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thegnomelord · 2 months

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Good Dog

CW: NSFW, DARK-FIC, murder, gore, power imbalance, size difference(reader's bigger), description of torture and brainwashing, oral, anal, blood as lube, plot and exposition with porn, pet play(collars and leashes), toxic relationship, dub-con, very very self indulgent.

Моя гончая- my hound, Хороший солдат - good soldier, Расслабьтесь, братья мои - relax, my brothers, приносить - fetch, есть - eat

The thick door and walls of the private room do nothing to damped the bass of the club pounding in his ears, the annoying music made bearable by the high of a recent victory. Puffs of cigarette smoke lazily curl in the air as Makarov leans further back into the couch, the buzzing sting of a fresh tattoo helping him relax. The scent of expensive liquor only adds to the heady atmosphere, crystal clear vodka swirling in his glass before Makarov takes a sip. His dark eyes peer over the rim of his glass, like doorways to a dark abyss, his gaze dancing across the faces of his most trusted men before settling on the lieutenant's as the man tries to prove his worth with pointless words.

Above all else, Makarov values loyalty.

It doesn't matter how strong a man is if he can't follow orders. The number of soldiers he can lead is pointless when he can't keep his men alive. How well he can shoot is meaningless when he can't devote himself to a cause. A man who is disloyal is a man of single use.

Makarov doesn't even try to listen to whatever drivel the lieutenant's spouting, he doesn't see a reason to sour his mood when he already knows everything: the embezzling, the lying, the adorable double agent act. He has you to thank for that, you'd sniffed the lieutenant out the second you met him, diligently uncovering every speck of dirt the lieutenant had attempted to hide from Makarov.

And you? You are very loyal. His loyal hound.

His fingers curl around the leash, the smooth black leather sliding against his calloused palms. A barely there tug is all it takes for you to lean down over the back of the couch, bracing one large hand near his head for support as the other remains over the grip of your sidearm. You loom over him, and while Makarov may be a fearsome man, he can't deny the type of foreboding fear a goliath like you inspires — a towering figure always a step behind him, broad body big enough to easily cover him fully if you need to take a bullet for him, arms strong and palms wide to easily crack a man's skull.

Settling the glass down he takes another drag of his cigarette, "Hound," Another tug — sharper, harsher; such a small correction yet the fact you needed it at all has acrid disappointment burning on your tongue — makes you bend down more, your face now next to his. He doesn't draw attention to the reprimand, breathing out a puff of smoke near your face. "Were you listening, моя гончая?"

It's a pointless question, he knows you were listening, he trained you to. But he asks because he loves to see the way your eyes darken, jaw tight. The cigarette smoke dances in the air, making the club's low lights reflect off the sharp spikes adorning the thick collar snuggly wrapped around your throat. Your day collar suits you well, no different than the spiked collars put on hunting hounds.

"Yes sir." You answer, your attention now solely on the lieutenant.

Makarov hums, eyes flickering from the lieutenant to you. "And?" He chuckles and lets the leash go, his word keeping you in place as he casually pats your neck. "What did you hear?"

"Lies. . ." The slow slide of his fingers across the uncovered parts of your throat makes your breath stutter, static crackling beneath your skin. "I heard lies, sir." Your answer causes the lieutenant to try and sputter excuses and denials, all cut short by the harsh look you give him.

Makarov chuckles, hooking a finger over the silver loop at the front of your collar, pulling on it and tilting his head so his lips can ghost across your jaw. "Хороший солдат." Makarov murmurs. His stubble scratches your skin as his lips brush a path to your ear, so very close to a lover's kiss.

But a brush of skin is all it is. Nothing more. Your body earns for more, to turn your head and experience the bruising possessiveness of his kiss once again, to feel his teeth bite down on your lip until blood floods both of your mouths. But you don't move; A spoiled dog isn't loyal and Makarov won't lavish you with attention for nothing. no — you must earn it.

"Stay." The soft 'click' of the leash unclipping sounds the same as a sentencing gavel, the strip of leather falling away until only his word keeps you from tearing the lieutenant's throat out with your teeth. Makarov smirks against your skin, his words honey sweet to your ears as he whispers: "Sick him."

That seals the ex-lieutenant's fate.

You're on the lieutenant in an instant, crashing into him like a truck. Makarov leans back and lights up another cigarette as you stomp down on the man's leg, all the weight you carry around bearing down on his bones until they break, erasing any foolish thoughts of escape when you snap the bones of his other ankle; Makarov has truly taught you well.

The screams of a traitor are much better than the atrocious club music, letting him enjoy the smooth burn of the vodka as another stomp breaks a couple of ribs. Some of his men are still nervous around you, trying not to shuffle in their seats lest they grab your attention and become the new outlet of your violence.

"Расслабьтесь, братья мои." Makarov gives a charming smile, resting his ankle on his knee as he takes another drag. "Hound is well trained, you have nothing to fear." He chuckles, lazily watching you as he holds conversation with his lieutenants. Honestly, you're like a dog with a new toy, tossing the man around and pinning him down under your heavy body, each swing of your fists steadily turning the ex-lieutenant's face into pulp.

It's as entertaining for him as it is therapeutic for you.

And to think Price had tried to suppress all that beautiful savageness you possessed.

Makarov remembers how you'd been nothing but a snarling and cursing ball of anger when his men had captured you after a botched mission. He had been both annoyed and amused by how loyal you were to Price, weathering every beating and starving and humiliation with the same 'fuck you' response, baring your teeth like the cornered dog you were. With days turning to months and your resolve refusing to waver under their 'care' Makarov had considered just putting you down, sending a nice video of blowing your skull open to Price but oh — is he glad he decided to indulge in the game your stubbornness presented.

He set out to train you like he would any mongrel mutt, clear expectations making it easy to tell whether your actions would get you a reward or an even worse punishment, giving small rewards for the behavior he wanted; not snarling at him might earn you a better meal. Biting your lip and taking your beating without back talk could get you a couple of minutes outside the claustrophobic walls of your cell. Letting him touch and inspect your body without complaint might reward you with a book or some other little creature comfort he could, and did, easily take away the moment you stepped out of line.

Of course you were weary, perceptive enough to know when he was scheming. But every man has his limits, yours were simply reached when he handed you official C.I.A documents proclaiming you as K.I.A, the mission itself creatively rewritten to sound like you had gone and deserted to the enemy — no one was looking for you, no one was coming to save you, your captain, Price, wasn't coming to save you.

He had taken great enjoyment in running his fingers across your scalp as you clutched the documents in a white knuckled grip, your mind far too worn down to question or guard against the soft touches. His lips had brushed against your ear, soothingly raspy voice comforting you — you're a good soldier, strong, reliable, everything a commander could dream of. It wasn't your fault you trusted the wrong man, truly, what a shame to have your loyalty repaid with betrayed like that.

After that, it became laughably easy to train you. He stuck with simple commands, spoken only in Russian so he could amuse himself with the way your head would tilt before you'd perk up, recognition making your dull eyes brighten before you did what he wanted in exchange for a small scrap of his affection, learning to seek his praise and appreciate his touch even when your body still prickled with disgust. So when he handed you the knife, standing so close you could have easily slit his throat, and ordered you to kill another member of your previous taskforce, you hadn't hesitated for a second. "Good boy." He had purred, caressing your jaw as he used his thumb to wipe away the blood staining your cheek.

"Hound." His voice is as effective as any physical tug on your leash, making you stop mid punch with your fist inches away from the ex-lieutenant's caved in face. You're covered in blood, the rich crimson bringing out the violence swirling in your eyes.

Yet you look at him with utter adoration he wants to shove his cock deep down your throat just so he can see your tears smudge the blood on your cheeks. "Приносить." He taps his thigh.

You nod your head, grabbing the knife strapped to your thigh. There's no hesitation in your movements as you shove the knife into the ex-lieutenant's throat. An arc of blood spurts across your front when you yank it out just to stab another spot, the man coughing and choking as you cut through cartilage and muscle until with a good yank and a sickening 'crack!' you separate the head from the body.

Makarov had never seen the appeal of large hulking brutes until you — your body had filled back out with muscle and fat nicely after you became his, towering body demanding attention simply by existing as you stand up. The loud stomp of your feet and the blood staining your body making you look like a barbarian, casting a shadow over him before you kneel at his feet, offering the decapitated head as a knight does to his king.

Oh yes, he definitely sees the appeal now.

"Good dog." He purrs, reaching out to stroke your jaw, smearing some of the blood with his thumb. Fingers sliding down to hook on the silver ring on your collar he pulls your head closer. "Do you think you earned a reward?"

It's a test. One you're intimately familiar with. The judgmental stares of Makarov's trusted men are the last thing in your mind when the closeness of his body and the sharp crisp scent of his cologne threatens to shatter your resolve. "Only if you permit it, sir." Your throat feels dry, trying not to show how eager you are for his attention as you place the head on the floor so you don't get a drop of blood on him.

Makarov smirks, "Smart dog," His hands move to the back of your neck, unbuckling the collar. You're no longer ashamed to admit you feel naked as the thick piece of leather is pulled away; the time when you didn't have a collar wrapped around your neck feel like a distant memory and now the sensation of breathing without it pressing against your skin is disturbing. You have to bite your lip to keep the low whine from escaping your chest.

His hand wraps securely around your throat, bringing your breath back to you. Your Adam's apple bobs beneath his fingers as he traces the 'V.M' shallowly carved across your throat. "It's already starting to fade." He tuts, squeezing his fingers to restrict your breathing just the slightest bit more. "We'll need to have it tattooed. That would be nice, yes?"

You suck in a sharp breath, "Yes sir."

"Хороший солдат." He purrs. He pulls out another collar from his pocket and you feel yourself chub up in your pants just at the sight of it. It's the chained pronged one he uses exclusively when he wants you to pleasure him, particularly because it leaves such pretty bruises along your skin when he tugs on the leash.

You eagerly tilt your head back to bare your throat, a shudder rushing down your spine as soon as you feel the cold metal against your skin. You stay perfectly still as he secures around your neck, the sharp pull of the leash making the prongs dig into your skin, prickles of pain making you even harder. "Go on," Makarov hums, spreading his legs wider so your attention falls to the hard bulge in his slacks, his belt undone but the rest left to you. "есть."

You don't think you could enjoy servicing him as much as you did if he didn't let you work for it, the reward made sweeter because you earned it. Truly, he's so good to you, you'd thank him profusely but he hasn't given you permission to speak freely. So you lean in, careful not to get blood on his pants as you take the metal zipper between your teeth and pull it down. You've done this enough not to have any problems undoing the button, your hands obediently planted on your thighs and your gaze firmly on him so you can see the pleased smirk that spreads across his features when you bite the band of his boxers and pull them down until his cock springs out, already hard.

A pleased sigh escapes him when your warm lips wrap around the head of his cock, the leash wrapped firmly around his hand and the slightest tug on it has pain prickling down your spine. "Моя гончая, don't waste my time." You can't help but whine lowly at the admonishment, quickly trying to make up to him by sucking on the tip and licking the slit in just the way he likes it.

His leg shifts, hard boot coming up to grind the sole against your clothed cock. "That's better." The praise makes you moan deep from your chest and try to take more of his cock into your mouth, your boxers wet and sticky against your own cock as you give an experimental hump of your hips against his boot. You scrape your teeth along the vein on the underside of his cock and it earns you a rough grind of his boot. His hand tangles in your bloodied hair and pulls you down until his cock bumps the back of your throat.

You nearly choke from the sudden pressure, trying to fight off the reflex to pull back and gag. "Look at me." His order rings clear in your head, your eyes meeting his as he grinds your nose into his pubic hair, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your lungs start to burn. You fight through it, the fluttering of your throat making him five a small, rough, moan and fuck — you're hard as a rock.

Just as you feel like you'll pass out on his cock he lets you off, yanking your head back. You're only given a few seconds to take a sharp breath of fresh air before he pushes your head back down. You're prepared this time, hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your throat, swallowing around his hard cock. The way you suck Makarov off is wet and sloppy, stealing ragged breaths when you can as you trace the veins of his cock with your tongue and gently nibble on the base when his cock's fully sheathed in your throat, knowing exactly how to please him. Your efforts are rewarded with the salty taste of precum on your tongue, hearing him occasionally mutter his praises in Russian, none of his words snagging on your mind like sharp orders so you let yourself drift in the pleasure of servicing him, subconsciously grinding your cock into his foot.

But you're not mentally gone enough not to notice the squeaking of chairs, your body tensing as you pull up enough so only his head remains in your mouth, your head turned just enough to throw a sharp glare at the other men in the room. Makarov having his guard down like this makes you tense, violence buzzing beneath your skin from the ingrained need to protect him.

"Hound." Makarov's growl is followed by another sharp tug of the leash, the dull ache of the metal prongs digging into your skin dissipating some of your aggression. "Did I tell you to stop?"

You shake your head as best you can, a pathetic whine escaping your chest from the way the pain makes your cock even harder. Satisfied, he eases the leash, letting you return to your work. His head lolls back, lazily looking at his men. He couldn't care less who sees you like this, but now he wants your full attention on him. "Leave." He gives the simple command.

You track the sound of shuffling feet as you take him fully into your mouth, making him hiss a curse under his breath. Nuzzling your nose into his curly pubic hair you breathe in his musk, his heel grinding firmly and consistently against your hard cock, pleasure pulsing through your veins with such intensity you're worried you'll cum without permission, low whines escaping your throat.

He pulls you off him suddenly, your lungs burning as you gasp for air. You expect him to paint your face with his cum, stake an obvious ownership over you. But he doesn't, pulling you by the leash and leaning down to mash your lips together, teeth biting down on your lip until it bleeds.

Makarov's kisses are rough and demanding, the sweet drug your body's been craving, teeth clicking together and tongues swirling in each other's mouths. The firm grind of his boot against your crotch makes you moan lowly, a sound he happily swallows down and nearly shoves his tongue down your throat. You part far too soon, your body craving much much more, but he doesn't let you stew in the disappointment of a short kiss — it's an owner's responsibility to spoil his pet — mumbling against your lips. "Prepare me."

A full shudder runs down your spine and you surge to follow his order. Makarov loves the determined look you get in your eye just as much as he loves the rough way you grip his hips and hike them up so you can pull his pants and boxers down his legs. Your bloodied fingers grip his hips and pull them down until his ass hangs off the edge of the couch, throwing his legs over your shoulders and he can feel the muscles deep in his back strain as you nearly bend him in half, his hard cock and hole bared for you.

It's a vulnerable position, trapped between your bulky frame and the couch he has no way to escape. And if anyone else were to attempt this he would feed every inch of their flesh to themselves. But Makarov relishes the knowledge that he's in control, a single word from him would make you stop regardless of how hard and wanting you were, your loyalty to him as real as the dead man's blood you dip your fingers in to lube them.

Your fingers circle his hole before you press the pad of your finger against it. Without the heat of battle the cold viscousness of the blood feels disgusting, making him shiver and his rim flutter against your digit. But the discomfort is easily forgotten when you apply pressure, the steady and persistent way you push your finger in forcing his muscles to yield. "Shit-" Makarov clenches his teeth; your fingers are so large just one feels like two of his own, the gnawing pain of your finger pushing deeper just amplifying the pleasure of being stretched open and your other hand loosely stroking his wet cock.

You don't go slower than you need to, perfectly trained to know how to move your fingers to keep him teetering on the edge between pleasure and pain, each shift and slow drag of your finger pulling deep grunt and soft breaths from between his clenched teeth. "Yes, there you go." His praise makes your heart melt and cock throb in your pants, the pull of the leash bringing your lips together in another harsh kiss. You swallow his moans greedily, pushing a second finger in and curling them in search of his prostate, your thumb incessantly rubbing the space between his balls and ass to trap the spongy flesh between your fingers.

He nearly chokes you with how hard he yanks on the leash, hips pushing back into your hand and walls clenching down on your fingers. The stinging ache of being stretched open mixes with the building pleasure, leaving his skin feeling like a live wire. His teeth dig into your lip until it bleeds again, heels digging into your back. He grinds his hips down on your fingers, muttering praises against your lips as you push a third finger in and force him to take it.

He can't wait any more, gripping your hair and roughly yanking your head back. "Fuck me already." He growls, licking the blood staining your cheek.

You scramble to do as you're told, continuing to stretch him open as you undo your belt and pants with one hand, your hard cock bobbing against your abdomen. Pulling your fingers out you scoop up more blood, the cold helping reign in your lust as you lube up.

Before you can do anything he reaches out to grip the base of your cock, his hold firm and just at the cusp of pain. "You'll be good, yes?" He growls against your lips. "Fuck me good and hard?" His hand moves, stroking you slowly, evenly coating the blood along your cock. "I don't need to show you how to use this thing again, do I?" There's a dangerous edge in his voice.

Fear shoots down your spine, mouth going dry. You'd been too eager for human touch when he first let you mount him, and when you came seconds after getting inside him he'd been less than pleased by your abilities. You couldn't feel your cock for a full week after he'd tied you down and used your cock until you couldn't cum, using a cock ring to keep you hard and using you until he was satisfied.

You quickly shake your head. "No sir," You choke out and bare your throat. "I can do it, I'll be good." You promise.

His hold loosens, tugging you by the hair so he can peck your lips, his tongue licking over the small wound he'd made. "Don't fail me now."

You steel yourself like you're going to war, pressing your cockhead to his hole. Your nails dig into his hip, your grip ironclad to keep him still as you pull him down more and simultaneously push in. There's a second of resistance before your head pops in, the pleasure of entering his velvet soft insides being met with sharp pain as his teeth chomp down on your shoulder through your shirt. It all mixes in your brain into pure bliss, your hips bucking up into him automatically until you're bottomed out. You hold him close to you and leisurely grind your hips, letting him get used to the mind numbing stretch.

Fuck— Makarov may see the appeal of brutes but impaled on your cock he feels like he's being split in two, lungs burning and he can almost swear your tip's poking his diaphragm. He chases the pain more than the pleasure, heels digging into your back to give him some leverage so he can push his hips into yours. "Yes," His head lolls back when you slowly withdraw, only to suddenly snap your hips and hilt yourself inside him again. "-fuck, yes!"

The blood keeps you from tearing him apart but there's too little of it to keep him from feeling the painful stretch, the slow movement of your hips making his thighs shake. "Harder," He demands, yanking on your leash and biting your shoulder again. "Make me feel it." His voice is rough with a demand, because men like him never beg.

"Yes sir," You manage, bracing your feet and setting a rough pace, rutting into him like an animal. He muffles his sounds into your shoulder as your cock saws into him, his walls fluttering and clenching around you so tightly it feels like he'll snap your cock off. You do your best to focus on him and his pleasure, but the tight heat of his hole is rapidly melting any control you have, your cock throbbing and leaking precum inside him.

"Sir, please-" You whine, your muscles tight and your balls feeling so full you feel like you'll burst, your voice full of need. "I'm so close."

“Not yet.” He growls, pushing his hips down to meet your thrusts, your hand stroking his cock. “Make me cum first.” He growls.

You hold back a pathetic whine and redouble your efforts, your rough thrusts bruising his ass as you fuck into him, aiming to nail his prostate every time you bottom out. He wails, whole body shaking, his cock throbbing in your hand and leaking a puddle of precum on his stomach.

Makarov cums without any warning, going rigid and biting your shoulder even harder as pearly cum shoots from his tip, his walls clamping down on your cock. "C- cum!" He snarls, voice muffled, and it's all you need. Bottoming out fully you moan as you shoot his insides full of your cum, rocking your hips and grinding your cock against his prostate to prolong both of our highs.

You hold him close as you come down to reality but the way his walls clench around your cock makes you feel like heaven. His hands grip your jaw, bringing you down into a disorganized sloppy kiss. He's boneless in your arms, his walls continuing to flutter around you. "That was good." He slurs, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. "Good dog."

The tug of the leash is expected and Makarov kisses the corner of your lips, tongue swiping across your skin to lick up more of the blood staining your lips. "Clean me up." He orders, "Lick up your mess." He growls, and there's not a single part of you that would refuse him.

Tag list: @lieutnt, @pastelclovds @thee-great-enigma @vladimirking24

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hoshifighting · 2 months

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Arranged Marriage

Synopsis: Where you and Minghao parents had this grand scheme to merge their companies by marrying you off, thinking it'd be a brilliant business move. Determined to stake your claim and keep your marriage intact, your make a bold move during a business party— planting a lipstick-stained kiss on Minghao's lips and yanking him by his tie, leaving no doubt that he's yours and yours alone.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Smut, throat fucking, blowjob, fingering, penetrative sex, public make out, jealous kiss, angst, forced marriage, mentions of diets.

You're standing there in this fancy white dress, all sparkly and shiny, making your way down the aisle to where Minghao's waiting. He's looking all sharp in his suit, with his hair on point and a little smirk on his face. But as you're walking towards him, you can't help but remember the last time you two really talked was at some boring company event.

Now here you are, about to say your vows like you actually mean them. But deep down, you know it's all just a bunch of lies. You and Minghao both know it. It's all for show, to make your parents' company look good. And the worst part is, everyone at this big fancy wedding knows it too.

The party's huge, like a wedding and a business conference all mashed together. People you've never seen before are milling around, probably part of some shady business deal your parents cooked up. It's like this whole thing isn't even about love or unity anymore. It's just one big networking event disguised as a wedding.

But you go through the motions anyway, smiling and nodding like everything's perfect. You exchange vows that are as fake as the smiles plastered on both of your faces. And as the night goes on, you can't shake the feeling that this whole thing is just a sham. A pretty, expensive sham, but a sham nonetheless.

You watch as people schmooze and mingle, making deals and connections left and right. And you can't help but wonder if this is what your future holds too. A life of pretending, of smiling for the cameras while behind closed doors, it's all just business as usual.

But for now, you paste on your best fake smile and dance the night away, pretending that everything's okay. Because that's what you do when you're part of a family like yours. You put on a show, no matter what's really going on behind the scenes.

You're feeling suffocated by the crowd inside, like the tightness around your waist is almost causing claustrophobia. So you slip away to the backyard, sneaking a slice of cake from the waiters. Your mom had you on some ridiculous diet for a whole week leading up to this wedding, all so you could look "good" in your dress.

You plop down on a wooden bench, the dress spreading out in a big poof around you. Just as you're about to take a much-needed bite of cake, you're interrupted by a voice.

"Why isn't the bride inside enjoying her own party?" The voice belongs to Minghao, hands in his pockets as he stands there, looking at you.

You scoff, shooting him a look. "I'm sure no one's noticed. They're all too busy discussing the stock market or whatever." Your tone is sharp, the underlying tension between you and Minghao palpable.

Minghao snorts, clearly not impressed by your response. "Yeah, well, maybe if you spent less time worrying about your parents' company and more time actually enjoying life, you wouldn't be stuck in this mess."

You bristle at his comment, feeling a surge of anger rising within you. "Oh please, like you have any room to talk. Last time I checked, you were just as tangled up in all of this as I am."

Minghao's expression darkens, and for a moment, you worry you've gone too far.

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-eaten slice of wedding cake. You watch him go, feeling a mix of frustration and something else you can't quite name. Maybe it's just the champagne talking, but for a brief moment, you can't help but wonder what life would be like if you weren't tied down by expectations and obligations.

You stare at Minghao, disbelief written all over your face as you take in the sight of the one hotel room your parents booked for the both of you. A single queen-sized bed sits in the center of the room, effectively splitting the space into two halves. You shoot a glance at Minghao, and from the look in his eyes, you can tell he's just as shocked as you are.

The tension between you is palpable as you both stand there, sharing silent but deadly gazes. Finally, you break the silence, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, isn't this just perfect? Our parents booking us one room to 'get used' to each other. As if this whole shit wasn't enough already."

Minghao lets out a scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, because nothing says 'happily ever after' like forcing two strangers to share a bed on their wedding night."

You bite back a retort, opting instead for a more diplomatic approach. "Look, I think it's only fair that I take the bed and you can sleep on the couch."

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. "And why is that?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You roll your eyes, feeling irritation bubbling up inside you. "Because I'm the bride, for one," you retort, "and two, I've been on my feet all night, walking around in a dress that weighs a ton and heels that could rival skyscrapers. I think I deserve a decent night's sleep."

Minghao lets out a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, please. Do you even know how exhausting it is to be the groom? I've been dealing with people all night, pretending to be someone I'm not, just like you."

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms defiantly. "Fine," you say, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips, "then let's settle this once and for all. Who's more tired: the bride who's been carrying around twelve kilograms of dress and heels all night, or the groom who's been putting on a show for hours on end?"

Minghao looks at you for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he's trying not to smile. But then he shakes his head, a look of resignation crossing his face. "You win," he says, finally relenting, "you can have the bed."

You smirk triumphantly, feeling a small sense of victory despite the absurdity of the situation. And as you crawl into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

The next day rolls around, and before you even have a chance to properly wake up, you're thrown into a meeting. Brunch with both families sounds nice in theory, but when Minghao's dad starts putting papers on the table and declaring, "Let's get to what matters," you realize this isn't going to be a typical family gathering.

You try to maintain a facade of composure, but the discomfort gnaws at you like a persistent itch. So you do what you've gotten used to doing – you look down, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.

Minghao notices immediately, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. His cheeks flush with embarrassment from his father's directness, but you can't bring yourself to look up and meet his eyes. The weight of expectation hangs heavy in the air, and you can practically taste the tension swirling around the table.

As Minghao's dad starts talking about business deals and partnerships, you try to focus on the sound of his voice rather than the sinking feeling in your stomach. But no matter how hard you try to block it out, you can't shake the feeling that you're just a pawn in someone else's game – a game you never asked to play.

You steal a glance at Minghao, but his expression is unreadable, his mask firmly in place. And in that moment, you realize just how alone you really are in this world of high-stakes deals and empty promises.

You're lounging on the couch, the TV blaring in the background, but your mind is miles away. The penthouse feels emptier than ever, despite being filled with all the trappings of luxury. You and Minghao live under the same roof, yet it feels like you might as well be living on opposite ends of the earth. Separate rooms, separate lives, with only a perfunctory "good morning" or "good night" exchanged between you.

The loneliness weighs heavy on your chest, suffocating you with its presence. You long for something more, something real, but it feels like an impossible dream in this gilded cage you've found yourself trapped in.

You're lost in the numbing glow of the television when your phone buzzes with a notification. It's Minghao, informing you of a press conference he's scheduled for later that night. You furrow your brow, puzzled by the sudden announcement.

But it's his last message from the previous night that catches your attention. "Can you at least put on your best smile tonight?" he'd asked, a request that feels more like a demand. And you can't help but feel a pang of frustration at his presumption.

You make your way to his room, finding him hunched over his computer, the glow of the screen casting harsh shadows across his face. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you watch him for a moment before speaking up.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "Put on my best smile? What's that supposed to mean?"

Minghao looks up from his computer, his expression unreadable. "It means exactly what it sounds like," he replies coolly, his tone clipped. "We both know how important appearances are in our world. So why not make an effort for once?"

You roll your eyes, feeling the anger bubbling up inside you. "I think you mean that you want me to play the dutiful wife once again, to plaster on a fake smile and pretend like everything's fine," you snap, the bitterness seeping into your words.

Minghao's jaw tightens, and for a moment, it looks like he's about to argue back. But then he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly tired and defeated. "Look, I know this isn't what either of us wanted," he says, his voice softer now, tinged with regret. "But it's what we have to do. For our families, for the company."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "Is that really all that matters to you? The company? "But fine," you say through clenched teeth, pushing yourself away from the doorframe. "I'll put on my best smile tonight. But don't expect me to enjoy it."

You sit in the backseat of the chauffeur-driven car, your gaze fixed on the passing landscape outside the window. The skyscrapers blur into a haze of steel and glass, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside your mind.

Minghao breaks the silence with a casual remark, his tone tinged with amusement. "You don't look like someone who agreed to the terms of our agreement," he observes, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

You let out a frustrated huff, tearing your eyes away from the window to glare at him. "Yeah, well, maybe I need some time before I can fully commit to this whole acting profession," you retort, your words dripping with bitterness.

Minghao presses his lips together, trying to suppress a laugh at your expense. The corners of his mouth twitch with amusement, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he looks away, pretending to be absorbed in the passing scenery.

You bristle at his reaction, feeling a surge of indignation coursing through you. "What's so funny?" you demand, your voice sharp with irritation.

Minghao shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Nothing," he replies casually, his tone disarmingly nonchalant. "I mean, take all the time you need… Just try not to look too pitiful when we walk through those doors."

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

As the chauffeur stops and opens the door for you, signaling your arrival at the event, Minghao's voice cuts through the silence.

"Hand," he says simply, holding out his hand towards you.

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a skeptical look. "Excuse me?" you reply, not quite sure you heard him correctly.

Minghao's lips twitch into a smirk as he repeats himself, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I said, hand," he repeats, his tone playful yet insistent.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his audacity, but begrudgingly, you reach out and grab his hand, almost aggressively. His grin widens as he intertwines his fingers with yours, the touch surprisingly delicate despite the underlying tension between you.

As you and Minghao step into the event, hand in hand, you can feel the weight of your parents' surprised stares on you. Their eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at the sight of you two holding hands, a rare display of unity between the two families.

Minghao squeezes your hand gently, a small smirk playing on his lips as he catches your parents' reaction. "See?" he murmurs softly, leaning in close to you. "It's easy. A little thing like this makes them happy."

You can't help but feel a surge of resentment bubbling up inside you at his words. Easy for him to say, you think bitterly. He's always been the one who effortlessly falls into line, who knows exactly how to play the game to get what he wants.

But despite your inner turmoil, you force a tight smile and nod in agreement, not wanting to cause a scene in front of your parents. "Yeah, easy," you echo, your voice strained as you try to keep up the facade.

As the long-winded speeches from the ambassadors drone on, you find yourself sinking deeper into your chair, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. Minghao leans in close, his voice a soft whisper against your ear as he asks if you want something from the bar. You shake your head, declining his offer with a tired sigh.

He nods in understanding and excuses himself, disappearing into the crowd for a moment. But as the minutes drag on and the speech finally reaches its conclusion, Minghao still hasn't returned. Your eyes scan the room, searching for any sign of him, and that's when you spot her – a woman leaning in close to him, her body language oozing with flirtation.

Your stomach churns with a mix of anger and disbelief. What does she think she's doing? That's your husband she's flirting with, for crying out loud. You glance down at your wedding ring, then back at Minghao, then down at your ring again, the weight of it heavy on your finger.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you stand up from the table, your movements cautious as you make your way over to them. Fuck, you hate that you're doing this right now, but you can't just sit idly by while some random woman tries to make a move on your husband.

Minghao's eyes widen in surprise as he catches sight of your determined gaze, and for a brief moment, you almost feel guilty for interrupting. But then you remember who you are – his wife – and the guilt fades away, replaced by a steely resolve.

"I have a wife," Minghao's voice cuts through the air, firm and unwavering, as you approach him and the woman who's been flirting with him. His words send a jolt of surprise through you, momentarily halting your steps.

But before you can even react, Minghao continues, his tone tinged with irritation, "And she's storming over here, so please, just leave me alone."

"Hi, Hao," you greet Minghao as you finally reach him, unable to hide the hint of irritation in your voice. "You took a long time. What happened?"

Minghao's eyes widen slightly at your abrupt approach, and he stammers for a moment before the woman beside him interjects, "Oh, she's your friend?"

Minghao's response is immediate and almost defensive. "No, I don't know her," he says quickly, his tone betraying his discomfort.

You can't help but suppress a smirk at his awkwardness, feeling a small surge of satisfaction at seeing him squirm. "Nice to meet you," you say smoothly, extending your hand to the woman. "I'm Mrs. Xu."

The woman's eyes widen in surprise as she takes your hand, clearly caught off guard by your assertive introduction. "Oh, um, nice to meet you too," she replies, her voice slightly shaky.

You turn your attention back to Minghao, noting the relief in his eyes as you come to his "rescue." Poor Minghao, you think to yourself, feeling a twinge of sympathy for him despite your earlier annoyance. He clearly didn't know how to handle the situation, and the sight of you coming to his aid seems to help him breathe a little easier.

The woman walks away, leaving you and Minghao standing there in the aftermath of the awkward encounter. You turn to him, your expression a mix of frustration and concern.

"Come on, Minghao," you begin, your voice low but firm. "You need to know how to handle situations like that. What if people who know our family saw that? It could cause all sorts of rumors and complications."

Minghao's jaw tightens as he meets your gaze, a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. "I didn't ask for her to approach me," he retorts, his tone defensive. "I told her I have a wife. What more do you want from me?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair as you try to keep your temper in check. "I just want you to be more aware of how your actions reflect on both of us," you reply, your voice tinged with exasperation. "We're married, Minghao. That means we have to think about each other's reputations and how our behavior affects them."

Minghao's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a stubborn set to his jaw as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I know that," he says, his voice quieter now, more subdued. "But sometimes things happen, and I can't control them."

You shake your head, feeling a surge of frustration rising within you. "That's not an excuse, Minghao," you say firmly. "We both have to do better if we want this marriage to work. We have to be a team."

Minghao's lips twitch into a smirk of his own, a challenge flashing in his eyes as he steps closer to you. "Oh, is that so, Mrs. Xu?" he replies, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "And what exactly would it take for me to earn back the privilege of being called by my first name?"

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh at his cheekiness. "Maybe if you stopped getting yourself into awkward situations with random women at parties," you shoot back, unable to resist the opportunity for a playful jab.

Minghao feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "Hey now, that wasn't entirely my fault," he protests, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Besides, you were the one who came to my rescue, remember?"

Minghao's playful grin falters as you shoot him a pointed look, hands firmly planted on your hips. "Am I wrong now? What should I do then?" you challenge, your tone laced with frustration.

He shrugs, his expression sheepish as he searches for an answer. "You need to make them know I'm your husband," he suggests vaguely, a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

You narrow your gaze, a surge of determination coursing through you as you follow his line of sight to the woman who had been eyeing him earlier. She's still watching him, her gaze lingering a little too long for your liking.

"Fine then," you declare, your jaw set in determination. Without another word, you reach out and grab Minghao by the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Before he can protest, you press your lips to his in a firm, possessive kiss.

For a moment, Minghao freezes, his hands hovering uncertainly in the air. But then, as if realizing what's happening, he responds eagerly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as the kiss deepens.

You trail kisses along his neck, feeling a low hum of satisfaction reverberate through him. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as you continue to explore the sensitive skin of his neck with your lips.

When you pull back slightly, his eyes meet yours, a hint of mischief dancing in their depths. You reach up and gently tug on his bottom lip, a silent invitation for him to surrender completely to the passion between you.

Minghao's lips part in response, his eyes darkening with desire as he leans in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, the intensity of the moment threatening to consume you both.

As you finally break the kiss, your lips swollen and tingling with the taste of him, you look at his face, satisfied with your handiwork. His lips, jaw, and neck are adorned with smudges of your red lipstick, a visible testament that being arranged or not, he is your husband.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you reach out and grab Minghao by the tie, tugging him gently but firmly in the direction of the exit. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your sudden assertiveness, but he follows your lead without hesitation.

As you walk through the party, you make no effort to hide the fact that you're leading Minghao out by his tie. You want everyone to see, especially that woman who dared to flirt with him earlier. With each step, you feel a surge of satisfaction knowing that you're marking your territory, making it abundantly clear to anyone watching that Minghao belongs to you.

People turn to look as you pass by, their curious glances met with a confident smile from you and a sheepish grin from Minghao. You hold your head high, your grip on his tie unwavering as you guide him through the crowd.

Finally, you reach the exit, and with one last glance around the room, you pull Minghao outside, the cool night air washing over you both. Alone at last, you turn to him with a victorious smirk.

"Well, that was fun," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice as you release his tie. "But I think we've made our point. Shall we get out of here?"

Minghao chuckles, shaking his head in amusement as he takes your hand in his. "Absolutely," he replies, a warmth in his eyes as he looks at you. "Anywhere you want to go, Mrs. Xu."

As soon as you step through the door of your home, you're wrapped up in a frenzy of passionate kisses with Minghao. Clothes, shoes, and his tie fly off haphazardly as you stumble towards the nearest surface, unable to keep your hands off each other.

Between kisses, Minghao pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. "I didn't know you were that jealous," he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You hiss in response, your breath catching in your throat as his lips trail along your skin. "I wasn't jealous," you protest, your voice tinged with frustration. "I was just...rescuing you, you bastard!"

Minghao laughs at your outburst, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Hmm, just like a predator," he teases, his hands roaming over your body with a newfound confidence.

You scoff at his comment, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "You've seen nothing yet," you reply, meeting his gaze with a challenge in your eyes.

Minghao's eyes light up with excitement as he looks at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Yeah," you confirm with a smirk, pulling him in for another kiss.

But then, his hand moves to the top of your head, gently guiding you downwards until your knees find the ground. You look up at him with a mixture of desire and anticipation, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you eagerly await his next move.

With a shaky breath, Minghao pulls himself free from his pants, his cock standing proudly before you. You wrap your hand around it, feeling the heat and hardness of him beneath your touch. A wicked grin plays at your lips as you tap the tip of his cock against your face, biting your lip in anticipation.

Minghao lets out a shaky moan at the provocative sight before him, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you. "Fuck, you're so damn sexy," he groans, his voice rough with need. "You know exactly what you're doing to me, don't you?"

You smirk up at him, your hand still wrapped around his cock as you tease him with your lips. "Mmm, maybe," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "But I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you want me, Minghao."

His breath hitches as he meets your gaze, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guides you closer to him. "I want you more than anything," he confesses, his voice thick with desire. "I need you, baby. Please, show me how much you want me too."

You eagerly lower your mouth onto Minghao's throbbing cock, sucking greedily as you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth. You can feel him thrusting his hips, the need for more driving him to move against you.

Your hands slide down to his thighs, giving him the freedom to move as he pleases. His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your movements as he sets the pace, his hips rocking against you in a rhythm of his own making.

As you take him deeper, you close your eyes, relaxing your jaw to accommodate his length. Minghao's voice breaks through the haze of pleasure, his words a gentle reminder of his concern for your well-being.

"Tap if you need to breathe," he murmurs, his hand tightening in your ponytail as he continues to move his hips.

You press your hand against his thigh in affirmation, letting him know that you're okay as you continue to take him deeper, your throat working to accommodate his length. Minghao lets out a low groan of pleasure, his hips moving in tandem with your movements as you both chase the pinnacle of ecstasy.

Between thrusts, Minghao's voice fills the air with a husky whisper. "God, you feel so fucking good," he moans, his words driving you to take him even deeper. "You're amazing, baby. Just keep going, just like that."

As Minghao's cock throbs in your mouth, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Drool drips from your chin, a testament to your eagerness and arousal, as you continue to take him deeper, your mouth working tirelessly to please him.

With each throb of his cock, you can feel the tension building, the heat of his arousal radiating through you. Your eyes roll back in your head, lost in a haze of pleasure as you surrender yourself completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

And as Minghao's cock pulses in your mouth, you know that you've pushed him to the edge, his release imminent. With one final throb, he cries out your name, his body tensing as he spills his cum into your waiting mouth.

You swallow eagerly, savoring the taste of him. You moan softly as Minghao's lips meet yours again, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, and he slowly guides you towards his room.

As you fall onto the bed, Minghao's fingers trace lazy patterns along your inner thighs, making you squirm beneath his touch, unable to hide your arousal as he gazes down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

"You're so wet…" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he continues to tease you with his fingers.

Minghao's lips curl into a smug grin as his fingers trailing lower until they reach the damp fabric of your panties. With agonizing slowness, he begins to peel them away, revealing your glistening folds to his hungry gaze.

"Tell me what you want, baby" he whispers, his voice a low growl in your ear as he leans in close. "Tell me how you want me to make you feel."

You arch your back, aching for his touch as you meet his gaze with a sultry smirk. "I want your fingers inside me, Minghao" you breathe, your voice dripping with desire. "I want you to make me come so fucking hard"

Minghao's eyes darken with lust as he hears your words, his fingers finding their way to your slick entrance. With a wicked grin, he plunges his slender fingers deep inside you, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, he finds it – that deep spot that sends electric jolts shooting through you. Your pussy clenches around his fingers in response, a desperate attempt to hold your orgasm.

But Minghao isn't finished yet. With a wicked grin, he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers his intentions. "You're not going to cum yet," he murmurs. "Let me hit that spot with my cock, then you can cream around it as much as you want."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, with the promise of what's going to come. With a nod of agreement, you bite your lip in anticipation, eager for the moment when Minghao will fuck you with his cock.

As Minghao positions himself above you, his gaze locked with yours in a silent promise of pleasure to come, you sneak a peek at his cock. It's long, with bulging veins and dripping with pre-cum, making it clear he's rock hard and ready to go. The contrast with his slender body just makes it look even bigger.

Before you can even think of a response, Minghao speaks up, his voice low and husky. "You ready for me, baby?" he asks, his eyes smoldering with desire.

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can get a word out, his cock is stretching you out, leaving you breathless and speechless as he fills you completely.

As soon as Minghao finds your g'spot, your pussy immediately tightens around him, milking him with such intensity that he has to hold himself back from coming right then and there. His pretty moans only serve to heighten your own arousal, making it even harder for you to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure as he tries to control himself. He hopes that you'll stop clenching, but as soon as he hits that spot again, he hisses in response, the sensation driving him wild.

Realizing that he's in danger of cumming too early, Minghao decides to focus on fucking you in just the right way, hitting that spot with precision and intensity. He squirms, desperate for you to climax first, knowing that your pleasure will only fuel his own.

With each thrust, each movement, the pleasure builds between you, reaching a fever pitch that threatens to consume you both. Minghao's hips move in a steady rhythm, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you with each thrust, his own pleasure mounting with each passing second.

And then, finally, it happens. You reach the peak of ecstasy, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as pleasure washes over you in relentless waves. Your pussy clenches around Minghao's cock, milking him for all he's worth as he loses control, his own release crashing over him in a tidal wave of pleasure.

With a tired groan, Minghao collapses beside you, his body spent from the intensity of your shared passion. He turns to you with a lazy smile, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction.

"If I'd known all it took to get you to kiss me was making you jealous, I would've done it ages ago," he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

You roll your eyes, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "I wasn't jealous," you protest, crossing your arms over your chest.

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. "Imagine if you were then" he scoffs, his tone teasing. "I don't think we'd be here right now if you weren't just a little bit jealous."

You huff in mock indignation, but deep down, you know he's right.

ou nudge Minghao playfully, a smile dancing on your lips. "Well, lucky for you, a little jealousy was all it took," you quip, teasing him.

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling as he gazes at you. "I guess I'll have to remember that for next time," he replies, his voice tinged with amusement.

You laugh, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "Oh, so there's going to be a next time now?" you tease, raising an eyebrow.

Minghao grins, leaning in closer to you. "Count on it," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he brushes his lips against yours.

1K notes · View notes

futureman · 11 months

Text

keep it on the low

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: just because you and joel broke up doesn't mean you can't still (secretly) enjoy each other's company

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, hurt/angst, ex!joel, possessive!joel, pwp, smut, post-breakup sex, rough sex, mild exhibitionism

word count: 3k

a/n: all i can say is oops. blame sza, i guess. and of course, couch gif for obvious reasons. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

Joel’s being obvious again. Discretion’s never been his strong suit, but he’s especially attuned to you today, and not in a good way. He’s not undressing you with his eyes, itching for the moment he can take you home like he usually is.

Nope, he just looks irritated as fuck. Way too angry for someone who just happens to be sitting in the same room as his ex. If he keeps this up, you’re going to get caught, and then what are you going to do? Fuck other people?

Like that’ll ever happen. You and Joel broke up almost three months ago and yet here you are, still hooking up like there’s no one else in this town to have sex with. But you have an agreement…sort of. You keep sleeping together, you don’t talk about it, and you definitely don’t tell anyone else. It’s high school-level dramatic and, honestly, you’re both way too old for this shit.

You know everyone’s gossiping about you behind your back, trying to figure out why you’re not together anymore. It was a bad breakup, probably the worst you’ve ever had and the biggest Jackson’s ever seen. The second this town hall is over, they’ll all be chatting amongst themselves, analyzing your behavior like it’s any of their business.

And Joel’s only giving them more to talk about. Seriously, why is he staring at you like that? If you can keep your eyes to yourself for an hour, surely he can at least pretend to be listening to what Maria’s saying, even though it’s boring as hell and doesn’t apply to either of you in the slightest. The winter dance next week really isn't your thing, no offense to her, but at least you're trying to look interested.

You shoot him a quick glare across the room, and he rolls his eyes, finally shifting his focus elsewhere. Apparently, that little interaction is all it takes to stir up the gossip mill because you can already hear a few of the worst offenders whispering to each other.

Fucking vultures. You’re pretty sure half of them are trying to make a move on Joel now that you’re over. Too bad he’s still busy spending his nights buried inside you.

The meeting ends pretty quickly after that, and everyone gets up from their seats, some staying to help put away folding chairs and others loitering around before they head to dinner. Somehow, Joel ends up next to you as you’re walking out, probably on purpose, and you take the opportunity to tell him off.

“Way to be fucking obvious, asshole,” you mumble, hoping no one else can hear you. “Did you have to stare at me like that? You made it seem like I spat in your fucking coffee this morning.”

He scoffs loudly, and you elbow him in the side, throwing him a warning glance. He’s acting like he wants everyone to know what you’re trying so hard to hide and it’s really starting to piss you off.

“Wasn’t lookin’ at you any sorta way, darlin’. You’re the one makin’ a fuss and gettin’ everyone’s attention,” he smirks. It’s not even fair how good he looks when he does that.

You feel a strong urge to slap it off his face, but that’s not really an option right now. An annoyingly intrusive thought tells you to save it for later when you’re alone, but you push it to the back of your mind. He’d probably enjoy that, anyways.

You quirk an eyebrow as subtly as you can. “…Are you kidding me? I wasn’t the one glaring at you the entire meeting.”

He looks around pointedly. “Ya think you’re not makin' it worse right now?”

You pause to take in your surroundings, and he’s right. You’re making a scene unnecessarily when you could’ve just ignored him and gone home like you’d planned. This is exactly why everyone thinks the breakup was your fault. Why they all think you're the villain in his story.

Joel knows just how to bring out the worst in you and you hate it. It’s one of the reasons you broke up in the first place. He pretends like everything’s fine and nothing’s ever his fault, and you’re constantly tricked into proving him right. But today he’s being purposely antagonistic and you can’t tell why.

“Oh, fuck you, Joel,” you grit through your teeth. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

He doesn’t.

Not even a few hours later, he’s at your back door—like always, so no one sees him come and go—eyeing you a little wildly. Hungrily. And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He's horny. Probably has been all day, judging by his behavior earlier. He doesn’t say anything, just lurches forward to kiss you, to get his hands on you, but your arms shoot out to stop him.

“Uhh, what are you doing? Pretty sure I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

He’s already panting as if he ran all the way here, but the tent in his pants tells you otherwise. His heart is racing under your palms, and while you haven’t forgotten how furious you still are, the fact that he’s this desperate for you makes you want to.

"Yeah, but ya didn't mean it. Ya never mean it,” he says like he knows you so well. You hate that he does, but the last thing you’re going to do is admit it.

“Why the fuck would I say it if I didn't?" you scoff.

"'Cus it's more fun that way," he leans in again, but you jerk your head back. Is he serious? It’s not like you normally have a nice little chat before you fuck, but he usually has more patience than this.

“Joel, stop. Are you trying to get us caught?” you eye him incredulously. It’s dark out and, yeah, you’re not having this conversation on the porch where anyone can see you, but other people’s windows still face your yard. He’s acting ridiculous.

"Maybe I wanna get caught,” he replies smugly, crowding you against the door. “Maybe I want everyone to know who ya belong to.”

His eyes are unreadable, and you’re caught between shock and intense curiosity. But then, that familiar feeling of fury returns, and you allow that to win out. You reach behind you for the doorknob, twisting it open to back inside.

“No. Nope, that’s not happening today,” you say with finality, yanking him by the collar into the house. You shove his back against the door, slamming it shut, and your grip tightens on his shirt. He’s smirking again, and it somehow looks even better on his face now than it did earlier.

“There’s my girl,” he breathes out, his hands finding your waist to pull you closer. It sends an unwitting wave of heat through you, a gasp escaping your lips before you can stop it. Fuck. He hasn’t called you that since before the breakup. Because it hasn’t been true since then, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Only in here. Right, Joel?” He nods his head slowly, but his eyes betray him. He doesn’t believe that for one second.

“Sure, darlin’. Whatever you say.”

And, for now, that’s enough for you. You crash your lips into his hard enough to bruise and he groans into your mouth, rocking his hips into your belly so you can feel him straining in his jeans. It’s a little dizzying knowing just how much he wants you. How much he always wants you.

Flipping your positions to lead him backward, you reach down to unbutton his pants, your lips still moving languidly against his. Your fingertips purposely skim his bulge as you tug down his zipper, and he bucks into your hand, something soft and needy rumbling out of his chest.

More layers of clothing are stripped off and thrown haphazardly on the floor, leaving a trail from the kitchen to the living room, until the backs of his legs bump into the couch. All that's left now are his boxers, your underwear, and your bra. You make quick work of the latter yourself, dropping it to the floor, and then kick off your underwear, smirking at the look of sheer yearning on his face.

He reaches out to touch you, fingertips only managing to graze the side of your breast before you slap his hand away. He's not allowed to touch you until the playing field is even and he's as bare as you are. He already knows that.

His eyes are so dark, pupils dilated until that gentle brown has almost completely disappeared, and the way he's looking at you is reminiscent of a different time. You ignore it, focusing on all of the things you know he's about to do to your body instead. It'll help you forget whatever you just recognized in his gaze for a little while.

You tug on the waistband of his boxers, letting them snap back into his hips.

"Off," you tell him simply, giving him enough time to pull them down before you shove him onto the cushions. You climb into his lap, hands settling on his shoulders as you lower yourself down to drag your wet folds across his cock.

He hisses a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips to guide you, and you let him slick himself up against your pussy. He's so hard below you, looking painfully and almost angrily red at the tip. You sigh at the repeated friction on your clit and he twitches at the sound, dribbling precum that immediately mixes with your wetness.

"Need to be inside you. Now," he moans breathily, burying his face between your tits. He turns his head slightly to nip at the sensitive skin, and you tremble, trailing a hand up the side of his neck to bury in his soft curls. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

You nod quickly, chest heaving as you lift enough to reach down and wrap your fingers around him. Pumping him a few times, you drag the tip between your folds before lining him up with your entrance. He pants damply into your chest, more precum leaking out in anticipation.

And then you're dropping onto him, crying out loudly as you impale yourself on his cock. His hips shoot up off the couch, forcing himself deeper into your cunt, and he lets out a pained whoosh of air, adjusting to you as much as you are to him.

"Shit, that's—," he chokes out a moan as you start to move, "—tight. Fuckin' grippin' me, Christ."

You purposely squeeze him a little harder, exhaling sharply out your nose when his nails bite into your skin.

"Yeah, because you barely fucking fit," you tease breathily.

But it's more than that. You mold around him like you were made to take it, soft sighs leaving your lips as you ride him slowly. He fits perfectly, something that took precious time, his cock finding a home inside you over and over, reshaping your walls in his image. The lock to his key.

You bury that thought, too—with every swivel of your hips, every brush of your clit against his skin. He latches onto your breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you continue to work him.

His eyes flutter shut, hands beginning to guide you up and down a little faster as he swirls searing circles around the nub until it peaks. He tugs at it sharply with his teeth and you gasp, a spear of heat lancing through your spine as you gush around him.

It all feels so…fuck, he knows exactly how you like it. And both of you can hear how much you like it, feel how sticky you're making his lap. The slide around his cock is wet and easy, and your pussy's gripping him even tighter, but you need…god, you need—

"Joel, fuck me—come on, fuck me," you whimper, tugging him away from your tits by his hair, and he responds immediately. Taking over, he establishes a frantic, steady rhythm, lifting you until just the tip is inside, and forcing you back down.

But it's still not hard or fast enough to satisfy the way he needs you right now. He wraps his arms fully around your waist to hold you in place, pistoning his hips into you, forcing increasingly louder haahs out of your chest.

"That's it, darlin', take it…take it," he groans, head tilting back so he can observe every subtle change of expression as he gives you exactly you asked for. He leans up to capture your lips, but it's not so much a kiss as an exchange of breath, soft and humid as you pant heavily into each other mouths.

It quiets you for a brief moment—potentially the best possible moment, because out of nowhere, you hear faint voices passing by outside. They're way too close for comfort, and you realize belatedly that you made a huge mistake earlier.

"W-wait, the curtains—shit, the curtains…ngh…are still open," you barely manage to gasp out. "Fuck, the windows are open."

It doesn't deter him in the slightest and, instead, spurs him on. "S'alright, it's dark in here. They can't see us," he rasps, keeping up his merciless pace.

Ducking his head down, he sucks hard on a sensitive spot—your favorite spot—right above your collarbone, and you whimper much louder than you mean to.

"They can still fucking hear us," you all but growl, feeling your thighs start to quake despite your growing panic.

"Good, let 'em," he laughs almost cruelly, and he sounds so possessive that it stuns you momentarily. He takes the opportunity to abruptly tug you off his lap and toss you onto your back across the cushions, fucking back into you before you can even process the shift in position.

Now that he's on top of you, pressing down with his entire weight, his pelvis grinds into your already swollen clit with every single thrust, and you can't help the wail that escapes your parted lips.

He doesn't hesitate to pull you close, hugging your head to his neck as if he's trying to block out the rest of the world. Everything and everyone, but you and him.

"Always so loud for me. C'mon, darlin', lemme hear ya," he murmurs into your hair, hips snapping into yours. "I know you can be louder than that. Scream for me."

And you do. There's nothing else you could've done anyway, not with how he's dragging against everything just right. Your hips desperately swivel into his, chasing that hot, slick friction every time he connects with you.

The slap-slap-slap of your skin on his becomes a deep, wet thock-thock-thock the closer you get, your pussy dripping pathetically down his cock, fluttering with your impending release. He can feel it, you know he can, because he's moaning loud enough to rival even you now. He ruts greedily into you, hitting so much deeper than before.

"Christ…you're gonna make me cum," he warns, voice wrecked, his face still buried in your hair. "Jesus fuckin'…" You keen into his neck, still desperately chasing your own high, but it's not enough.

"J-Joel, I need—," you try to tell him, but he cuts you off.

"—'m fuckin' cummin'. Fuck," he grunts roughly, tumbling over the edge before you get the chance. His hips slow even as he continues to punch his cock as deep as it'll go, flooding your pussy.

No. Shit—no, no, no. He can't slow down, not now. You're almost there—so fucking close. He has to keep going. Just a little bit longer.

"No, Joel, no," you sob, legs kicking up around his waist as you grind up into him needily, increasing your speed. "Please, harder…please, please. Keep going for me—"

You feel rather than hear the groan rumble in his chest as he resumes his previous, unforgiving pace, ramming into you almost painfully.

"'m gonna. Don't'chu fuckin' worry."

At that, your orgasm quickly crashes over you, and you don't even realize you're slapping a hand into his side, still begging him not to stop as you wring him dry.

It's deafening what erupts from your chest when you finally cum. There's no doubt anyone outside can hear everything. Every squelch, every squeal, even the couch creaking, being pushed to its absolute limit.

Joel's name leaves your lips breathily, repeatedly like a prayer. You're shaking like a leaf underneath him, and he pulls back to brush your hair out of your face so he can kiss you, tender and open-mouthed.

This, too, feels gut-wrenchingly familiar but, for some reason, you don't want it to stop. Right now, you don't want to forget how it makes you feel.

He pulls out slowly, shoving two thick fingers inside you before your pussy can leak your combined releases all over the couch, and the sigh that escapes you sounds both content and despairing. He notices right away. Of course, he does.

Watching him leave you after nights like this hurts so much worse lately. Maybe it's nostalgia. Or maybe it's the unavoidable emotional connection you feel when he's inside you.

Even though months have passed since you decided you'd be better off without each other, something inexplicable keeps bringing you back together. It's not just the sex and you know it, no matter how much you choose to pretend otherwise.

He knows it, too. He tells you all the time—in the softness of his kiss, his desire to please you, and his eyes, still only ever focused on you.

And, now, in the possessiveness of his words and actions. Of his touch.

He gazes down at you knowingly, as if he can see every one of your troubled thoughts in the cloudiness of your eyes. He's always been annoyingly good at that.

"Y'know, I don't have to leave just yet," he murmurs, brushing his nose gently against your cheek. "Only in here, right? You're still mine as long as we're right here."

You let him wrap you up in his arms, nodding into his warm, beautifully scar-riddled chest.

"I'm yours."

thanks for reading! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller

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sserpente · 2 months

Text

Magic Hands

Synopsis: Astarion teaches you how to use a dagger in battle. The sweaty training calls for a bath in the nearby river afterward and you can’t help but admire the vampire rogue in the pale moonlight, surrounded by the glistening water surface. He seems… tense. Perhaps you can repay him by giving him a gentle massage?

A/N: Why did this take me so long to write, oh my gods! :D

Words: 2038 Warnings: smut, mentions of sexual trauma

Your battle cry echoed across the entire campsite when you plunged your blade forward. Lae’zel’s makeshift mind flayer dummy was rendered with holes at this point, oozing hey from several rips in the old fabric she had used to craft it.

The impact had you sway to one side and you shifted your weight, your left arm flailing about clumsily.

“Good. Now try that again without losing your balance.”

You grunted, shooting him an angry glance. He had his sleeves rolled up, and his arms crossed before his chest. It was almost distracting. Almost.

You had been at it for hours. Granted, it had been your idea—if you were going to survive this involuntary adventure, you might as well learn how to defend yourself. You were surprised you’d even made it this far. And, since attacking from the shadows was much more your cup of tea than storming headfirst into battle like Wyll or Lae’zel, you’d kindly asked Astarion to help you out.

He was a tough and strict teacher, you had to give him that. But you were making quick progress too. Before today, you hadn’t even been able to hold a dagger properly.

You withdrew your weapon and returned to your original position.

“Ah-ah-ah. No, darling. What did we just learn?” His teasing voice went down like butter. That was even more distracting.

Astarion pointed at your left foot. You shifted in the dirt, creating a grovelling noise.

“There we go. Now try again.”

You did as you were told, lunging at the dummy once more. Astarion tutted at you when you lost your balance yet again.

“Hey, don’t tut me!”

“I see where the problem lies now. Go on. Get back in position.”

Grunting once more, you obeyed. What you were not prepared for, however, was that he would step right behind you and place his hands on your stomach and waist. You sucked in a deep breath, tensing up.

“Keep tension here. You’ll want to make sure that lovely core of yours keeps you on your feet.”

Memories from your night in the woods came flooding back, sending you down a spiral of pleasure and arousal. You cleared your throat.

“Okay. I got it. I think.”

The sensation of loss was nearly overwhelming when he let go again. You could have sworn you saw him smirk from the corner of your eye.

You got into position again, took a deep breath, and… struck.

“Good girl.” You would have dropped the dagger had it not been lodged deeply within the mindflayer dummy. “Again.”

Again. Again and again and again until Astarion was certain you got the hang of it. Your arms were burning by the time he clapped and finally let you off the hook for the day.

“Be honest, you’re enjoying this a little.”

The vampire smirked. “More than just a little, darling.”

Heat crept up your cheeks, forcing you to bite your lower lip. “Whatever. I should get washed.”

“Hmm, so should I.”

You offered him a smile. Making your way toward the lake, you walked past Lae’zel who was sharpening her sword, Karlach who was dancing to a song only audible to her, and Gale practicing little magic tricks. Wyll and Halsin were with Shadowheart, talking and drinking by the fireplace.

You sighed. It could have been peaceful if it wasn’t for the imminent threat of a tadpole turning you all into thralls.

Once you reached the shore, there was no hesitation in your movements. You stripped off your clothes, knowing the bushes would hide you from unwanted eyes. As for Astarion… well… there was nothing he hadn’t seen before.

The vampire followed suit though you did notice that he avoided your gaze as he undressed. You couldn’t help but watch him regardless as he waded into the water until he was submerged hip-deep.

“You look really fine in the moonlight, you know that?” you said, joining him swiftly.

“Of course I do, I’m a vampire, darling.” He swam closer to you, allowing you to wrap your entire body around him. Astarion’s hands found your behind, squeezing gently.

“That’s not what I meant,” you whispered. His lips were cold when you met them with yours, a playful kiss soon turning into a passionate display of affection.

By the time you finally broke apart panting, Astarion rolled his shoulders with a groan.

“Is everything alright? You seem even tenser than me.”

“Oh well, it can’t be helped. Must be the weight of being a hero on my shoulders,” he spat with dismay. Oh yeah… he’d made it clear his interest in saving the refugees was ridiculously small. You had your theories on that… yet there was no way in the hells Astarion was a terrible person but rather… a person terrible things had happened to. The scars on his back spoke for themselves.

“I could help with that if you want,” you said before you could stop yourself.

“Help? How?”

“This is gonna sound silly but I used to work as a massage therapist for a few years, back in Baldur’s Gate, I mean. I have magic hands. I know a lot of techniques to relieve back pain and back tension…” You trailed off, studying his reaction.

“Magic hands?”

Astarion narrowed his eyes at you and somehow, you knew exactly what was going on in his mind. Relieving a different kind of tension at your celebration with the Tieflings was one thing… having someone work his back and stroke every inch of exposed skin with skilled hands, right over the scars that had brought him so much torment… that was another.

“You want to… well… I…”

“If you want to?”

“Well… I suppose…”

You tilted your head. He wanted to accept, you could tell. But was that… concern glistening in his red eyes?

“You know, I’m, uh… I’m not offering this to have sex with you again. I mean… I really, really enjoyed myself, Astarion but… I honestly feel like that’s the reason you’re being wary, isn’t it? Along with me, um… touching your scars.”

His lips parted.

“I just want to help. And only if you’ll let me.”

“Alright… fine.”

You nodded, the tension you didn’t realise had been building up inside of you leaving your body.

“Then come find me in my tent later.”

You left him some privacy after your swim, returning to your makeshift home to find anything you could use as a massage oil. You settled for an ointment in the end, one that Halsin usually used to treat wounds. It would do. You could hardly use a bottle of grease after all.

You were rather certain Astarion waited until the others were asleep on purpose. When he parted the fabric of your makeshift door and crouched down a little to come inside, you patted your bedroll and smiled at him.

His coyness was adorable. While before his heart-breaking confession, every single word that had left his lips was a flirt, he was but a frightened young man now, intimidated by intimacy.

“Lie down, my love. And… Astarion?”

His red eyes met yours as he followed your request and removed his shirt, once again revealing those horrifying scars to you.

“You need to stop me if you’re feeling uncomfortable, alright?”

The vampire spawn smirked. “How could I possibly feel uncomfortable with your skilled hands dancing over my body, pet?”

“You know what I mean.” You grinned, relieved that his smarm was not lost on him.

“Of course.”

“Now lie down on your belly and close your eyes.”

Astarion sighed and did as he was told. You straddled him, trifling some of the oil on your hands and rubbing them together before eventually… placing your palms on his bare back.

Your fingers glided over the ridges of his scars, your thumbs digging into the muscles, looking for any tension. You found it all too quickly, working knot after knot out of his tormented back.

Soon enough, he relaxed. His sigh was so innocent you couldn’t help but lean forward and place a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades.

You pampered him for a while, making sure to massage each and every spot on his back. You did not fail to miss the faint moan when you asked him to turn over so you could work on the rest of his body. Gods, you were enjoying this even more than he was.

Astarion’s gaze was filled with repose and… hunger. And when your eyes travelled further down, your lips parted and you realised why.

He was hard.

“Do you… do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t… you… dare…” he muttered, eyes half-closed still.

You bit your lower lip, oily hands gliding over his chest. It wasn’t just him. You were as wet as the river you’d bathed in just a few hours back and now that you were aware just how much your sensual treatment affected him, the arousal was nearly unbearable.

Breathing heavily, you swallowed and paused.

“How about… I have an idea.”

He sat up a little, propping himself on his elbows. “Oh?”

His sly smirk caught you entirely off guard though you were unsure whether he was merely trying to hide his insecurity behind it. He’d told you he didn’t want you to think of him in terms of sex for now and you would respect that wish. There was no need for you to act on your own excitement even if it drove you insane. But if he let you… you wanted to make him feel good so badly that it almost caused you physical discomfort.

“I could… take care of… that,” you muttered, pointing at the growing bulge in his trousers.

Astarion raised his eyebrows, passion glistening in those red eyes.

“Let me pamper you. No sex. I might as well give you a… full body massage at this point. And if it gets too much, you stop me.”

“We… we could try.” He nodded, lying back down but keeping his eyes wide open as you opened his trousers with gentle movements and pulled his erection free.

Astarion flinched when your oily hand wrapped around his hardening length, fingertips teasing him tenderly.

“Okay?”

He nodded.

“I need you to tell me with words, my love.”

Astarion cleared his throat. “Okay. That feels… nice.”

One thing you realised very quickly was that he had never experienced anything like this before. Someone who wished for nothing more than to bring him pleasure, to make him feel good, without expecting anything in return. To give him back his sensuality where only he and his well-being mattered without his body being sexualised or objectified…

It must have been such a novel concept to him… biting your lower lip, you began to stroke him with firm yet tender touches, your thumb gliding over his slit and rubbing over his tip.

He squirmed, bucking his hips in response with a quiet moan. It was enough of a reaction to urge you on, your movements quickening and adapting to his rapid breathing.

You paused when he uttered your name with a start.

“No… no, don’t stop, my love… don’t you dare stop…”

So you kept going, driving him to the edge with hungry ferocity. Gods, he looked so delicious. So carefree and innocent all because of you…

“I… I… I will…”

Astarion thrust up into your hands, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Pleasure flushed his entire face, his lips parting. He tensed up, his thighs shaking and his fingers clutching at the soft material of your bedroll. He came all over your hands and knuckles, ropes of seed clear evidence of his release. You helped him ride it out, squeezing every last drop from his pretty cock until he was spent and panting, his body relaxing again bit by bit.

“You look so beautiful when you come undone…” you whispered, wiping your hands on some rags you kept nearby.

He chuckled. “And you do have magic hands. I might have to ask you to do that again soon.”

You smiled, cuddling up to him with a smile. Neither of you bothered to get undressed completely. You were perfectly fine with falling asleep like this.

“Anytime, Astarion. Always.”

#astarion #astarion imagine #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #bg3 #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion ancunin #astarion fluff #astarion ancunin imagine #astarion ancunin x you #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 imagine #bg3 imagine #neil newbon

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jenosfairygirl · 4 months

Text

y/n being fucked by haechan and jeno after dance practice.

(this ones a little longer- bc I forgot to upload it <3- enjoy)

"that's a wrap everyone" the choreographer shouts loudly with her voice booming and echoing off dance room walls.

you had been invited by jeno to watch the boys dance because they had a huge award show performance coming up and jeno was ecstatic for you being there, giving you puppy eyes when he first made the proposal.

mark filled the room loudly with his laugher over something jaemin and renjun had said, but you where to distracted watching jeno to pay attention to their conversation.

he sported black sweat shorts and over sized while t-shirt today, with a low baseball cap covering his cool silky black hair. jeno decided he wanted to grow his hair out in a shaggy like cut for your likes sake. it made you absolutely feral.

haechan notices you sitting on the floor and walks his way over you holding out a bottle of water, you notice this and glady accept the cool drink from the boy. haechan was one of the most cherished and loved members, so how could you resist?

"haechan, jeno- where going to go watch a movie at chenle's, wanna join us?" jisung says loudly with his deep voice bouncing off the walls.

by this time, most of the staff & dancers had left and the only people are where their personal management and the boys themselves.

"hmm im going to stay behind with jeno for a bit- ill meet you guys there" haechan says while plopping himself right next you against the cool glass mirror.

mark didn't question haechans repsonse and the rest of dream piled out the door with marks laughter following suit.

jeno went to back to practicing in the center of the dance floor, and you couldn't help but admire his physique.

you kept staring at him- biting your lip and squirming slightly until you where abruptly snapped out your thoughts.

"helllooo- earth to y/n...hellooo" haechan states waving his hand in your face.

"im sorry haha, I got lost in thought" you say, adjusting your lower half, feeling your thighs ruled with wetness.

"no sweat haha, if I where you i'd look too" he says staring off at jeno like a wildness thought.

you feel the wetness in your thighs grow- you never had thoughts of other dream members until jaemin and now...haechan? I mean he was like your best friend.

you ignore what he says and stand up to stretch only for haechan to reveal your embarrassing mess on the floor.

"uh..y/n, did you uhm.." he trails off, staring down at the wet spot left on the cream colored dance floor.

"oh my god" you say softly, with your pinkish cheeks heating up with embarrassment, you then cover up your face with your hands and slightly chuckle to yourself.

jeno notices and makes his over to you both - just to also see the same wet spot on the floor- "this is so embarrassing" you mutter quietly.

jeno and haechan shoot deep eye glances at each other then haechan lets out a low deep chuckle.

"hmm you know y/n, I know all about last week" he says standing up making his way over to meet you and jeno.

you look at jeno and shoot him the 'oh no you didn't spill' look, but to your surprise jeno grabs you by your arm and presses your body against his-with your ass against his bulge.

he was so hard, so thick and his cock was practically coming out of his shorts.

you where now facing haechan- a horny embarrassed mess- with your hair falling in front of your face.

haechan slowly stands over you, using his hand to slide your hair behind your ear, grabbing you by your chin with soft delicate fingers.

he bends down and inches himself near until his warm soft lips are touching your ears. you felt the warm breath come from his mouth and that sent tingles and shivers down your spine.

"jaemin couldn't stop talking about tight you where" he says softly and deeply -making you squirm between the two men.

"je-jeno" you slightly moan. you could feel his dick poke out of his pants, with your free hand you grab it and began stroking the boy behind you, hearing his breath hiss as he feels your cold hand on his angry hot tip.

"do you want me and haechan to fuck you baby? do you wanna see how much of a slut you truly are?" jeno spits in your ear- making you moan instantly. you nod your head profusely and slightly begin begging under your breath.

"hmm I can't wait to see what you look like bouncing on my cock baby" haechan whispers softly in your other ear.

jeno then quickly slides his hot hands under your hoodie- grabbing your tits and feeling your nipples harden. he then begins kissing your neck roughly- biting and sucking every area, letting everyone know you where his.

"hmm let me see how wet you are pretty girl" haechan spits roughly- he then yanks your shorts down, only to find out- today you weren't wearing any underwear

"no panties baby?" jeno asks deeply still continuing to play with your tits.

then without words you see haechan get on his knees in front of you, spreading apart your sticky wet thighs your honey, he then kisses up your legs making his way past your knees and biting your thighs. the warm wet salvia from haechans mouth made a even bigger mess as he began working his soft bites and kisses near your pussy.

with jenos dick still in your hand- you speed up, jacking him off at steady yet fast pace. jeno moans in your ear and lifts up your hoodie to expose your tits to the cool air of the room.

"fu-fuck please- fuck me please" you stammer out- almost crying due to the edging your enduring.

you then feel haechans mouth on your pussy- sucking and laping circles into your clit as fast as possible.

you let out a soft yet harsh moan, squeezing jenos dick in your hand- begging for some time of stimulation from them.

"fuck this-" jeno states, undoing his tangle around you- taking away haechans mouth from your throbbing core.

"what do you have in mind?" haechan says to jeno- now laying down on the cold floor- stroking his long fat cock.

you never thought in a million years that haechans dick would be so long and big..would it even be able to fit inside you?

"on top of him-now" jeno spits at you- grabbing you by the back of your neck and nudging you towards haechan.

you do as you where told and climb on top of him, feeling dick right at the entrance of your pussy.

you then feel jeno behind you- bending you over in doggy with his cock at your ass entrance.

"baby..I-" you mutter softly- not being all so sure you can handle the boys at the same time.

you feel jenos weight fill itself into your back and his warm sweet breath near your ear-

"if you want us to stop, just say the word baby" he says kissing your ear again softly.

you open your eyes- not even noticing they where closed to see haechan staring at you.

his cheeks where pink, his hair was all over the place and you notice his pupils where dilated. you never looked at him this way, but my god did he look delicious.

without warning-both boys slip there cocks into you, stretching you out and filling you up like a donut.

they then begin to move in rhythm like drummers- with one bouncing after the other.

the sounds of their balls smacking against you and your moans filled the air. you look up to see yourself sandwiched between the two men and that sent you into over drive.

"mo-more. please h-ha-harder" you moan out loudly, with your nails digging into haechans shoulders to keep your stable.

"mm you like this don't you? you're such a fucking slut my god" haechan mumbles while sucking your nipple. you bounce yourself fast aghast the boys- feeling jenos finger tangle themselves in your hair. he yanks your head back to force your eyes land on the mirror in front of you.

"look at yourself. getting fucked by me and my best friend" jeno spits putting his fingers around your throat and squeezing roughly.

"god- fuck! can I cum- please" you beg softly while still bouncing at full speed. you arch your back more so you can feel them go deeply inside you, you let at cry at how good it felt.

the slapping of wetness and moans filled the air and it made you see stars. you couldn't help but start begging for it- begging for something- you wanted to be like this for all of eternity.

"can I cum inside you doll?" haechan asks while slapping your nipple roughly, you nod and muster out "please- please please" you moan

"who's slut are you? who do you belong to?" jeno asks while restlessnessly pounding into your ass.

'you! jeno I belong to you!" you scream loudly- noting that anybody would be able to hear you at this point.

"fuck- fuck im gonna cum-" haechan says squirming beneath you then he using your hips slamming into your pussy at maximum speed.

"fuck- ah shit" jeno moans- noting that he's about the cum- grabbing your ass cheeks roughly- spreading them apart to look at his and haechans dick going in and out your abused holes.

"cum for us us baby" they both said simultaneously and with those words it sent you spiraling.

you felt the world around you collapse and your vision became nothing more than a hazy bubble with birds and fairies dancing around your head.

you felt their cocks twitch inside of you filling you lip with their warm sticky cum.

they stop moving with their dicks still inside you-using this moment to catch their breath and wipe the sweat off their foreheads.

haechan was the first to remove his dick- with the exist of it leaving a 'pop' sound as it it was opening champagne for the first time.

jeno then followed suit- taking his cock out of you- leaving you trembling and shaking in pain.

you then plop yourself into haechans warm chest- to tired to move your body or speak at all.

you feel jeno grab you and slowly begin to put your clothes on. he slides his over sized white tee and slides it onto you- filling your aura and bubble with his warm vanilla/burbon scent.

you snuggle in the shirt and you fall asleep in jenos arms.

"I hopes she's going to be okay.." haechan asks while fixing his pants and slides on his pants walking towards his duffle bag full of stuff.

"she'll be fine" jeno states in a shy tone-while stroking your pink flushed cheeks.

"nothing a little sleep can't fix" he says while holding you closely, kissing your forehead at you laid there fast asleep.

#jeno smut #nct smut #nct x reader #nct dream smut #haechan smut #haechan x reader #nct

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3minsover · 2 months

Text

late night:early start

City commuter Steve has to get the first train at 5:30am, already suited and preened for the day even at the early hour. He ends up in the same carriage as a clearly tired, scruffy-looking guy who lays his guitar case down across two seats about three rows away from Steve before slumping into one himself, one that faces Steve.

Despite the guy’s bedraggled appearance, and the smudges of eyeliner that are still clinging to his waterline, Steve is entranced. He can’t help but follow the long line of the guy’s arms under the sleeves of his jacket, down to the flex and curl of his fingers as they drum out a rhythm on the little table in front of him. The man seems to sense Steve’s curious eyes on him and glances up, meeting Steve’s gaze with wide, bleary brown eyes and a half-smile. He scratches at the skin behind his ear, just beneath where a mess of curls is twisted into a lazy bun.

“Late night?” Steve finds himself asking unprompted. He’s not one to talk to strangers, but there’s something compelling, intriguing about the inked etchings peaking out of the guy’s sleeve cuffs, the silver stud in his nose, the heavy boots at the end of long, stretched out legs. He’s so very different from the crisp and fresh-pressed suits at the firm, and even though it isn’t even 6am yet, Steve suddenly feels wide awake.

“Uh, yeah,” the guy answers sheepishly, his voice rough with evident disuse - or overuse. perhaps both. “Would you believe I missed the last train yesterday night?”

“Ah, trains are tricky like that. You don’t live around here then?” It’s a presumptuous question, but one that Steve’s instincts tell him to ask.

“I look like that much of a city rat, huh?” The man chuckles, and Steve’s heartbeat ticks up.

“Hah- You don’t- You don’t look like a lot of the people I see around town, is all I’m saying. and that’s not a bad thing, if I’m being totally honest.” Steve can feel his cheeks heating, and for a moment the rumble of the train is the only sound.

“Okay, good. I’ll take that,” the guy says, brows pinching a little. “You uh, you goin’ into the city then I'm guessing?”

“Yeah, it’s a shitty gig having to come all this way, but at least I haven’t had to sell my kidney to cover rent.”

“I don’t think they’d take my kidney if I offered,” the guy smiles, and Steve barks out a laugh that’s too loud for the empty carriage and the earliness. The guy shifts in his seat, and Steve instinctively leans forward, wanting really to move the few rows forward until he’s close enough to see the early morning light dance and glint in those big, dark eyes.

“That have anything to do with while you were stranded?” Steve asks, gesturing to the guitar case.

“Yup. got me in all kinds of trouble, she has. Gig finished late, couldn’t get a cab, welcome to hotel train-station-waiting-room.”

Steve manages to chuckle more softly this time, his gaze catching on the twitch of the guy’s lips as he stifles a yawn.

“Hey, if you wanted to- You could take a nap, I’ll watch your stuff. Make sure no one steals it, or whatever.”

The man blinks at him in surprise, lashes fluttering where his lids are heavy.

“That’d- Shit, that’d be awesome, man. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Let me just-” And so Steve’s more daring thoughts win out. He plucks up his briefcase from the seat next to him and hurries the short distance to the cluster of seats on the opposite side of the aisle from his new charge. “There. Now I got a clear line of sight.”

“I’ve never felt safer,” the guy jokes, and pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head, tucking his chin into his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry, um. When should I wake you?”

“Whenever you’re getting off, big boy,” the guy shoots back without raising his head, and Steve can just about make out the curve of his lips and the dimple that sits in the corner of his cheek. He can feel his own cheeks warming at the guy’s words, and Steve’s glad there’s no one around to see. He lets himself watch this pretty stranger under the pretence that he’s keeping an eye on his guitar, and the hour and a half slides by almost unnoticed.

The carriage is a little busier but still quiet when Steve’s stop rolls around. The man hasn’t moved since he nodded off, and it almost breaks Steve’s heart to wake him. Carefully, Steve stands and leans down, wrapping his fingers around the man’s shoulder and shaking lightly.

“Hey, buddy, I gotta get off.”

The guy’s eyes blink open, wide and unfocused and so lovely, before they swivel up to meet Steve’s own. His chin tips upward and his lips curve in a smile, and something in Steve begs closer closer closer, but instead he just clears his throat and rights himself.

“Thank you, dude. Even that was way better than a wooden goddamn bench.” The guy bends his arms and stretches, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“I’m- I’m steve, by the way,” he announces suddenly, making a step towards the carriage doors, despite how reluctant he is to move away from his stranger.

“Hey, Steve,” the guy replies, hauling himself upright - how coincidental that they’re off at the same, second-to-last stop. The train draws to a halt, and the guy stumbles forward just a fraction, still off-balance with new consciousness. Suddenly, they’re face to face. Or more they’re nose to chin, because this man has a good four inches on Steve. It’s all Steve can do not to lean up and kiss his pretty lips right here and now. “Name’s Eddie.”

And it feels right. It fits.

Steve doesn’t know how or why, but everything about this man fits; feels right.

“Good to meet you, Eddie,” Steve says, a little breathless. “Hey, if you’re ever down my way again, how about I give you a better place to sleep than a waiting room bench.” And Steve knows it’s a bit of a pretentious thing to do, but he slips a business card out of his wallet and tucks it into the breast pocket of Eddie’s jacket. He pats it once and pivots away, can’t bear the thought that he’s misread the electricity between them. He rushes through the doors and slips into the stream of morning bodies, leaving the perfect newness of his pretty stranger back in that carriage. but that evening, Steve’s phone buzzes with a text from an unsaved number.

It simply reads:

thanks again for being my lookout. if the offer’s still on the table, how about friday night?

#steddie #steddie au #steve harrington x eddie munson #originally posted on twitter #3minsover

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reyla-the-black-wolf · 27 days

Text

My heart speaks for you (Part 1)

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Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: a bit fluff, slight angst, no other that I could think of

Summary: Y/n is the youngest child of the High Lord of the Night Court and lives a slightly different life than the rest of her family. But what happens, when an unexpected visitor enters the stage and decides to completely change her life?

Part 1 ⎮ Part 2 ⎮Part 3⎮

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The festivities were in full swing. All the guests wore breathtaking ball gowns and suits in every colour imaginable. And the shooting stars above us glistened like jewels from some long forgotten treasure.

It was Starfall at the Night Court and our High Lord and his High Lady had worked hard to prepare this stunning ball. This year they wished to open Velaris to everyone, so all the other Courts were invited to enjoy this magnificent night.

I stood on one of the many balconies at the House of Wind, gazing up at the wonderful night sky above me. The stars seemed magical as they came down one by one to greet us like old friends. I closed my eyes to worship this moment. The chatter of our guests echoed up to where I leaned against the marble railing. It cooled my skin, which was still hot and sweaty from all the dancing earlier. The sound of glass clinking, as people toasted each other. Sweet smelling pastries and other delicious treats hovered in the air. My mouth instinctively watered and I subconsciously smiled.

A lovely fresh spring breeze made my black silken dress swirl around my ankles. My hair stood on end at the sensation and I shivered. Taking a deep breath, I let the night-chilled air fill my lungs. I never wanted this tiny fragment of life to pass, as I enjoyed it to the full. Letting it sink into the deepest parts of my soul and surround me like a thick, cosy blanket. I could feel a warmth spreading all over my skin.

The fabric of my dress caressed my legs, as the wind brushed past it. It accentuated my body in all the right places, from my legs up to my hips and to my breasts. A silver necklace curled its way around my neck with a moonstone in shape of a teardrop set in the centre. It shimmered so brightly as if made of a star itself. To complete my look, I´d chosen some silver earrings. Also with a little moonstone.

The Cursed Princess of the Night.

That was my title. At least, that’s what other Fae called me.

I opened my eyes only to pull back suddenly, as a tall, red-haired Fae stood beside me, watching the Starfall. Apparently I must have been under some kind of spell, as I didn’t hear the man approach me from behind.

He was at least two heads taller than me and wore a dark crimson tunic with golden embroidery and a creamy white linen shirt underneath. The vest looked like it was made out of blood and the linen shirt perfectly showed off his toned muscles on his arm and chest. A few gold rings curled around his long, slender fingers. And his hair. I almost forgot how to breathe. His hair was a kaleidoscope of fiery colours. A blazing fire of red dawn and golden sunset. Neatly brushed back. He smelled of fresh parchment, rain and red wine. A warmth enveloped him, spreading until I could feel it shiver over my hot skin.

I knew exactly who was standing before of me. The short, flaming hair. The lean figure. His exquisite attire. Standing beside me was the heir of the Autumn Court.

Eris Vanserra.

Apparently, I had let my eyes roam over his form for too long, for when I shifted my gaze to look at his face, he was staring right at me. I´ve never felt so exposed in my entire existence. He watched me as if he could peer straight into my very soul. I was in a trance, an comfortable feeling settled in my stomach. Cauldron! He looks like as if he was carved out of fire itself! All I could do was stare at him in awe. His handsome features. The sharp jawline and his amber eyes. A mischievous smirk played across his full lips, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. Blushing, I looked down at my feet.

„What is a beautiful lady like you doing up here? Shouldn´t you be dancing with your family or perhaps with the guests?“ His voice sounded like a stream of molten gold. Delicate and charming, but with a hidden danger to it. I wanted to answer him. I really did. But… I just couldn´t. The words in my mind, but my mouth frozen.

When I didn´t respond, he tilted his head to the side. Like a fox staring at its prey. Something flickered in his eyes. Was that curiosity?

„Pardon me, where are my manners? I´m Eris Vanserra. Heir to the Autumn Throne.“ He threw an elegant hand gesture in my direction and bowed his head. A few strands of his bright red hair fell loose across his forehead, giving him a cheeky look.

„And you´re the Princess of Night, I suppose? Y/n, right?“ It was nothing but a statement. Of course he knew who I was. Not sure what to do, I just nodded quickly.

Gathering some strength, I looked him right in the eye and then leaned back on the balcony beside him. My eyes were on the city below us. Velaris. He simply hummed at me, his eyes also sweeping over the City of Starlight.

„It´s beautiful“, he commented, „but nothing compared to the view next to me, of course.“, his voice smooth as silk. I´d never met the Autumn Court heir in person, but I knew of his reputation. It was said he was a cruel and arrogant man. There was no trace of it now. Still I couldn´t help but smile shyly at his compliment. Daring a glance in his direction, I blushed uncontrollably. He stared at me again, a shameless grin on his face. What was going on? Normally, I´m not one to be flattered easily. Must be the alcohol…

I smiled and nodded gratefully at him before turning my gaze back to Velaris. Enjoying the view of the city. My home.

„Can you keep a secret?“ A hint of humour flashed across his face. I looked at him with big doe eyes, waiting for him to continue. „Starfall looks lovely, but in my opinion, it´s nothing compared to the Autumn equinox.“ A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. „You should visit it one day. Definitely worth it.“ He stared off into the distance, as if lost in a memory. He then began to tell me about the autumn equinox, about his brothers, growing up in his fathers Court. If anyone else had seen us, they probably would´ve mistaken us for old friends. Was I genuinely surprised that he shared such private details of his life with me, a complete stranger? Yes. Did it bother me? No, not in the slightest.

I could feel myself relaxing as he spoke and Eris clearly didn´t care that I didn´t answer. He simply went on sharing his life with me. And I listened carefully to every word he said. Something about it felt quite intimate, as if he trusted me with his very soul. The man next to me, was the complete opposite of what others said about him. A ticklish feeling crept its way into my chest and somehow I knew he needed… this. Just two strangers standing on a balcony at the House of Wind. One talking, the other listening. He needed this as much as I did.

We remained like that for a while. Just the two of us, Velaris below and the stars falling upon us. Now surrounded by a comfortable silence. Eris decided to break it first.

„I´ve heard tales about you, you know? The cursed daughter.“ A pause. „Some say the Cauldron is to blame for your inability to speak.“ I stiffened at his unexpected honesty. „Why is it you can´t talk?“ A thousand questions sparkled in those beautiful eyes of his. It was nothing new for people to have questions about what was wrong with me. They made up all kinds of tales and theories. I was used to them talking behind my back, but I hadn´t expected him to bring it up. Always at ease with my condition, I was surprised, when something felt out of place. A sensation that had changed. But why? I didn´t even know him. Why would he elicit such a reaction in me?

Feeling his eyes burning into my skin, I looked up at him, longing to say: I wish I could answer you. I truly want to! But I can´t…

Another expression slipped into his honeydew eyes. Sympathy. As if to tell me: I understand.

My eyes watered, but I didn´t mind. I felt completely lost in those cascades of liquid sunlight. Framed by his long lashes and fine wrinkles. Some others wouldn't even have noticed them.

My star, where are you? Your mother is worried about you.

The voice of my father echoed in a corner of my mind, jolting me out of my trance. I blinked a few times, glanced at the door behind me and back at the man by my side with something, others might have called a pleading look. I have to go.

Eris understood and gave a deep bow. „It was a pleasure to meet you y/n. Princess of the Night.“ Something about the way he said it didn´t make me dislike that title.

I curtsied and spun around on my heel, sensing that this wasn´t the last time I would run into Eris Vanserra.

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I spent the rest of the night with my family. Mor had a bit too much to drink, but so had her friend Viviane. They sat on the floor with Amren and Varian on velvet cushions, eagerly talking about some event, that happened recently. Cassian and Nesta were leaning on the great balcony, enveloped in each others arms, enjoying their togetherness. Uncle Az was watching the place, searching for any threats, as always. My father had told him, he had the night off, but why break with old habits. And then, there were my parents. High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. Their crowns shone beneath the chandelier. Made of the most precious diamonds. Currently they were engaged in a lively conversation with Helion and some other Fae. Nyx, my older brother was next to them, holding a wine glass. His wings properly tucked behind his back.

I stood silently in a corner, observing the room. Every detail. The glittering embroidery on some of the ball gowns. The crystal glasses and the way the light was refracted in them. A scent from the pastries caught my attention and I took a deep breath. They smelled incredible. I was caught up in a maelstrom of iridescent colours as I watched the dancing guests. A whirlwind that carried me away and consumed me. A feeling crept over me as if something was watching me. Or rather, someone was. I scanned the hall, but found no one.

Then a deep, nocturnal laugh snapped me out of my thoughts. My father's laughter. Seeing him and my mother so happy, made me smile to myself. I loved them dearly. But every time I saw them like this, something stirred inside me. A familiar feeling tugging at my heart.

Silent as a shadow, I sneaked out of the hall and headed up to my chambers. It was another wonderful Starfall, no doubt, but right now I wanted nothing more than to sleep. To swallow those rising emotions and banish them for the rest of the night.

I quickly changed into something more comfortable and lay down on the large bed. Burying myself under the sheets, I soon drifted off into a deep sleep.

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Grey rain clouds darkened the sky and a sharp wind tore through the treetops. Loose, broken leaves were blown from the muddy ground. I felt a piercing cold creep up my bare ankles, like a dead hand reaching for me. My tangled hair fluttered around my face as the panic trapped within my chest threatened to burst. Breathe! Breathe! My heartbeat rose higher and higher. I was dressed in nothing but a white linen dress, which swirled around my hips. The first drops of rain trickled down my pale cheeks. The wind grew stronger by the second, howling like an ancient spirit.

Breathe and open your eyes! My body screamed at me, but I wasn´t listening. Everything felt too much, when suddenly something soft brushed my thigh and the world stopped spinning for a moment. The gentle thuds of paws and a faint squeak could be heard. Slowly, I opened my eyes, only to be met with a fox sitting a few steps away. His thick, orange fur swirled in the breeze and his big, smoky eyes glistened with curiosity. He certainly was adorable with his black socks and the fluffy fur, his ears twitching. Squeaking again, he started running away from me. My body began to wake up, my feet stepping forward on their own.

I followed the little creature through the forest, trying not to loose him. Water splashed onto my legs, as I ran through some puddles. Fern leaves got stuck on my dress. The world around me, began to blur into a stream of pastel colours. A chaos of moss and olive-green leaves. Of grey sky and dark raindrops. Mixed with the scent of petrichor. The fox then slowed down and hid in a dark, narrow tunnel, waiting for me to follow. I took a few steps and stood at the entrance. My hand darted towards the shadows, but before I could to step into them, they consumed me. Suffocated me. Stole my air. My vision. And then slowly sunk into my very being…

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Sunrays shone down on my face. They tickled a bit and I scrunched my nose. A fresh breeze blew through the open windows and filled the room. The fine silver curtains swayed. I pulled the covers over my head, not wanting to stay up. But the birds chirping outside had other plans, so I kicked off the covers and got up.

As I was getting into a pair of black trousers and a bell-sleeved top, the entire house trembled beneath my feet. The birds were startled and fluttered away. What was going on?

I quickly threw on some shoes and almost ran out of the room. Perhaps it was an earthquake? Hopefully nothing too serious.

Moments like this made me wish I had inherited my father's wings.

Hurrying down a long corridor, I made a sharp right turn and nearly stumbled down a flight of stairs. As I was about to pass another staircase, a certain darkness caught my eye. It spilled out from under a double door, which was decorated with intricate silver carvings.

The conference room.

Oh, yes. My mother had told me, that there would be a meeting with the other High Lords in the morning to discuss some new arrangements regarding the import of certain materials into the other courts and the continent. It didn't appear to be going well.

An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. As I walked towards the door, a low growl reverberated through the walls. Father.

„Rhys, let us talk about..“ My mother was cut off. „No! I demand to hear it from him! Who is it?“ His sombre voice was full of wrath. What could´ve possibly made him so upset?

I stepped closer, not sure if I should knock and disturb them. You could literally feel the tension.

„Rhysand, this is a business council. We´re here to discuss other matters.“ I believed, that was Lord Thesan´s voice speaking. A pregnant pause followed. I could almost see my father glaring at him. „Y/n. It's Y/n.“ I couldn't identify the voice. Someone was gasping for air and mumbled something incomprehensible. After that, no one dared to say another word.

Why were they talking about me? What was going on in there?

„You are not worthy of her.“ He practically spat out the word. My father´s sudden change of demeanour sent a shiver down my spine. „That decision is not yours to make.“ Heavy footsteps echoed across the room. „Call off your dog, Rhysand.“, Cassian snarled as he was addressed like that. „No need for hostility.“, the voice sounded as nonchalant as it could be.

Eris.

The darkness around my feet grew thicker. With no clue what had gotten into me, I grabbed the door handle and entered the council room. Not a single person noticed me. Just as I was about to close the door and step into whatever situation awaited me, glass shattered on the wooden floor.

„She is my daughter. You are not entitled to her!“ I could do nothing but watch the scene unfold. „Rhys, you don´t understand. Y/n is my mate. You can´t keep her away from me.“ The air was practically charged with lightning. A tingling sensation, that…

Wait what?…What did he just say?… I´m his.. his mate?

The room seemed too small now. Time stood still. Even the dust in the air had stopped moving. I inhaled sharply. My thoughts were racing. Pieces of memories flashed my mind.

Last night on the balcony.

His cheeky grin.

Mor, a dancing flash of red.

Stars sparkling above our heads.

A full moon shining as bright as ever.

My parents holding each others hands.

The stories Eris had told me about his childhood.

I must´ve heard this incorrectly. We hadn't even met each other until yesterday. But now it made sense, why he acted so.. so vulnerable in my presence. I was his mate. He was my mate. I had a mate. This one sentence repeatedly ran through my mind.

Unconsciously, my foot took a step back at the realisation and one of the planks creaked awkwardly. As if slow motion, all faces turned to me.

„Darling, I´m so sorry. This wasn´t meant for your...“, my father stuttered, but I couldn´t hear him anymore. His Apology ended in a swirl of pure silence. All I could do was stare at him. Eris. And he looked at me. Straight into my eyes with a shocked expression on his face. „Y/n, I..“, he tried to step forward but Cass stopped him immediately. Someone then gently grabbed my arm and pulled me along. Away from this moment, that just put my entire life upside down. A familiar scent flooded my nose and golden brown hair waved in my vision. The last thing I remember, was the doors closing behind me, as my mother winnowed us to the living room.

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@tele86 @circe143 @impossibelle @st4r-girl-official @cherry-cin

#acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #acotar fanfiction #slight angst #part one

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mopeyy · 4 months

Text

Little Hunter

Avatar Frontiers of Pandora

Eetu x Navi! Reader

Vocab:

taronyutsyìp - Little Hunter

woosh. You groaned as another arrow missed the target. No matter how many times you practiced, you still had the aim of a child. How were you supposed to hunt if you couldn't even hit the target? You sighed in defeat as you walked to pick up your arrow. Suddenly you heard a cocky laugh from behind you. You rolled your eyes, knowing who would be there when you turned around. "I guess archery isn't your strong suit, Sarentu." You reached down, picked up your arrow, and started walking back to your position. "Shut up, Eetu; you're supposed to be my teacher, so if I'm failing, it could only be your fault," you suggested. He laughed as he made his way toward you. "It's not my fault you are this way. The sky people have taught you to hold a gun and not a longbow." When he reached you, he tilted his head and clicked his tongue. "I see what's happening. You're standing all wrong. here,"

He stood behind you and pushed you to his chest, fixing your posture. "You need to keep your back straight and loosen your shoulders." He slid his hands up to your shoulders and pushed them back. "And you should hold your bow like this." His hands moved towards your arms, adjusting them, before placing his hands over yours, making sure you were holding the bow right. "Do you see how much better that feels?"

He was so close that when he spoke, you could feel his breath on your neck. You only nodded in response, scared that no words would come out if you tried to speak. He slid his leg in between yours and used it to widen your stance. "Stand like this, nice and firm." He moved his hands off of yours and slid them down to your waist. His voice was next to your ear as he spoke, "Now feel the wind, and when it is calm, shoot."

You watched how the leaves on the trees shook and how the grass moved. When it all stilled and you no longer felt the breeze on your face, you released the arrow. It sliced through the air faster and smoother than it ever had. For the first time, it hit the target. Not completely in the center, but it was better than you had done before.

Eetu released your waist and took a step back, giving you some space. "You're already improving, Sarentu." He said this with pride in his voice. You turned around to face him with a smile. "That was the best my aim has ever been. Will you keep helping me practice?" You hoped he would say yes. You wanted to get better so you could hunt, and you didn't mind Eetus's company. "I can't; I promised I would hunt arrow deer for the meal tonight." You sighed in disappointment. "I take it back; you're a bad teacher." You joked and crossed your arms with a smile.

"ouch, you're hurting my feelings, taronyutsyìp. If I could stay and help you, I would, but I have better things to do." He smiled. You scoffed and turned back to your practice. He playfully rolled his eyes and said, "I'm only joking with you; come find me at the bonfire tonight. We can speak then." He offered. You opened your mouth to reply, "Maybe, it depends if I go." You shrugged. "Right, well then maybe I'll see you tonight." He said, then left as someone started calling his name in the distance.

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

The fire was bright against the dark sky and the embers danced in the air. All of Pandora glowed around you. It was a breathtaking sight. The fire was huge, surrounded by dancing Na'vi. And the air smelled sweet, must have been the smell of today's hunt. You could never get enough of Aranahe cooking. You decided to go to the bonfire tonight and try to have fun. It was better than having your ear talked off by Teylan at the resistance base.

You spotted a table full of delicious meat and fruit. mmm. you hadn't eaten all day and couldn't wait to dig in. You squeezed through some dancers on your way to the table. You almost made it until someone grabbed you by the arm. Suddenly you were thrown into a dance by another Na'vi. You were being pulled every which way, so fast that you hadn't even realized you were dancing. Every time you tried to break free you were passed to someone else and forced to keep dancing. It was an endless cycle.

Finally, out of breath, you broke free. You stumbled out of the dance circle, fixing your hair while doing so. You didn't dance often, and you had never danced like that. You regained your breath and continued your previous task: getting to the food table. This time you were able to do so with no distractions. When you reached the table you huffeed in annoyance. Of course, all the food would now be gone.

Someone approaches you and stands at your side. "Were you hoping to eat?" They questioned. You looked to the side and made eye contact with no other than Eetu. "Yes, but I'm too late." you sighed. He laughed and then handed you a kebab stacked with meat and fruits. "Here you can have mine, I only took a bite." He offered. You smiled at him, "Thank you." You took a bite and it had to be the best thing you ever tasted. The meat and fruit made each bite savory and sweet, a perfect combination. He laughed at your eagerness, "You must be so hungry after all that dancing huh." He snickered.

You paused your eating and your ears quickly reddened with embarrassment, "You saw that?" you prayed to Eywa that his answer would be no, but your prayers were not answered. "Of course I saw it, everyone did. Who knew the Sarentu could dance." He said, teasingly. You put the finished kebab down and used your hands to hide your face. Eetu grinned and moved your hands away from your face.

"It wasn't bad taronyutsyìp. You tried really hard to keep up with the dancers, I thought it was cute." He gave you a squeeze on the shoulder in an attempt to make you feel better. You let out a soft smile,

"Maybe I should pursue dancing and quit hunting."

"slow down, don't get too cocky."

You two shared a laugh.

The laughter between you and Eetu lingered in the air. As the night wore on, the bonfire's glow seemed to cast a spell over the gathering, with the Na'vi's vibrant blue skin illuminated by the flickering flames. Eetu's eyes held a spark that mirrored the firelight, and you found yourself captivated by the way his presence seemed to command the space around him.

As the night deepened, Eetu's gaze turned thoughtful, and he leaned in closer to share a story from his youth. He spoke of a time when he too struggled with the bow, how he overcame his shortcomings through perseverance and the guidance of a mentor. His words were not just a tale of personal triumph but a subtle lesson on the importance of patience and practice.

The conversation shifted as Eetu inquired about your life before Pandora, your dreams, and what you hoped to achieve among the Na'vi. You found yourself opening up, sharing stories of your time with the RDA and your own challenges. It was a moment of mutual understanding, a bridge being built between two worlds.

By the end of the night, you and Eetu had learned a lot about each other.

#eetu #avatar frontiers of pandora #avatar frontiers of pandora x reader #eetu x reader #eetu avatar frontiers of pandora

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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

Text

taken

words: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, crime boss!rafe, (former) stripper!reader, drug dealing, prostitution/sex club, multiple murders, guns, shooting, kidnapping, unprotected p in v sex, tit slapping, male receiving handjob, kind of rough sex? its not that intense idk

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog

rafe stands on the upper balcony, his hands on the railing as he leans to look at the crowd moving below his feet, a mix of grinding and bumping bodies in various states of undress. his eyes search for you. he always searched for you in the crowd, making sure there is a smile on your face, and that there are no grabby hands touching parts of you that are well and solely his.

it wasn’t a crazy leap from what rafe did in his teenage years. moving from selling drugs to running a club. not just any club, of course. rafe called it a loose clothing policy club, but really it was constant sex parties behind the doors, doors that people pay a lot of money to get on the other side of.

he, of course, kept up the lucrative drug business, but passed off the actual sale and deal to some underlings. it may not make him a completely legitimate businessman like his father, but it got him a hell of a lot closer to it, and the money got him a lot more respect as well. among the drug dealers and bartenders in his employ, he also has dancers. dancers who just happen to feel the urge to get on top of the bar and take their clothes off while the crowd cheers.

dancers don’t have to engage in any acts of sexual nature with the guests if they don't want to, but most choose to for the generous tips they give, on top of the wage rafe gives them. except for you. he hired you fresh out of college, with a bachelor's degree in arts that you had nothing you could do with, not while staying in north carolina at least. you were confident and beautiful, but you never went too far with any of the men or women who came into the bar, not until rafe approached you one night.

you’ve been his since. his girl, who he allows out on nights that he’s there to watch over you, not truly trusting even his security to keep you safe, just himself. he knows you like to drink and dance, and he’d never stop you from doing whatever you like to do, even if it means he’s internally seething with jealousy, glaring at every man who looks at you.

“sir.” the voice brings rafe out of his own head, looking over.

“what is it?” he questions, voice gruffer than he means for it to come out.

“one of the dealers wants to talk with you.” he replies. rafe would get upset, he hates being interrupted, but this is one of his best men. “he’s already in your office.”

“fine.” rafe sighs, eyes glancing back over the floor. “watch y/n.” he simply says before walking away, knowing he doesn’t need to get into the specifics of never looking away or letting anyone touch you.

“what do you want, martin?” rafe asks, slamming the door shut behind him, moving his hands to his hips, pushing his suit jacket out of the way, letting the gun that he keeps holstered on his hip be in plain sight, a warning and a reminder.

“i want to talk to you about the cut you’re taking.” martin responds, his eyes wild and crazy, and rafe has no doubt that he’s dipping into the drugs hes supposed to be selling. rafe knows the feeling well, but he got out of all of that once his mind started to lose focus too often, and the drugs got too irresistible.

“the cut i’m taking?” rafe questions. “of the drugs that i supply you?” “there wouldn’t be any money if it weren’t for me selling.” martin responds, his hands twitching on his knees, fingers grimy.

“you think i couldn’t have another seller lined up immediately? i can’t believe you’d bug me with this shit.” rafe groans. he wants to get his eyes back on you, immediately.

“wait!” martin says as rafe turns to the door. rafe has to take a deep breath to not deck him immediately, his hands clenching in a fist. “since you don’t want to give me a cut, i want $100k. for reimbursement.” rafe lets out a barking laugh, shaking his head. “and why would i do that?” “because if you don’t, i’m not gonna let your girl go.” martin says, a sick grin coming to his face. “my associate should be taking her out of the building right now, so it’s 100k or she-”

rafe doesn’t let martin finish his sentence. he doesn’t want to hear what is about to fall out of his gross mouth, he simply raises his gun and shoots him square between the eyes. martin falls to the ground, dead before he even realized that the gun was unholstered.

a group of rafes men rush into the office upon hearing the gunshot, but rafe doesn’t care about the body on the floor. “find y/n! immediately!” he shouts, pushing past all of them to rush down the stairs to the main level.

the club explodes into action, every crevice being searched for you. rafe rushes outside along with his men, eyes searching for anything suspicious, when he sees a black van speeding away. rafe doesn’t question his movements or the implications, raising his gun and shooting at the tire, causing the van to spin to a stop.

rafe runs over as quickly as his legs will carry him, throwing open the back doors of the van, his heart breaking when he sees you looking so small, hands tied together and gag shoved into your mouth, your eyes wide and clothing askew.

“shh, i’m here baby.” rafe says, grabbing you out of the van, undoing your hands carefully and taking the gag out of your mouth.

“rafe!” you sob, hiding your face in his shoulder as he picks you up, holding you against him, rubbing over your back even as his hands shake at the fact that he almost just lost you.

“it’s okay, i’m here.” rafe says, but you just continue to cry into his shirt.

“sir.” one of rafes men says. the one that he tasked to watch you, the one that let you out of his sight, let you get taken. “what do you want us to do with the driver?”

theres another dealer rafe recognizes, kneeling on the street, eyes flicking between rafe and the gun pointed at him. rafe doesn’t care if he could give more information, he hurt his girl, and that means only one fate is meant for him. rafe raises his gun and shoots the dealer himself, before turning it to his own man.

“no! sir, plea-” rafe doesn’t let him finish his sentence. you shudder and keep your face pressed against rafes shirt, knowing that you don’t want to see whatever just happened.

“let this be a lesson on what happens if you ever cross me.” rafe says, addressing his men. “now clean this shit and my office up. i’m taking y/n home. i will get back in touch in the morning.”

rafe doesn’t bother going back inside. he walks straight to his car, setting you down in the passenger seat, sighing sadly when you curl up, rubbing at your wrists.

“i’m so sorry, baby.” rafe says, pressing a kiss to your hair before rounding the car, quickly turning it on and heading towards home.

he takes a deep breath once he’s passed the well secured gate, knowing that you’re more than safe in the walls of his mansion.

“do you want to talk about it?” rafe asks once he gets you inside, and onto the couch, a cup of water in our hand.

“it was just so scary.” you pout, eyes turning downward. “they grabbed me out of the crowd, and shoved that nasty rag in my mouth so i couldn’t scream.”

“i will kill everyone involved.” rafe says, and you know he’s serious. you press your hands to his cheeks, bringing him into a kiss.

“it’s okay.” you whisper. your words won’t stop him, but you want to take some of the guilt away. “i knew you would save me.” “i should have protected you in the first pla-”

“shh.” you interrupt rafe, pressing your lips together again. “can we get in the bath? together? please.” rafe nods, he’d do anything for you, he already had the bathroom ripped out and redone to fit a larger bathtub after he learned how much you love soaking in the warm water.

“let me carry you.” rafe stops you when you try to stand, scooping you into his arms. you look so little again, swallowed up against his big chest. it makes him think of you in that trunk, and he moves faster up the stairs, needing to be curled up against you in the tub, making you feel better.

“choose a bathbomb, honey.” rafe sets you down on the cool tile. “i restocked.”

you hum a nod and look through the cabinet until you find a sparkly white bathbomb. you know rafe would usually complain about you usually using a glittery bathbomb when he was joining you, but today is the one day you can get away with it.

“this one.” you hand it to rafe, who drops it into the tub that he started filling with hot water.

“can i undress you?” rafe questions. you nod, knowing how much he likes to be the one to take your clothes off. he moves so slowly disrobing you, carefully putting your dress in the hamper, that when you’re nude, the bath is filled enough for you to get in.

you sigh happily as the warm water covers your body, watching rafe undress while the drama of the day washes away. it’s become a part of your reality, threats against you or rafe, but this is the most dangerous situation you’ve directly been in yet, and you know rafe needs to relax as much as you do.

rafe slides into the tub behind you, letting you rest against his chest. “you know i can only stand to be with you naked for so long before i’m going to need to take you out of this bath and fuck you.” “i know.” you say, swirling your hands through the sparkly water. “just at least 15 minutes just relaxing before.” “i can do that for you.” rafe says, and you both fall quiet, mind reeling from the day and just needing some rest. your eyes flutter closed, hands softly stroking over rafes thighs on either side of your hips. rafe leans his head against the back of the tub, allowing himself to take a breath.

the water starts to grow cold, and rafe is sure he must have reached the 15 minute mark by now, but you are leaning against him so peacefully he doesn’t want to move you, eyes checking over your wrists, noticing that they’re slightly red, even though you were only tied up for a few short minutes.

you begin to squirm, clearly noticing the cool water.

“baby-” rafe gasps when your bum rubs against his crotch, and you feel him hardening.

you turn around in the tub to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “fuck me, rafe.” rafe stands quickly, grabbing the towel and drying himself off before helping you out of the tub, taking careful consideration to dry you as well, rubbing the soft towel over every inch of your body.

“we are all glittery.” you smile, admiring your shiny skin.

“you’re lucky i love you.” rafe says, making you blush. you know he didn’t take you in just to have sex with you, even if that was the main reason you became his girl at first, but because he had genuinely been interested in you.

“and i’m also lucky you’re going to fuck me.” you giggle, heading into the bedroom and letting yourself flop onto the bed, not caring that the dripping ends of your hair will wet the sheets, not with what you’re about to do on them.

rafe walks slowly out of the bathroom, a feral look in his eyes, a shift happening inside of him, one from taking care of you, making you feel better, to one of needing you, needing to possess you and take you.

you watch as he approaches, climbing onto the bed and slotting his knees on either side of your hips, trapping you underneath him. rafes cock is now fully hardened, standing at attention as his heavy balls weigh down against your skin, clearly needing to be released, and you prefer that release to happen pumped inside of you.

his hands shoot forward to grip your tits, making you moan, his warm palms massaging your sensitive skin, letting your nipples rub against his hands. rafe is often quiet when fucking you, depending on how he is feeling. you can tell by the look in his eye that he’s got anger bubbling up inside of him, that needs a release, and you are here for using.

rafe leans forward, pushing his cock against the smooth skin of your stomach. rafe begins to rub his cock against your skin, letting it glide back and forth, the head of his cock smearing precum as his fingers pinch your nipple before rubbing over them.

he bends down to capture your mouth in a dominant kiss, and you let him take control, his tongue licking into yours, as you moan, arching your back as he grabs your tits hard, making you flinch amongst the pleasure.

rafe pulls away from the kiss, briefly bending to suck on your nipples into his mouth, just to add to the taste of you on his tongue. rafe picks up your hand, laying it over his cock, telling you without words what he wants you to do.

you press your hand down, letting him grind down between your palm and your stomach as his hand draws back and lays a slap across your tit, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to make you gasp.

you move your free hand to the head of his cock, massaging it with your fingertips as rafe delivers another slap across your skin, before bringing his palm down to your other breast to even out the pain and pleasure.

rafe moans lowly when you swipe the pad of your finger over the slit at the tip of his cock, his hips starting to push faster, which just floods you with wetness, imagining him thrusting inside of you instead of against your stomach.

“please fuck me.” you whine. “make me yours rafe.”

rafe pulls away instantly, moving to kneel between your legs, grabbing your knees and pushing them up, bending you in half. “you’re mine.” rafe says, pushing his cock against your entrance, not even giving you a second to breathe before hes thrusting inside, filling you to the brim. “you’re mine.” he gasps again, beginning to thrust, your sloppy cunt producing wet noises. “no one is going to take you away from me.” you pout, knowing rafe is taking his aggression out right now, but he’s also working through his worry and anxiety about you being kidnapped again.

“i’m right here.” you tell rafe, placing your hands over his, helping him hold your legs up as his cock pushes in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace. “i’m right here.”

rafe lets out a half sob, half moan, wrapping his arms around your legs, needing to feel more of you against his body, even if it just is the back of your thighs and calves as he hugs your legs to him, continuing to push his dick into you, now touching at a new angle that has you crying out.

“rub your clit for me.” rafe grunts, throwing his head back, eyes making contact with the ceiling as he pants, trying to hold back from cumming until you’re ready as well. “need you to cum for me.” “yes, gonna cum for you rafey.” you push your hand between your tightly held together thighs, rubbing at your clit while his cock brutalizes your pussy.

your breath catches in your throat when your legs move slightly to the side, allowing to to see rafes face, chin still tilted slightly upward, his mouth ajar and his eyes glazed over with lust, looking like an angel despite all the devilish acts that he’s done, but everything he’s done today has been for you, and you certainly won’t forget the blood on his hands only there to protect you.

“i love you.” you cry out, tears streaming down your cheeks, your fingers moving faster on your clit, needing to cum for rafe and rafe alone, not caring about the pleasure you’re going to receive yourself, just getting yourself off so rafe can feel your cunt squeeze around him, so he can release inside of you.

“i love you more baby.” rafes voice is hoarse as his hips snap into you, a loud slap every time his hips touch your skin.

you let out a scream when your orgasm hits you suddenly, entire body tightening as rafe releases inside of you, your cunt pulsating as you slow your rub on your clit, milking everything out of rafe that he has to offer.

“fuck.” rafe sighs out, a coy look on his face as he lowers your legs down, rubbing over your thighs to make up for the position he put you in as he slowly slides his cock out of you.

rafe moves carefully to lay down next to you, not just wanting to flop down, considerate of his movements when you’re around anyways, but especially since you just went through something traumatic.

“come here.” rafe reaches out for you, and you slide into his embrace, your head coming to rest on his chest.

“you know you’re going to have to stay here in the house for a few days while i get this mess sorted out?” rafe asks, but it’s more of a statement.

“i know.” you say. it’s not like you’re happy about being locked up, but it’s for your safety. “i’m sorry.” rafe sighs. “when all of this is over, i’ll take you on a nice long vacation-”

“i’m not mad.” you say, picking your head up to look at rafe. “i knew exactly what i was getting into with you, with your business. i understand. you don’t have to apologize for keeping me safe.”

rafe smiles at you, his thumb rubbing over your cheek, wondering how he managed to get such a perfect girl before bringing you in for a kiss.

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stoneagedevil · 4 months

Text

Idiot | Eddie Munson x f!Reader

TW/CW: loneliness.

———

You’d been feeling down about yourself for some time now. You weren’t a cheerleader, but lately you’d been considering attending the tryouts for the semester. You’d even heard that girls in the band’s flute section were getting action from the brass section. Maybe you could pick up another instrument…?

No. No no no.

Christ, when did you become so desperate? Maybe it was all the twitterpated faces floating up and down the halls, what with the dance approaching and all.

But it’s not even like you wanted to go. You weren’t much of a dancer, but rather a person to get rowdy on stage at the Hideout when you played. That led to other thoughts…

You’d met Eddie Munson at the beginning of summer a few years ago. You were enthralled with his performance in his band Corroded Coffin, and he was just as lovestruck when he saw you go up with one of the most badass electric guitars he’d ever seen. After your set, you’d both gotten to talking at the bar - him buying you each a soda since you both had to drive home. That was the start of a wonderful friendship.

And unfortunately for your poor little heart, that’s all it was.

You sighed, taking a drag off a cig you found in your jeans you didn’t remember washing. Thank god for that. You looked over at the cheerleaders on the field practicing their routine from where you sat on the outside bleachers; trying to picture yourself in a cheer outfit mingling with them.

Suddenly you were startled by a loud, thundering metal sound coming from your right, nearly pulling your neck at the speed you looked over. It was Eddie - who just jumped onto the metal bleachers to illicit a reaction from his favorite person.

“Shit yourself?” He laughed, smile making his eye crinkle.

“Har har Munson.” You blew smoke at his face smirking slightly. He waved it away playfully.

“Watcha doin’ up here? Thought I’d find you in the art room, but you weren’t there.” He sat closely beside you.

You flicked the dead ash from the end of your cigarette. “Feelin’ melancholy I ‘spose…” you trailed off, leaning back on the seat behind you and looking up at the sky. Eddie quickly joined you.

“Why’re you sad? Need something stronger than that ciggy?” He reached into his inside pocket on his jacket and dug out a joint.

You eyed it for a second. “Nah. I’d better not.”

Eddie frowned. It wasn’t like you to turn down his premo stuff. It wasn’t like you to isolate yourself - especially away from him. He got nervous.

“Hey, what’s going on? You know you can talk to me, right?” He placed a hand on your knee, causing those stupid butterflies to flutter around in your stomach.

You debated a lot of things in that moment. You debated telling him you were in love with him. You debated shooting up from your position on the bleachers and pulling his face towards yours and kissing him. You debated running away, never to be seen or heard from again.

You took none of these options.

“I’m lonely, I guess. It’s hard seeing people get asked out to dances all of the time knowing that’s never coming to me. I wouldn’t even wanna go, but maybe if someone asked…I would? I don’t know. It’s stupid.” You sat up and looked down at your shoes.

Eddie looked at the side of your face. Maybe if he was brave enough he’d ask. Maybe if he was wealthy enough and you’d said yes, he’d get a suit and get you a corsage. Maybe if he wasn’t the town freak. Maybe in another life.

Maybe.

“Hey, it’s not dumb. I know how you feel. I’ve only really ever been asked out as a joke. But someone will come around and see how absolutely amazing and badass you are. Seriously.” He said this instead, even though it made his throat tighten at the tail end of his sentence.

You looked at him, and he let go of a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding captive. Your eyes swam with doubt, slightly damp.

“Eddie. I’m the freakette. Anyone who would ask me out is probably an idiot.” You said, somberly.

Suddenly, Eddie’s hand disappeared from its place on your knee, Eddie himself bolting up from the bleachers. “Hey! I know I’m a repeat but I’m not an idiot!” He said, sounding genuinely upset.

You paused, realization smacking you both upside the head. “You…you what?”

The color of Eddie’s face would make traffic stop. Fuck. Maybe he is an idiot. “I said that…that uh-“ his hands flew over his eyes, “that I’m not an idiot but now I’m thinkin’ I am because I’m pretty sure I just ruined the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Your heart sped up in your chest, your face blushing. “You…like me?”

Eddie, hands still covering his embarrassment, sighed. “I mean, like you? No. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you when we met. Christ. Look-“ he removed his hands from his face, instead wringing them together, “if you give me time then maybe I could get over it. We can pretend this never happened, I just- I just need you in my life, whatever way that looks like.” His eyes looked down at his shoes now.

You shook your head, mouth agape at what you were hearing. You debated a lot of things in that moment. Then, you went with the best option.

You stood, walking calmly towards him, taking his burning face in your cold hands and lifted it. He looked down at you, shocked, and slightly scared. Definitely nervous.

You leaned in and kissed him then, him returning the favor. Once separated, you backed up, “Eddie, I don’t want you to get over me.”

His smile looked like it’d break his face in half, “Good. Because I was totally lying about my ability to get over you. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible.” You laughed and he joined, happy to have made you smile. “I know it isn’t a big dance proposal, but, would you wanna go out? With me?” He had to specify. He just had to.

“Id love to go out with my favorite idiot.” You smiled cheekily. Eddie burst out into laughter, picking you up and hugging you tightly.

“If I can be your idiot, then an idiot I’ll be.” He declared, kissing you once more.

———

Thanks for reading, I’ve been in a slump lately, so I hope this was good.

#fanfic #x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn

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polarisjisung · 4 months

Text

cherry flavoured

16— FIRST SNOW

SYNOPSIS: y/n, the campuses notorious heartbreaker, had never been one to settle down, running from the word commitment since the concept had first been introduced to her, but one smile and a little cherry coke seems to do just the trick when she runs into captain of the dance team, park jisung

PAIRING: dancer!jisung x fem!reader

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of stalking but its a joke, REAL shitty friendship dynamics yeri, I have no concept of using capital letters consistently 💀

optional written cut below !

A gentle pink hue took over jisung's cheeks, the cool air hitting his face as they walked in silence, a comfortable silence full of content and warmth

There's a soft smile decorating his features, brown eyes crinkled with adoration at the sight of the happy skips from y/n a couple steps ahead of him, her teeth on show in an honest, genuine smile that radiated enough warmth for his own heart to skip a beat

"that was seriously like the best ramen I've ever had" she beams from ahead of him, her scarf hitting her in the face as she was spinning around, a soft pout taking over her lips— jisung couldn't help but illicit a quick laugh, like always it comes from deep within his chest and has a certain bass to it that has y/n's cold fingers turning warm

"I told you love, I'm a ramen expert" jisung catches up to the girl, taking a moment to adjust the scarf around her neck

"hmm I'm not super convinced though ji" she let's her eyes fall into his with ease, a teasing glint in her eye that seems to be enhanced by the orange glow of the streetlights surrounding the two of them, jisung chuckles, letting his arms fall to his side as he stares down at the perfect bow he'd tied from the chunky scarf around her neck

"I guess I'll just have to keep making you ramen until you believe me then huh?" he reassures through a gummy smile, a sudden speck of white falling atop his lip causing him to scrunch his nose in confusion

"it's snowing" the girl exclaimed cheerfully, closing her eyes and clasping her hands together with hope radiating from her every action

"make a wish ji, its the first snow of the year"

really, jisung didn't believe in wishes over shooting stars or snow but the sweet tone of the redheads voice and the shimmer in her eyes forces him to follow suit in her actions and make his own wish, the snowflakes still pouring down on the two of them, now more frequent as the white begins to settle against the ground

despite seeming tired a few moments ago, now y/n seems full of energy as she crouches down to scoop up a handful of snow, forming it into the rough shape of a sphere, giggling to herself at the foreign feeling of a cold wetness coating her palms

"you're not very good at this love" jisung finds himself kneeling beside her, finding some level of hilarity in the fact that the mass of snow was barely a ball and seemed a little more elliptical than he supposed it should have

"I've never built a snowman before" she pouts and jisung can't help but find the news shocking, reaching out to grab some of the snow behind him before adding it to the oval shaped ball

"let me help"

"well I sure hope you weren't expecting me to do all the hard work pretty boy" she smiled up at him, enthusiastic as ever and jisung felt his cheeks ache from the way they'd been curved up all this time, though he couldn't find it in himself to let them rest at their usual straight faced position

"you have a pretty smile you know" she added, like it was the most casual thing to say, patting the white ball of snow in front of her down so it was more compact

jisung gulped, finding it difficult to accept the compliment despite not wanting to seem rude and suddenly there was a newfound stiffness to his movements that y/n was yet to notice, concentrated on creating a second smaller sphere to place on top of the current that lay in front of her

"I always wanted to build a snowman when i was younger" she sighed, bittersweet memories flooding her mind, "I would beg my parents every time it snowed, even if it was just a little and the snow didn't settle, to build one with me but they'd always say no"

her words are followed by an almost self pitiful laugh, and y/n hates that she let's her own thoughts get the best of her, focusing her attention back onto the brunette beside her

"jisung?" the boy hums in response, still not having recovered from her earlier words

"huh? oh sorry" he shakes his head slightly, fluffy hair blowing in the wind before settling over his forehead again "how come they said no?"

the girl shrugged, "you know those super workaholic type parents?" jisung nods "well I guess they were like that so they were always too busy to waste time playing outside with me"

"what about your brother?" there's a genuinely inquisitive tone that takes over jisungs voice as he continues to gather snow with his eyes glued to the girl beside him that causes her heart to swell

more than anything, y/n was surprised that jisung had remembered anything about her having a brother considering she'd only bought him up once, regardless she smiles at the thought of her sibling, shrugging again

"he always got sick easily, one time we made snow angels and he was sick for weeks" the memory is a fond one, y/n smiling at the thought before turning to face jisung again "so I guess I just wasn't lucky when it came to snowmen"

jisung nods, taking a moment to think to himself before speaking again

"next time it snows, let's make a bigger one"

the two stare down at the mini snowman in front of them, placing two twigs into the sides for arms and two pebbles for the eyes, y/n turning to jisung

"is that a promise?"

"if you want it to be"

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TAGLIST (open): @jenobubbles @justalildumpling @jising-jisang-jisung @nanawrlds @222brainrot @chichiuu @dinonuguaegi @ishireads @yyy90210 @hibernatinghamster @stqrrian @makiswrld @everywonuu @marizhua @luumiinaa @asteriaskingdom @jeongintwt @90s-belladonna @000rpheus @jammingjaem @yayloona @neozon3nha @mfaal @conwunder @toroufriteh @i6renj @https-dandelion @kikookii @delulu4-life @hancafe @produmads @tamcitrus @yv72s @funkygoose @buns-inhiding @odxrilove

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auteurdelabre · 5 months

Text

So Much to Lose (series) Part 1

Series summary: Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart.

Rating: 18+

pairings: Joel Miller x Reader, Ellie x Dina

Series warnings: set during outbreak, guns, Mean!Joel, eventual rough sex (specific tags that comes up) no use of Y/N or detailed physical descriptions.

Patrols were never your thing. You'd thought them more for the super athletic, the expert marksmen, the naturally ruthless.

You were a decent shot. Nothing to write home about. You'd shot animals when you were starving and on the run.

But patrolling the walls of Jackson City was always someone else's gig. Something for people not as "soft".

So when Maria told you that your name was on the roster for that month you'd been surprised.

"But I'm always on kitchen duty."

"We have new folks coming into Jackson," Maria explained, her tone brusque and her eyes weary. "None of them have weaponry experience. You do."

"Barely.

"Barely's better than nothing."

Then she'd moved from you, obviously busy with a myriad of planning and scheduling. You watched her leave, her hand resting over her swollen belly.

You were relatively new to Jackson City, barely six months living behind its sheltered walls. You didn't feel you had earned the right to disagree with Maria or to challenge her ideas.

You've stayed close to home since you're arrival, still not quite used to the life that bustled around you in the market or the dances (real dances!) in the church hall. You don't have friends here yet despite your natural propensity to others. You smile and you greet when faces pass you in the street, but your home is where it's safe.

You suppose this is why you enjoy kitchen duty. Moving around large groups of people, overhearing snatches of conversation of laughter of warmth, but always on the perimeter. Always watching, never engaging on the edges.

Maybe you are more naturally suited for patrols than you originally thought.

But not with weaponry. Shooting your old decommissioned gun is one thing. Using the heavy weapons you see being touted on the broad backs of those heading off on patrol is quite another.

When you see Tommy, one of the nicest people you know (and Maria's husband), walking by your place later that week you hasten to catch up with him.

"It's been years since I shot anything," you explain with a concerned saddle of your brows as you explain Maria's plan for you. "And back then it was only rabbits and deer. Can you just come over and give me some pointers?"

"Can't. Got lots to do to prep for the baby."

Of course, the baby, due any day. The reason for Maria's desperate need to schedule the coming months, and the weary pull of Tommy's eyes as he looks at you.

"But I'll find someone and send em over," Tommy adds when he sees the terror cross your features.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll have your patrol partner come and give you some help tomorrow afternoon. We usually team up the newbies with the more experienced marksman anyway. I'll check with Maria and see who you're paired up with."

Relief blooms in your chest at this. This is the kind of news that you have been hoping for.

The thought that the safety and survival of others would depend solely on you or come down on your shoulders had been making you sick.

"Great."

///

You made cookies.

For whatever reason that had felt like the appropriate response to having someone come over and teach you how to properly shoot a gun.

This person, your patrol partner, will be the first to enter your home since you moved in. Maria and Tommy had been there, explaining the expectations of you in the community and showing you the simple one bedroom home that would be yours. All you'd been able to think over and over as they spoke was: a bed of my own. I don't have to share.

Your place is humble but clean. You've tossed around the idea of painting the walls themselves but you don't. That feels too permanent and you've not known the security of stability in decades. It sits uneasily on your shoulders like a too-heavy jacket.

There's a knock at your door and you open it to reveal a tall man with broad shoulders and remarkably expressive eyes. His mouth is set uneasily, as if he's trying to remember what it is to talk.

"You the one that needed gun lessons?"

He's wearing a dark green jacket and on his back is a collection of shotguns that you find intimidating just looking at.

"That's me," you chirp, moving back so he can enter into your home. You introduce yourself, a bit surprised at how the broad man stays hanging by the door.

"Joel," he mutters when you prompt him for his name. "Let's do this outside."

"Sure," you say going to grab your jacket from its hook by the door. "Oh, but did you want a cookie first? I made some."

Joel stares at you for a moment, trying to gauge if you're serious. When he sees you are, he blinks and then starts to walk around to the stretch of greenery near your place.

You follow after him, pulling on your jacket and jogging to keep up.

"Hey Miller," someone calls out from the street and you look over at him in surprise. Joel gives them a small wave and keeps walking.

Miller. Like Tommy and Maria Miller?

"Are you Tommy's brother?"

"Guilty."

Joel walks quickly, his legs scissoring rapidly across the fallen leaves of the cool winter day and easily outpacing you.

Cute, you think, watching his body lope away from you. Intense but cute.

///

Around the five minute mark you realize that no, Joel isn't intense or cute.

He's just a fucking asshole.

He's impatient and grouchy and even though you're trying your hardest to follow instructions you're failing miserably because he is so intimidating.

"You need to familiarize yourself with your weapon," he tells you, brandishing the shotgun and handing it to you. It's heavy in your palms, surprising you.

You grip it loosely, twisting it in your hand to aim at the ground. As you do this, the barrel of the gun swings in his direction.

"Are you insane?" Joel barks, slapping the nozzle away from his direction. "Have you never held a fucking shotgun before?"

He'd been so quiet before that the loud boom of his voice startles you. You take a step back without thinking, sure to keep your barrel pointed at the ground.

You don't bother telling him that no, you've never held a shotgun. You have a feeling that would just piss him off more.

It doesn't get better after that.

"How did they put you on patrols with aim like that?"

You scowl, bringing the gun up to your shoulders to brace. You begin to count as you aim at the tin cans Joel set up. You've hit one out of the six. You attribute much of this to the tall man pacing back and forth behind you as you try to focus. But he terrifies you, and you feel compelled to keep him in the corner your sights until he pauses and you can focus again.

You stare at the dented soup cans resting on the fence post away from you. You can almost hear Dev's soft voice in your ear. The calming sooth of his tone.

"Count if it helps...shoot on three."

"One... two..." you mutter under your breath.

"You're not gonna have time to count when a clicker's coming for your throat," Joel instructs you. "You have to be instinctual. Gotta move fast."

He kicks at your ankles, broadening your stance. You flinch at the pain of his boot against your ankle bone.

"You should be wearin' boots," Joel instructs when he sees you wince in pain. "Sneakers are no good."

"Obviously I would wear boots on patrol," you seethe. "I just figured for practice-"

"You should be wearing what you'll be patrolling in. Don't wear that scarf either."

You pause, looking down to see just your dark blue jacket. "What scarf?"

Joel pauses. "That red one I saw hangin' in your house. It's bright. You'll stand out."

You frown before raising the gun to brace snugly against your shoulder.

For the next hour Joel's voice reaches out, punctuating the air with bits of aggressive sounding advice as you fumble.

"Non-firing hand on the hand stock."

"Finger on the stock behind the trigger guard with the rest of your fingers."

"Cheek tight to the stock."

It's after the third time Joel mutters about your firing position being shit and hits his boots against your ankle that you lose it.

"Enough," you say, placing the gun barrel gently to the ground. "This isn't going to work."

Joel has his arms crossed over his chest and he's watching you from behind a cool gaze.

"We're a bad match" you explain, your cheeks hot from irritation mingled with embarrassment at having to admit that to him. "You need to be able to trust your partner on patrols and I don't see that happening. We shouldn't be paired up."

"Fine by me."

There's relief in his voice. He doesn't want to be paired up with you any more than you do with him. Good, this will be an easy parting.

"You can get Tommy to switch us," you say with a frown at the gun laying by your feet in the grass. "He's your brother after all."

"You wanna be moved, you go to Tommy."

"You're saying you don't wanna be moved?"

You're staring at him confused with eyes that widen as Joel approaches you, his gaze tight on yours.

The toe of his thick boots bump against the tip your sneakers and he tilts his head down, wanting to match your eye level.

"I'm sayin' you don't tell me what to do," Joel rasps "I'm the one who gives orders. Not you."

Whoa.

He wasn't saying it to sound alluring, you know that because you can see the genuine irritation in his dark eyes as they bore into yours. And yet, Joel Miller's husky voice informing you that he gives the orders?

It gives you the tingles.

You swallow thickly and when you don't reply right away Joel makes a scoffing noise in his throat. You watch as he gathers the weapons onto his back and marches out of the clearing, desperate to be away from you.

///

"Sounds like it didn't go great with Joel," Tommy says the next morning as he passes you heading for breakfast.

So much for Joel not talking to Tommy. You slow, matching Tommy's pace as he walks alongside you.

"Not a good match," you reply lightly. Tommy is Joel's brother and you don't want to offend anyone. "I'm sorry to be a bother and make you have to reschedule."

"S'okay," Tommy says with a shrug. "I'll switch with him for tomorrow night's patrol. I can give you pointers then."

Relief goes through you, making the smile that cracks your features genuine.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Tommy insists his face in a smile before it becomes drawn. "I know Joel can be a little hard to handle."

Calling Joel hard to handle suggests he's like one of the wild horses in the pens you sometimes walk by, when in reality Joel Miller is just unpleasant.

"Yeah, well," you shrug unsure of what to say so you trail off.

Tommy seems compelled to fill that silence, to explain away his brothers poor social skills.

"He lost a lot during the outbreak."

You nod, trying to look sympathetic but all you can think is,

Didn't we all?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #dark!Joel #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #series #fanfiction series #the last of us #the last of us fic #ellie x dina

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personasintro · 1 year

Text

selfish love | myg

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧��𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; we're all a little bit selfish sometimes

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yoongi x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: infidelity au, smut, angst (?), drabble

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, oral sex (f.), some biting (nothing too drastic), ch*king, rough and unprotected sex, creampie, mirror kink, public sex (kinda?), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, cheating

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k+

𝐚/𝐧: feedback is always appreciated <3

Min Yoongi looks divine in a full on black suit, fitting right in with the filthy rich people wearing designer's clothes with their noses upwards, thinking they're better than anyone else. Rings adorn his long slim fingers as he brings a champagne glass to his lips, tasting the expensive taste of Bordeaux from 1990.

It's the same you're having in your hand, but you've never been a wine person who could appreciate the true taste of a vintage wine.

From across the room, he stands tall and confident, keeping his face serious as he talks to a considerably older man who could surely be his father's age. Even though his words are unheard to your ears, everything that comes out his mouth seems to be just as confident as his appearance is.

His hair is long enough to cover the back of his neck, the middle parted and tucked behind his ears as he shoots a polite smile to the man's wife. One thing is sure. Even in a room full of young men, screaming fortune and power, he stands out and he's undeniably the biggest catch of the night.

Just as the amount of men surround the ballroom, so do women of any age. You catch some women in their fifties ogling Yoongi – not that you blame them – but you hide the upcoming smirk behind the rim of your glass.

Turning to the tall tables where any kind of posh food is displayed, you decide to end your momentary watching of the scenery. You hate big crowds. Especially this kind where it's an obvious act of faking interest, kindness and friendliness. Not to mention everyone seems to talk about their fortune.

Where they're going on their hundredth vacation of the year, what a big house or mansion they've built and things like that.

After a few years of attending these, someone would've assumed you would get used to it. You haven't.

“I wouldn't go for the strawberries. The chocolate on them tastes like shit.”

Glancing sideways, your lips twitch to an amused smile at the sound of Yoongi's velvety voice and most importantly, the explicit language no one dares to speak in here. Not that there's anyone in earshot to get scandalized by it.

You shouldn't be surprised though. Yoongi is not one to particularly care about this. Still. Even you and him have to play some part.

You're met with amusement dancing in his dark eyes when you still pick the strawberry, tasting the fruit and chocolate. His eyes momentarily fall down to your lips, watching you take a bite of it as you hum.

“I don't remember asking for your opinion.” you hum, reaching for your glass you've placed on the table.

A low chuckle rumbles out of his chest as he hums. “Sharp.”

That makes you laugh silently. “They taste delicious. You should try them.” you feign innocence and sweetness in your voice, sharing an eye-contact for a moment as you lick the corner of your lips.

Yoongi watches the movement with darkening eyes, not giving you any reaction knowing there might be people watching. You never know.

His name is called out just as you brush past him, the scents of you mixing into thin air.

Hurried and panting breaths fill the vacant bathroom, one that's not meant to be used by tonight's guests and surely not in this way. The click of a lock follows, enough to make your insides flutter in excitement. Lips meeting and teeth clashing in a frantic kiss make you greedy and eager for more. Your lipstick is ruined, covering Yoongi's mouth messily and the little bit of his cheek as well.

You giggle, his lips curving into a knowing smile before he goes down to attack your neck with the same amount of eagerness.

“Yoongi, you're gonna stain me.” you complain, though make no movement to protest any further as your lower back meets the edge of the sink.

“Gonna clean you up later.”

Whatever that means, you don't bother to explain it's an unnecessary waste of time. Because you don't have time. Hundreds of people are inside the ballroom, more of them outside mingling. It's just a matter of time before someone notices you or Yoongi missing. Though accusations are mostly left unsaid, you can't have any scandals.

You might suffer insults behind your back, but it might damage not only Yoongi's reputation but his company and business too. There's too much to lose. Even with knowing this, you afford to get selfish sometimes.

You yelp, giggling as soon as Yoongi grabs you by the back of your thighs, hoisting you to sit on the counter. He's kissing you again, biting into your lip showing his thirst and hunger. As soon as you feel his fingers between your legs, dress bunched up at your waist revealing your underwear.

Black. Yoongi's favorite.

“Fuck.” Your back meets the mirror that covers the entire wall, eyes closed and mouth open as Yoongi circles your entrance with the tip of his fingers.

Finding you wet for him, he chooses to kiss you again rather than show his cockiness of your current state. You both know it's for him only.

He pushes your panties aside before pushing two of his fingers into you, wasting no time in teasing you any further. That alone makes you gasp, one hand gripping the edge of the counter while the other is buried in his hair, tagging onto his black locks. God, you love his hair like this.

He fucks you with his fingers, the sensation making your toes curl. You could cum like this in no time, but instead, you gasp out Yoongi's name. “No time.”

He growls, knowing the raw truth of reality and he's forced to pull out his fingers covered in your wetness. “When can I take my time with you?” he complains under his breath.

Despite your heart roaring with sorrow, you let yourself chuckle lightly. “Yoongi, less talking, more action.”

Looking up at you, his eyes dance with mischief as he takes off his suit jacket, quickly hanging it on the hanger beside the door. He's back between your legs before you can blink, sliding off your panties as he grabs your thighs and pulls them more apart. You gasp at the stretch and yelp right after when he tugs you to him. Thankfully, you've caught yourself just in the right time.

Yoongi cackles at your glare, kissing your thigh and that alone makes you bite your lower lip harshly, preventing yourself from moaning. And then Yoongi bites into your skin gently, your thigh flinching but thanks to his tight grip, he holds you in place.

“Less talking, more action,” he mutters mockingly, making sure he glances back at you. “Sharp.” he says simply, causing your lips to twitch.

“Aren't you used to it by now?” you jokingly breathe out, a tongue darting out to wet those delicious lips of his.

Your chest tightens at the unholy sight of Yoongi – and he's still fully clothed. Instead of saying anything else, he adjusts you one more time to his liking before you feel that insane mouth at your clit. You'll never get enough of the sight of Yoongi on his knees for you, face buried between your legs and lapping at your wetness. And then he lifts up his head, wicked smile visible as he says;

“Rushing me, but you're not stopping me now.”

He has a point. The cheekiness causes you to breathe out a laughter, breath turning erratic. The thing you would risk for this man.

“You love getting this cunt eaten out, huh?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He's so right and he knows it too damn well.

Luckily, Yoongi realizes that you're running out of time and as much as you want this to last forever, it simply can't. You're already playing with fire by sneaking out.

A set of cursing escapes your lips, despite you've been biting on them rather harshly to not make any loud noises. But it's his fault because Yoongi is sucking, making out with your cunt before he fucks you with his tongue. Not even two minutes later, a broken moan resounds and you arch from the counter, cumming on Yoongi's tongue.

Your skin is hot, no burning from the intense sensation as Yoongi laps at your wetness and cum. It's been too long. Grabbing his expensive shirt, you tug him to you and he happily obeys, grabbing the back of your neck before kissing you harshly.

Moaning into his mouth, you fumble with the belt of his pants. Eager and hungry, Yoongi helps you and pulls himself out of his boxers. You hold yourself back from rolling your eyes in pleasure at the sight of his hard cock. Veins poking from the soft and thin skin as it shamelessly stands upward, slapping against his stomach.

You wish you could take the shirt off, see his beautiful skin, chest and stomach under the material. Not wanting to focus on the disappointment of the reality, you adjust yourself for Yoongi as his eyes stay on your cunt as he pumps himself. Fuck.

“How do you want it this time?”

Such a simple question, yet you find yourself stumbling over your words.

“There's no time.” you remind him.

But he ignores you, a frown settling on his face as he asks again. “You want me to fuck you or make love to you?”

It's silly. He is silly. How can he possibly make love to you in someone's bathroom? Not when time's ticking.

“I'd much rather prefer you taking your time while making love to me… than here in this bathroom.” you point out, Yoongi's hand cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender caress.

“I can make love to you anytime and anywhere.”

You chuckle at that, “That anytime part is not that true.”

“That… might be the truth,” he confesses, your brow arched in a teasing manner as Yoongi cracks a smile. “But don't tempt me, love.”

Your noses bump into each other as he kisses you harshly, your insides trembling and so does your cunt when you feel his tip poking your inner thigh. It's just a reminder of how badly you want him.

“So what's it gonna be?”

Your answer is clear. “Fuck me.”

A second later and he doesn't waste any time in guiding his cock to your entrance. As soon as the tip enters you, you moan loudly which causes Yoongi to shush you. Entering you hurriedly, his eyes check your face to make sure you're alright. As he gives you a few seconds to adjust to his girth and size, he pulls out just to smack his cock inside you again. He thrusts into you with so much intensity that you think you're not going to be able to walk.

You most likely will feel him for the rest of the night. It's something you should've come to terms with. And you have. You knew damn well what's going to happen when your eyes met across the room. You excused yourself from the group, shortly followed by Yoongi hot in your tracks.

The moment he caught you, he wasted no time in bringing you to the first room that's far enough from the main commotion. Which happens to be this overly expensive bathroom with shitty dim lightning.

“I'm so fucking close.” you whine, walls stretching to Yoongi's thick cock.

He pulls out, getting you off the counter as you messily land on your heels. Soon turned around facing the mirror. Your hands automatically grasp the counter again while Yoongi pulls your ass to him, positioning you so you arch your back for him.

You lift your gaze, meeting Yoongi's eyes as your breath hitches. He shoots you a handsome smile, a strand of hair almost falling into his hair as he enters you again.

One hand on the back of your neck, the other holds your hip as he starts thrusting over and over again. Your eyes roll back, not being able to stare at the explicit sight of you two any longer.

“Open your eyes, love.” he prompts you.

Forcing yourself to open them, your breath hitches again. Yoongi brings his hand to your neck, wraps it around it as he prompts you to straighten yourself. You do, all while Yoongi's fucking you. And then he squeezes your neck.

The silver band on his ring finger shoots lasers at you as you gulp, closing your eyes for more reasons than one. Yoongi's grunts are the greatest melody, echoing in the bathroom as it gets mixed with your own gasps and moans. Skin slaps against skin, giving away your sinful acts.

“Cunt so fucking good.” Yoongi grunts, your walls tightening which makes him quicken up the pace.

You barely hold yourself on your feet, stumbling as your palm meets the cold glass. Fingerprints on the mirror, you see yourself in the reflection completely fucked out. Lipstick smeared, most of it on Yoongi's lips and face as your mascara smudges under your eyes. You'll have to clean up, completely aware of not having your make-up bag here which makes the task harder. You'll have to improvise and do your best, hoping no one would question your messy appearance. Well, you hope you'll be able to clean yourself nicely with no traces of what's happening right now.

That's the least of your worries now.

Your entire body trembles as a powerful orgasm overcomes you. Gasping loudly, you're sure Yoongi's name leaves your lips repeatedly, he grunts and bites into your exposed shoulder where the straps have fallen down. Reaching his own orgasm right after, hips faltering and thrusts sloppy, he shoots his cum inside you.

You moan at the fullness of him, already feeling some of his cum streaming down your thighs. He pulls out, but not before delivering a tender kiss to the spot where he bit you.

There's not much time for coming down to your individual orgasms. As soon as you get your breathing in check, Yoongi tucks himself back to his pants, buckling them as he helps you with your dress.

Though there's a silence – moans, grunts and skin slapping no longer heard – the moment is sweet. Even though there's a realization of reality.

“Go.” you tell him softly.

He doesn't.

Instead, Yoongi turns you around by your waist, wiping your under eyes.

“Yoongi.” you mutter, ushering him to leave.

He presses a delicate kiss to your lips.

“I need to retouch my make-up.” you whisper, wiping your lipstick off his cheek. No evidence.

He nods, pressing his lips tightly together.

“The strawberries do taste nice. And the chocolate.”

You give him a look. “Huh?”

“I tasted it on your lips.” he says with a cheeky smirk.

You playfully roll your eyes.

“Though the taste was tainted by the wine.”

“Oh shut up,” you laugh, pushing into his chest softly as he backs away with that sexy smirk of his. “Go first. I'm gonna clean myself up.”

Yoongi smirks, knowing make-up is not the only thing. His cum is soaking your panties and your thighs are sticky.

“Go.” you usher, hearing the lock click.

With one last smile, Yoongi leaves the room and closes the door after him. Left alone, you usher yourself this time to make yourself look presentable and clean yours and Yoongi’s mess between your legs. Or more like what's there to be saved.

Five minutes later, you come to the ballroom, acting unfazed as if you just didn't spend your time being fucked in one of the bathrooms. You quickly went to the room where everyone's coats and purses are held, and sprayed your perfume to cover Yoongi's scent before coming here.

With your head held high, you're waved off by your boyfriend. Forcing a gentle smile, you walk up to him and have him circle his arm around your waist, touching your crimson red silk dress.

“Sorry, Mr. Son would never shut his mouth.” Namjoon apologizes, delivering a kiss on top of your head as you force yet another smile.

Across the room, your eyes automatically meet Yoongi. There he is. Standing with his wife next to him. Similarly to you, Yoongi has his arm around your sister's waist. It rests on her lower back.

“It's okay.” you manage to say, averting your eyes elsewhere but not quickly enough when Yoongi's name is called out on the stage, and you witness him kissing your sister's temple affectionately as people around them beam at the young married couple.

Yoongi walks up the stage confidently, bowing to the crowd as he adjusts his suit. His voice booms through the entire room, your hand automatically reaching for the glass of wine Namjoon offers you.

“First of all, it's a huge honor for me to stand on this stage…”

You watch Yoongi giving his speech, feeling Namjoon leaning toward you as his lips brush against your ear. “I'm planning to ask your parents for your hand in marriage tomorrow after the dinner.”

You choke on the champagne, covering your mouth with your palm. “Pardon?”

“I know you've been fucking Min Yoongi behind my back.”

You gape, “Namjoon–”

“So I expect you to say yes when I ask you tomorrow.”

You're speechless, not breathing as your heartbeat drums in your ears. Yoongi's voice fades away while he stands proud and tall on the stage, shooting a handsome smile at the crowd as your face pales within seconds.

Well fuck.

You're utterly fucked.

#networkbangtan #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #bts smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #yoongi fanfic #personasintro

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dumbcopyc4t · 4 months

Text

good girls go bad!

2.37k words

everybody in this world has their thing, some like to draw, others like paint. eren jaeger liked to believe he had many things, things he thought to be normal that most if not all would find to put it lightly.. strange.

not to be blunt but if you asked anybody from the dimly lit house party what eren jeagers specific thing was they'd all tell you the same thing.

sex.

you wouldn't even have to sleep with the guy to know how good he was in bed, every girl that comes stumbling from a random room on wobbling legs was most definitely proof enough.

this was NOT your scene. you stood there stiff in the corner, red solo cup in hand, surrounded by your five girlfriends who simply wouldn't take no for an answer.

they knew you'd follow the rules, the rules that your father had put in place when he shipped you off halfway across the state.

the silver purity ring on your finger hit the cup to the rhythm of the music as you slightly bopped your head.

that very ring a tall brunette had his eyes on all night. the man had been watching you since his body hit the sticky leather of the wore down couch. when your eyes flicked across the room his would immediately drop down to his own ring clad fingers picking at the arm rest.

"come onnn (❤︎︎), just a few shots. you need to loosen up anyway!" your closest friend sasha drags you across the scene leaving the other group of girls to their own devices.

begrudgingly you trek behind her, pulling down that itty bitty denim skirt the girls forced you to purchase 'just in case'.

she spots connie leaning against the marble of the kitchen island all by himself. suddenly she's flinging herself into his arms seaming already drunk off of whatever pungent liquid was mixed up in her now forgotten solo cup.

"well if it isn't my favorite little munchkin," she squeals when he drops her back down. "my friend here is in dire need of whatever you could pour into a shot glass, stat!"

connie smiles at her opting not to say much knowing his words would be slurred. red eyes scan you quickly as if he was pondering what bitter beverage he could give you to loosen you up fast.

you stood close behind sasha watching connie line up six plastic shot cups before pouring a glass bottle of clear liquor (to the brim) of each cup. being the gentleman he was he opens the cooler by his foot pulling out two mini can of pinapple juice.

snatching a shot for himself he tosses it back with a grimace and a quick head shake then walks off giving you a look of good luck.

"two for me, three for you." she hands you the can and pulls you to stand by her. taking a deep breath through your nose you grab each shot one by one and then chase them with the juice. it's almost embarrassing how loud you gagged from the tingle in the back of your throat.

"good?" she laughs at your struggle and you shoot her a glare. "what do you think sash??"

you look back over your shoulder to see that your friend group had dispersed among themselves with fellow party goers, unsurprisingly. lucky for them you made everyone share locations before even coming here AND gave them the major stranger danger safety run down.

what's even more embarrassing is how within the span of five minutes you feel every nerve slip into a relaxed state, the crease of you brow is replaced with a content, one would say- happy expression.

the first sound of 'speaker knockerz- freak hoe' is played full blast and it's like a flash flood of nearly every girl in the party racing towards the ¿dance floor?. but not only were the girls rushing through, but the guys too. either trying to stop their girls from showing out or simply tryna catch what was being thrown.

you and sasha being part of the crowd followed not far behind. and wherever you went green hooded eyes followed in suit.

in most cases you weren't one to show you in private let alone in public, but before you left the comfort of your dormitory the girls showed you a step by step tutorial on basic "ass shaking."

good for you that you comprehension skills are a-1 because in no time you were throwing it all around the world, my god would you regret this in the morning. sasha being there was extremely handy in making sure your skirt didn't ride up to the point where nothing was left to the imagination.

and boy oh boy did eren have a good one. zoning out on you and that stupid silver band circling your ring finger. he suddenly snaps into reality when a man, a random, tries to catch what he claimed for the night.

eren is quicker, his stride longer. you feel him before you see him. his presence is great. big almost. his scent woodsy and minty with a linger smell of weed. intoxicating.

sasha give you a look once the song is over and made into something that can be danced to in a slow grind. you smile and wink she takes the hint and scurry off to find her baldheaded best friend.

the man behind you leans forward and your automatically enticed by the eyes. bright and green but low and lidded. your arms reach you around his neck and tangle in the hair on his nape, the weight of his bun resting there as well.

on the other hand(s) his are traveling down your side and to the opening of your blouse. you stop him, turning to face him only to be met with a broad chest. . looking up to see a man more striking the a god themself, he grins small and sexy. you look more beautiful up close, he can't help the lump twitching against his thigh in this black cargos.

he also can help but notice the way you scan his face all doe like, he lets you drink him in even with the heavy bass pumping throughout both your bodies.

finally you breathe out a simple "hi." shuttering cause you feel his eyes on your lips, then the drop lower to the star sign necklace sitting on your collar bone.

you move before him, grabbing him by the collar of his black tee. hell- it was just as shocking to you as it was him wondering where in the world you got all this confidence from.

"hey." he mutters against your lips before reciprocating the kiss. it's desperate on your end and controlled on his, like trying to pull an elephant with a rope. you whine into his mouth and he can't help but puff out a breath of laughter.

he pulls back and you can't help but chase him. "bathroom?" he looks you dead in your eyes already tipsy on just a taste of what this man can give you. you nod at a flashes pace when you feel the not so subtle pulse down below. and just like that the two of you are off, him shielding you from the sea of sweaty bodies. you pass sasha and connie once more making direct eye contact with her.

her jaw drops hard. she turns to connie who lifts his hand to close her mouth, who mumbles something about hot breath.

eren waste no time knowing exactly where the first floor washroom is. another man stumbles his way towards the door and earns a palm to the face and a rough shove by eren.

he locks the door quickly before the complaints start and shoves your lower back against the sink capturing you in another mind numbing kiss. the cold thin metal of your ring stings his skin when you cup his handsome face, and he groans deep and long. rutting his chub against your thigh.

he breaks first spinning you around so that you're facing the mirror. lips swollen, eyes glassy, and edges starting to lift, eren wants to devour you. eat you whole.

he leans into you pushing his weight on your back. wet open mouth kisses from the junction of your shoulder all the way up to your ear and he huffs out "eren."

lost in the sensation you hum at him choking back a moan when he reaches under that god forsaken skirt and he barely applies pressure to your panties. and yet here they are soak down.

"my name, eren. remember it." he muttered to you taking pleasure in watch you quiver like a leaf over a thumb. just as sudden as it came his hand was ripped away away. hiking up your skirt he pulls your panties down, and spreads.

"my god," he sighed. nothing in this world could prepare him for the sight that beholds him. sticky, wet folds make a slick noise as he thumbs through them. he watches you twitch and arch your back, in an instant he drops down to his knees.

"just nasty," he commented before dropping to his knees shoving his face in your cunt. his mouth automatically finds your clit and he sucks. that sharp nose of his nudging against your clenching hole. and then- he takes in a sharp breath through his nose eye scrolling to the back of his skull.

you've lost all support opting to rest your forehead on the mirror while eren sucks on you pussy like a starved man. it's so much, it's too much. he's sloppy with it, fluids dripping down from his mouth, to his chin, onto his shirt. all you can do is moan.

"ugh -god! eren! eren!" you sob, he slurps. its all so good.

"you're cumming? come on pretty, cum on my fucking tongue." he envelopes you whole and shoves his tongue in repeatedly over and over until you scream.

"shit - eren im fucking cumming!" and you do. hard. but he keeps going not wasting a drop of your release. gasping for some air, hunched over the sink, panties down by your knocking shaking knees, you feel it.

hard, long, heavy, and thick against your lower back you didn't even realize he had dropped his cargos and boxers just below his fat balls. 8 inches of man ready and waiting.

he see you lifting yourself up and he decides you had enough time to recover. his slides his tip an angry shade of red, through your sensitive folds and then pushes in slow.

quickly he grabs his base hard and squeezes. "shit-" he stills, taking a deep breath. "s'fucking tight." he comments rubbing on your swollen clit making you shudder. "loosen up dollface, let me in." his brows furrowed as he watches you biting into the fabric of your sleeve. your holding back and he knows in. he knows he's big, and he knows you can take it.

in one swift motion he bottoms out and you cry. cry so loud you could stop the party. his 'thrust' shallow but oh so deep, fat tip nudging right against your cervix.

"o-oh fuck FUCK!" you wail clenching on him hard as you orgasm. "atta girl, there she is." he grins big and bright. "feels good don't it? you love cummin' on me dontcha, princess?" he hisses, reeling his hips back and he pounds into you.

"s-shit, you're soo g-oodd!" you wailed to him, your tits bouncing out that stupid stuffy blouse. he wants to see more, to feel more. his fingers scoop you up by the neck. damp back pulled to his wet chest, and he squeezes. the feeling of his hand even resting on your throat was delicious - but this.

this was different. "e-erenn! jesus f-fucking christ! m'cummin, m'cummin!" you gasp out hand wrapping around his and choking you harder. his eyes widen green eyes nearly black and gives a wild smile at your fucked you expression. "you filthy little thing, you like being choked dont ya? what would yer daddy say if he found you his dollface little girl was slutting herself out for me ,hm?"

you feel it, right there in your gut, hot desire flooding from your pussy all onto the floor in streams of clear liquid. your cheeks are red from the lack of oxygen. his thrust get harder but you can feel eren tensing. another brutal thrust and he grunts deep and sexy. "fuck baby." he fucks himself through his high just using your sloppy cunt to his will. his grip on you throat is released and that has you doubling over gasping for sweet oxygen.

jeager relishes the feeling of your walls clamping on him till he decides enough is enough. he pulls out and in an instant thick, creamy globs of cum plop down onto your soaked down underwear.

leaning down once more he come face of face with your fucked out pussy and licks the mixture of bodily fluids. this makes you jolt and then he presses a delicate kiss to you clit. contradicting his actions he sents a hard smack to your ass cheek. eren groans taking a look at the mess you both made on the floor and yourselves. he just grabs and decorative towels hanging above the toilet, wiping himself off and then throwing it on the floor to soak up any liquid.

then he hands you a pitiful piece of tissue paper to clean yourself off. but before you start he's distracting you with kisses to out ear lobe, he grabs your hand and suddenly your finger is feeling .. lighter.

before you can confront him he slips back out into the world leaving you stranded and confused.

also with an empty finger. bummer, he didn't even catch your name..

#anime #pwp #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren smut #eren x black fem!reader #eren yeager

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pixeechix21 · 5 months

Text

Mr grinch🎄

Simon/keegan/konig (whoever you want baby😉😙) x fem!reader

Summary: hate hate hate, loooove, hate hate… He hated Christmas but good god he loved the pathetic sounds coming from you.

Tw: edging, dom/sub, riding, sit not fucking hoover, praise, eating you out like Christmas dinner, p in v, ORAL, fucking n fun times😊💕

You had been making dinner when he came home to see you dancing and singing to his playlist. Twirling around you sing with the spoon, he smiles ear to ear to see you wearing your apron with nothing underneath. He comes to you, holding your waist, swinging side to side. He pulls you in closer, feeling your soft body press up against his chest. “I’ve missed you luv,” he kisses you liking the sauce from your lips.

“Bad day?” You say kissing him back before turning to the pasta. His hands hold you from behind as he rest his head over yours.

“One could say that. Someone decided to decorate my weapons locker with Christmas lights,” he groans, pressing himself into your back.

“Probably Soap,” you laugh. “You should just enjoy the Christmas cheer at this point, he’ll never stop,” you breathe out as his hand cups your breast, feeling him pressed against your lower back.

“Not until someone convinces me otherwise luv,. As with Soap he’ll get payback soon enough,” He ducks his head to your shoulder, nibbling it.

“Someone? How about you go to the bedroom? Don’t do anything,” you face him, arching your back as he pulls you in, your hand runs between his pants and boxers. Biting your lips to hide your smile as you watch him smirk, smack your ass before heading upstairs.

You turn off the stove and let him wait. Creeping up into the en suite you take your sweet time.

Through the cracked door he has full view of you in the mirror. Undoing the apron he can see all of you. No matter how many times and for how long he’s see you, he will never grow old of how you look; who you are.

His blood starts to pump down, as he watches you turn on the shower, water running down you. Down between the peaks of your breasts, down to between your legs. He can’t help his hands to go down to release the growing stiffness in his pants. Watching as your hand washes your soft skin, caressing your tits, light moan float in the steaming air. His breathing deepens as he observes as your fingers move in and out.

You revel at catching him watching your mouth slightly open. You worker harder, circling and moaning louder.

He’s entranced as he hears you coming while he grows harder with every second.

Watching you come out of en-suite in a small towel. His trust rising and falling rapidly. Once in front of the bed edge, you let the towel fall to the floor lightly.

“I can get with the holiday season, all right, “his eyes glamorous he can see you perfectly. Coming onto the bed you climb over hand skill and doing his belt. He shifts up against the head as you takeoff his pants. “Sit back baby let me help you with the bad day,” you kiss him, following his happy trail up past tattooed abdomen to his neck. He runs his hands down your body as you bite and lightly pull on his bottom leg. His groans rumble in his chest, feeling you sit comfortably on his throbbing member.

He’d wanted to hold you all day. Daydreaming about how gorgeous you look bent over as he ran into you. Especially after you sent him that video, in the new set he bought you, playing with yourself teasing him. He’s been hard all day., becoming more pained as he rewatched the video, helplessly.

Your hair smells like strawberries and all of a sudden that’s his favourite fruit. “It was so bad of you to send me that. He talks your ass the sting, shooting electricity deep within your core. “I had you stuck in my head all – “ slap, “-day.” Balloons. You kiss him and suck his hot skin marking his neck purple. Humping his lap needing as he continues, “if only I could’ve had you right then and there in the meeting in front of everyone. I’d fucked and filled you full love, and I just let everyone watch, “he sounds lustful his hold becoming firmer. His hand dives down to your entrance, you whine as his large finger start to stretch you out. “Look at you wet at the thought of,” he fingers your hole, feel clench around him. As if he knew he stopped just as you started riding his fingers so that you could finish.

“No, no princess. I had to wait all day, unable to help my blue balls. Now it’s your turn,” he shifts the both of you flat on the bed.

Breathing is nonexistent as kiss, passionately. Breaking Your thumb across your swim lips. Let’s put it, demands “sit on my face “taking your hips, positioning your legs to either side of his head. Too scared to sit down, you helper. His hands clamped down on your hips and forced you down.

“I said fucking sit,” he growls, against your sensitive spot.

“But-”

“I said fucking sit, so I can make you forget how to walk love,”he doesn’t let you hover, forcing your full weight on his face. “If I tap twice that’s the only time you can get off. Understood?”

As you’re saying yes, he’s in you. Licking and sucking around, and, and across your clit. he’s too much. You feel his tongue entered you laughing at your juices. You’re a mess. You don’t care anymore, whether you’re hovering or suffocating him. You ride his face, quickening in peace. Holding onto the headboard with both hands “please – I’m so close – fuck – oh God, I’m so close – I’m gonna I’m gonna –”you whine and exclaim, tossing your head back. Movement slow as he hears you, playing with the intensity; pulse of frustration comes over. “It hurts – please – I need to!” you let out I screwed shot.

As you calm down, his freehand comes behind and starts again. His light sucking paired against his fingers curling inside you to hit your sweet spot makes you blind with ecstasy. He repeats it all over again.

Looking down at him, you catch the dark smile in his eyes. “It’s so painful, I’m begging, please let me come,” can’t stop your begging, with the way your clit is throbbing against his purring he left you up and down back to his lap. Your legs are shaking heavily as you put onto your back.

“If you’re gonna come, it’s going to be around my fucking cock.” His words are soft, reassuring. Almost.

He relishes in seeing tear up as he stretches your type pussy. You’re taking him so well, even when you’re so worked up.

The lack of stimulation and relief from your clit hurts wonderfully. It’s intoxicating how good the feeling of pain can be. One foot over his shoulder he can watch as you bounce up and down, moaning his name sweetly. You feel his large, hot hand, press down on your lower stomach as he fucks you hard faster.

“No, no, I’m gonna come, I can’t control it, “you say, panicked an overwhelming feeling washes over you.

“ lThats. Let it out come on, I need to feel you milk.“ he says groaning, he holds himself back. You listen to him relaxing as you finally get to climax. You scream his name so loud, it makes him proud. You clench and pulls it around his cock as he doesn’t stop his continuous breath.

Pulling out heat jerks into his hand, his moaning rings in your ears. “Y/n, shit y/n! Christ!”

Hearing him lose it coming all over you, makes you want to go another round, but you’re shattered at the aftermath of what just proceeded. Taking the towel he cleans you up. Holding each other, he realised Christmas wasn’t all that bad after all.

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