lying to the kids than it was about protecting herself from irritating teenagers.
He doesn’t think there’s enough room on the whole planet to hold all the love he feels for her, even if you count the Upside Down and any other weirdo dimensions floating around out there waiting to ruin his day.
“I’m okay, bubba. Don’t let go?” Her hand is shaking in his, but he just squeezes harder.
“Never.” He turns back to the room, eyes hard as he scans the faces of their family for any hostility. He wouldn’t have agreed to this part of the plan if he thought any of them would be a problem, but he’s not taking anything for granted with Robbie’s safety. Not now, not ever. "Everyone's gonna be cool about that, right?"
"Of course we are, right, guys?" From the pained grunt that follows her words, Steve assumes Max has dug her elbow into Mike's ribs.
"Yeah, sure, whatever."
"I suppose this makes you slightly less lame, Buckley. It's definitely better than when I thought you liked this loser." Wow, okay, thank you Erica.
"Yeah totally! Thanks for trusting us, Robin." Lucas is a sweetheart, he really is. He's also glancing surreptitiously at Will while he nods enthusiastically, who is still staring open-mouthed at Robin with wide, shiny eyes.
"Yes, thank you for trusting us, Robin." Nancy is smiling kindly, but she's got that glint in her eye that Steve knows means she just came up with more questions and is waiting for the right moment to strike. Fair enough, at least she's letting Robs have her moment first.
He finally drags his eyes back to Dustin, who he doesn't really want to admit, even to himself, he's a little worried about. Not that he'll be shitty about it, necessarily, but there's nothing that brings out Henderson's bitchy side like being wrong, and he's been so fucking wrong this entire time. It's bound to upset him.
And maybe Steve will never say this out loud where the other kids might hear, but the truth is that Dustin's opinion matters to him more than just about everyone else's. Dustin was the first person in the whole world who saw Steve, the real Steve, and decided he was worth keeping around. If Henderson can't accept this part of Robin, it means he can't accept this part of Steve, and if that happens...if that happens Steve isn't sure he'll be able to come back from it.
So he's...not worried, okay? Worried is not the right word. Anxious, maybe. Concerned.
Okay fine fuck off he's worried.
Dustin...looks like he's about to cry. Shit.
"Did you think you couldn't trust me?" His voice is so small. Steve doesn't think he's ever heard it so small. It feels wrong. Henderson's voice should fill every room he's in, always. "You didn't have to lie. You could have told me the truth."
Aw, fuck.
"Buddy,--"
"It's not that simple, little man."
Steve whips back around to look at Robin. Are you sure you’re up for this? She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. Yeah, Dingus, this is my mess. Let me clean it up. Put the lance down, White Knight. Well, alright then. He waves for her to continue, ignoring the looks the others always shoot them when they do their silent conversation thing. Not his fault they can’t read each other as well, it’s not like it’s hard.
"Before today, Steve was the only person in the world who knew about me. And honestly, I don't know if I would have told him if we weren't both coming off torture and truth serum. I've worked hard to hide it my whole life, baby Dingus, that's not an easy thing to stop doing. It's scary."
"But we're your friends. We're your family! We saved the world together! You should trust your family, right?"
Aw, jeez. Steve forgets, sometimes, how young they are. They've been through horrific supernatural trauma, but they're still the kind of kids who think life is a story with a happy ending, like their little dragon game.
"Yeah, bud, you should, but it's not always that easy. There can be really serious consequences for telling the wrong person. Like, last night my parents found out I'm bisexual by accident and now I...well. Now I don't have parents anymore." Oof, okay, little blunter than he meant to be, but Robbie's getting anxious again so he has to take the focus back.
There's an eruption of sound, as every voice in the Party starts shouting all at once, turning the Wheeler's basement into Steve's own personal migraine generator.
"Did they kick you out?"
"You're bisexual?!"
"What's bisexual?"
"They can't just do that!"
"Does this mean we have to find somewhere else for Hellfire nights?"
That last one earns Erica several Looks, but she doesn't flinch. "What? I'm just being practical."
He wishes Eddie was here. The gremlins actually listen to him, unlike Steve, on account of as their Hellfire DM, he has leverage they care about to threaten them with. Well, most of them, but it's definitely a help when he's around.
Sadly he and Wayne are at some kind of Munson family reunion down in West Virginia this week, so Steve is gonna have to do this whole spiel over again when he gets back. He and Robin thought about waiting until he got back and the whole Party could be together, but the kids would definitely notice him not living in Loch Nora anymore pretty much immediately. And Steve hates the idea of telling him over the phone, so double coming out/engagement announcement it is.
"Alright, Jesus Christ, enough! One at a goddamn time, you animals."
He looks back at Dustin, who's definitely crying now. "Yeah, buddy, they kicked me out, but I'm okay. I'm staying with the Buckleys for now, and Rob and I have been saving up to move in together soon anyway, so all this did is move up our timeline. I'm safe and I'm fine, okay? I promise."
Dustin plasters himself to Steve's front, squeezing like he's worried Steve is going to shatter into pieces and he can hold him together by sheer force of will. It's very sweet, even if it's crushing his lungs a little.
"I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me." The words are muffled in Steve's chest, he's not sure anyone else heard him.
"Aw, kid, it's okay. I trust you, alright? Always. You die, I die, remember? I was just...figuring my shit out, that's all."
"Your parents are mouthbreathers." Steve chuckles a little at the mutinous glare on El's face, not pausing his hand where he's stroking Dustin's hair.
"You're not wrong, Supergirl. But it's fine, honestly. They've always been dicks, I've been planning to move out for a long time. They just...gave me the final push, is all." He's definitely leaving out the part where he broke down sobbing in Robbie's bed last night, asking her over and over why he was so broken that his own parents couldn't love him, but the kids don't need to hear that part of the story.
"Does this have something to do with your whirlwind engagement?" There she is, ace reporter Nancy Wheeler. Observant as always.
"Yeah, pretty much. They disinherited me, but they're still legally my next of kin."
"And Dingus has had far too much head trauma for me to trust he's not gonna end up back in the hospital for something at some point, and the last thing we need is Mr. and Mrs. von Child Neglect getting that call. And I was just reading about gay men and women who are marrying each other so they can have someone allowed in to see in them in the hospital, because of the virus, you know? And I thought, hey that's not a half bad idea! We're gonna be living together anyway, and it's not like I'm marrying anyone else, and it'll be good for both of us to have someone who knows about, y'know, monsters and all that jazz, to do our power of attorney stuff, so, voila! Mr. and Mrs. Bucklington!"
"We are not changing our name to Bucklington."
"Well Harringley is worse, so suck it up, buttercup."
"I'm not interested in keeping the Harrington name, Bobs, I'd rather just be a Buckley."
"Aw, bubba, you're gonna make me cry!"
"You should both become Hendersons! Then we'd really be brothers!"
Steve erupts into laughter, the tension effectively broken by Dustin's wide, toothy grin. "What d'ya say, Bobbie? Steve and Robin Henderson?"
"Would we get access to Claudia's lasagna recipe? Because if so, I'm behind this plan one hundred percent.”
"By 'we' you do mean me, right? Because I love you more than life, Bobs, but I'm not letting you anywhere near a casserole dish. I've learned that lesson."
"It was one time!"
"It took me three days to get all the cheese off the ceiling! There's still a stain!"
"Well good! Ceiling grease stains can be the Harrington's problem now, anyway. They deserve it!"
Argyle is nodding sagely from on top of the incredibly deflated bean bag he's sharing with Jonathan. "I do like Bucklington, it makes you sound like a fancy butler. But family is important, brochachos, and so is lasagna. I vote Henderson."
This spurs impassioned arguments from all corners, which Steve is more than happy to relax into the couch cushions and let wash over him.
There's a light, bubbly feeling in his chest. For the first time since his dad walked in unannounced yesterday, interrupting his phone call with Robin at the worst possible moment, the knot of fear and grief in his stomach starts to loosen.
Robin smiles at him, and he grins helplessly back. Who needs parents when he's got a soulmate? They're together, they're safe, they're surrounded by their family. Steve holds Dustin tighter to his side and lets himself feel loved.
He takes advantage of a lull in the Last Name Wars to get out the last of the speech he'd planned. "Anyway, we decided to tell all of you the truth when we came up with this plan last night, because we do trust you and we didn't want to lie to you, and also because we knew you shitheads would never shut up about us being in love if we didn't and that sounded awful."
He laughs delightedly at the chorus of indignant outbursts this gets him before continuing.
"It's really important that you don't tell anyone outside the Party the truth, alright? We're gonna tell Eddie when he gets back, and we might tell Joyce and Hop eventually, but that needs to be our choice to do. You can't do it for us, and you absolutely can't tell anyone else. The whole point of this is to keep us safe by keeping people from finding out the truth, okay?"
El looks vaguely uncomfortable, but not upset. "Will you tell my Dad soon?"
Steve glances at Robbie, who's looking anxious again, and then over at Will. His shoulders are tense, hunched up around his ears, and he's staring intently at the table in front of him.
Steve isn't sure if anyone else knows what he thinks he knows about Will, but he's pretty sure he recognizes the specific flavor of isolation he can see Will struggling with sometimes, and he's definitely sure he recognizes the looks Will shoots at Mike whenever Wheeler isn't looking. Tommy used to look at him like that.
Either way, he knows the kind of fear the kid must be suffering, just like he knows how terrifying today was for Robin. For Steve, the worst case scenario has already happened, so he has a lot less left to lose. He can afford to smooth the way a little, to test the waters and make sure they're safe for everyone else.
It's not that different from his normal role in this group anyway, just a different kind of monster. He's always been good at taking hits so the others don't have to-- this is just another threat to step in front of.
"Tell you what, Ellie, I'll talk to Hop and Joyce this weekend, that way you won't have to keep secrets from him for too long. I'll just tell him about me, though, at first, okay? That way we'll know if it's safe for Robbie." Or anyone else, he doesn't say.
Jonathan hears it, at the very least, and shoots him a look that's equal parts surprised and grateful. Maybe Will has someone else in his corner after all, then.
El nods happily, satisfied with that.
Before anyone else can jump in, there's a clattering on the basement stairs. None of them have time to tense up too badly before the door bursts open and Eddie comes tumbling through it in a flurry of dark curls and frayed denim.
"Fear not, my wayward wastrels, for I have returned from far off lands, bearing tidings and the promise of libations!"
Steve only recognizes, like, four of those words, but seeing Eddie gives him the same happy, fizzy feeling in his gut that it always does these days, so he grins.
"You're back early, Eds, everything ok?"
Eddie blinks at him, then around the room, looking surprised to see it so packed.
"Yeah, my cousin Clarence accidentally broke my MeeMaw's pasture fencing and set all the goats loose in the hills, and if we stuck around we were gonna have to help round them back up, so Wayne and I snuck out early. I was coming to invite the gremlins out for pizza to tell you all about it, but this is more people than I was expecting. Y'all having a family meeting? Without little old moi?"
Steve valiantly suppresses the shiver that the twang in Eddie's voice triggers. Steve's not sure if Eddie notices the way his accent gets stronger when he's been talking to family, but he's had to work very hard to make sure he doesn't notice the way it affects Steve.
Steve has barely tested the flirting waters with Eddie since admitting his crush to Robin, he's definitely not jumping right in with 'It makes me tingly all over when you start talking with a drawl, wanna call me darlin' and see what happens?'
Luckily Bobbie notices his inner struggle and comes to his rescue.
"It was kind of a time sensitive issue- not a life or death one! Or like. Not a monster one, anyway. But shit went down last night and we needed to brief everyone before the geek squad figured out something was funky and came beating down the door. Steve wanted to tell you in person so we were gonna wait til you got back, but here you are!"
Eddie's looking at Robin with an amused smile on his face, one eyebrow raised and his lips quirked in a lopsided grin that is, frankly, unreasonably attractive. "Here I am indeed, my fair Lady of Feathers. So what's the scoop?"
He plops down next to Jonathan and Argyle on the beanbags, nearly sending them all toppling before Argyle hooks both of them around the waists and drags them practically into his lap.
Steve is not seething with jealousy. He's not.
A half a dozen voices chime out all at once.
"Robin's gay!"
"Steve's homeless."
"Robin and Steve are getting married!"
“Purple married.”
“It’s lavender, dummy.”
“Lavender’s a kind of purple!”
"They're gonna be Hendersons!"
"No they aren't, weirdo, they're gonna be Buckleys."
"Bucklington is clearly the superior choice, even if Argyle was right about the butler thing."
“Bucklington my ass, y’all dumb as hell if you think Mom and Dad aren’t gonna try and make him a Sinclair after this.”
"Mama and Papa Harrington didn't like that Stevie boy has double the love to give. Totally bogus. Bi bros for life, man."
"I still call Steve's best man!"
Eddie blinks a little when everyone quiets down, looking vaguely shellshocked. "That was. A lot of information to get in thirty seconds."
And, listen, Steve is like, 97% sure Eddie's cool. More than cool, even. He moves that bandana to the same pocket every time he changes his jeans, no matter what outfit he's wearing. There's no way that's an accident. But if Steve is being totally honest, which he's trying to do more these days, at least inside his own brain, this is maybe not the way he'd have chosen to come out to his crush. It's somehow way more nerve-wracking when he didn't even get to say it himself.
Oh well, it's out there now. It's fine, probably.
Still, there’s a definite feeling of relief when Eddie turns that megawatt grin on him again.
"Man, I wish I'd known there were other queers in Hawkins, I might have listened sooner when Henderson told me how cool you guys were!"
Steve laughs, only a little hysterically. "Dude, if you thought you were the only one, what the hell have you been wearing that hanky for? Who are you hoping will see it?"
It's a little gratifying to see Eddie go flaming tomato red in seconds. "I am not talking about that in mixed company, Steven. There are children here!"
"Ugh, we're literally teenagers."
"Tiny baby infants! If you're so curious, you can ask me again later."
"Promise?" Steve can't stop himself from grinning wolfishly.
Eddie tugs his hair in front of his face to hide, and the frantic little giggle and the quiet "Oh my god," he lets out both sound more than a little strangled. Steve's having the time of his life right now.
"Gross." Ugh, rude. He glares at Robin for ruining his fun. She sticks her tongue out at him.
Before they can devolve into the inevitable slapfight, Nancy cuts in again.
"Alright, unless anyone else has anything to share in private, I think we should take Eddie's suggestion and get something to eat." Good thinking, Nance. "To celebrate the happy couple, of course," she adds with a smirk. Yeah, that makes more sense.
"Onward then, my noble companions, to pizza and to paradise!" Eddie vaults off the beanbag, sending Jonathan and Argyle tumbling. Argyle laughs and accepts Eddie's hand up, while Jonathan just rolls his eyes good-naturedly.
Eddie slings an arm around Robin's shoulders as they head for the basement door. "So, Birdie, what's this I hear about a wedding? I need context."
As the kids go thundering up the stairs, arguing about who gets to drive in which car, Steve lingers. He noticed Will hanging back from the others, and now they're the last ones left, Will still slowly packing up the pens and notebooks he seems to carry around with him everywhere. Jonathan is hovering anxiously in the doorway, so Steve sends him a nod and waves him off. He's got this.
"You ready to go, kid?"
Will fidgets with the zipper on his bag for another few seconds before looking up at Steve through his, frankly tragic, fringe. "I'm sorry your parents suck."
"Yeah, man, me too." Steve shoots him a wry little smile. "It's alright though, sometimes we're better off without them. I've got plenty of family here that love me, I'll survive without Richard and Diane."
Will studies him for a minute. Steve's not sure what he's looking for, but he hopes he finds it.
"That's what Jonathan says about Lonnie." Steve nods, trying not to wince at the memory of the things he spat at Jonathan that day in '83 when everything changed. "I used to think it was my fault he left, but Jonathan says he was just a bastard, and it's better he's gone anyway."
"I didn't know Lonnie," he's careful not to say your dad, "but from what I've heard, Jonathan's probably right. And he's definitely right that it's not your fault."
"Like it's not your fault your parents kicked you out?"
"Yeah, exactly like that. If it was my fault, that would mean I did something wrong. The only thing I did was exist, and be different than they thought I would be. If they can't love the kid they had, then they shouldn't have had a kid at all. That's their problem, not mine. There's nothing wrong with me."
It doesn't matter if he heard all of these things from Robin first, if he's still trying to learn to believe them. Will needs to hear them like they're true, the same way Steve does.
"Are you sure?" Will's voice is trembling now. He's looking at the floor, but Steve can tell there are tears coming. "How can you be sure this is how you're supposed to be? Wouldn't you rather be normal?"
Oh, kid. "I mean, yeah, maybe it would be easier if I only liked girls, but I don't. I tried for a long time to pretend that I did, but it didn't make it true. And yeah, part of me wants to hate myself, because that's what they taught me to think, and I still kinda wish doing that would make them love me, but it won't. But honestly, you wanna know the biggest thing?" Will nods.
"I can't hate that part of myself without hating Robin, and there's no universe where I could hate Robin. Robin's perfect. She's the best person in the world, and she's gay, so being gay can't be bad. It's impossible. So whenever that voice in my head starts saying shitty things to me, I just think about how much I love Robin and tell it to shut up."
There's a beat where Will seems to be absorbing this.
"How did you know it would be safe? To tell us the truth?"
"I didn't."
Will stares at him in shock.
"Not a hundred percent, anyway. I was pretty sure, but it's never a guarantee with stuff like this, you know? But the other option was never telling anyone, and that...it gets tiring, you know? Always having to hide. Always having to check yourself. Lying when people ask the wrong questions. It wears you down. And I've fought monsters with you guys. I've been tortured by spies with you guys. If I can't trust this group to have my back, I can't trust anyone, can I? And I didn't want to live a life of not trusting anyone. I didn't want Bobbie to live a life like that. So, we took a chance. And it paid off, because all of you are the people we thought you were, and we were right to trust you. But it was a leap of faith, dude. It always is."
"What if I'm not ready?" Fucking shit, this kid. He's been through more than any of them, except maybe El, and he's still so goddamn brave. Steve would have crumpled like a tin can in his place.
"Then you're not ready. It's not a test, Will. There's no right or wrong answers. But I will say that every single person out there loves you, and they'll keep loving you no matter what you do. They're not like my parents, or Lonnie. Our friends aren't broken inside the way they are. Their love isn't conditional. You won't chase them away. You couldn't if you tried."
Will lets out a shaky breath, clearly fighting back tears. Steve leans against the table and keeps his head down, offering the kid the illusion of privacy while he pulls himself together. After a few minutes he speaks up again.
"You ready to go, you think?"
Will nods. He goes to walk past Steve to the stairs before hesitating and, to Steve's surprise, wrapping his gangly arms around him in an awkward hug.
"Thanks, Steve," he mumbles into Steve's shoulder.
Steve runs a hand down his back uncertainly. "Anytime, kid."
He keeps his arm around Will's shoulders tentative, but when the kid doesn't shrug him off or move away, he lets it settle more firmly, tugging him closer.
“Come on Baby Byers, let's go get some pizza. You think I can milk the disownment thing to get Eddie to pay for extra toppings?"
Will snorts. "I think Eddie would pay for as many toppings as you want as long as you do that little eyelash thing at him again."
Steve throws his head back and laughs, long and loud from his belly. Yeah, it's gonna be a good night.
my head hurts too much to keep writing this but please know that the pizza parlor engagement party involves plenty of arguing about roles in the wedding party, resulting in MOH erica/best man dustin (scoops troop babeyy), flower girl team lumax (max demanded the role bc her wheelchair means she can carry extra baskets of petals, and lucas will be pushing the chair so her hands are free. he's just excited to be there.) nancy/el bridesmaids and byler groomsmen (mike grumbles and groans but he's secretly thrilled). jonathan does the pictures and it turns out argyle got ordained back in cali as a joke so he officiates. eddie plays crimson and clover for robin’s wedding march. there’s a bit of a kerfuffle when claudia and the sinclairs both try to claim steve as their son, but after someone makes the argument that charles and sue have two kids to carry their name while claudia only has one, they end up hyphenating and becoming the buckley-hendersons. yes, claudia cries. yes, they get the lasagna recipe.
(at the pizza place, eddie asks what his role will be and steve says he doesn't know yet, but he'll save him a dance regardless. eddie has to hide in the bathroom to stop blushing.)
#stranger things#steve harrington#robin buckley#platonic stobin#dustin henderson#will byers#eddie munson#appalachian eddie munson#the party#not tagging everyone bc i don't want to clog character tags but the gang's all here#inklings of steddie#for what it’s worth i’m firmly in the camp of ‘will is out to el so she knows about gay people’#the stobin lavender marriage fic#almost#the pre-stobin lavender marriage fic is more accurate#this is mostly a coming out to the party fic#idk i had fun with it#but my head hurts and tags are hard#happy reading i'm going to sleep#my writing
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Observation Duty
Pairing(s): Price x fem!Reader
Warnings: Manipulation, stalking, monitoring and surveillance, obsessive behaviour, non-consensual voyeurism, non-consensual mutual masturbation, non-consensual recording and photos
Wordcount: 3.2k
Summary: John isn't quite the captain everyone thinks he is, but he knows just how to act like it. No one would ever believe the things he does behind closed doors.
AO3 Link: Right here! <3
A/N: PLEASE LOOK AT THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ MORE! This is the first part of what should be two chapters, because I can't stop starting things without finishing them <3
If I miss any tags you think should be there, please let me know!
Full fic under the cut <3
John’s line of work has taught him that people are so, so easy to play with. Know the right person, the right place. Know what to say, who to say it to.
Keeping you safe, under his ever-observant eye, is easy in the barracks and on the field. You don’t make a single move he doesn’t see or hasn’t approved. But when you go home, away from him and his control, he just can’t help but worry. Are you safe, alone in that big, empty house? What do you get up to? Are you eating and drinking? Taking care of yourself? Who do you see? Do you invite anyone around? The idea of another man in your home makes him shudder, and in your bedroom isn’t something he even entertains. John needs to do something about it.
He’s been thinking for a while. Some way to watch you, every waking moment. A permanent eye on the wall. He knows your address; it’s right there in your files. There isn’t a single legal document or piece of information about you that he can’t obtain if he wants to. Every place you’ve lived, your parents, extended family, even your friendship circles. Your school results, community hobbies, bank purchases, every doctors trip – especially your birth control and fertility, he paid very close attention to those details. He knows how to play you; he listens to your grumbling, observes what makes you happy. Notices the moments where you’re less resistant, records what makes you flare up in defensiveness or fury. John is a well-educated man, one who could’ve been a scholar in another life, and he’s decided his favourite topic to study is you.
--- ︻デ═一 ---
“Remember to fill out your forms, lads. New policies coverin’ house insurance and maintenance, let me know if y’need any fixin’ at home.” He hands out the papers, carefully keeping yours separate without being too obvious. Soap’s head bobs up, glancing at you and taking the bait John has set out perfectly. “Oi bonnie, weren’t ye chattin’ ‘bout fixin’ a light o’ somethin’?”
Your face lights up at the mention, a bashful smile gracing your lips, and John would be mad that it’s not in his direction if he wasn’t so satisfied with himself. “I can’t believe you remembered that, yeah! I was going to wait until I got home.”
Gaz hums, hunched over his own form as he signs it. “Maybe Ghost can buy a piece of furniture this year.” His sentence is rewarded with a pen smacking into the side of his head, bouncing off him and onto the table as Ghost snorts in amusement, answering gruffly. “Fuck off, Garrick.”
It never goes wrong, but he still feels smug at how effortless it is to orchestrate an entire conversation before it starts. Getting your signature is as easy as an extra sheet, you can’t even tell the difference. No one reads terms and conditions, and he’s made extra sure you don’t - a couple of edited test forms a few months ago - to rule out the chance.
With the paperwork completed, he contacts the company and gives them a boring, digestible cover story. “Yeah, her husband. Installing cameras, yeah. Keepin’ it safe while we’re both on deployment. Just a light out the back to fix, cameras to install in and outside.”
They’re so quick to listen to the man playing the big, strong head of the house, not a single question about why everything but the payment would be in his ‘wife’s’ name instead. Lying, John finds, is easiest when others do the work for you; give vague details that seem right, and let them come to their own little conclusions. Let them assume you’re some kind of military wife who doddles along behind him, just an obedient little civilian pet while he organises the household. If only they knew what you were and what you did, he thinks. Though still, an obedient little pet is how he would like you. It just takes time to get there.
They come over and install the cameras in less than a week. John’s antsy the day he gets the call that they finished, waiting for it to be over so he can experiment with his new toy. He ignores the questioning looks from his inferiors as he dismisses his last evening meeting early, pushing out the door into the stream of soldiers heading for dinner, only departing from the pack when he reaches his office door.
John prepared a room for this in advance – the moment he set the plan in motion. A room at home, his central control that he could run unmanned and long-distance, circumnavigating his occupancy at the base. It’s almost undetectable; no pesky windows to peek in from the outside, entry hidden behind a locked door in his office. The numerous screens flicker to life, illuminating the room in a blue glow. The cameras are perfect; detailed quality, blur-less zoom. Every angle. It quickly becomes his favourite room to be in, despite only being in it once when he headed home to initially set everything up.
At the base, all he needs is an electronic device and an app to access the command. His favourite to use is his phone, flicking through each screen to take in the rooms, committing each detail and decoration to heart. Though to keep up all professional appearances, he often settles for his laptop, flicking between reports and gazing at the screens with every spare second. John takes the weeks leading up to break to memorise your house, seeing each room flickering on the back of his eyelids as lies in bed, tracing each path you’d take morning and night until he falls asleep.
He protects it. Types your address into his maps app, virtually scouting the neighbourhood to make sense of all your outside cameras, memorising every surrounding street. Plans escape routes, recording positions of defence and any weak spots he could reinforce, windows or vents that are just too easy to wrench open by perverse men like him. Within a month, he knows your house plan like his own; enough to contemplate how he would reorganise it if you wanted him to move in, how many little ones it could hold, tiny feet pattering up and down its hallways.
--- ︻デ═一 ---
When the last week before leave finally comes around, he’s beyond ecstatic. John is a carefully controlled slate around anyone else, but his boys know each twitch of his eyebrow and quirk of his lip. They clue you in to his unusually excited behaviour with teasing jokes and remarks that have him rolling his eyes, gruffly ordering them back to work. Soap is betting on a secret missus, making a point to sneak up behind Price when Soap catches him texting away on his phone.
When he finally arrives home, he’s delighted to see your house is still empty. It gives him time to unpack, running loads of laundry and showering. He keeps an eye on his phone, monitoring the screens until he finishes, bringing a cup of coffee and dinner to his little surveillance room.
The screens fill the wall, a 3x3 set-up that basks the room in a pale glow, yet still isn’t enough to display every camera hidden around your house. Everything is silent, the occasional rumble of a car getting his hopes up, but nothing happens until a few sips of his coffee and an article later. Movement from one of the screen catches his attention, his head straightening to watch your front door swing open.
A bag is the first thing that comes through the door, flung down the hallway with a dull thud. Your figure follows it in, heaving another heavy bag behind you. John frowns at the sight, mindlessly tutting as he crosses his arms. He could be there to do that for you. None of this silly straining yourself.
Leaning back and settling in, he watches how you unravel from your long absence. It pleases him that you’re practical in your return, taking the time to wash your laundry, circulate and dispel all the stagnant air (although Price dislikes seeing your windows open, so unattended), and give the place a general tidy up. There’s a ping from your phone a few times that puts John on edge. Who’s texting you already, when you’ve been back for less than a day? His prominent guess is family and close friends, excited to have their beloved child home and safe, but he can’t help from worrying that he’s wrong. Maybe you’re so pent up that you just can’t help it, using those silly dating apps you talk about with Gaz, eager for someone to unravel all that need within you. Maybe it’s an old friends-with-benefits situation you already have that’s eager to climb back in your bed. Maybe – maybe he should bug your devices.
His deliberations are disrupted as you reward your productivity with what Price thinks to be a party in your bathroom. The small haven of what should be privacy isn’t free from his omniscient gaze, either. He doesn’t care if it’s disgusting; there are no boundaries to him. There isn’t a single side of you he doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to know.
The music comes through his speakers, some songs he recognises from the long travels spent in transport together. Melodies echo through your room as steam slowly gathers, whisps streaming in and out of his lens view as water slowly fills the bath. You trail from the room, meandering down the hall and grabbing some snacks from the kitchen, filling a glass with a carbonated drink you grab from the fridge. Snug in the corner above the entryway, paired neatly with the fire alarm, his camera catches the way you bend yourself over the counter, distracted by scrolling through some app.
He feels himself throb at the sight, fumbling to take a screenshot of the image. You tease him, staying bent like that as you wait for the bath, your ass swaying occasionally when a trendy song hums from your phone. Disappointment washes through him when you stand up, though he basks in the sight of your stomach peaking from under your shirt as you stretch, but his excitement is quickly renewed when you gather your snacks and head back to the bathroom.
The room has filled with a thick fog that blooms out into the hallway as you open the door. It clouds his vision, leaving him cursing for not considering the possibility. Your darkened figure is hardly visible as you move throughout the room, but from the soft, metallic clicks and flickering of light, he assumes you’re lighting something. Two lights blossom in front of you, remaining behind you as you crouch at the bath and start flicking the lighter again. The cloud has dispersed enough to let John see the fuzzy details of your face, watching as you bring a third candle to your face, inhaling with a hum of delight before you light the flame and return it to the bath’s edge. You strew the candles about the room, leaving a large one to glow on your vanity and putting the other one on your closed toilet lid.
You fiddle with the taps – running cold water, he guesses – and sit on the floor, sorting your snacks onto a long tray as the last of the mist spills from the room. He’s been lucky this time; had you not been treating yourself, taking the time to create a small sanctuary, the fog would’ve concealed any chance of John seeing you at such a vulnerable time. A flaw within his system that requires refinement. Perhaps a flaw he can turn into an excuse to visit you.
His thoughts fall flat when you stand up, slotting the tray into its position over the bath and silencing the taps with a few sharp turns. Finally. The point he’s been anticipating.
The captain waits with bated breath, eager to salivate over his uninvited striptease. It’s far from the first time he’s seen you undress, though it’s the first time you’ve been so beautifully unaware. Close proximity (and the resulting lack of privacy) is just another test of comradery – he’s showered next to you in just underwear and ripped your shirt or pants off to treat a stab wound more times than he can count.
But this time you undress, you don’t stop at your underwear.
There’s no to palaver or parade to your performance – there’s no real performance, just a one-sided show, and that alone has John’s cock aching. Capturing you without filter, pretences or social expectations, no song and dance of captain and soldier. You’re clumsy pulling off your underwear, catching the elastic on your toes and throwing it haphazardly onto the floor with the rest of your clothes through curses and grumbles. Inspecting yourself in the mirror, catching up on each new scar and burn, bending over and peering around to see the state of your backside and between your thighs. This is a side of you he can never glimpse on base, despite all his attempts.
The buzz of your phone distracts you, straightening up with a right, okay! and grabbing the small device, unlocking it to peer at the content as you gingerly slide a foot into the hot, soapy water. Bit by bit, you emerge yourself within the sudsy liquid, minding the tray as you let out an audible groan. John watches you melt into the bubbles, arms resting along the tub as your head falls back.
For a while, the two of you remain like that; John sat comfortably in his chair, ignoring the heat flickering in his lower stomach as he works through some papers, keeping an eye on your relaxed form as you decompress within the hot, sudsy water, picking at the tray of food and drink. His attention slips as the minutes go by, becoming more focused on his work – pushing the aching need between his legs further to the side - as he checks the screen every ten minutes.
The swishing of water becomes a tranquil ambience as you scrub at yourself, low voices from your phone that John doesn’t currently care to make out keeping you entertained through the process. You luxuriate in the tub for much longer than the barrack would ever allow, taking your time to scrub the build-up of product and dead skin that you give little concern during deployment.
A paper absorbs his attention, keeping his eyes occupied as he grumbles through writing. His concentration is only torn away as he finishes scribbling his signature, a sharp, unexpected moan filling his ears that has him looking up so fast his neck cricks. Scanning the screen, he quickly determines that it’s not coming from you – rather, your phone, and is now accompanied by a deep, masculine groan.
Your expression is clear on his screen, a flush to your cheeks as you gaze at your device, hand running along your chest teasingly to tug at a nipple. Whether it’s from the pornographic material playing on your phone or the heat of the water, John can’t tell.
The tent of his pants is already insufferably tight, and he swears there’ll be a zipper print against the red of his aching cock when he pulls it out. He wants to relish this, commit each moment of this first time to memory without the taint of his lust, but he can’t help the growing need between his legs. Ignoring it to finish paperwork, merely bask in the company of your unwinding routine, has been a challenge even for his steeled resolve.
As he watches your hand trail down the soft pudge of your torso, dipping into the bubbly water to follow the rise and dip of your stomach, he breaks. His cock springs out of his briefs like it’s gasping for air, bouncing angrily against his stomach with each haphazard tug at the elastic around his hips. He can only imagine how your fingers work between your legs at that sensitive skin, how you orchestrate your undoing.
The tray holds your phone conveniently, allowing both hands to roam your body, and John thanks his luck for at least the opportunity to watch you pinch and roll your nipples between your fingers. You tug at the sensitive buds with whimpered moans, water sloshing as your hips buck against your hand, teasing John with actions that he can’t see.
He’s damp to the touch as he grips his shaft, fingers immediately sticky with precum that’s been smeared throughout his briefs. Pearlescent beads drool from his tip in a lazy stream, lubricating his motions as he tugs lightly at his foreskin, already teetering the edge of climax. The slightest stimulation has his stomach tightening, listening to your gasps and whines grow in urgency.
You chase your orgasm eagerly, working with a pent up need that comes from the absence of full privacy within the miliary. Convulsions rack through you in synchronisation, moans combining in a harmony he wishes wasn’t separated by the screen. He wants to time it perfectly; fuck up into his fist and release as you reach your own peak, as if a flawless synchronisation is key to unlocking some phantom sensation of being buried between your thighs, clenched down around him.
It doesn’t take much more teasing before you catch up, your tiles wet as water breaches the rim with each careless thrust. The video in front of you has ended, long forgotten as your head lulls back, lost in the sensations that envelope your consciousness that prove to be too much. They push you over the edge with a ragged cry, your knees peaking from the water as your thighs clench around your hand, and John loses himself too.
All it takes it a few weak thrusts into his hand before his balls are tightening, seed spilling in enthusiastic spurts, striping his shirt and pants before it dies down to a dribble that John coaxes out with a groan. He sits there, watching your breathing even out as you wipe away at your mess, spent and catching his breath as the cum dries on his clothes. You’re quick in cleaning up the mess, pulling yourself up on unsteady limbs as you pull the plug, bending down to rinse your hands one last time for John to relish.
He's almost heartbroken when you step out the tub, droplets cascading down to drip from your form, only to reach for a towel to wrap around yourself. The fabric is a slim cover, leaving glimpses of your behind and chest as you dry yourself, humming a tune with a note of content John wishes he brought instead. John tucks himself back into the soiled briefs, shucking off his shirt and pants to wash momentarily, but not before he glimpses you one last time getting changed.
Before you can reach for the underwear placed in advance on the sink and discard your towel, the camera barely picks up the vibration of your phone, catching both his and your attention. Leaning over to the tray, your process is halted by a text on your screen that makes you smile, and whether it’s the drunken, post-orgasmic haze that clouds his mind, or the way it makes him more vulnerable to the surge of jealousy that flares up at your giggle, John finds himself fumbling through the lockscreen and pulling up your contact before he can stop himself.
If you’re not going to think about him during your masturbation, he’s sure as hell going to make sure you think of him after.
Dividers by cafekitsune
#READ THE WARNINGS ON THIS ONE BABIES!!!!#price x reader#john price x reader#price x you#john price x you#call of duty fic#call of duty fanfic#jams writings#cw: noncon#cw: dubcon
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