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mellowsadistic · 3 months

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The Succubus - Valentine's Day

A sequel to The Succubus.

***

“Good morning, little cucky,” the monster cooed, peering over the bars of the crib. “Happy Valentine’s Day! Could you hear the grown-ups having their fun earlier, sweetie? I hope we didn’t wake you…”

Debbie glowered at her, all too aware of how ridiculous she must look trying to be intimidating with a pacifier bobbing in her mouth, lying at the bottom of an oversized crib beneath a set of Disney princess bedsheets. Her eyes were red, and there were tears drying on her cheeks as well. She had indeed woken up to the loud sounds of lovemaking coming from her former bedroom.

The Succubus laughed. “Oh dear! Someone’s a very grumpy girl today! Looks like we did wake you after all, huh? I guess you’ll just have to have an extra-long nap this afternoon to make up for it. But right now it’s time to get you up and dressed, little one!” She flung back the princess covers to reveal Debbie’s body, nude but for the thick disposable diaper around her waist.

Debbie slipped out of her crib, her nappy sagging heavily between her legs as she got to her feet. Her bottom lip trembled behind her soother. She’d woken up wet again.

The Succubus reached out, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and put her hand on Debbie’s crotch. Debbie could feel the cold, soggy padding pressing against her pussy. “That’s my little bedwetter,” said the Succubus softly. She slipped a finger past the leak guards, her eyes not leaving Debbie’s face. “Soaked again... Mummy’s poor widdle baby just can’t contwol herself, can she?” Then she spun her around and pulled out the back of her diaper. “But you’re still not pooping at night.” She turned her back around, smiling horribly. “Don’t worry though. Sooner or later you’ll start waking up stinky.”

Debbie imagined waking up every morning to a yucky mess in the seat of her pants and no memory of how it had got there, and felt sick at the thought. The Succubus wanted her to be fully incontinent. Her horrifying voice power had served to strip Debbie of most of her daytime control, but her commands didn’t work as well when Debbie was sleeping. It had taken weeks of ‘special medicine’ in her baby bottles, but now she was starting to reliably wake up in pissy Pampers. Yet the creature who had stolen her adulthood clearly wouldn’t be satisfied until she was doing the most babyish thing possible in her pants while she slept.

Once her hair was tied up in pigtails, frilly socks had been pulled over her feet, and she was dressed in a pale pink frock that failed to reach past the drooping, discoloured seat of her nappy (her overnight diaper was never changed before she made her morning poo-poo), Debbie was ready to head downstairs for breakfast. Mealtimes had been bad enough from the start, when the demon liked to cram her body inside a tight highchair, tie a bib around her neck, and feed her jar after jar of bland, mushy baby food – but things had become even worse ever since she’d realised there was another, better way to feed her ‘baby girl’.

They headed into the living room rather than the kitchen once they’d gone down the stairs, to find John lounging in an armchair having just finished his breakfast. His empty tray was sitting on a table beside him.

“Go and kiss Daddy good morning,” said the Succubus, patting Debbie’s diapered bottom to send her on her way.

Debbie hurried over to her husband. She wasn’t really allowed to kiss him, she knew. Instead she pressed the shield of her binky briefly against his cheek and let him pat her on the head. “Good morning, pretty princess,” he cooed, and Debbie’s heart did a little flutter despite herself.

She turned around and felt her stomach roll, as it always did, at the sight of the Succubus sitting on the sofa with her large, heavy tits out of her top. A droplet of milk was glistening on the end of one of her nipples. “Come to Mummy, baby,” she said seductively, her dark eyes burning like coals. “Time for your feeding.”

Debbie toddled to the sofa, diaper crinkling noisily, and lay herself across the monster woman’s lap. It had taken a while for her milk to come in, but now she produced enough that Debbie had three meals a day from her boobs, supplemented in the evenings by oatmeal and store-bought baby food. With a wet pop, the Succubus removed the dummy from her mouth and guided her lips slowly towards her waiting breast, clearly savouring the look of revulsion on her victim’s face.

Debbie felt the warm nipple enter her mouth, and her lips closed around it and began to suckle instinctively, enthusiastically, against her will. Hot, creamy breastmilk ran down her throat at once. It had a rum-like sweetness to it that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but no matter how hard she tried, Debbie couldn’t ignore the fact that she was guzzling milk from another woman’s tits. It didn’t help that the Succubus cooed to her in a sickening sweet voice while she fed.

“Good girl, Debbie! Drink up all your milkies, that’s a good baby. Isn’t it yummy-wummy? Straight from Mummy’s boobies to baby’s belly.”

The milk seemed endless, and Debbie’s stomach already felt full to bursting when she was moved onto the second breast. But she knew better than to try and fight. That would just make the creature use that cold, awful voice, and Debbie would simply end up doing as she was told anyway. She may even earn herself a spanking to boot. At last she finished her breakfast, and after being briefly burped with her head over the Succubus’s shoulder, the monster kissed her on the forehead, shoved her pacifier back between her lips, and got up. “Time for Mummy to have her breakfast too,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I think pancakes sound tasty. You stay here and behave yourself, okay sweetie?” And she left Debbie sitting on the sofa feeling heavy and tired, with her tummy full to the brim with breastmilk.

But Debbie knew she had a rare opportunity. It wasn’t often that the Succubus left her alone with her husband. John was still in his armchair, reading the paper, and the moment the demon left the living room, Debbie got off the sofa and waddled over to him as fast as she could. She could feel the milk sloshing around in her stomach. John looked up from his paper at the sound of her rustling diaper just as she reached him. Pushing aside his newspaper, her gaze fixed on his handsome face, Debbie clambered into her husband’s lap and straddled one of his legs. She bounced impatiently on his knee, and John wrinkled his nose at the pee-pee smell, but he chuckled indulgently all the same. “Do you want a horsey-ride, little missy?”

“Yes please,” Debbie whispered breathily, her soother falling from her mouth and dangling on the end of its chord. It had been over two weeks since she’d last had the opportunity for a ‘horsey-ride’ on his lap, but she felt that if the two of them could just have something resembling an intimate moment today, on Valentine’s Day, it would somehow undo the Succubus’s brainwashing and make John see her as a woman again.

John raised his eyebrow at her.

“Yes please, Daddy,” she corrected, hating the monster that had done this to her loving husband.

John nodded, satisfied, and started to bounce his knee. “Horsey, horsey, don’t you stop,” he sang, “just let your feet go clippety-clop!”

Debbie suppressed a moan of pleasure as her padded pussy was pressed hard against his knee with each bounce. If she closed her eyes and ignored the singing, if she pressed her body against his chest and pretended her pants weren’t full of pee-pee, she could almost pretend that they were making love.

“Your tail goes swish and your wheels go round!”

Her clit was pulsing delightfully. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to orgasm. She was so desperate these days. She was almost there… She was right on the edge…

“Giddy up, we’re homeward bound!”

“I think that’s enough of that!” came the Succubus’s amused voice, and Debbie felt arms loop around her middle and lift her effortlessly off her husband’s knee.

“Noooo!” she shrieked, kicking her legs and humping the air desperately. Her pussy was spasming, tantalisingly close to relief. “No! No! No!”

Her feet hit the floor and there was a sharp smack on her bottom. “Aren’t you a lucky girl, getting to play on Daddy’s lap for a bit!” the demon crooned darkly. She swatted Debbie’s bottom again. “But settle down now, babykins. You can’t play horsey forever, and Daddy doesn’t want you rubbing your disgusting, piss-soaked diaper all over him.”

“Pleeeease…” Debbie begged, tears welling up in her eyes. She pressed her hand against the front of her nappy and started to rub. She couldn’t stop herself. She needed release.

“Bad girl, Debbie!” the Succubus scolded, pushing her hands away from her crotch. “Is that what Mummy’s taught you to do when you’re feeling naughty tingles in your no-no spot?”

Debbie whined. She clenched her fists at her sides and bounced on the spot. Her pussy was so achy. She hated asking, hated what it involved, but it was the only time the Succubus ever allowed her to orgasm. Most of the time the monster refused her. But occasionally, just frequently enough, she’d say yes.

“Mummy…” Debbie said through gritted teeth. “Please can I have sex?”

“Keep going, baby,” the Succubus said, her eyes glittering maliciously. “Ask properly.”

“I know… I know I’m too silly and little for real sex,” said Debbie, glaring at the floor, “but I want to play pretend. Please can I have sex with my teddy bear?”

The Succubus ran her fingers through one of Debbie’s pigtails, considering, letting the silence drag on. “Yes you may, baby,” she said finally. “Go get teddy.”

Debbie rushed over to the toybox that sat in the corner of the room and pulled out an enormous teddy bear, disentangling him from some of her dress-up clothes. But she’d only gone two steps back towards the Succubus when she stopped dead. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Then a soft grunt escaped her lips. Her knees began to bend, and she found herself sinking into an uncontrollable squat. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “No…” she sobbed.

“Uh-oh!” sang the Succubus, and Debbie could hear the grin on her face. “Looks like it’s time for someone’s morning whoopsies!”

John laughed. “I’m just glad she waited until she was out of my lap!”

Debbie let out a loud, unladylike grunt, following by another sob, and then she got to work pushing last night’s din-dins into her pants. Her diaper drooped even lower beneath the hem of her frock as a heavy, smelly mess dropped into the back. Her face was scrunched up as though she was straining with all her might to make as big of a poo-poo as she possibly could in her Pampers, although the truth was that she was quite out of control of her own body. Her nappy sagged again as she dumped another load into it, accompanied by a fresh wave of wee-wee, so that her baby pants hung so heavily between her thighs they were halfway down to her knees. Then, with a final grunt, Debbie straightened up.

“Mummy…” she whimpered. “Please can I have a change before… before…”

The Succubus’s face was as full of delight as Debbie’s was with horror. She approached the quivering baby woman like a predator. “No, little one,” she said, her tone mocking. “If you want your special rub-rubs today then you have to have them now, in your dirty diaper.” She shoved Debbie’s dummy back between her lips, took her by the hand, and led her over to the centre of the room. “Put teddy down here,” she said, pointing at the floor. Arms trembling, Debbie did as she was told. She felt sick with shame, but even with the horrible, babyish mess in her pants, her pussy was still burning needily. “Good girl,” said the monster, flushed with arousal. “Now you can have sex with teddy, and I can have sex with your husband.” She looked over at John. “Ready for round two?” she asked, smirking.

John grinned back and started to undo his belt as his lover strutted over to him, stripping off her clothes as she went. Meanwhile Debbie lowered herself gently to the floor, on top of her teddy bear. She nearly gagged when the poop in her diaper squished against her bottom, but she was almost too horny to care. The first thrust against teddy sent a wave of pleasure coursing through her body, and she couldn’t stop herself moaning like a slut. She heard John and the Succubus laugh, but she kept going, grinding her aching, diaper-clad pussy against her bear, picking up speed. But then she made the mistake of looking up, and although she didn’t stop humping, Debbie started to wail at the sight of the demon riding her husband’s cock. She was straddling his lap, bouncing up and down on his manhood with her head thrown back in ecstasy. “Oh, oh, ohhh!” she moaned.

Debbie felt her orgasm getting closer and closer, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the nightmare happening before her. She sucked frantically on her binky and went cross-eyed as she thrust against her teddy bear, her head dizzy with need. She was right on the edge. And then she was over it, she was cumming in her stinky, sopping wet diaper – and as she did, the Succubus looked over her shoulder with an evil smile and whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby girl…”

#mellowsadistic

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abibliophobiaa · 10 months

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Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

mini series masterlist

next chapter

——

warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you’d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

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calumfmu · 12 days

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i could send you a million requests!

having an affair with your divorce lawyer steve 😏

HIII HUNNNN. Thank you for your patience love <3 Here it is in all its glory, smut, smut, smut oooo Divorce Lawyer!Steve x Reader (2.3k+ words of pure smut) cw: 18+, mdni, smut, riding, unprotected sex, p in v, cream pie, dirty talk, ugh, all Steve goodness, set in NY, famous!reader,

Three drinks down, adrenaline pumping through your veins, you only had one thing on your mind. Freedom. It was seven months into this divorce--if you could even call it that. A messy separation, public legal dispute that was plaguing the city's newspapers, headlines screaming about the famous ex-ball player's divorce with New York's once most eligible bachelorette.

Hitting the town three days in a row seemed like a good idea in retrospect, but it was really starting to get to you and your reputation. But as you chased that sixth tequila shot with lime, it was the last thing on your mind.

"Hey, isn't that..." your friend's voice trailed off as she pointed her beer towards someone across the bar. You followed the point of the bottle, gaze focusing on a tall man--Steve.

A Cheshire grin spread across your face, eyes widening as you recognized him, his mole dotted face, thin wire glasses framing his face as he laughed with a group of other suits, those you knew as his colleagues.

"Oh my God," you whined, immediately downing the shot that was supposed to be for her. She protested, hands throwing up around her as she watched you finish it with a grimace. "What is he doing here?"

She shrugged, swigging out of the glass as she eyed him down. Her bobbed hair swung in the air as she tilted her head down to fully drink him in.

"You know if I was straight I'd be all over that," she replied, turning around to face the bar. Your eyes remained on the older guy, tongue darting out to lick at the corner of your mouth.

"Robin!" You squealed, swatting at her arm. She giggled in response, arm waving to capture the attention of the bartender.

"I'm just saying," her tone was suggestive, eyebrows wiggling with her words. "You should just get after it, I mean... see what Harrington & Partner really has to offer."

You considered her point, your own head tilting down to observe him as his head tilted back with laughter. From across the bar, you could see the stretch of his neck, the expanse of skin being exposed to show more moles, disappearing behind the fitted collar of his dress shirt. The dark bar lighting did wonders for him, highlighting the amber high lights of his hair, showing off the small gray wisps that poked out at his hairline, a testament to how men age like fine wine.

"I've already seen what it has to offer," you said under your breath, grabbing her beer out of her hand. She whined again as you finished it off, slamming it on the counter behind you. "And I want more."

Her jaw dropped, eyes widening as she took in your words.

"What do you mean you've already seen it?"

Laughing, you took a step away from her, bag fitted over your shoulder as you adjusted the dress you wore. "Long story. Late night. Tedious divorce papers. Did I say that out loud?"

She reached a hand out to you, but you dodged it, backing away from her as you made your way over to his group. Her eye roll was enough for you to know you were making a bad decision, but you couldn't care. Your mind was set on one thing only.

"Steve!" You cheered, waving at him as he looked at you confused. Immediately, his gaze dipped across your figure, dress hugging your curves in all the right places.

He covered it up with a cough, eyes widening as he suddenly realized he was in the presence of those he worked with. The sound of your name rolled off of his lips, a surprised cackle of speech.

"What are you doing here?" It was less of a question and more accusatory.

Your mouth dropped open in a wide smile as you held your arms out. "Celebrating my separation, freedom."

Realization crossed his features as your words slurred, the intoxication becoming clear as you lingered a little too close for comfort. The men he surrounded himself with eyed you as well, eyes flickering over you as you teetered on the heels in your feet.

"Ah," he muttered, tongue smacking against his teeth as he took a step back. His hand came up to adjust the tie that was fitted around his neck. "I see. Just a few months away from that."

The suits laughed, deep chuckles of laughter that screamed money. Old money, New York money, jurisprudence, whatever you wanted to call it. Rolling your eyes, you felt all the confidence of the tequila shots you took, pressing a hand to his arm. His eyes dropped to it, slowly dragging away to peer down at you over his wire frames.

"Excuse me," he said to the group, placing a hand to your lower back to drag you away from them. He lead you through the crowd, pressing you into a dark corner of the swanky bar. On the way, you had seen Robin, her thumbs up thrown in your direction.

"What are you doing?" He whispered again, backing you into a wall. He towered over you, immediately, you were weak in the knees, this interaction normally being behind the closed doors of his 30th story office.

Your hand found his arm again, trailing up the expanse of it as you craned your head back, a soft bump against the wall.

"Having fun," you sighed, biting your lip as he took a step closer to you. His scent overwhelmed you, warmth beginning to pool into the pit of your stomach as you rested a foot up against the wall.

"This is a bad look," he suddenly grew professional, straightening up as your hand left his arm and began to trail down his abdomen.

You rolled your eyes, dragging out a groan that bordered childish.

"You're a bad look," you retorted, reaching up to grab the lapels of his suit. Tugging him closer to you, you pressed your lips to the side of his neck. "You're wearing too many clothes."

He pulled away from you again, clearing his throat as he urged you from the wall. Fast in his movements, his hand was at the small of your back, pulling you towards a back exit, one you were unaware that was even there.

A black Lincoln sat in an alleyway, the door opening as he threw you in the backseat. You rolled your eyes as you sat up, pulling down your skirt as he slid in behind you. He muttered something to a driver, the car already moving as the world began to spin around you.

"You can't have people seeing you like this," he muttered, shaking his head as he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttered shut.

"Relax, nobody saw."

"Hmm," he was annoyed, the tone of his voice short. "You don't know that for sure. There's too much at stake right now, especially with the way his side is going."

You groaned, leaning fully into him as you began to trail a hand over his body. Touching any skin you could get was the only thing you were focused on, hastily unbuttoning his shirt as the car began to make turns throughout the city. He didn't oppose, only settled into the back seat of the vehicle even further.

"I don't want to talk about him."

You climbed into his lap, squeezing in the small space as you pressed your lips to his. His hands found your ass, squeezing as he ground you down into him. The stubble on his face scratched at yours, your jaw rubbed raw as the two of you made out, tongues fighting against each other.

"I think you're," he muttered in between kisses, his hands beginning to lift your skirt as your hands found his belt buckle. "The worst client I've ever had."

"Mmmm," you groaned, pulling his belt buckle loose. It clanked in the air, followed by the sound of the driver sliding the separation window closed. "Talk dirty to me, Harrington."

He laughed into the kiss, lips slotting into yours perfectly as you freed him from his pants. His cock was angry red, swollen through its length as you briefly looked down to grip at him. The girth of it alone had you watering at the mouth, wishing you had the freedom to sink to your knees.

You pulled away from him, pressing him back down into the cushion of the seat as he chased your mouth, leaning up as he wanted more. He groaned at your touch, his head leaning back against the headrests.

"Need you to fuck me," you whispered, adjusting so the cave of your pussy sat right over him. A pant escaped him as he felt your wetness, encasing him as you grinded down on him.

"You're gonna get me fired, hun," he moaned, teeth digging into his lip as you lifted off of him, angling him so his head pressed at your entrance. The small stretch of his tip had you mewling, the intoxication of the alcohol leaving your body as you got drunk off of a new feeling.

"We've barely left Manhattan," the grunt of words only worsened as you pressed lower, his length stretching you wide. His hands found your hips, guiding you lower.

Your knees sat on the sides of his hips, locking him in as you stopped half way, hovering above him. With your head tilted back, staring up at the ceiling of the car, your eyes watered, the heat of the moment making you so caught up that you cursed at your previous idea of skipping the foreplay.

"You talk too much," you whispered, pressing all the way down. Stretched down to the hilt, the both of you sat in silent groans, his hand finding the back of your neck to press his forehead into yours.

From this angle, you could see the chocolate brown of his eyes, sunken with desire, his lids hooded in pleasure.

"fuck." The hand that never left your hip raised you, a soft squelch filling the back seat as your wetness dripped around him.

As you began to bounce on his cock, his moans began to grow louder, fingers digging marks into your hip. The press of his cock deep inside made you feel weak, that spongy spot not being granted mercy as he drove into you.

"Steve," you groaned, swirling your hips as he mouthed at your neck, deep colored marks being left in his wake. The heat of his touch added to the fire pooling in your belly, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

Look at my dirty girl.

His words could've gotten you right then and there, if it were not for the alcohol in your system prolonging your orgasm. You loved it when he called you names like that, claiming you as his even when you both knew you weren't.

Such a bad girl.

That one had you squeezing your eyes even tighter, your hands resting on the tops of his shoulders as you rode him, bouncing in a frenzy that he had yet to see. The scratch of his suit pants against your ass was oddly soothing, distracting you from the white hot feeling building faster and faster.

"Need you to fuck me harder," you whimpered, reaching a hand up to tug at his hair. The sounds he made to the yank on his scalp had you pulling closer to your orgasm, legs shaking as he began to match you half way, hips lifting off of the seat.

A ring of white began to form at the base of his cock, wetness from your pussy building into a thick cream, your release teetering on the edge. He was close to his own release, his breath coming short as he fucked you, hips moving into an uneven pattern.

"Gonna cum all in you i-if you keep talking like that," he tried being strong in his words, but his voice failed him, cracking in the middle.

A small smile ghosted your lips, knowing exactly what it would take to get him to paint you white, release deep inside of you.

"Cum inside me," you whined, sinking lower as you pressed your lips to the shell of his ear. Your voice was low, scratchy from the frequent moans, borderline shouts he drew out of you.

"Make me yours, Steve."

He groaned, hands locking behind your hips as he began to drive into you, slapping sounds filling the air. Your hand snaked down to circle at your clit, tight circles around the nub that had your eyes rolling back.

"Show everyone who's pussy this really is."

With a low groan, he came inside you, fucking you through it as you found your release quickly after. It was the loudest one you had experienced, legs shaking as explosions tingled up your spine. His hips never slowed, riding out both of your highs.

You pushed off of him, collapsing into the empty leather next to him, legs sprawled wide open. Your chest heaved with exhaustion, yet adrenaline still coursed through you, tequila urging another round already.

"How soon do you think is too soon for me to marry my divorce lawyer?"

He laughed at your words, tucking himself away as he peered out the window. The city lights were far in the background, familiar streets nearing his home coming up in the distance.

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves, dear," he shook his head, leaning down onto you to press a kiss to your forehead anyways. You beamed at the press of his lips, tilting your head closer to him.

The look in his eyes that he gave you was sweet, something that you had once yearned for from your now-ex. You knew it was wrong, to be this smitten over your divorce lawyer, but God, was he beautiful.

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open! <3

also--not proofread, but should be in the next week or so :)

#my writing #older!steve #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve harrington x you #smut #Steve Harrington smut #I've been watching too much sex and the city #so #if this is in my writing for the next 6 months #don't mind me #requests

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ereardon · 11 months

Text

When I'm Done With You [Bob Floyd x Reader]

Gif cred: @delopsia

A Bob Floyd frat AU

Summary: At a fraternity mixer, you lose your (admittedly shitty) boyfriend in the crowd. That’s when Bob Floyd, president of Alpha Tau and your boyfriend’s personal nemesis, finds you and decides to make you his.

Pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

Warnings: Cursing, fraternities, SMUT, gambling

WC: 5.5K

A/N: This was entirely written because of the new Lew frat photos. I have no self control. We are sluts in this household for Lewis Pullman.

“Say it,” he demanded. Bob’s eyes were dark, his fingers rough against the delicate skin of your chin as he tipped your gaze toward his.

His voice was low and hoarse and it forced a crop of goosebumps up and down your bare arms, and the exposed flesh of your thighs.

“Say it,” Bob repeated and you squeezed your legs together, mouth hanging open as he slipped a thumb inside, pad of his finger pressing down softly against your wet tongue. You instinctively closed your lips around the digit, sucking loudly, and Bob’s blue eyes grew darker.

He removed his thumb, sliding the saliva over your cheek as his hand gripped the back of your neck tightly. The beat of the music in the house mixed with your rapid heartbeat and you were pulsating from the inside out.

Bob stood, waiting, his long hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you condescendingly, the popped collar of his button down shirt nudging against the curling edges.

“Fuck me, daddy,” you whispered and his lips pulled back in a smirk. A Cheshire Cat grin.

“Beg.”

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you moaned, stepping closer, brushing your body against him, desperate for his touch.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he said.

“You.”

“That’s right,” Bob said and you couldn’t help but lean forward, your pelvis aching for him even though you had no idea what he would feel like inside of you. All you knew in that moment was how all-consuming the idea of Bob fucking you was. “You belong to me. Not him, me. You’re all mine.”

You nodded weakly and Bob leaned down, ghosting his lips over yours.

“When I’m done with you,” he whispered, “tell your boyfriend I say hi.”

*One Day Before*

“Get in, we’re going to be late.”

You sighed, sliding across the hot leather seat as Seth reached over and yanked the door shut before dropping the Jeep into gear and peeling off before you could even get your seatbelt on. “Fuck,” you groaned. “Relax, we’re like two minutes early still.”

“Would be earlier if you could learn how to read a clock.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to look out the window. Campus flew by as Seth skidded down the road before pulling over in front of the Sigma Chi house. “It’s just a stupid meeting,” you said as he shoved the car into park.

Seth’s eyes burned as he turned to you. “I’m the president, Y/N. How would it look if the president didn’t show up on time?”

“You’re the president of a fraternity,” you huffed, dropping down onto the gravel driveway and slamming the door shut, “not the president of the United States.”

Seth tossed a dirty look over his shoulder as he jogged up the stairs, pulling open the double wood doors to reveal the house’s imposing front room. At the far end, directly within your sight, was a stone fireplace so tall you could stand under it, like a medieval ballroom. Or maybe it was the long hallway of framed composite photographs of former fraternity council members lining the walls that gave off the castle vibes. Either way, you always noticed a chill in the air the moment you entered the Sigma Chi house, even on a sweltering day.

Today was no different.

Seth strode through the wide room toward the staircase. “Babe!” he called out. “I’ll be back in thirty.”

You nodded but he had already rounded the corner, descending the stairs to the basement. You shivered at the thought, instead shaking your head and making your way across the room toward the door at the far end which led out to the side yard where a small garden with chairs sat facing both the back and the road in front of the house.

Sometimes, especially on a day like today, you wondered why you were with Seth at all. It wasn’t the fraternity thing. Some girls swooned over frat guys. But the parties, once you stripped away the veneer of loud music and dark lighting, were more disgusting than you could ever imagine. And only someone who had witnessed the space first-hand the day after, drinking coffee while watching pledges scrub vomit and caked in dirt and rivulets of beer from the wooden floors, could attest to that fact.

It wasn’t that he was particularly charming or nice. It wasn’t that he was all together handsome, although you supposed he was decently good in bed.

Perhaps it was the fact that you just didn’t want to be alone. Being with Seth was the perfect amount of commitment. He was busy half of the week with fraternity business, and there was always somewhere to go on the weekends.

He was a safety blanket.

You sat perched on an adirondack chair, a pair of sunglasses slipped over your eyes, turning your head when you heard a few voices coming from near the front of the house. Squinting, you spotted a gaggle of guys walking down the sidewalk. They weren’t stopping, so they definitely weren’t Sigma Chi.

Upon closer inspection, you recognized a few of them. Namely, Bob Floyd. President of Alpha Tau.

And Seth’s personal rival.

The two of them had gone head-to-head in more ways than you could count. In the economics department last semester for a research fellowship.

Bob had won.

At the spring fraternity wrestling contest.

Seth had somehow beaten Bob, but only after several rounds of close calls on both sides.

Seth had made it crystal clear that Bob Floyd was not someone you were allowed to speak to. So when Bob stopped, his gaze locked on yours, your breath caught in your throat. You opened your mouth, as if to call out to him, but words died in your throat. He lifted up his sunglasses and winked, before taking off down the road, falling seamlessly back into conversation with his friends as if nothing had even happened.

You couldn’t explain why. But you felt your pulse quicken, an ache developing in your pelvis. You shook your head.

Bob Floyd was the very last person who should make you feel this way.

***

You turned in the mirror, examining your short dress. “Are you sure this looks OK?”

Annie nodded from where she sat on your bed. “You look perfect. Going to make those frat boys lose their minds.”

You rolled your eyes and smoothed your hands over the silky fabric, adjusting the skinny straps. “Are the shoes too much?” You wiggled your ankles and the stilettos you had on.

“You know you’re fifteen times hotter than Seth, right?” Annie said and you looked up with a gasp. “Oh, don’t give me that. He’s kind of a tool and we both know it.”

Annie had been your roommate for two years and she’d seen everything unfold with Seth. From the first time the two of you met at a party to the first time he broke your heart and you took him back.

To say she wasn’t a fan was an understatement.

You leaned down, filling your purse. “You should come tonight,” you said. “It could be fun.”

“Absolutely not.” Annie jumped up and strode to the door. “But call me when shit hits the fan, OK? I’ll come pick you up.”

You smiled. “Love you.”

Once she was gone, you looked at your reflection in the mirror one more time. A part of you was dreading tonight. The annual frat mixer, where fraternity brothers from all of the different chapters mingled together on Greek Row. Tonight’s party was going to be hosted by two neighboring houses: the Delta Kappa Epsilons and the Alpha Taus.

You grabbed your purse and headed for the front door, calling an Uber. Seth had claimed he was too busy to swing by and pick you up for the party.

Just to torture him, before you left you reached down, slipping off your black thong and flinging it into the corner pile of laundry. You pulled out your phone and texted Seth.

See you in a few, you wrote. PS — I’m not wearing any underwear.

***

By the time you got to Greek Row, you could feel a bubble of anxiety building in your chest. Events like this always made you tense up. Before Seth, you hadn’t stepped foot near a fraternity. It still wasn’t your vibe, but you had become somewhat acclimated to Greek life.

You pulled out your phone after stepping out of the Uber. No text. Sighing, you made your way down the sidewalk toward the DKE house.

It was already bustling, and through the large glass windows at the front you could see people already filling up the house, the lights turned down, the music turned all the way up.

Stepping up to the door, it swung open before you could even knock. The boy in a bow tie and jacket smiled at you. “Come on in.” He recognized you. That was one thing: you were Seth Landon’s girl. You were untouchable. There was almost a secret club, the girlfriends of fraternity presidents. You were protected and watched.

Wandering through the rooms of the house, your eyes flitted around for Seth. Everywhere you looked there were couples and stray frat guys, drinking and vaping. It felt oddly civil, considering some of them were mortal enemies.

You made it through the whole house with no sign of Seth and no text. He hadn’t even read your original message. He was the only person you knew under the age of forty with read receipt on.

Sighing, you filed out of the house and down the stairs, shaking your head and making your way over to the Alpha Tau house. Their house was darker, all wooden beams and imposing brass knocker. Again, the door swung open before you could reach up to knock, another frat lackey recognizing you and letting you in.

“Have you seen Seth Landon?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Sorry. Check the back, I know a poker game is starting up.”

You groaned. If there was one thing you knew was Seth’s downfall, it was gambling. He’d bet on anything.

Slowly, this house was more crowded than the DKE one, you stumbled down the halls toward the back. At one point the crowd was too thick, and you cut over through a small hallway near the staircase. You stopped, back to the wall, looking down at your phone, checking again for a message, when an arm came out, hand pressed against the wall behind your head.

You looked up.

Bob Floyd stared down at you. Unlike most of the other guys, he had foregone a blazer. Instead, he wore a blue button up with the collar popped, a pair of khakis molded against his round ass, a needlepoint belt holding in his trim waist. He had a large silver watch on the wrist of the arm next to your head and his blue eyes bore into yours. “Lost, baby girl?” he asked, his voice thick.

You narrowed your eyes. “No. And I’m not your baby girl.”

His free hand rubbed against his mouth and you watched as the veins in his hands and forearms buldged. When he pulled it away, his lips pulled back in a wide grin. “Trust me, I know. You’re Seth Landon’s girl.”

“If you know that, why are you here?” you whispered. “He’d kill you if he saw you talking to me.”

Bob leaned in closer until he was practically caging you against the wall. “I’m not scared of that jackass,” he said.

Your eyes met his. Bob ran his tongue over his pink lower lip. You didn’t even care to look around and see if others had spotted you and Bob in the narrow hallway. For some reason, standing there with Bob, not touching, was the singular hottest thing you had experienced in months, maybe years.

He leaned down, tracing your jaw with one finger and you found yourself mewling at his touch. He grinned. “Sensitive, aren’t you?”

Your eyes went wide as you remembered where you were. Who you were with. More specifically, who you weren’t with. Your boyfriend.

Bob took a step back, lifting his hand from your face, but the ghost of his touch lingered. He slipped his hand into his pants pocket, tilting his head to the left. “Landon’s that way,” he murmured.

You nodded, hiking your purse higher onto your shoulder, your legs like gelatine beneath you.

“Baby girl?” he asked. “Come find me when you’re done with that tool. I’ll be upstairs, second floor.”

And then he disappeared, out through the end of the narrow hallway. The minute Bob turned around the corner, air rushed back into your lungs. You pressed one hand to your chest and found that you were trembling.

A couple burst through the door at the end of the hall and you jerked your head, watching as they flitted past you. You took a deep breath, pushing yourself off of the wall and heading toward the back of the house and the poker session the guy at the door had told you about.

It was little surprise that you found Seth sitting at a legitimate poker table, green felt top littered with chips and cards, Seth’s tanned face pinched as he examined the cards in his hands. He tossed in a stack of red chips and let out a grunt when the dealer dropped a two of hearts on the table as the last of five cards. “Fuck!” he said, tossing in his cards. “I’m out.” He looked up and spotted you. “Hey baby, come here.”

You stepped forward and he pulled you onto his lap. His thigh was angular and uncomfortable, his hands were too warm, bordering on sweaty, and he smelled like a pack of Marlboros. “You were supposed to wait for me,” you complained.

His face darkened. “I was busy, Y/N. I have responsibilities.” He looked at the table before nudging you off of him with one hand. “Gotta finish this round, babe. Grab a drink, I’ll come find you.”

“I want to leave,” you said, arms crossed over your chest.

Seth didn’t even look up. “We’re not going.” The five other guys at the table looked up with grins. One let out a low whistle.

You held your ground. “You didn’t even pick me up. You made me chase you through both houses. I’m tired of this.”

“Then leave,” Seth said, his eyes never deviating from the cards in front of his face.

You were seething. The air was thick and tense around the card table as everyone waited for your response. You shrugged. “Fine. Fuck you, Seth.”

Another low whistle. A few heads turned. Seth still refused to face you. “You’re being childish, Y/N,” he said calmly. “Have a beer, chill out. I’ll find you after the game.”

“No, you won’t,” you hissed. “Have a good life.” You peered over his shoulder and then at the cards on the table. “By the way, he’s got a busted straight.”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He tossed his cards down in fury, eyes blazing. “What the fuck!”

But you were already halfway out the door, trailing down the darkened hallway, toward the staircase. You sucked in a breath and climbed the wooden stairs, your heart pounding.

All you knew was that you had to find Bob. Your anger was making your head spin. You turned at the top of the stairs, looking both ways before peering out over the railing, legs shaking. After two years, you thought there would be tears. At least some kind of sadness. But you felt nothing for Seth.

Only anger.

You swiveled around, starting down one dark hallway. Everywhere you looked it was wood paneled. Imposing. Borderline threatening. You wandered all the way down the hallway, passing a slew of closed doors, before finding a door at the end of the hallway that was ajar, warm light seeping in through the crack.

Softly, you nudged it open to reveal Bob Floyd standing in front of a massive fireplace, one forearm resting against the mantle which held a large framed frat composite from that year’s class.

And even though your steps were silent, he heard you. “How did I know you’d come looking for me?” he said before turning around, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up and crossing his arms over his broad chest.

You lingered by the doorway. Stepping inside further would only seal your fate.

Bob’s gaze never left you. Several moments passed, just the two of you in the study, before you finally stepped forward, closing the door behind you.

You had just signed away Seth in a single movement.

Bob crossed the expanse of the room in a few long strides. For perhaps the first time you looked at him, really looked at him. You had spent so long avoiding Bob because of Seth’s hatred toward him. But somewhere deep down you knew why Seth hated him so much. Because Bob was better. Smarter, smoother, more charming. He was everything Seth wanted to be and couldn’t.

He walked you backward until your back was pressed against the supple leather arm of a dimpled couch that sat in front of the wide wooden hearth. You felt the clammy coolness of the leather stick to your bare skin.

“What do you want?” he asked, voice slow. Deliberate. “Tell me what you want.”

You shook your head, denying him. It felt good. For the first time in a long time you were striking out on your own. Seth couldn’t put you down or keep you boxed in.

Bob didn’t want to hold you back. He didn’t want to tame you. What you didn’t know was that while you had been avoiding him, he had been seeking you out. Watching as you made your way through the dining hall, eyes combing the long tables for Seth, glazing over him entirely. What you hadn’t seen was the way Bob’s body pulsated when you were closer, like an alarm that only he could hear.

You had decided five minutes ago that you wanted Bob. He had decided two years ago that he was going to make you his.

“Say it,” he demanded.

You parted your mouth, letting him slip his thick thumb against your tongue as you tasted him, sucking greedily. He slid his finger out from your puckered mouth, across your face, grabbing your neck, drawing you closer.

What you thought was condescension crossed his eyes. But it was lust. It was pure, unadulterated lust and excitement.

“Fuck me, daddy,” you murmurred and Bob grinned. He hardened in his khakis as you begged him.

Bob reached down, sliding one arm around your waist, pulling you in tightly as his lips descended on yours, ravishing you, moving off of your mouth onto your neck as you cried out in pleasure, his fingertips squeezing your waist, desperate for you. Before you could even moan his name, Bob spun you around until your hands came out to hold you up from against the couch as he pressed, hard, on your back, sending you curled, face-down, onto the dark leather.

He sank to his knees, shoving up the short hem of your dress, practically combusting when he saw you were naked beneath it.

“Fuck,” he grunted, pulling out a hand and smacking your round ass cheek, hard. You cried out. “Do you want more?” he asked and even though he was rough, you knew that he would stop if you wanted him to.

You buried your head against the cool leather. “Yes, daddy.”

Bob pulled his hand back, landing it again on your soft skin, eliciting a groan from you as you instinctively wiggled away, digging your bare core against the curved arm of the couch. He lurched forward, pressing his soft lips to your ass cheek, nipping at the flesh softly as his hand nudged your knees further apart until you were spread wide for him. “Good girl,” he murmured, tracing his hands over your bare thighs. “Now tell me what you want.”

“You.” It came out broken but Bob knew exactly what you meant. His hands migrated up your thighs until his thumbs were spreading you apart, your slick juices already starting to drip down his digits as he shoved his face between your legs, tongue nudging your entrance as you gasped against the couch. “Oh!”

Bob pressed forward, his tongue coming out to lick your folds as his fingers gripped you tightly, holding your trembling legs apart. “Be still,” he commanded as you whined against the couch before reaching up and pressing one thick finger into your throbbing cunt, a scream echoing through the room as you adjusted to him. Bob immediately began to thrust his finger in and out of your tight pussy before pulling out entirely.

Just as you were about to whine at the loss of contact, you felt his hands on your waist, dragging you up and spinning you around. Bob dropped back down to his knees, pushing your dress up to your hips, yanking you forward until you were teetering on the edge of the couch arm.

“Come here,” he whispered gruffly and your head fell back in a moan as Bob licked up your folds, tongue dancing along the nub of your clit instantly.

“Oh, fuck!”

“That’s it,” he murmured, sucking your clit harshly before driving two fingers this time into your squelching pussy. “Fuck yes.” Bob curled his fingers inside of you, your spongy walls gripping him tightly as his tongue slid in tight circles around your clit until you were wiggling, whining, moaning above him, your legs shaking where you stood with your stilettos pressed against the ground.

“Bob!”

His name on your lips set Bob on fire. He pressed inside of you deeper, sucking tightly on your clit until you were coming on his fingers and face, screaming his name.

Bob drove you into overstimulation, unable to tear himself away from between your legs until your fingers were threading themselves into his long hair, a string of begs falling from your lips. “Please, please, please, fuck it’s too much.” Finally, he lifted his head, mouth slick with your juices, rubbing at his lips with the back of his hand. You remained on the edge of the couch arm, legs spread open, pussy on display, as Bob stood, wrapping one hand around your neck. “Always knew you’d like my mouth on your pussy,” he murmured and you blushed.

Before you could object, Bob had his arm around your waist, tugging down your dress, hand on your hips, guiding you toward the door. You looked back at him over your shoulder and he nodded reassuringly.

“My room’s across the hall,” he said, voice low. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

And then the two of you were locked in his bedroom. It was a near clone of the room you had just been in, but with a bed against the far wall instead of a couch and fireplace.

You turned to face Bob. His eyes watched you carefully.

Bob reached out, both hands grabbing your waist, dragging you closer until the two of you were only millimeters apart. “Bob?” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you doing this just because of how much you hate Seth?”

“Are you?”

You didn’t know. So instead you trailed your hands down to his belt and Bob’s eyes widened, but he remained silent.

Silent as you unfastened his belt, fingers reaching for his zippered fly, feeling how hard he was already beneath his khakis.

Silent as you eased his pants down his legs, kneeling at his feet, coming face-to-face with his barely covered cock as he bulged against the tight fabric of his boxers.

Silent as you yanked the waistband of his boxer briefs down, gasping as his long, thick cock sprang to attention, practically hitting you in the face. You hesitated. “Are you going to suck my cock, baby?” he asked mockingly.

To Bob’s surprise you leaned forward, one hand reaching out and cupping the base of his cock, your mouth immediately surrounding his length until you could feel the tip of him bashing against your throat as you choked on him.

“Fuck,” Bob murmurred, fingers grabbing your hair, yanking you backward. You looked up at him expectantly and he almost growled. “Suck me good,” he whispered, “and I’ll fuck you like the little slut I know you think you are.”

You moaned, licking your lips before diving back in, bobbing up and down along his length, using your hands to grip his base, twisting up and down as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in.

Above you, Bob closed his eyes, using his hands to surround your head as he fucked into your face, causing you to moan and pushing saliva out of your mouth down the edges of your lips, tears springing to your eyes as he pushed his cock further into your throat and you gagged. “Taking me so well,” he murmured, looking down at you at his feet. “Fuck, look at you. A fucking mess.”

You whimpered on his length and Bob drove himself faster into your mouth, both hands pressed against your scalp as he thrust his hips toward your face, your nose buried in his pubic hair until he could feel himself coming undone.

“Shit, fuck, yes!” he cried as he shot thick ropes of cum into the back of your throat, spilling down your throat and filling your mouth, seeping out the corners as he looked down, thrusting one last time into your mouth until you were gagging around him, mouth full.

He pulled out of you and you swallowed harshly. Bob reached out and dragged the pad of his thumb beneath your eyes, wiping away the tears that had gathered there. He reached out a hand, helping you to your feet.

“Take off your clothes.” It was a demand, not a request. You shed your dress quickly, stepping out of it and standing naked in front of Bob.

His eyes slowly worked their way down, from the top of your head to your feet in the stilettos.

“Shoes.”

You kicked them off. Bob pushed away his pants, slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt desire bubble up inside of you as he shrugged out of his shirt, dropping it onto the ground, reaching out and laying you back onto the bed.

Bob suctioned his lips to your neck, slotting himself between your legs, your ankles crossing over behind his perfect ass and you could feel him, hard again, against your inner thigh as you rolled your hips up toward him.

He kissed down the column of your throat, landing on your breast, sucking the nipple between his teeth as you whimpered.

“So fucking desperate,” he muttered. “It’s like you’ve never been fucked before. Landon probably has a tiny dick, doesn’t he? Never made you feel anything.”

“Don’t talk about him,” you groaned, trying not to lose your focus as Bob skimmed his hips against yours, dragging his fat cock over your folds as you clutched his arms. “Shut up and fuck me.”

Bob pulled back, eyes hard. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”

“Yes?”

He reached out one hand, cupping your jaw gently. “Baby, I'm only going to tell you once. In here, you’re mine, you understand? You do what I say, unless you want out.”

You throbbed between your legs. “Yes daddy.”

He nodded. “Good girl. Now get on your knees and face the headboard.”

You did as you were told. Bob positioned himself between you, fingers raking down your back from your shoulders to your waist before dipping down and circling your clit. You let out a sharp whine as he spread your folds apart, nudging your legs wider, settling behind you. There was the distinct sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open and then you felt Bob nudge at your entrance.

Bob leaned forward, pushing the thick head of his cock inside of you, and you moaned. He kissed your back along your spine as he slid deeper inside your tight cunt, stretching you open. Bob reached down, grabbing your waist, forcing himself in further until he let out a deep moan as he pressed the last inch inside, filling you completely, threatening to break you apart.

You whimpered as he pulled back, slamming his hips forward, filling you to the breaking point. “Bob!”

“Right here baby girl,” he mumbled. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You let out a sharp cry as he pounded into you. Bob’s large hands pulled you upright, one arm wrapped around your chest, hand firmly holding your breast.

“Look up,” he demanded and when you did your eyes widened. Above the headboard was a large mirror. You watched as Bob’s eyes followed yours while he fucked up into you from behind, his free hand reaching down and toying with your cunt.

You moaned, shutting your eyes, and Bob slapped your clit harshly.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded and you did as you were told. “Watch me while I fuck you.”

You watched, mouth open, as Bob filled you repeatedly, his moans filling your ear as he panted, fingers squeezing your nipple, thumb digging into your clit in sharp circles as he thrust into you. “I’m going to come,” you groaned and Bob’s eyes practically rolled into the back of his head as you shuddered around him.

You slumped back against him and Bob laid you down gently onto the bed before reaching down and digging your head into the mattress, one hand on the back of your head as he sped up his hips, plunging his thick cock into you as you screamed for him, legs shaking from the remnants of your orgasm. “Fuck!” he shouted, pulling out of you and rolling you over, ripping off the condom and pumping his length twice before shooting more cum all over your bare tits, letting it drip off of his softening cock onto your drenched cunt as you laid beneath him, trembling.

Bob tossed the condom out, reaching down and scooping up the white cum from your stomach. He held out his finger near your mouth and instinctively you opened it, letting him push the spend against your tongue. He groaned watching you swallow, tits covered in sticky semen.

“If you want to clean up,” he said, tilting his head toward the bathroom.

When you returned, you frowned. “What is that?”

“A shirt.” Bob stood, holding it out and helping you pull it on. It fell to mid-thigh and he slowly buttoned the two middle buttons.

“What about my dress?” you murmured.

“You don’t need it for what I have planned,” Bob said, pulling you down onto his lap, his fingers tight against your neck.

***

The next morning, you woke up sore and exhausted.

Bob lent you a jacket and the two of you descended the stairs with his jacket draped over your shoulders. On the first floor of the house, pledges were scrubbing the floors and the walls, cleaning up empty beer cans, and mopping the kitchen.

Bob’s hand was warm on your waist as he guided you through the house. “Let me drive you home,” he murmured and you nodded.

Once he pulled his Range Rover up to your apartment, you jumped out and to your surprise, Bob got out too, crossing around the front of the car, closing the door behind you. He opened his mouth just as the two of you heard a voice from over your shoulder.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Seth stood up from where he had been half asleep on your front stoop. His tanned face was pinched and red. Instinctively, Bob reached out, half hiding you behind him, one hand protectively on your waist.

“Get your hands off my girl right fucking now, Floyd,” Seth seethed, “or I will punch your lights out.”

“Would love to see you try, asshole.”

Seth stepped forward but Bob still had four inches on him. He was angry and practically buzzing whereas Bob was calm and cool.

Seth peered around Bob the best he could.

“Where the fuck were you?” he demanded. “With him? You fucking whore.”

Bob’s fist came out so fast you didn’t even have time to think. One second the three of you were standing in the early morning sun and the next minute Seth was on the grass, writhing in pain, blood spurting out of his nose as Bob shook out his hand.

“Fuck! What the fuck dude?”

“Don’t speak to her like that.” Bob’s voice was eerily level. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go fuck your girlfriend for the fifth time this morning.”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you toward your apartment, the two of you stepping directly over Seth’s prostrate body.

Bob waited for you to open the door to your apartment before shutting it tight and locking it, swiveling you around until your back was pressed against the door. His dark eyes bore into yours. “You’re mine now,” he whispered gruffly.

You nodded. You were his.

Tag list (my TGM list and people I think would like this):

@double-j @topguncultleader @hangmandruigandmav @blue-aconite @minamisulemisa @shawnsblue @seresinhangmanjake @babyminghao @crthurston @shanimallina87 @wkndwlff

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@rosewritesitout @atarmychick007 @khaylin27 @wittywhispers @wildlyobserving @eyesthatroll @localhockeygirl @rosiahills22 @teacupsandtopgun @sexytholland @djs8891 @rxmtoon @cactajuice @purplevortexx @dempy @lemur46 @louie-bug @arson-tm @valkyrja-siren-blog @avengers-fixation @fudge13 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @not-two-shrimp @abaker74 @evans-dejong

@eli2447 @ducks118 @cherrycola27 @leigh70 @hotellnights

@babyminghao @taytaylala12 @bradshawseresinbabe @theweekndhistorybook @mandylove1000 @bobfloydsbabe @cherrycola27 @whisperofsong @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox

#bob floyd #bob floyd fanfiction #bob+floyd+x+reader #bob floyd x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x y/n #top gun smut #bob floyd smut

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fairymonth-ask · 1 year

Text

HELLO AND WELCOME TO WONDERLAND!

You've stumbled down the rabbit hole into a strange new world!

Askers and anons take the place of Alice! This is an au I'm currently working on that's based around different fairytale themed stories, but it's set around the kingdom of hearts! Some groups that will be included are the wizard of oz, farfaraway, and classic fairytales as well! It does have lore that will not be following the actual alice in wonderland story! And you can also try and guess who will fill what spots! Just have fun, maybe you'll figure out some lore yourself :]

[A man looms over you on the ground, holding onto his hat as he smiles] "Oh dear, looks like ya fell quite a bit!" [He laughs, standing up straight as he takes off his hat to dust it off] "No worries. I did too!"

[This is just an introduction post! I will be adding onto it as I finish designs of characters!!]

First off is Cheshire Bob!

Next is both refs I have for the Mad Hatter, Shaggy!

Pssst reblogs help a lot more than likes

#bob velseb #shaggy gay #shaggy mortis #bob velseb x reader #bob velseb fanart #art #bob vesleb #sr pelo spooky month #spooky month au #spooky month #bob velseb au #fairymonth au #fairytale au #alice in spookymonth au #Cheshire Bob #Cheshire Bob Velseb #fanart

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mystellenia · 3 months

Note

Telling ellie or abby shes pretty if she gets really close to you, you could even say she's so pretty she's hard to talk to

shy!abby getting nervous at your compliment ୨ৎ

summary: after finishing up a workout with abby, you guys head to the locker room to get ready to leave. inside the bathroom, abby freezes up at your sudden flirtiness.

content: unestablished relationship, but you guys are long-time friends and have gotten quite flirty lately. no nsfw content, like barely a drop of flirting

notes: so i'm actually so sorry to the anon who requested this bc i totally forgot about the part saying she's so pretty it's almost intimidating.... i hope it's not too big of a difference. guys should i try my take on like a series?? i feel like i'd be so bad with updating frequently enough but like i'll finesse it

(wc 0.7k)

you swipe your towel across the back of your neck, wiping sweat off as you watched abby do her last rep of overhead dumbbell presses. you gawked at her shoulders constricting with her every movement, her loose muscle tee leaving her toned back on display. hands on your thighs, you kneaded them as they threatened to give out in retaliation of today's focus on quads.

propping your hands on your hips, you lift your gaze up to the mirror to find her already staring at you. she doesn't look away, though—at least not immediately. you keep your eyes on her, scanning her face and the strands of hair that have fallen from her loose high bun, stuck to her skin by sweat.

she finishes up her rep, doing the very last one slowly to 'feel the burn,' as she always says. you watch her heavy breathing while she tilts her head back to take a swig of water, her throat bobbing at the movement.

"god, i’m tired," she huffs, swinging her gym bag on to her shoulder. "let's go to the lockers."

you trail behind her, teasing her when she looks back to make sure you were close behind.

the two of you enter the bathroom, her heading to the sinks to wash her face and you plopping on the wooden stools lined up on the wall. you check your phone for the time, smiling at the stupid picture of you and abby covered in food after a dare lighting up your screen.

"who you smiling at, huh? you got yourself a little boyfriend?" abby teases, peeking at you through one eye with the other closed to avoid getting soap in it from her face wash.

"you're the boyfriend, abby," you say while standing up to walk to the sinks, leaning on a nearby wall and crossing your legs at your ankles. "it's just that picture of us i have as my wallpaper."

you swear you see her previously playful smile falter before she purses her lips and closes her eye to continue washing her face.

once she finishes, she turns the sink off with her elbow and flicks the water off her hands into it, then reaches into her gym bag for a fresh towel. she pats it across her face to dry her skin before setting it down and leaning on the counter to look in the mirror at you with your arms crossed across your body.

"you ready for me to drop you off?" she asks, zipping up her bag. "we can grab food if you're hungry."

"you look so pretty, abs." you murmur, your eyes darting across her face to take it all in, to take her all in.

her hand stutters with the zipper, looking up at you with furrowed brows. "what?"

"you look pretty," you repeat, uncrossing your arms to begin a torturously slow walk towards her. despite her attempts to look unbothered, her face grows hotter and redder with every step you take.

"you know, normally people would say a thank you back, but maybe you're just a little flustered. maybe i flustered you. yeah, i think so," you mock, dragging your finger down her tense arm. "do you not get compliments often, abs?"

she finally catches on to your cheshire cat grin and the evil glint in your eyes and throws her towel at your chest. "god, i hate you, you know that?" she says, rolling her eyes.

"ughhh, it's just so fun to rile you up," you laugh and toss her towel on top of her gym bag. "do i make you nervous, abigail?" you prod, your face falling flat again as you look up at her through your lashes.

"i'm seriously about to hit you, dude."

"okay, okay! you wanna get some greek food from that place by the park?"

"oh, hell yeah," she exclaims while opening her bag to put her towel and water in and to retrieve her car keys.

"hurry up!" you say, nudging her hip with yours as you pass her to leave. "i want my feta salad and if they close before we get there, i might just throw a tantrum."

"and i might just drop you on the side of the road to hitchhike home," she murmurs. "come on, let's catch them before they close."

notes: i actually need to see abby in a loose high bun so bad...... do any artists follow me 👀👀

@picklesarenice69

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

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duyxjpg · 2 months

Text

Text messages between you & your f1 besties pt. 4

Summary: Just random dialogues between you & your f1 besties + your crush. Friends in question: Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris & Max Verstappen Note: Eventually the boys will take the matters in their own hands since it hurts physically to watch you (be so chaotic). Part 4 of the non ending saga is ready ofc with more chaotic Y/N content + bonus part.

Y/N always fake flirting with Charles just to annoy him. It always works..

Lando receiving his daily dose of headache at 01:34 AM as usual nothing new really..

Gossip girls are just dirty minded. Nothing wrong with Y/N and Maxie at all?!

You believe me when I say Charles is sometimes done with Y/N? Unbelievable but true.

Y/N being Y/N

What do you mean you see someone Bob? You gotta be more specific about it!!

Nothing just Y/N flirting with her babygirl Max.

Tf you mean you don't love Y/N more than Carlos? Is that even possible?

Next target 👉🏼 Christian Horner ✔️shit happens - check

Steiner just don't know yet what he is getting himself into. Y/N is not the one to take a hint and get out of trouble. Hard to believe that Y/N is a troublemaker right?

****************************************************

B o n u s :

random short insight into Y/N life with the boys:

„You are not going to do no such thing!” Y/N protested stamping her feet like a toddler, standing in the middle of the gaming hall.

“Why not? You like him, don’t you?” Charles grinned at Y/N widely. Y/N wanted to punch that smug grin off his pretty face. Y/N wanted to escape this very situation she was forced to be in, well sort of, so badly.

“Don’t grin like the cheshire cat and stop talking nonsense. How dare you?!” Y/N smacked Charles arm. Charles rubbed his arm while trying not to burst laughing. She looked around. Nervosity took over Y/Ns every single cell. Y/N could not believe that her so called friends made plans with the most handsome and perfect f1 driver on the grid at a gaming hall and did not tell her. Out of million places, the gossip girls choose violence and took her to the gaming hall. Y/N was competitive af and hated losing. The last time she went to a gaming hall Y/N had entry ban for three months.

As Y/N wanted to protest again Lando and Max did their entry. Lando was smiling from ear to ear. What a dumb man Y/N thought, trying the urge to roll her eyes. As for Max, he had his nonchalant way of looking. Casually dressed, his hands in his pockets and smiling at Y/N. What a man Y/N thought. Her "I have a crush on Max Verstappen" vibe was visible from the moon. Awkwardly greeting both of the drivers Y/N wanted to run away. She could feel the elephant in her stomach, yes elephants no butterflies, period.

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

“Y/N please calm down!” Lando laughed at Y/N. Y/N was horrible at racing games and currently she was losing miserably.

“I hate you all, how is this even a fair game? Racing with f1 drivers? What a fugging joke.” Y/N protested for the 100x time in the last five passing minutes.

“Since when do you care about fair play?” Charles mocked Y/N. Since I am terribly losing Y/N thought. She pointed Charles her favourite finger.

“Remember when you cold heartedly with a total serious expression explained me the rules to that one game wrongly so you could win?” Lando questioned with a fake disappointed look in his face.

“You did not!” Max laughed out loud. Laugh again you loser Y/N thought. It sounded like music in Y/N ears. What a beautiful man Y/N thought.

“It’s not my fault, it’s your own stupidity.” Y/N shrug and showed Lando her tongue. Y/N could see from the corner of her eye that Max was smiling while shaking his head. So pretty Y/N thought.

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

“I knew that Y/N would find a way to get her ass kicked out again!” Charles laughed.

“Disappointed but not surprised…” Lando added shaking his head.

“I still don’t know how she managed to punch a hole into the fucking wall!” Max questioned with a slight surprise in his voice.

"It was an "inchident." Y/N replied. Gaining a burst of laughter from Lando, a death glare from Charles and a grin from Max.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

****************************************************

Writers note: I didn't want to let you wait for too long + I thought it would be fun to show short parts of Y/Ns life with the boys. What you do you think about it? Would you like it or no?

#f1 #f1 x reader #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lando norris #max verstappen scenarios #max verstappen scenario #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc scenarios #charles leclerc scenario #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris scenarios #lando norris scenario #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Text

Summer Love // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: Falling in love with the Hard Decks new barkeep wasn’t on Bradley Bradshaws 2023 bingo. What else wasn’t on that bingo card was that the barkeep was a Floyd…..

Warnings. Porn with a plot. Bradley Bradshaw x Reader. (Nickname Pip) Mentions of near sexual assault/harassment. SMUT!

Word Count: 6.6k

Author Note: Okay so I know I said I was taking a little break to recharge my batteries but this was my attempt at a little break. Here’s a Rooster one-shot.

“Barkeep!” Bradley beamed as he entered the Hard Deck, his eyes immediately on you from the second he stepped through the threshold. “My oh my aren’t you a sight for sore eyes—“ It wasn't hard to tell Bradley Bradshaw was smitten for the new bar hire. Penny had easily picked up on the aviator's demeanour change from the moment he realised you were going to be a permanent fixture around the Hard Deck. “How you doing this fine Friday afternoon?”

“I haven’t had enough sleep to deal with this this afternoon—“ Bob groaned as he followed Rooster's path. Both aviators making strides in your direction. Coming to sit at the bar, both men made you the centre of their universe for two very different reasons. “I’ll have a coke thanks Pip.” Bob smiled softly as he took his glasses off to clean the lens. Nodding you turned your attention to Rooster, raising a brow as you flipped your bar towel over your shoulder.

“Draft please Pip—“ Rooster ordered his usual, fishing out his wallet from his back pocket. Handing over his card as he leaned on the bar. “Before I walk out on my tab again.” It had happened a few too many times, Bradley Bradshaw the life of the party—would sink back a few too many beers and leave slung over the shoulders of his colleagues and friends. He’d always make the walk of shame the next day however—tail between his legs as he’d cautiously tap his card on the bar, gaining your utmost attention with a cheshire cat smile and a guilty look lingering in his eyes.

You took the card with a tight smirk, placing it into your back pocket before opening up a tab in Bradley’s name before fetching Bob a glass of ice—hitting the nozzle of the soda gun on the lip of the glass for a brief second before pouring the syrup and soda water mixture right into the glass.

“You boys gonna give me any trouble tonight?” Raising your eyebrow, as you turned your attention back to Rooster now that Bob had his coke. Roosters only reaction was to lean a little further on the bar. Watching as you poured his glass from the tap. Holding it at a forty five degree angle so it didn't gain a head the size of his own ego.

“No ma’am, no trouble here.” Rooster winked as he mimicked your smirk, accepting the beer you cautiously slid along the bar. “Thanks Pip.” It hadn’t taken you long to settle into Fightertown, you’d asked Bob if you could come and stay with him for a few months until you found your feet again after what seemingly felt like you hit rock fucking bottom. You’d fallen out of love with your profession, journalism. You broke up with your long term boyfriend Ben after he’d got wind of your sudden desire for a sea change and possible career move. You just needed a new start, a new home, a new life.

Bartending had always been something you were good at, although you didn't drink–much like your older, half-brother Robert.

“You uh, are you doing anything this Sunday?” Rooster asked softly as he looked up at you, taking a small sip of his beer as Bob choked on his coke. You just shook your head no. Not one to talk all that much. Eyeing off the foam that had settled into Rooster's moustache from the foam cap of his beer.

“If you’re gonna flirt with my sister, please don’t do it in front of me.” Bob snarled as he shook his head in disbelief. These fucking guys honestly. Rooster playfully held his hands up in surrender. Scoffing at the accusations made by the seemingly well reserved weapons systems officer.

“I don't think I like what you’re insinuating Bob.” Rooster fired back with a wild shit eating grin as you chuckled softly to yourself, wiping down the bar with your rag as you watched the two interact. The bar was barely open. The only two patrons to have arrived, having got off early on this fine Friday afternoon. “I'm not flirting, am I Pip?” Rooster asked as you raised your eyebrows. Scoffing slightly as you bit your bottom lip momentarily.

“Well if you're trying you don’t seem to be doing all that well.” Rooster held a hand over his heart as he stared at you with hazel eyes. Deep browns and shades of greens swirling as he faked a hurt that cut deep into his heartstrings—forcing a laugh so pure from your soul it left Rooster wanting more of you always.

“You two make me sick—“ Bob rolled his eyes as he hopped off the barstool, heading over to the pool table. Rounding up bar tables and stools that he knew his fellow aviators would soon fill. Leaving you and Rooster to devote all your attention to one another. Bob would joke and tease and taunt you about your blooming romance with Rooster, but if there was anyone Robert Floyd would trust with his sister? It was Bradley Bradshaw. He had noticed early on in your impromptu over-extended stay that Rooster had developed an affinity for you. The usually reserved fighter pilot had no chill when it came to his advances with you.

“So Sunday?” Rooster was quick on the draw as he saw more and more people flood into the Hard Deck, knowing his time with you was fleeting at best. That your attention would be scattered for the better half of the evening working the bar and bussing tables.

“What did you have in mind, Flyboy?” You beamed his way with a glint in your eyes. Those fuck me eyes Rooster could hardly resist. You weren't not interested, if anything you were incredibly interested in Bradley–but you were a little hesitant to fall in love when you weren't even sure if North Island was the place for you and to make mattress all the more difficult while you were trying to find yourself, falling in love with a naval aviator didn't really make the situation any easier to navigate. He could be shipped off or deployed anywhere at any minute. Another detachment could rear its ugly head and god knows for how long he’d be gone?

But with all that in the back of your mind it was still hard to resist the charming ways of Bradley Bradshaw when he was hopping off his barstool, making strides around the bar to stand beside you.

“Penny doesn’t like it when you come behind the bar Bradshaw–” You tried to hide your ever present smile as you continued cleaning the bar. “You’re gonna make me ring that bloody bell, aren't you?”

“You, me, dinner at that restaurant in town that does that really nice sweet potato gnocchi.” Ignoring your reluctance to have him behind the bar with you, Rooster pressed on. Trapping you between him and the bar– strong arms on either side of you as he gently kissed your neck.

There wasn’t exactly a word to describe what you had with Rooster. The two of you had been talking, flirting, sneaking around and getting to know one another. But you were still very much an enigma to him. Rooster only knew a handful of things about you. One, that you were Bob's younger, half sister. Two, that you smelt of vanilla and bourbon. Three, that you weren't hard to get, but hard to earn–which made you all the more worth it. Four, that Pip wasn’t your real name–it was a nickname of sorts. A callsign if you will. But you just preferred Pip.

“You really wanna take me to dinner?” The way you said it made Roosters' hearts ache. Of course he did? Why would he not want to take you to dinner? It's not like he hadnt asked you a million times before. “Like you actually wanna take me to dinner?” Turning around in between his arms to face him, Bradley stepped back a little to give you some space as you leaned back against the bar crossing your arms.

“If you’ll finally give me a chance to?” Bradley smirked as he watched your eyes trail from his eyes down to his lips, lingering a little further down to the collar of his T-shirt. Sticking a few fingers inside the collar to scratch at his collarbone. “Eyes up here Pip.” Reaching over to grab the schooner you'd poured him, Bradley took a sip of his beer as you rolled your eyes. Pushing off the bar before turning on your heels to attend to the other thirsty patrons who started taking up the other barstools.

“Get out from behind my bar–”

“I'll pick you up at six o’clock?” It had become an unintentional stand-off, you eyeing off Rooster as he did so you. Patrons were starting to floor the Hard Deck every passing second and you knew if you let this charade go any longer you were going to have to deal with a very unimpressed crowd waiting on their amber beverages. “Or whatever time you like?” Shrugging with a wild smirk, Rooster waited for your response. He knew he was wheezing his way into the cracks that had started to form in your tougher than most exterior. He’d find a way in, if he just gave you time.

“What can I get you Dave?” You asked the man who'd come up and sat at the bar. A regular older gentleman who worked in the technicians block at Miramar.

“Just a Budwiser thanks Pip–on tap if you've fixed up the keg.” Nodding, you tried to hide your smirk as Rooster came to stand beside you, pouring his own beer from the tap after having finished the first one you’d poured him. “I never said yes to your little date idea, and don’t touch my taps Bradshaw Pennys gonna kill you.”

“Well unlike every other time–” Bumping your hip with his Rooster kept his gaze down, trained on the beer he was pouring himself. “You didn't immediately shut me down so I think we’re starting to make a little progress here.” You could feel the heat in your cheeks rising, smitten. Completely sitten. “And I never called it a date.” Rooster smirked as he felt the heat in his own cheeks rising from the back and forth flirting. He loved it, he’d always enjoyed a good game of chase. “You are far too much like your brother Pip, always making assumptions.” Bradley was quick as he placed a kiss on your cheek before you even registered what he was doing. That's all you really had, small fleeting moments that meant the whole damn world to you.

“Get out from behind my bar before I ring that bloody bell on you, Bradshaw.” Bumping Roosters hip with your own once again you grinned ear to ear. Turning to face him with barely any space between you. “I'm not kidding–” You interrupted your moment with Rooster to hand Dave over his beer. “Eight fifty thanks Dave.” It had become a common occurrence for most of the regulars to see Bradley Bradshaw behind the bar making a nuisance of himself. Dave in particular saw a lot of Nick Bradshaw in the way Bradley danced around you like a fly on a hot summer's day. The apple hadnt fallen far from the tree at all. Handling over the ten dollar bill, Dave just took in the sight that was playing out before him like a poorly put together romance novel, Rooster Bradsahw had it bad and everyone could tell.

“Neither am I–” With a hand on your hip pulling you into his, Bradleys eyes trailed down to your lips. He wasn't going to, not like this. Not when there were people waiting to be served. Not when Dave the engineer's assistant was sitting right in front of you. But it was fun to think about. His lips on yours, he’d only been blessed with that feeling, that sensation a handful of times. “Go to dinner with me–”

“If I say yes will you let me do my job for the rest of the night?” You spoke through gritted teeth, pretending to be annoyed as you handed the older gentleman his change from the till as Rooster trailed behind you like a lost puppy as you went to take the next order. Fixing the bow of your barmaids apron as you walked away from him across to the other side of the bar.

“Great so It's a date.” He’d tricked you, sending you a shit eating grin before ducking back under the bar. “Sunday night at six o’clock.” Rooster beamed, that cherishe like smile had crept back across his face as he stood for a moment just admiring you. “You know where to find me!” Raising his beer as you stood in disbelief at how well Rooster had played you. He wasn't wrong though, you always knew where to find him, and he’d always be there for you when you needed him. A few weeks ago, you were convinced Rooster had saved your life. You never spoke about it, never brought it up and neither did he. Probably for two very separate reasons, but regardless it happened and you were still processing the whole ordeal.

“Bradley–” The way you said his name as your legs fell either side of his hips had Roosters head spinning. Sitting on top of the bar after closing, Rooster had his hands on either side of your face. Pulling you into him as your tongue danced with his. “Take me home?” If he wasn't hard before he was most definitely hard now. Nodding as he let his forehead rest against yours. Licking his lips as the taste of your chapstick lingered on his.

“I'll take these bins out for you and we’ll go?” Penny had left you to shut up shop for the night. It had been rather quiet. Rooster hung back originally just to talk to you. Spend as much time with you as he possibly could. Stepping away as he helped you off the bar, Rooster grabbed the garbage bags and kissed your forehead. His hand on the back of your head keeping you pressed against his lips until he was satisfied and let go. “Don't go anywhere.”

You watched as Bradley disappeared out the back, deciding to wipe down the bar just one more time before you started turning off the lights. Going about your regular routine whenever you closed up the bar.

“You've got time for one more beer, don't you sweetheart?” There were three of them. Since when were you stupid enough to not lock the front doors? Oh yeah– that's right, the one time you decided to let your inhibitions get the better of you and got a little too hot with Bradley Bradshaw. “Or did we miss the fun?” You weren't too sure what he was insinuating, had he seen you with Bradley? Kissing on the bar.

“It's a few hours past last call, sorry gentlemen, can't help you tonight.” You tried ushering them out back towards the direction of the front doors. But they didn't budge. If anything they were delighted that you'd come closer. Lessening the distance between them and you. “I'm serious fellas, the bars closed.”

“I'm sure Penny wouldn't like knowing her Bartenders are screwing around with top paying patrons now would she?” One of them hissed as he stepped a little closer.

“Is that a threat?” You could recognise a threat from a mile away. You didn’t play dumb, you just fucked dumb, except for Braldey–he was far from dumb. Watching as the three men stepped a little closer to where you stood in absolute shock. You could hold your own, but you weren't that stupid enough to know three against one wasn't a fair fight. Your body just froze.

“You tell me, pretty girl–” They'd surrounded you, curling you like hawkes just waiting for their prey to die. “Now are you gonna get that beer or are we gonna see just how pretty you look bent over that bar instead of propped up on it?” Caressing the side of your cheek slowly, the man hummed as he coaxed a response from you.

“I only got draft on tap or cider–” Whenever you were scared or protecting yourself or those you loved, your southern drawl seemed to be more prominent, Much like Bob’s. “What’ll you have?”

“That's more like it, isn't it boys.” They all laughed as you shakingly took a step back into one of them, their hands coming to grip your forearms tightly. “But I still think we’d rather see you up on that bar.” Your eyes never left the mans as you clenched your jaw. His hand running up the inner part of your thing before landing near the zip of your jeans. “I know your type, you’ll fuck anything that’ll have you–wont you?”

“Everything alright out here Pip?” God you'd never been more relieved to hear Bradleys voice. Exhaling a sigh of relief as you craned your head to see where he was standing. By the back door with Penny’s double barrel rifle up and pointing in the direction of the guys who'd surrounded you. “If she doesn't give me an answer in two seconds I’m taking it as a no–”

“We’re just having a little fun aren't we boys?” Rooster wasn't having a bar of it, cocking the rifle as a warning.

“It's been more than two seconds and I still don't have an answer–” There was nothing but red in Roosters ledger right now. Stepping out of the shadows as he came closer and closer to you with meaningful strides. Never lowing his weapon. “Leave, before I decide your worth doing time over.” The silence was deafening as Rooster stepped in front of you as all three men backed out of the bar, not one turning their backs on Rooster. “Cops will met em on their way up the road, would’ve been back sooner but I heard what was going on and took pictures of their plates.” Rooster explained as he waited for the three men to pile into the truck out the front that hadn’t been there when you were closing up earlier. Once Rooster was one hundred percent satisfied they were gone? That’s when he turned to you. Placing the gun onto the bar as you crumbled into a heap in his arms. Shaking and crying uncontrollably.

“Brad—“

“Shhh, I got you, I’ve got you Y/n.” No callsigns. No nicknames. It was you and Bradley. Holding you in his protectively arms as you cried your heart out on the floor of the Hard Deck. Rooster never ended up taking you back to his—he took you home. Where Bob thanked Rooster with his life for keeping his sister safe.

Rooster knew this was going to set the timeline of his progress with you back ten fold–but he didn't mind all that much. Rooster was just glad you were safe, that you were okay and that in time he could love you like you deserved to be loved.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

It was easy to get through a busy shift when everytime you looked up, you met Bradleys gaze. He was always watching from afar. Somewhat protective but respectful of your personal space and boundaries all at the same time.

“So what's got you all smiles tonight Pip?” Hangman asked as you came around with an empty bar tray to collect the empty glasses. Penny knew you used it as an excuse to get out from behind the bar and talk to the patrons. One specific aviator in particular. “You’d think by now your cheek would be cramping?” Jake Seresin was a good person, you could tell that much just by the way he looked after his mates.

“If you must know.” You cooed as you took his empty glass and placed it amongst the others you'd already collected. “I have a date this Sunday.” Bradley could hear your conversation as clear as day, but he wasn't going to interrupt. He’d wait till you came a little closer to grab your wholehearted attention. Continuing his own conversation with Payback about the new admiral.

“A date huh? With Bradshaw?” Jake teased as he smirked at you, looking you up and down. “Let me guess, a pity date.”

“More like a get me off my back kinda date but still–” As you shrugged your shoulders at Jake, you turned on your heels, reaching over Bradly to grab his empty glass from the tabletop he sat by. “Excuse me Lieutenant Bradshaw, I just need to get the empties.” You knew Rooster hated it when you called him Lieutenant Bradshaw. That was reserved for work and work only, not pleasure, not play. He poked his tongue into the inner part of his cheek as he shook his head and met your gaze.

“Not funny.”

“Sorry Lieutenant–” You cooed, brushing up against his crotch as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, standing between Bradleys legs as his hand lingered on your hip, needing at the flesh as your words affected him more than he would have liked to admit. “It won't happen again.”

“Oi!” Bob hissed when he turned around to see the interaction unfolding. “This is a PG rated establishment–” At this rate, You and Rooster were going to get nowhere if Bob kept up his protective older brother shtick. “Separate please, none of that.” You didn't budge, you simply ignored your brother's request as Rooster dug his fingertips into your flesh a little more. Not wanting you to move from your place as you held the tray of empty glasses.

“I'm going on my break in fifteen minutes.” You explained. “Why don't you meet me out the back near the festoon lights?” It was as suggestive as you could make it, hoping Bradley would catch on to what you were insinuating. It wouldn't be the first time and it surely wouldn't be the last time you two would sneak away for a quick rondavoo in the back of the Bronco–but it had been a minute since the last time. If he thought about it for a little while, Rooster was sure you both haven't gotten together since that dreaded night with the three guys.

“Oh fuck–” Rooster felt like a teenager again when his cheeks begun to blush a rose hume at your words, his jeans feeling all the more tighter as he thought about the possibility of seeing you ride him again. “Okay, yeah, ill uh–i'll be there.” He nodded in quick heist as the flush of his skin started to creep up his neck. God it did things to you knowing how easily you melted the stoic Naval Aviator into a puddle. “But quit calling me Lieutenant Bradshaw, it aint funny sweetheart.”

“Really?” You pressed as you pushed away from Rooster, he looked ready to jump your bones then and there. “What would you rather me call you?” Again, you were being far too suggestive for such a public place. He’d missed this. Smirking down at you as you stepped back biting your bottom lip. “See you in fifteen, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Much to your delight, Rooster kept his promise almost to the minute. Meeting you out the back at one of the table and chair sets that were illuminated by strung up festoon lights. Sitting on top of the table, you waved his way as he made strides your way, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. The Hawaiian shirt he wore looked oh so stupid but in the best possible way. Only Braldey Bradshaw could pull off a Hawaiina shirt all year round.

“I'm a little disappointed you aren't already naked.” You joked as Rooster finally made his way over to you, jumping up beside you with a huff.

“Didn't wanna get done for public indecency by brother of the year.” Rooster was far too quick to tease back as you giggled softly and shook your head in defeat. It was nice to know Bob had your back, it truly was–but he was relentless. “So what's this about huh? Won't go on a date with me to save your life but you’ll happily have your way with me in the back of my Bronco?”

“I don't ever remember mentioning having my way with you in the back of your Bronco–” Much like Rooster had done to you with his plane to get you to go out on a real date with him, you had set him up. “You’re far too much like my brother, always making assumptions.”

“Oh–” Bradley puffed his chest a little as he got down from the table, pulling your legs closer to the edge as he stood between them. “So you’re telling me you don’t wanna just sneak away for a moment or two and–” You didn't let Rooster finish his sentence before you were laughing and biting your bottom lip.

“You'd only need a moment or two wouldn't you.” Bradley had never had this problem before, he wasn't ashamed of his stamina. Usually he could last for at least an hour if the sex was good, he could pace himself and edge his orgasm to the point where he could ride the high out for as long as he wanted–but with you? It had been a whole nother story. A few minutes was all it took for him to be spent. “Kinda don't need any more than five minutes.” You taunted, lifting your arm up to look at your wrist as if there was a watch wrapped around it. There wasn't. “So that leaves me with a solid ten minutes to kinda just dick around on my break.”

The first time you'd snuck away it was to the bathroom in the back of the Hard Deck. You thought for sure someone would catch you if you were gone for too long. Scared Bob would notice both you and Rooster were nowhere to be found. Bradley though, well he didn't make that a problem at all. He was done in about five minutes.

“I'll have you know that my condition is solely a problem caused by you, Pip–because although I spend most of my day thinking about you.” Leaning in, Bradley kissed you softly, pulling back seconds after as he continued showering you with endearment. “And how beautiful you are.” Again, he leaned in to kiss you, this time for a little longer, a little more passion filled. “And what I would do for just a slither of your attention.” It was this time that Bradley cupped your cheeks as he deepened the kiss he gave you, pulling you against his lips as his tongue danced with yours. Soft moans escaping as you worked to unbuckle his belt, looping it from his waist. “You still catch me off guard every time we’re together and I don’t think ill ever get over just how fucking good it feels to be with you.”

“Bronco–now.” You mumbled as you wiped your lips on your forearm. Rooster just smirked as he picked you up, a giggling mess as he rancid around the corner in the dark to where he’d parked his Bronco. “Bradley!” You squealed as he ran, carrying you in strong arms around the corner as you wrapped your legs around his waist and held onto the back of his neck.

“Shhh–” Before you could protest any further, Your back was hitting the paintjob of Bradleys Bronco. His lips were on yours in a fever dream kiss as he worked to fish his keys from his pocket. “Just go with it.” So you did. You kissed Rooster back with as much need and as much lust as he was kissing you with. Devouring one another as Bradley held you up with all his might against the side of his Bronco.

It wasn't long before you were climbing into the back seat, a giddy mess of adrenaline and need as you felt Roosters eyes on your ass as he followed you in. shutting the door behind himself before, like teenage dirtbags, you both rid yourself of any articles of clothing that just didn't seem practical for the aforementioned activities.

“Okay, okay so–” To no surprise of your own, Bradley was already a flushed mess. “How do you wanna do this?” He asked softly with big eyes and a soft smirk. It had been a minute and he just wanted you to lead the way–he’d follow. Do whatever you wanted to do. “Do you wanna maybe–” Again, you didn't let Bradley finish before you were taking his lips hostage with yours. Pulling him down on top of you as you laid back on the seat. Your rip tight around his neck. “Fuck–”

“Missed you, Missed this–” It wasn't that Braldey had inherently gone anywhere, but this was just something that had been off the cards for the last few months since the incident. Rooster respected you far too much to ever push your boundaries or climb the walls you put up. So he waited for you to make the first move.

“Missed you so much–” Travelling the expanse from your jaw down the valley of your chest and down your torso, Bradley left goosebumps wherever his lips melted against your skin. “So fucking pretty Pip–” Sinking down between your legs to meet your core, dripping and needy for his touch. “Since you think it's hilarious that I can't last more than a few minutes, let's see how long it takes you, yeah?” He’d made it a challenge, to see how long you’d last and you thought for sure it would take you a while. But as soon as Braldey pressed his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves and spread your legs as far as he could get them? You knew it wouldn't take long at all.

“Holy shit–” Your back arched off the seats as Bradley ate you out. His tongue lapping away as his fingertips danced at your entrance. “Ohh fuck!” There was a brief moment where you forgot how to breathe, that's how good it felt. The way Rooster was eating your pussy felt like he’d been starved for months, lapping and sucking and coaxing his fingers against your velvet walls. Two digits slipped in easily as your nectar pooled like it did at the base of a waterfall. All for him, all because of him. “Ohhh fuck Roos, yes!”

“Such a pretty cunt.” There had been many nights where Bradley Bradshaw jerked himself off to the thought of you, so much so the bottle of unscented moisturiser had become a permanent fixture on his bedside table. His fist would never compare to the satisfaction you gave him though. The feeling of being with you in any aspect, from the nights where you’d close up early and share a pizza down by the beach to the mornings where you’d meet up at Bradleys place and go for a run, was unparalleled. “So wet so easily Pip–”

“Say my real name.” You moaned as you fell deeper and deeper into the vortex Bradley was shoving you towards. “Bradley, say my name.” God it felt so good, the pressure in your lower abdomen was coming to a boiling point, the tips of your toes tingled with pins and needles, crinkling your nose as your breathing laps and got deeper every passing second. “Oh god oh god oh god oh god–”

“I got you Y/n, I got you–” Bradley knew you were verging on the edge of your orgasm, he wasn't going to say anything now–but he couldn't help but to smirk against your pussy as he worked you over, pumping his two digits in and out. Your juices slicked him up so good it had started to drip down his wrist. “I got you baby cum for me.” It was otherworldly every time you were with Rooster. He knew just what to do and when to send you over the edge. It was a tell tale sign though whenever you gripped his dirty blonde locks with your first, pulling harshly as you shifted your hips against his face. “Cum on my face Y/n please baby, then ill fuck you so good you’ll be hobbling behind that bar of yours.”

“Ahhhhh!!” You felt it bubbling, there was no turning back now. “Bradley i'm cumming i’m cumming i’m cumming i’m cumming ahhhh–!” Bradley didn't stop, he never stopped pumping his fingers inside you, he never stopped sucking at your swollen clit. “Ohhh fuck!” It was pure ecstasy, a euphoria only Bradley could provide you with. Your body stiffened as your orgasm washed over you like a damn titlewave. “Ohhhhhhhh–ffuuggghhhh—!”

“Fucking christ Y/n yes baby look at you.” Rooster cooed as you soaked his face, squirting a little as he hit the squishy wall of your cunt over and over again, coaxing the liquid from you like a pro. It felt too good to not ride out the high to its full capacity. Revelling in every second of your high. “Did so good for me.” Bradley was quick to wipe his mouth on the back of his forearm as he came up to meet you. Kissing your lips softly, he moaned at the thought of you tasting yourself on his tongue.

“I still have eight minutes left on my break.” You sighed as you looked up at Rooster. “You got enough in the tank to waste two minutes?”

“What the hell question is that?” It made you laugh at just how ready Bradley was. “Absolutely I do, hop on beautiful.” Within the blink of any eye, Bradley had switched up the positions you were in. A few seconds ago you had been lying on your back with him hovering on top of you. Now? You were straddling his lap as he sat back against the middle seat of his Bronco. “You know you’re the most beautiful woman i've ever met right?” Bradleys complement didn't go unnoticed, it had you breaking out into a bashful smile so bright he swore you could have seen it from space. “And you aren't just another girl.” He cooed, cupping your face as he pulled you down for a kiss. “And this isn't just some summer love for me.” He explained as you shifted in his lap, guiding the head of his cock past your slick folds and into you slowly, sinking down–taking him inch by inch. “I think I'm truly falling in love with you–”

“I think I'm truly falling in love with you too, Roo.” It would be a conversation tabled for a later day, because the moment you started moving up and down the length of Roosters cock? It was fake over for him. Moaning against your lips as you kissed him. Bouncing up and down to a rhythm of your choice, slowly, coaxing him to write where you wanted him.

“Ohhhh fuck—yes, Y/n fuck you feel so good baby.” Roosters hands gripped at your hips, helping to guide you up and down his slicked up length as you worked your way down his jaw. Kissing over his scars—sending shivers down his spine as you did so. You’d been the only woman to ever do that, he had a girlfriend once who brought him concealer. But you? You kissed at the scar tissue like it was some imperfect perfection. “Holy shit—feels so fucking good!”

“You're gonna come already Bradshaw?” You just wanted to tease him a little. “Ahh! But it feels so good, never wanna stop riding your cock.” Rooster let his head fall back against the glass of his Bronco. Squinting his eyes tight as he tried to hold out for as long as he possibly could. With you though? It was damn near impossible to. You just felt too good.

“I’m good—“ Bradley lied, you knew he did. “Keep fucking me like this though and I’m not gonna last.” You knew he was barreling towards his high. There was a tight sensation pooling at the base of his shift as his balls tightened and breathing hitched. He’d gone a bright shade of crimson, his skin blotchy and hot to the touch. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—holy shit just keep fucking me Pip keep fucking me baby feels so fucking good.” Babbling, Bradley had given himself over to the feeling you brought him. Your touch, your warmth, your ability to have him coming undone at the scene was like a personalised siren song you sung out just for him. “Where can I cum!?”

“You can cum inside me Bradley, come on baby—cum for me.” Bradley had a fair few inches to carry around. It always felt good with him buried inside you, but with only a few minutes left in your break—the two of you would have to find a lengthier time to be intimate. “You wanna cum for me? Fill me to the brim with your cum Lieutenant Bradshaw—“ There it was, that was it—your point proven, the second that rank left your mouth Rooster was pulling you flush against his chest with your arms strung behind your back. Fucking up and fast and deep and mercilessly into your dripping fucked out cunt. “Aaahhhhh! Fuck! Yes yesss!” You cried out, it felt way too good. “Bradley!”

“I told you not to call me that didn’t I?” He was done for, he was a goner—completely head over heels in love with you as he came hard and fast and without shame. “Ooohhhh fuck! Ooohhh yes, ooohhhhh god—“ flooding your cunt with the biggest load he’d ever given. “Ohh my god, that was—“

“The very definition of a quickie.” You finished Rooster's sentence as hot air steamed the windows of his Broco like that one scene in Titanic. “But I’m not complaining.”

“You wanna come back to mine after you finish work?” He asked as you sat up, his cock still inside you as he softened, deciding you had a minute or two still left to spare.

“Maybe—“ You smiled softly. “Depends on how busy the rest of the night is.” You knew Bradley hadn’t meant it in a way where he was implying another round. But you knew he would clear that up.

“I didn’t mean it like, another round—-“ Ah, yep there it was. “I just meant maybe we could just spend whatever ends up being the rest of your night together, a pre date for our real date if you will.” He beamed, leaning in to kiss you one final time before you dismounted to sit beside him. Both naked. Both spent. “And before you say you have to work tomorrow? I already asked Penny, you don’t have work tomorrow.”

“And what if I had plans of my own?” You cooed, looking over your shoulder at Rooster as you pulled your shirt back over your head.

“Cancel them.” He was as serious as a heart attack. “Spend the weekend with me gorgeous?” Rooster just wanted to be by your side always. “I know you’re reluctant, but—like I said, this isn’t summer love for me, so I’m gonna keep chasing you until you either give up or tell me to stop wasting my time.”

“Well I hope that your cardiovascular health is a lot better than your sexual stamina Bradshaw.” You teased as you buckled your jeans up. “Because I’m quite enjoying being chased.”

“Keep running than Pip.” Bradley smiled as he watched you open the door of his Bronco, sliding out as if mother happened. “Because I’ll catch you.”

“Only in your wet dreams Lieutenant Bradshaw.” You taunted as you leaned in just one more time to place a kiss against Roosters lips. Savouring the feeling before pulling away. “But yes, I’ll come back to yours after work.”

“So it’s a pre date for our date?” You couldn’t help but to laugh. Shaking your head softly as you nodded in agreement.

“Yes, a pre-date for our date.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradleybradshaw #bradley x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster fic #top gun rooster #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw imagine

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queenof-curses · 1 year

Text

Prince Charming

Katsuki Bakugo (Pro-Hero) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pro-Hero Dynamite is the perfect boyfriend in the media's eyes. The press constantly praises your relationship, but what they don't realize is that Katsuki Bakugo is insatiable behind closed doors.

Tags: Minors DNI!, Explicit, Yandere Behavior, Yandere Bakugo, Explicit Sex, Dacryphilia, Breeding, Established Relationship, Consensual but a little dub-con.

This was originally an ask submitted by Anon- I hope you enjoy<3

send me a tip: Ko-Fi

Masterlist | More My Hero Academia

Pro-hero Dynamite loved his precious little girlfriend.

In public he treated her like his delicate Princess… one who could shatter with even the lightest touch. The Press constantly hounded the top hero and his lover, snapping photographs of the blonde hero shielding you away from prying eyes.

He was seen holding doors open for you, maneuvering your bodies so that he’d be the one walking closer to traffic, and even holding up his coat as you rode up the escalator- hiding you from both the media and any creeps with wandering eyes. He was so sweet and affectionate, and so different from the way the public originally met him as a teen. The Press praised every single detail of your relationship, hailing him as the Prince Charming Hero.

But behind closed doors, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Bakugo was never the man to be attracted to weak women. No, he knew you could take a punishment, and he wasted no time pushing you past your limits in the bedroom.

“You spoiled brat- don’t look at me like that,” he tells you.

Tears rolled down your face, mascara marks staining your cheeks as you kneeled before the pro hero. You cough, attempting to alleviate the pain and soreness in the back of your throat as you struggle to catch your breath.

Bakugo’s hard cock bobbed in front of your face. Its heavy girth weighed as you watched the angry red tip leak. His precum mixed with your spit, running down his shaft and onto his full sack.

“Tch- stupid bitch, you can’t even suck my cock right.” The fiery blonde scoffs at your behavior- gripping you by the back of your head and pulling you forward once more.

You open your mouth once more to accept him- forcing your coughs into silence as you eyed his member like a lollipop, ready to satisfy your sweet tooth. You were so ready to submit to him- your need to please could get him off from just the thought of it.

He uses a free hand to grip his length, bouncing it against your lips as if teasing you with a treat.

The saltiness coats your lips, as you eagerly keen for more. Bracing your hands on his strong thighs, you prepare yourself for what’s to come.

“You gonna suck my cock right this time, Princess?” He teases you, smirking at your neediness. “Gonna let me fuck that sweet throat of yours?”

“Y-Yes Bakugo.”

A loud smack silences you.

The pain is delayed, the shock sitting deep in your gut at the realization of the hit.

“My name isn’t Bakugo right now Princess.”

It’s all he says, giving you a moment to register the slap. Yes, it hurt- but you’ll be damned if the rough treatment didn’t drench your panties. You could feel the way your cunt throbbed, desperate to be played with. Your wetness soaked through, and you knew that if you were to look down- you’d see a mess between your thighs.

Yes, the media was correct in that Pro Hero Dynamite was the sweetest boyfriend ever. Yet, that’s not why you liked him. It was a plus, yes- but this feeling… this thrill, is why you yearned for the man.

“I- I’m sorry…” you whisper out before transitioning into a more confident tone. “Please Daddy… fuck my throat.”

A Cheshire smile cracks across the angry blonde’s face. How could he not fall for those precious puppy dog eyes of yours?

“That’s what I wanted to hear, Princess.”

You open your mouth up for him once again, hanging your tongue out and relaxing your throat.

Slowly, he feeds you his cock.

—

It’s been hours.

And yet, the Pro-hero never stopped for more than a few moments. Mostly, because of yourself. You needing to catch your breath- to come down from the multiple orgasms Bakugo pulled from you. Your pussy ached at this point, but there was no stopping your partner until he achieved his goal.

You laid your cheek against the cool sheets- the thick scent of sex permeated the air as your eyes rolled back once more.

He had you on all fours again- except you no longer had the strength to hold yourself up. Your arms sat limp against your sides, face flat on the bed below as you clenched the sheets with your fists.

Bakugo held your ass high into the air, fucking himself into your weeping cunt as you clenched tight around him. If you weren’t hanging on for dear life, the force of his thrusts would send your body up the bed. He admired his pretty little girlfriend below him, being split open on his hard length, watching himself disappear deep inside of you with each movement.

“Fuuuuck baby- that’s right, cum on my cock.” He tells you, noticing the way you clenched down around him. He was mesmerized as he watched the thick ring of cream form at the base of his shaft.

Obsessed wasn’t even half of it. This man was absolutely mad for you.

His filthy words rang in your ear; you were unable to process just exactly what he was saying as you cum around him for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

“Bakugo– I- Fuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes squeezing shut as tears spring freely down your face.

He was so lost in you, the Daddy act had been long abandoned as he listened to the way you cried out for him. His name on your lips was like a blessing… an answer to his prayers that you were everything he’s ever asked for.

You were numb all over- the only thing you could make out was Katsuki’s shaft buried deep inside of you, molding you into the shape of him. How he managed to still be so hard after so many rounds- the thought far from your mind as you listened to the way his still-heavy balls slapped against your swollen clit.

“Suki…” you cried out. “Please- ‘is too much!”

The overstimulation was too much- he forced orgasm after orgasm from you for what felt like hours. Truth was, he loved getting you drunk on his cock. Each and every moan he pulled from you was his version of winning, with your pleasure being his prize.

He looked down at you and smirked, admiring the tears, sweat, and cum that slicked across both of your bodies. It was a mess, and he intended for it to last just a little bit longer.

“Too fucking bad Princess, you’re my little cum slut to use and fill as I please. Now fucking take it.” He says as he slams into you. The driving force of his hips filled the room with wet smacking noises, his grunts accompanying your own cries.

You could only whimper in response- a cute sound that was like music to his ears.

Oh how he loved being mean to you, degrading you with every thrust of his hips... You accepted himself as he was- the only person to ever let him take his frustrations of being a top-hero out on. Of course he knew that you knew he loved you deeply- that this was just an outlet for you both to let go; you were tired of playing the perfect partner in public, and he needed to release some pent up stress. Truly, it was amazing how well you completed one another.

Your womb felt so full, stuffed to the brim by the previous loads Bakugo emptied inside of you. You were, in fact, his precious cum dumpster for the night. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he had the intention of knocking you up.

If only you knew how he saw the shitty Media’s article earlier that day.

–

PRO-HERO DYNAMITE: AFRAID OF COMMITTING?

It had nothing to do with infidelity or anything of that nature, just a clickbait article that pinpointed on the length of time you two had been together. How there was no ring, no child, no legal tie to one another.

And he was dumb enough to click on it.

The marriage part he already had planned. He had a ring picked out for months that he was waiting for the right time to ask you. But the mention of a child together?

Fuck yeah Bakugo wanted to be a dad. He loved you to death, so thoughts of you full and pregnant with his child riddled his brain all day. He couldn’t stop thinking about it… the thought made him hard and his balls weighed heavily in his uniform because of it.

Fuck- he needed you.

And when he saw you after his patrol shift, the thoughts were still etched into his mind. He was going to make it happen. Tonight.

–

“Agh- Fuck!” He growled, feeling the way you milked him dry. His balls twitched between his legs as he emptied yet another load into your tight heat.

“‘Suki- Fuck, ‘feels so good…” you groaned out, voice hoarse at this point from the countless times he’s made you cry out. You gripped the sheets as you arched your back into him- rocking your hips up and down his cock, making sure each drop of his seed ended up deep inside of you.

Strong hands dug into the flesh of your hips, no doubt leaving bruises of your time together. He molded himself against the fat of your ass, holding himself balls deep inside of your cunt as he humped his load further into your womb.

You felt the way his dick twitched as he decorated your insides with ropes of fresh cum, joining the previous finishes from earlier that night. Tears sprang free as you cried into the bed, the already wet sheets soaking up your whimpers as you feel him fill you once more.

“Katsuki…” you sighed out.

Overworked- overheated- overstimulated

The only three words that could be used to describe your current state..

But as Bakugo pulled out of you and flipped you over, you saw it there in his eyes. That same fire he had when coming home earlier that night.

Gripping you by the backs of your knees, he pushes your legs up against your chest and buries his weeping cock back inside of you, hissing at the overwhelming pleasure of his still-sensitive tip hitting your womb.

Fresh tears spring from your eyes as you let your boyfriend continue to ravish you- grinding himself down on your swollen clit as he watches your fucked-out reaction yearn for him.

“I’m far from done with you, Princess.”

Thank you for reading! Any likes & Reblogs mean the most <3 To submit a request, please use the ask option on this tumblr page.

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#katsuki bakugo x reader #yandere bakugou #yandere bnha #Katsuki Bakugo #bakugo x reader #Bakugo x you #Yandere #Yandere behavior #queenofcursesfanfic #queenofcursesmha #obsessive yandere #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha fanfiction #yandere my hero academia

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skxllz · 5 months

Text

male! reader / 18+

a loud, keening groan filled the room of the l/n house.

“ fuuuck, ” you whispered, watching as your three fingers stretched the male's hole open. his puffy, pink rings of muscle were gripping onto your digits for dear life; boy pussy pushing out with a wet pop. “ look at that shit. y’re so fucking hungry for my fingers, baby. ”

mickey's face was burning bright red from the way you talked to him, ‘lids falling to a half-closed expression of pure bliss while he wanted. “ shut- ” he huffed, “ shut the fuck up, y/n. ”

darkened eyes flickered up to meet the male's own, a cheshire grin stretching across your face at the act of disobedience. “ sorry, what? ” you pulled your lubed fingers out, only to slap them harshly over his stretched entrance.

he yipped in reply, only to tilt his head back with a whine.

“ repeat that, ” digits roughly patted against the stretched flesh — before hooking inwards, and jerking upwards in a fingering salute. it made mickey's cock jump. “ repeat it, you little fucking slut. ”

but he couldn't. with you adding a forth finger after saying degrading him, toggling at his cock and jetting your fingers into his ass, mickey was seeing white ecstasy. his throat bobbed as he swallowed, trying to collect his thoughts — but nothing. they were jumbled, just as his speech came out slurred.

“ little fucking pig. ” you sneered, driving your fingers in ‘til very edge of your knuckles. “ look at cha’, swallowing my damn hand, ready to cum already. you're so fucking disgusting, ” and then your thumb. fisting him completely; hand fitting into mickey's hole with a glorious twisting stretch. he was whining so loud, bucking his hips. “ takin’ m’fist like a little whore — cum, bitch. cum for me. ”

#mickey milkovich x reader #mickey milkovich #shameless #shameless smut #shameless x reader

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ikkosu · 3 months

Text

MY DARLING MEDIC

(fem.human.medic.reader x pharma)

summary : tarn strikes up a deal with pharma. but when he refuses, the tank takes up a more personal measure to confront him.

warning : angst. fluff (if you look real close💀). blood. this is the DJD what'd you exoect. bro I fucking died writing this. wanted to cut this in like several parts but decided to merge it together. wanted to write this into a multi-chaptered fic but my commitment could never. could be a series ig. lovely headers by @cafekitsune

One moment he's caught Ambulon at gunpoint, then the next he’s scampering down the halls, clutching the vials close to his chassis as he tears through for an exit. The game is up. He should've known better than to nab the easy path. Responsibility purges itself a mile away when confronted at the baseline of his problems. Now, it's got him cornered and Ratchet — who barged into the room — his friend, his oh-so-dear friend, pulls up a blaster.

PHARMA doesn’t know what to say.

Points it at his face.

His own mirth were flaked with rust, crinkled into a grimace, where along the crevices, the miniscule cracks, oozed spatter of crimson. The gun was unsteady; he’s shaking. He's infected. The uncomfortable feeling of your insides twisting punched him back. It gutted him more than he could realize and he’s got no guts, just thrumming circuits struggling, and failing, to prevent the inevitable.

So he does just that— prevent the inevitable.

A, one, two, three BANG of bullets barrage the other side of the room. Disregarding the startled shout of surprise, he stepped round the corner, making a beeline for the shaft. Storms of remorse whirled around his processors as he pulls himself up the ladder. It jostled and creak, much like how his jitter palms does when he's drunk on andrenaline.

He’s made that mistake again. He should’ve known better. He should’ve. Impulse stumps logic and now, he's outside. In the cold. Digits clinched the edge, close to slipping. Close to falling. Ratchet is aboven and where his optics catch below, he can see the fall, the descending vertigo of ire before his eyes.

“Pharma, buddy — what the hell happened to you?”

YOU scroll aimlessly through the datapad.

He doesn’t know; he might never will.

Propped against the armchair, legs crossed and ankle bobbing, the screen flared your face with a soft blue-ish glow as the lines of words blurred together the more you strained to stare.

You're bored. Tired, too. But mostly bored. You were able to rest in your office after a tough match with several unruly patients. They were mechs. Pretty big mechs. And, they were a little, ah, how do you put this, organicophobes?

One of them had a more dire diagnosis : a t-cog malfunction. A type 3 kind. One that involved the t-cog overheating from too much usage, causing it to, in a way if you were to explain in human terms, like an organ, rot. It was deteriorating quick and the metal shards, miniscule ones, had already infected the internal circuitry.

A kind of job that required smaller, steady hands.

In short, they required humans.

You can handle a bit of discrimination — resentment against Organics was normal here despite the rules ensured to prevent so — but it still gutted you, knowing these mechs can do better than to hate another race from their own.

Especially when the said race tried to save their life.

A little bit of acknowledgment doesn't hurt from time to time.

You hope they were doing well, though.

The silence of the room was broken by footsteps approaching your office. The sliding doors opened with a swish and there you could discern the wide Cheshire grin of smugness amidst the slight darkness of the room. You should really stop shutting the lights, its begging to hurt your eyes. His teeth were practically glowing and was obvious he's quite in a good mood today.

You tucked the datapad inside the cabinet and caved against the cushion of the armchair, tipping your chin up into a smile, brimming with curiosity. One much as a 'whats he gonna pull this time?' type of curiosity.

“Working hard, I presume?” He croons, slinking across the room to your cubicle with several strides.

You quirk a brow; he's got something behind his back but you don’t press.

“Depends on which report you’re haggling me about,” You reply back, a playful smile. “Though, I can’t say for sure which region I am currently hard in, doctor. Would you like a scan?"

It catches him off gaurd for a moment — a simple one, two, three blink of his optics and your smile prods wider upon the not so subtle twitch of his wings. It sags in frustration.

“And here I thought I might have, for once, an appropriate greeting from my darling. I can never grasp your vulgar little mind, no less the entire mapping of your organic, squishy little brain,” His optics twitches as he vents. "But I’m not here to lecture you on prudence, no. I’ve got you a little, ah, herbal gift from my trip off world. The one you adore so much.” Then he adds with a mumble. "So much more than me, apparently.”

You perk up, and if you’re anything like a bunny, those ears would straghten right up to the brim. "What, like tea?”

"Even better, dear."

A ceramic mug is quickly perched onto your desk with a clink. You can't help but to coo in adoration at the utterly adorable little thing. It’s those tiny little teacups with teal blue flowers pasted across. A petite like holder, round and smooth, accommodated the curl of your finger. Nostalgia wrings you nto its clutches, back to teatime with your stuffed animals. You'd always be the princess.

You inhale the drink, warm steam wisps from tea, the color is an emerald-like-ore cadence under the stark white light.

"Since when did they have green tea in Nexus?"

"Earth, apparently. Globalization this, Space-localization that. Ignore the specifics. I'm sure you're better off without another lesson in economy?"

"I'd rather keep my thinking intact."

“Hm, that's a lot less fun. Anywho, I've taken some of my time to make it myself.” He pronounced, optics closed, regarding the cup with a theatrical wave proudly. "In fact, I have purchased the finest, well-endowed tea packet from the best of the best merchants. Never mind the cost, it's a splendid little thing, no?”

You’re still a little stunned admiring the cup but you blurt the first thing to mind.

“Smells fruity, for sure.”

He snaps one optic open, then entire look falls into offense. “Fruity is not what I had in mind.”

Ah, fuck.

"....nice?”

"Not that, either.”

“Ah, er, well — Great....?"

“Try again, dear.”

“C'mon docbot, what do you want me to say?”

”I’ve bought a tea packet that costs more than what this entire hospital is worth and you're describing it as 'nice?'”

You scrambled for words, fishing for the right one until— “Fragrant!" You snap your finger. "Right, fragrance.”

He stares.

You stare.

His rigidness loosens a little.

“One of these days I should really lecture you on the essence of compliments. See there? The mug is a ceramic. I’ve taken much care to handle it. It's from a lovely old organic. Her little shop in Nexus are a must to visit again."

You lean against your palm, eyes crinkled, cheeks round with warmth. “Is this a compensation?"

"For breaking your bed, yes—" you choke a little at that "—Now, go on, taste it.” He bends over to rest his elbows on the table, perching his chin on his two servos like a girl would, kicking their little feet during a sleepover.

“Don’t you have to buy me a new bed to compensate for that?”

He huffs, “ I already did. This is a bonus. Now, stop stalling. I have a patient to tend in a few hours and unless you've not taken a sip, I'm not going anywhere."

"Right, right. No pressure, doc."

"Very much."

You pinch the cup between your index and thumb. A pinkie is jutted out the for dramatics where you caught his lethargic look of disdain to it. And the final act concludes when the rim kisses your lips and you take a sip.

"Well?"

You stare at the ceiling for a moment.

"s'good...woah, real good." You blink in surprise, licking your lips to process the taste. "It's like my mother's! How'd you make this?"

“I was hoping you’d ask that.” He takes it upon himself to sit on your desk, inching close. "It's a, well, how do I put this — an obscure ingredient I am not willing to disclose."

"...You didn't lace this with laxatives didn't you?" You challenge.

"Laxatives?" He almost balks. "No, of course not. Why would I ever do such a thing? Think again."

You squint like that'll help you think. "Vanilla extract?"

"No."

"Oh, come on! Sugar?"

"Not a chance, dear."

"Milk."

"Far from close."

"Salt?"

"Are you serious?"

"What is this, 20 questions? I'll die by the time I cover the whole list of ingredients." You stand up with a huff.

All he does return, however, is a bemused crinkle of mirth from his eyes.He says nothing, only curling out a digit where it prods the area just above your chest. He taps it. Once. Then twice. It took a moment before the cogs turned on its own, and when it does, your cheeks flared up much to your chagrin.Oh. Oh. Your heart. The secret ingredient is—

—love?

You slumped to your chair, clutching your face to fight away the embarrassment at his audacity. You wanted to say it was the lamest, cheap, heart grabbing compliment of all time but you can't.

You just can't.

It's too....sweet.

"I swear Pharma...." If anything, you're reduced to a sputtering mess.

"Pharma? Not so much. I think 'God' would be the latter end. I swear to God, no?"

"Okay smartass."

"I know my rear-end is quite fine. Though, reduce your compliments to the bedroom, please."

"Pharma!"

There was something innately fond with how he’s fixated upon your scrunched up faces and agitated eyes.

Your eyes, they were always so expressive, so bright, much like stars when they flicker amidst the darkest night. A miniscule notion yet so wide in prominence. A haven he could dwell in when plagued upon with sullen days.

He couldn’t resist, and with his digits squishing your cheeks, he pulls you close. The agitation melts the moment you feel his lips against your temple, cheek, nose then your lips.

You glare at him when he pulls away."

"...You’re really making it hard for me to focus my angry molecules into an explosive blast, you know."

“Blast? Please, the least you can do is wield a knife and you're horrible at combat.Also, that's scientifically inaccurate.”

“Oh, shut up.” You look away, faltering at the sight of the door. “....You know what I meant.”

“How about you, as the humans would say, shut me up for a change?" His eyes became playful, tone borderline seductive. You're still fixated on the door. “On the topic of something explosive. Since we’re getting off our shift early today, I was wondering if you’re willing to test the new coils on our bed—“

“….Pharma?” But your eyes on fixed on somewhere else, or someone behind him.

"Doctor."

That isn't your voice.

Pharma’s sensor flares much as his wings did when he whirled around. His spark churned at the sight of the engraved decepticon insignia on his chassis and the gruesome signature mask upholstered on the mech’s face. A mask intended to revel fear, douse the flames of sanity.

Instantly the atmosphere shifted.

It dawns upon him how vulnerable he currently is. How close youre in proximity to the tank. How easily he could tear through the room and kill you. Lodge a knife through your chest. Leave you there on the floor. Skull, cracked. Brains, spooling. Blood agash. A simple red stain on the rag.

Pharma is terrified — he’s terrified of his unpredictability. Whatever thoughts are churning in his head are reduced to a blank slate as his shadow looms over, dwarfing his frame. He's not even moving. Just lingering there by the door. Any second now he could lose his temper and any second later you could be dead. Reduced to atoms. When crimson eyes flickered over, leaning to the side to get a better look, Pharma steps aside to shield you from his gaze.

“I’ll be there, Tarn.” He says stiffly.

The mech regards you for a moment before striding off. Away. The doors swished closed. How'd he knows where he was?

“Who’s that?” You ask, an innocent question he wished he could answer but Pharma pulls you up to your feet, his optics locked on the door.

“No one important, darling .” He replies yet he's already packing your stuff, pulling and shoving everything from your desk. His servos are jittery, wings twitching, brows furrowed.

You follow him around, wringing your hands. "Pharma? I thought you said—“

“Go home without me, dear.” He whirls around after tucking in your jacket into the last slot of your pouch and slips the bag over your shoulder. "It’s late and you have an early shift tommorow, no?"

You deflate, defeated. "Yeah, but i—"

"I have a meeting to attend. It'll be be fine. I won't stay up too late, I promise."

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s composed but you know he’s not. You know from the twitch of his digits he’s hiding something. He's a cunning deceptive man amidst all the layers but he's never a good liar. You wonder if it’s a reasonable time to press but in the end he’ll just figure out another lie to deceive you.

It'll hurt to leave.

You give him a wry grin. “Don’t stay up too late then or she’ll hog the covers.”

“Fortify the bed for me.” He pulls you for a kiss. "Get home safe."

PHARMA doesn’t want to open the door.

"Will do, doc bot."

Instead, he's pacing the front, wringing his servos, muttering to himself. He knows he should. But the temptation to stride in, get it over with, then walk back out was inviting. An in and out kind of ordeal wasn't the kind Tarn tolerates, much rather, he's mech hiding behind the facade of patience.

He's the worst to impatient.

Steeling himself, Pharma juts his chin up, bearing his usual haughty demeanor and barges through the door. Tarn's imposing presence was enough to halt his circuity but he pulls on the act, pedes an impatient thunk against the floor he rounds the desk, slumping on the chair. Unbothered.

“Make it quick. I have my duties to attend. Another influx of patients up from the east were admitted today. My schedules are full."

Tarn says nothing, regards him for a moment before tossing a deception insignia onto the table. It skidded across, bumping his elbow. By the scrapped off sheen of metal surrounding the symbol, it appears to be ripped out. There’s still energon on it. Barely dry. Pharma pulls away with a grimace. He needed air.

"One of your patients that I've taken care of."

By taken : unruly, unethical forms of torture.

“You ruined a nicely done table in favor of your dramatics.”

“Dramatics to which I prefer not to be taken ever so loosely, doctor." He flicks off a chip fron his talons. It plinks on his desk.

“You’re hiding them here.” He grits, a smooth croon of his voice. So deep, relaxing if not for the fact that he's close enough to snap his neck broken.

“No, I do not,”

“You know better than to lie to me, Pharma. You see, I know everything and it doesn’t take long for me to wrench that truth out of you, I assure you. So, answer me : are you hiding them here?"

“What does it matter to you?"

"A whole lot if you're anywhere close to the ranks of a deception warrior. But, for this circumstance, I will turn a blind eye to it and leave you alone."

Pharma straightens up, surprise. "Impossible. There should be a catch."

He can imagine how smug the smile behind the mask is. A crinkle of his eyes, a gentle prod of his lips — a facade so deceiving it was hard to believe this mech was the cause for all the sufferings they've imposed upon those traitors.

"Yes. And I'll get to the point. I accepted your rejection to your proposal last week because I understood your hesitance. I gave you time to think about it and right now it is dire I require more stocks of the T-cogs. Refuse me and I'll have to take up a more, personal counteractive measure to persuade you."

Pharma stiffens. He tries not to glance at your framed picture on his desk.

"You wouldn't want that would you?"

He narrows his optics. “I don’t know what you mean,"

Tarn shoots out an arm, wide digits curled around his neck cables before he yanks him close, clamping down, choking him. The doctor struggles, clawing at his chest.

“You’re meddling with an organic, Pharma—"Tarn croons, squeezing tighter with every disgust that laced his word. "—That is what I mean and while I prefer not to cut out the pleasantries, she will suffer from the consequences of your actions if you’re not going to concede. So, I’m going to make myself clear. Do you accept that deal or do you not?’’

Pharma tugs on his wrist to loosen the grip

“Please, anything, please, I—“ He holds up his hands placatingly, choking down his last grip of pride. "I'll do it. I'll do it! Just don't..."

Please, don’t hurt her.

"....Just don't. She's innocent. Don't bring her into this, Tarn. She's a remarkable doctor, please—"

Tarn releases his hold. Pharma drops to the ground, clutching his neck.

"I'll send you the list of requirements and a few donors willing to concede. You know where to find me when a problem arises."

Pharma is still on the ground, shaking, pressing his helm against the cold, metal floor. The footsteps disappear much like the diminishing hope in his chassis.He shouldn’t have listened, he shouldn’t have. Tarn and his sweet, sweet lies that’ were always so alluring, drawing him into the abyss.

You're in front of him. Behind was Tarn. He's got a blaster. And from the core were wisps of smoke,

THE tea cup, the one with the flowers painted across were discarded shards on the floor. Fragmented much like the reality he denies as he's wrangled behind. Arms tied. Wrists bounded. He stares, distraught.

”Ph..Pharma…” You’re confused as your palm hover overs the stain, the hole on your torso, the white a crimson red. You look down then up, expression contorted like you're asking him why. “I- I don’t understand…” You ramble and three frantic steps back you collapse, stumbling to the floor.

"What have you done....." Pharma tries to wrench away from Helex's grasp, voice rising to octaves. "Organic internal structures are weaker than a Cybertronians! This blow is fatal, do you not realize she'll die?!

Tarn steps over your body, and marches over to the jet, grabbing his face with a forceful shove. "Think again before you lecture me about those flesh-like scum. Why do you think I've chosen this method of action to condemn your actions with?"

"I couldn't get hold of the corpses in time!" He's frantic, shuffling, leaning aside to peer over the wide shoulders of Tarn. " They're not easy to get when you're a doctor every hour. I couldn't possibly kill the patients, cant I? Please, she needs medical attention, Tarn."

"And it's delayed, much like how you delayed my commodities."

"A deal is a deal. You should know better than to disrupt it."

He should've known better.

Pharma shoots out an arm, he clutches the white jacket, the sleeve, pulling the body. He ignores how heavy, how limp and lifeless you were, compared to the motning when you were just laughing, rolling around on the bed that smelt like lavender, smiling about some pointless joke you scoured from the net.

With each pull, crimson stained and scraped the concrete floor, grime collecting at the base of your body. He doesn't seem to mind. He's too tired. Much too lethargic. When he's got you in his arms, he cradles you, holding you. His digits pinch your cheeks, You’re not warm anymore. You’re cold. Just like his armour, just like the air, just like your eyes. Much like a star, it's doused. The brightness — it's gone. No longer flickering. A mass, the singular speck, gone.

“Pharma, buddy —what the hell happened?”

“Everything. Everything did.”

He cups your jaw, presses a kiss to your temple, your nose, then one last lingering kiss to your lips.

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