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tongue-like-a-razor · 6 months

Text

Ex Appeal

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake Seresin gets a frightful visitor on Halloween.

CW: Angst, fluff, suggestive themes, alludes to past cheating

WC: 3500+

This fic was written for @roosterforme’s Rocktober challenge! Inspired by the song Poison by Alice Cooper.

Masterlist

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jake says with a look of disgust – as much of it as he can muster. You, after all, have been his greatest source of misery as of late.

You give him a dirty look – your specialty – and barge into his home as though you own the place and Jake’s just a goddamn doorman. “I need to lay low for a bit.”

Jake narrows his eyes as he turns to face you. He keeps the door open because he’s still hoping you’re going to leave any minute. “Lay low?” he asks mockingly. “What’d you do? Commit murder?” He wouldn’t be surprised.

You peek around his arm to glance out at the street. “Someone’s looking for me.”

Jake watches you impassively. “Is it the police?” Then, after a moment, he adds, “Is there a reward?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re the only one in this neighbourhood that I trust,” you say, pushing on the door that Jake is obstinately keeping open.

Jake nods. “Shame that trust doesn’t go both ways,” he comments contemptuously.

You eye him irritably. “Close the door.”

“Tell me why you’re here.”

“I just did.”

Jake shakes his head. “You could not have been more vague.”

You sigh. “Close the door and I’ll tell you.”

Jake exhales warily and shuts the front door. He surveys your outfit. “What are you wearing?”

You glance down at your ensemble: a black, form-fitting body suit and fishnet stockings. You’re also sporting knee-high boots and you’ve got what looks like six extra arms coming out of your back. You look back up at him with an annoyed expression on your face. “It’s Halloween,” you snap defensively.

Jake grimaces. “Yeah, I know.” He gestures to a cauldron full of candy sitting near the front door. “There’s gonna be a fuck-tonne of children coming through here trick-or-treating in like half an hour and you’re dressed like a gothic porn star.”

Instead of being offended, you lift your eyebrows in surprise. “You’re handing out candy?”

Jake sighs and places his hands on his hips, fixing you with a stern look. “Yeah, I’m handing out candy. That’s what adults do on Halloween.”

You stare at him as a smile materializes on your face. “Is that your costume?” you ask facetiously, gesturing at his checkered polo shirt. “Adult?”

Jake squares his jaw to mask the fact that he found your joke humorous, but you seem to notice the shift in his features because your own grin broadens. “My mom got me this shirt,” he says.

“Ah,” you respond. “A fellow adult.”

Jake tears his gaze away from you, focusing instead on the shiny, pointed toes of your stilettos. “Why’re you here?” he asks again, this time a lot less peevishly and a lot more grimly.

You bend down to unzip your boots. “I’m a spider,” you say. “Black widow.”

Jake glances up to meet your gaze as you straighten up. He nods. “Suits you.”

You give him a flat look. “I was at the bus stop and some dude started harassing me.”

Jake’s eyes trail down your scantily glad body. “You don’t say,” he remarks sarcastically.

Your jaw drops in outrage. “Are you victim blaming?”

Jake chuckles and shakes his head. “It was a joke.”

You cringe. “It was in poor taste.”

Jake closes his eyes and lets out a tired sigh. He’s had about enough of your attitude. “You wanna talk about poor taste?” he asks. “Where’s that lovely boyfriend of yours?”

You watch him sourly. “We’re not together anymore, if you must know,” you reply.

Truth be told, Jake probably didn’t need to know. But, now that he does, it’s only fitting that he respond with, “Shocking.”

You give him the finger. As if he were the one who’d been dating two people at the same time.

There’s a knock on the door. “Fuck,” he mutters, giving you a moody look. “Hide,” he says. “Unless you’d rather traumatize a bunch of eight-year-olds.”

You grimace at him. “You think eight-year-olds haven’t seen worse?”

Jake scans the low-cut neckline of your costume. He can’t think of anything more erotic if he tried. But, if he’s being honest, it’s not the outfit so much as your insane body that’s the culprit. He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you aside, making sure you’re tucked safely behind the door before opening it.

He smiles down at the two little kids on his porch when they yell, “TRICK-OR-TREAT!” at the top of their lungs.

“Well, well, well,” he says cheerily, bending down to grab a handful of candy out of his cauldron. “Who do we have here?” He puts the candy into one of their bags. “Are you a mermaid?”

The girl nods happily.

Jake wows in amazement. “You’re the prettiest mermaid I’ve ever seen!” He bends down to grab another handful of candy and drops it into the second child’s bag. “And you must be Iron Man!” he exclaims. “That’s one cool costume, bud. You look great!”

When Jake finally closes the door and looks at you, he sees that you’ve got your arms folded over your chest and a giant smirk on your face.

“What?” he asks darkly.

Your smile widens. “That was cute.”

Jake takes a step from the door and looks away from you. He’s not about to get sucked back into your web of lies, no pun intended. “You wanna hand some out?” he asks.

“I thought you don’t want me traumatizing the children,” you respond sarcastically, stepping out of the corner toward him.

Jake glances at you with a small smile. “I can give you some clothes, if you like.”

You wiggle your eyebrows. “Adult clothes?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Come on, before more kids show up.”

He makes his way into his bedroom and grabs a pair of jogging pants and t-shirt and brings them back out for you. “Bathroom’s down the hall,” he says.

“I remember,” you respond, but you’ve already started to remove your bodysuit.

Jake turns away in alarm and holds out the clothes for you. “Do you?”

“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t seen it all before,” you say. “Shoot, I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Jake groans. “Are you for fucking real?”

“You got a pair of boxers?”

Jake swallows uncomfortably. “Hold this,” he instructs, keeping a hand over his eyes as he hands you the crumpled clothes and starts back for his bedroom.

“You know what? I’ll just go commando.”

Jake takes a deep, cleansing breath and turns back toward you. He keeps his eyes closed and holds a hand out so as not to bump into anything as he walks. Of course, as luck would have it, he stumbles into you.

“What the fuck, dude?” you exclaim as his hands cling to your naked body, steadying you so you don’t fall over.

Jake squeezes his eyes tightly so that they don’t open inadvertently. “Sorry, sorry!” he winces, finally stabilizing both himself and you. He feels the softness of your skin underneath his palms as his hands do a final sweep along your back before he lifts them away from your body with a grimace. He’s bracing himself for a punch in the face.

“Are you a dumbass? Open your eyes!” you screech. “You’ve seen me naked how many times?!”

“Twelve,” he responds, a little hoarsely. All he can think about is how smooth your skin felt in his hands not a moment ago and it’s driving him a little mad.

“It was a rhetorical question,” you say pointedly. “You counted?”

“Are you decent yet?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“I’m never decent,” you mutter under your breath and Jake can’t help but smirk. “But if you’re asking whether or not I’m dressed. Then, yes, I am.”

Jake releases a heavy sigh and opens his eyes cautiously.

You scowl at him. “What, you think I’m tricking you?”

“Well, you aren’t treating me.”

You stare at him coolly. “You’re such a delight. Can’t imagine why we ever broke up.”

“Need a reminder?” he calls as you make your way back into the front hall. “It’s because you cheated on me!”

You’re standing at the front door with your arms crossed. “I didn’t cheat, for the last time,” you retort. “We weren’t exclusive.”

Jake presses his lips into a thin line. “I was exclusive.”

You shake your head in frustration. “Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

There’s another knock on the door. You sigh irritably and reach for the doorknob.

“Hello!” you exclaim enthusiastically the moment the door is open.

The mob of children on Jake’s doorstep all look up at you with exuberant grins and yell their opening line in a loud, messy chorus.

You react with an animated gasp. “Oh my goodness! You guys are a frightful bunch!”

The kids laugh. Indeed, they’re dressed as zombies, ghosts, and vampires, and, when you comment on their appearance, they growl and make scary faces at you. Jake smiles at them and then at you as you distribute the candy from the cauldron excitedly.

Once the door is closed, however, you drop the act, giving him an icy look as you settle yourself on the little bench near the door.

Jake fights the urge to sit next to you and maybe get a little lost in the smell of your perfume. He still gets a whiff of it from time to time when he walks by his closet. Which reminds him –

“I have your sweater,” he says awkwardly.

You glance up at him coldly. “Well, why didn’t you give it to me? It’d probably look better than this.” You tug on the hem of the t-shirt he gave you.

Jake doubts it; the fact that he could see your nipples through the fabric of his own shirt is even more of a turn on than your low-cut bodysuit had been. But he responds with, “Probably. But I’m not about to let you change again.”

You snort. “Fair.”

Jake wonders just how detrimental sitting next to you might be to his personal journey of recovery. He figures that you also would prefer that he stay as far away from you as possible. Ultimately, however, he decides that it’s his bench, after all, and that he’ll be sharing it with you and not the other way around. And, with regard to getting over you, well, he can try again tomorrow.

Jake makes his way over to the bench and you eye him cautiously as he approaches. Silently, you slide to make room for him. He gulps nervously and lowers himself onto the seat beside you.

“What were you doing at the bus stop, anyway?” he asks, staring down at his own clasped hands because he can’t handle looking at you when you’re sitting so close.

“Frank and I were on our way to a party,” you respond sullenly.

Jake glances up at you despite himself. “Thought you two broke up.”

You meet his gaze and promptly look away – apparently, you’re not too keen on engaging in eye contact at this proximity either. “We did,” you say curtly. “About an hour ago.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “An hour ago?”

“We had a fight on the way. I hopped out of the car at a red light.”

Jake leaps out of his seat. “Are you crazy?” he exclaims. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

You give him an amused look. “Don’t you fly jets for a living?”

Jake gapes at you incredulously. “I trained for that,” he retorts.

You let out a small laugh. “You’re right,” you reply. “I should’ve practiced first.”

Jake draws a hand over his mouth. “Okay, so you got out of the car in the middle of traffic,” he says with a wince. “And he, what? Just let you go?”

You shrug. “Wouldn’t you?”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “In what you were wearing? I wouldn’t even let you go to the bathroom by yourself.”

You stare at him with a grin. “That’s a bit excessive.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “How many guys made passes at you before you finally decided that taking the bus home wasn’t the brightest idea?”

You lower your gaze without responding.

“As if that douchebag just left you,” Jake says angrily.

“Well, I wasn’t being very nice.”

“There’s a surprise.”

You eye him dangerously.

“You could’ve gotten hurt,” Jake says. “This isn’t the safest neighbourhood.”

You suck in your cheeks and nod. “Yeah, I was pretty freaked out actually,” you admit. “There was a group of guys following me and they kept making lewd comments. When I got to the bus stop, they sort of surrounded me…”

You trail off and Jake’s hands curls into fists of their own volition. “I could kill your boyfriend.”

“Ex,” you remind him.

“Whatever,” he says. After a moment, he asks, “Are you okay?”

You nod. “I pretended to call someone – you actually,” you say with a laugh. “I had a whole fake conversation with you on my way over. They lost interest in me after a little while and took off.”

He watches you solemnly. “You could’ve actually called me,” he says.

Your face turns skeptical. “Right. And you’d pick up?”

Probably not. “Of course,” he responds. Then he sighs and shakes his head. “Maybe I wouldn’t.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

Jake sighs and sits back down beside you.

Several more groups of trick-or-treaters come and go and you and him take turns answering the door. Occasionally, both of you jump up at the same time and end up oohing and aahing in unison at the various costumes that grace Jake’s doorstep.

This activity does little to help quell the feelings he’s tried for months to repress. He remembers grudgingly the night he told you he was falling for you and you telling him that you weren’t ready for that kind of commitment. That’s when he found out that he wasn’t the only one you’d been seeing.

In your defense, it’s not something you had been actively hiding. In fact, you probably thought that Jake was also sleeping around, given his reputation. But Jake caught feelings like an idiot and was heartbroken when you finally showed your cards.

He spent nearly a year convincing himself that you’re absolute scum. Yet, here you are, looking cute as a button in his joggers and t-shirt, laughing giddily at the neighborhood children like you’re some kind of sweetheart. Like you could fool him now.

Jake slumps back down on the bench, trying to interact with you as little as possible. He can sense that you’re starting to win him over again, and he can’t have that happen. He will not be seduced.

You sit beside him with a grand sigh and lean your head back against the wall. “You get a lot of kids here,” you say lightly.

“Mm-hm,” he hums, bending forward to rest his arms on his legs.

“I’m getting hungry,” you say. “You?”

Jake closes his eyes. The last thing he needs is a fucking dinner date with you. “There are some leftovers in the fridge. You can go heat some up for yourself.”

You lay a hand on his back and Jake goes rigid. “You’re not going to eat?” you ask.

“Not hungry,” he manages to say.

Your hand slides unhurriedly down his spine, your fingers grazing him delicately. Jake brings a fist to his mouth to suppress a moan. “I’ll wait, then,” you say softly. Then, before Jake can gather the strength to remove himself from the situation, you lean your body into his and rest your head on his shoulder.

Jake sits very still, trying to decide how best to navigate this turn of events.

“Do you ever miss me?” you murmur faintly.

Jake turns his head to look down at your face while his heart springs into his throat to constrict his breathing. “What are you doing?” he asks huskily.

Your eyes stare deeply into his. “I’m just wondering,” you whisper.

Jake sighs and rubs his forehead. “You just broke up with Frank.”

Your eyes start to fill with tears. “I miss you.”

“Fuck,” Jake mutters and straightens his back. His head drops like a deadweight against the drywall in behind.

You’re displaced in the process but, once he’s situated, you slowly move closer, until your head is resting over his chest.

Jake grits his teeth but wraps his arm around you and, in response, you lay your arm over his abdomen. He can feel your fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt. He tightens his embrace around your shoulders and curses some more, in silence this time. What is it about you that he just can’t resist?

You lift your head off his chest so you can be face to face with him. Jake tries very hard not to lock eyes with you because that would likely be the end of him. “Jake,” you say in a wispy sort of tone and Jake instantly loses that fight. He meets your gaze, and your eyes entrance him. “I want you to kiss me,” you breathe.

Jake can almost taste the citrus of your perfume; it hangs over you like a veil. He can already hear your melodic moans; he knows what you sound like when he touches you. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest, the ardent urging of your hands as they slip underneath his shirt.

But what he can’t do is kiss you.

Your lips… your lips are all he can think about. He wants you more than anything in the world but you’re not here the same way he’s here; you’re just passing through while he’s here to stay.

You come impossibly close, aching for just a split second of contact. “Don’t you want to?” you whisper.

Jake can hardly stand being this close to you. “Why are you doing this?” he asks in a low, uneven voice.

You gulp and the tip of your nose brushes his. “I want to be with you, Jake,” you whimper, your fingers digging persistently into his ribs. Your travelling hands ignite a chain of pyrotechnics under his skin that sort of set his entire chest ablaze. “Don’t you want that?”

If only you knew how much. He shakes his head, cupping your cheek in his hand. “How can that be? When you’ve only been single for an hour?”

Your eyes start to sparkle. “You don’t believe me?”

He’ll never believe a word you say. But that doesn’t make him want you any less. He catches the tears that stream down your face with his thumb.

“I never got over you, Jake,” you say, clasping your hand over his on your cheek. “I think about you all the time.”

Jake leans his head into yours and grips your hand in his. If you’re telling the truth, he sympathizes. But, more likely than not, every word coming out of your mouth is fiction.

You push him away and sit up straight, wiping at your tears. “I never meant to hurt you,” you say. “I made a mistake. I realized that the moment you left. And I was too proud to go after you.”

Jake grimaces. “So, you dated Frank for ten months?”

You shrug. “On and off. He cheated on me, so…” you trail off with a cynical laugh. “Got what I deserved.”

Jake furrows his brows. “You don’t deserve that.”

You glance up at him with renewed hope. “I don’t deserve you,” you say with a strangled sigh. “I know that. And you know that, obviously. Which is why you won’t kiss me.”

Jake shakes his head.

“I know that it’s long over, Jake. I’m not delusional,” you say, your eyes so penetrating it feels like they’re clawing right into his soul. “And, I swear, I did not come here for this. It’s just, seeing you again – and your fucking disgustingly adorable adult shirt – handing out candy like a well-adjusted member of society – it reminded me what I missed out on.”

Jake lifts his eyebrows. “A lame, costume-less, party-less Halloween?”

You smile. “It’s not lame. It’s perfect.”

Jake watches you wretchedly. You may look innocent sitting before him in his very own baggy joggers and t-shirt with your dizzyingly beautiful eyes. But you are a fucking black widow. With a venomous bite. And sweet lips that spew lies, webs of which he could never untangle. Poison on the tongue. Toxic to the bone. Fatal. “You’re perfect,” he says.

You gaze at him tenderly, waiting for your moment to strike. Jake is waiting too. There’s no use fighting it, he lost the moment he met you. And he’ll lose as many times as it will take to win you for good.

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joels-shitty-puns · 4 months

Text

Javing Feelings

Javier Peña x Inexperienced!Reader

Summary: You have been dating Javier for six months now, and the two of you finally slept together for the first time as a couple (and your first time ever). However, you can't seem to stop fantasizing about giving a blowjob for the first time. Luckily you have Javi to help you learn.

Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Smut !!!!! Porn with little plot. TBH I wanted just porn but my mind wouldn't let me and gave them a back story. Oral (m receiving, f alluding to). Masturbation (f). Kissing, biting. Nipple/breast kissing/biting. Cursing. Cum eating. Dirty talk. Let me know if I forgot anything!

Other stuff: Reader is AFAB. Inexperienced. Reader and Javi work together but reader's job isn't specified.

Word Count: 3.2K

Hi!!! I hope you enjoy this fic. There's some light Spanish in here but my Spanish is rusty. It was never great to begin with, so if it sounds weird pls let me know. I haven't finished watching Narcos and I'm not sure my portrayal of Javi is great. But I wanted to try something new and my mind had this filthy idea lol. This also required me to do a little research (!!!) because I haven't done this personally. Please let me know your thoughts!

_____

It had been six months of dating Javier Peña, and to say you were surprised was an understatement. Surprised at the length of your relationship, surprised at how loving and caring he could be. Surprised at how patient he really was.

It's not that you would ever mean to say anything poorly about his character. You loved your man, and he loved you. But the rumors that used to fly around him at work for being a player and a sex god were hard to ignore. Sleeping with his informants, openly flirting with coworkers, bringing home a new woman every weekend. He was known for frequenting strip clubs and meeting up with prostitutes, and the jokes ran endlessly in the office. Most notably, they came from his partner Steve.

So when he asked you out the first time, you said no. You had never been with a man before, and it certainly wasn't going to be a one night stand with someone like Peña. He wouldn't hit it and quit it with you. You were worth more than that, and you knew it. Even if he did look at you with those big puppy eyes. Even if his chest did peek out under that hot pink shirt that made you drool, or if he licked his plump lips before placing a cigarette in the slot below his perfectly groomed mustache. Even if he did strut through the building like he owned the place, his tight jeans hugging his ass and crotch in all the right places, making you practically salivate.

You wouldn't give in to him. You wouldn't be used for sex. You wouldn't be a fuck buddy. You needed love. You deserved love. Especially for your first time.

Now, that's not to say that you didn't think of him occasionally when you let your hands wander under your covers and below your panties. Didn't think of his lips when you ran your fingers through your arousal, or circled your finger around your clit before sliding down to your entrance. It probably would feel good if he filled it…

But you wouldn't indulge in that fantasy in real life.

_____

So when the two of you were the last ones at the bar following a work happy hour one night, you were surprised to see that he hadn't left with a woman.

He swallowed down the last of his drink before standing up and tossing a bill to the bartender. “I'm going to head home, I'll see you at work,” he grabbed his jacket off the bar.

“Wait…are you okay?” You asked him curiously, though you weren't about to ask ‘why aren't you taking a woman home?’ and make him feel bad.

Javi gave you a look, studying your face as if to wonder why you would possibly care about whether he was okay. You turned him down. You didn't like him, you weren't attracted to him. Despite the friendship you'd developed from working closely together, he obviously didn't mean as much to you as you did to him.

“I'm fine, cariño. Nothing to worry about,” he headed towards the door.

“Wait… Javi?” You grabbed your purse and your coat, throwing down a tip on the bar before following him out the door.

“Clearly something's wrong with you, why don't you talk to me?” You pleaded, stopping within touching-distance of him on the sidewalk. “Did I do something?”

“No,” he sighed. “You didn't do anything wrong. It's just me,” he shook his head, turning to walk away.

“Is this because I said I wouldn't go out with you?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

He turned, letting his eyes flash with sadness for only a second before responding. “It's okay, hermosa” he sighed. “You don't feel the same way and that's fine.”

You gave him a confused look, your eyebrows furrowing. “Do you actually have feelings for me, Javi?”

“Of course I have feelings for you cariño, why do you think I asked you out?” he ran his hand through his hair.

“I don't know…” you answered quietly, fiddling with your hands.

“Because I just wanted to fuck?” He spat.

You looked up at him, unsure of what to say. “I didn't think you'd ever actually want me because… I don't know what I'm doing. I'm inexperienced. I've never had sex before, Javi. And I don't want to lose it without building a relationship based on love first.” You whimpered, and briefly noticed a flash of surprise on his face. “And yes, not to be a bitch, but you really do have a reputation for getting around town…” you dropped your hands at your side with a sigh.

“I know,” he groaned. “I do, and I'm guilty of using sex as a coping mechanism. But I really am interested in you, cariño. And if you'd give me a chance, I'll go as slow as you want or need. I’ve spent so many nights trying to fuck away my emotions and it hasn't helped. But,” he ran his hand down his face before continuing. “The first time I saw you, it's like everything felt… easier when I was around you.”

He took a step towards you. “I tried to push the feelings aside, because truthfully it scared the shit out of me. I haven't had those feelings in a very long time, if ever. But pushing it away never worked with you.” He reached for your hand, and you took it.

_____

Ever since that moment, the two of you have been slowly developing a meaningful relationship. From your first date, to your first kiss, Javi has been nothing but sweet and patient. It wasn't until recently when you decided to let him take your virginity.

You were beyond nervous, especially upon seeing the size of him. But he was gentle and loving, making sure you were ready well before he entered you. You couldn't have asked for a nicer first time, or a sweeter man.

But there was still one thing you hadn't tried yet that you had been itching to attempt.

It's something you had thought of before, while watching porn or daydreaming. A fantasy you considered while developing your feelings on Javi and imagining him. But when you finally saw his cock with your own eyes for the first time, it was like a spell spread over you and you wouldn't be able to expel it until you gave in to your desires.

So when Javi told you he'd be coming over to spend the weekend, you couldn't wait to play out your fantasy.

_____

Javier opened the door to your apartment, using the key you gave him last month after you first exchanged I-Love-Yous. Dropping his bag on the kitchen bar, he strolled over to you, pulling you into a deep kiss, letting his hands graze over your ass with a squeeze. “Mi amor,” he whispered, nibbling your ear.

“Javi…” you replied breathlessly already. He pulled away, giving you a mischievous look with his raised brow. Sure, it wasn't uncommon for you to be putty in his hands, but he could tell something had gotten into you today.

“What's got you all worked up, querida?” He kissed your lips again, asking for entrance to your mouth, to which you obliged. “Cat got your tongue?” He practically purred, scraping his teeth against your tongue before gently biting your lip.

You moaned into his mouth before pulling away just enough to whisper. “I wanna try something, Javi…”

He kissed you deeper, then drew back to look into your eyes. “What do you want to try, mi paloma?” (My dove)

Based on his response, you could only imagine his mind was assuming you had chaste fantasies of kissing him in public, or sex in a slightly more adventurous position than the missionary you started with.

But for the first time, you surprised him when you whispered in his ear, “please, let me suck your dick, Javi.”

He froze, swallowing thickly, letting you see his Adam's apple bob. His eyes were wide as saucers. “You..” he stumbled over his words.

“Mmhm…”, you began to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt.

“You don't have to do that, cariño.” His tongue darted out over his lips, the surprise making his mouth dry.

“Please, Javi,” you whined. “I want to. I can't stop thinking about it. Especially after I saw you on our first night together. I want it so badly. Let me taste you. Let me please you.”

“Especially? You mean you had thought of it before we made love?” He asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Ever since I saw you in those tight pants the first day we met,” you kissed his lips, finally unbuttoning the last button on his shirt before pulling it down his shoulders as the two of you stumbled into the bedroom.

“Fuck. Dirty girl,” he hissed, removing your shirt and kissing you, all the while wrapping his arms around your waist to seamlessly unhook your bra. His hands swept over your sides before returning to your chest to cup your breasts.

Javi’s kisses traced from your lips down to your neck before finally taking your nipple between his lips. He gently sucked on it, swirling his tongue around and giving gentle nibbles to your breasts.

You unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, sliding them down just enough for his cock to release from the confines and bounce to attention. He was already hard and waiting, his tip drooling precum.

“Sit,” you told him, pushing down on his shoulder and directing him towards the edge of the bed.

“Sí, señorita,” he answered, easily caving to your demands and removing the rest of his pants from his legs.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he spread his thighs apart, giving you ample space to work with, his heavy cock bouncing against his torso with every movement.

Your mouth watered as you sank to your knees on the carpet and crawled over between his legs, the space you wished to live in. Running your hands up his thighs, you spread him even further.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, sending a wave of lust through Javi’s body before you spoke. “I've never done this before Javi. You may need to help guide me.”

Javi looked to the sky in silent praise as you turned your attention back to his waiting cock. You were now eye to eye with it, and slowly you moved your hand to wrap around his length. You gently pulled his foreskin down to reveal his most sensitive area, causing Javier to tremble at the contact. But it wasn't until you began to stroke him while placing a gentle kiss to his leaking tip that his body jerked forward in need. You gave a light lick, swirling your tongue around him before taking him in your mouth completely.

The taste was new. His precum tasted salty and slightly sweet, but mostly you tasted clean skin and saliva. His scent is what really took over your senses. The natural scent that made your mouth water the first time you smelled him. The aroma that distinctly meant… Javi.

He wore a cologne that made you swoon, kept strong enough to fill your nostrils, but not overpowering to be used in lieu of a shower. Javi always smelled nice. Clean and freshly shaved, he had a light scent of soap, aftershave, shaving cream, and men's deodorant. The lingering scent of shampoo. The sweet smell of nicotine and a whispered bite of alcohol. Leather from his jacket. The cool intensity of his mint toothpaste and gum that always seemed to nip at your nose when he spoke.

Even when he had just run across the city to chase a criminal, his sweat and musk drew you in like a feral animal. The way his pink shirt clung to his soaked back, chest, and arms; the way his wet hair fell onto his forehead. Your eyes wanted to live on his skin. As much as you tried to ignore Javi those first months of knowing each other, everything about him made you want to jump his bones. His persona oozed sexual appeal and that scared you. That made you want to run for the hills.

“Fuck me,” he sighed, head tilting back while his hips jerked upwards of their own accord. You removed your lips with a sucking pop and once again ran your hands over his thighs. You kept reaching, wrapping your arms around his back and grabbing the part of his ass that wasn't seated with a squeeze.

“Does this feel good, Javi?” You leaned in, licking the underside of his penis from the base to the head, stopping at the tight frenulum tissue and kissing, just like you would his lips.

“Fuck, yes, mierda, keep going,” Javi whined, jerking his hips forward, his tip brushing your waiting lips.

“Tell me how you want it, Javi,” you took the head in your mouth, licking and sucking.

“Just like that. Fuck. Swirl your tongue around,” he demanded.

You obliged, swirling your tongue around the head and finally the leaking tip, your lips still surrounding him. You sunk down further, taking more of him in your mouth and licking the veins on his underside as you slowly drifted further, his tip reaching the back of your throat.

“Fuck, yes,” Javi whimpered, babbling a string of curses as you began to work him in your mouth, up and down, your hand meeting the rhythm of your mouth. Saliva dropped from your mouth as you worked faster, Javier groaning in response. You went to wipe your chin with your other hand, only to have your wrist grabbed. “Leave it,” he hissed. “You look so fucking sexy like this, baby. Drunk on my cock, messy and blown out. Fuck, you're so good,” he rambled.

You smiled around his dick, continuing your movements and letting out a moan of your own pleasure. Finally you had him in your mouth and it was everything you imagined. This wouldn't be the last time, and you could hardly wait to taste his release.

Your hips jerked forward, pussy clenching on air, and you reached down with your other hand to rub frantic circles on your clit. Your eyes squeezed closed as you continued to play with both him and now yourself. Whimpers and moans fell from your lips and his, Javi lifting his head from the back of his neck to look down at you.

“Shit. Baby, are you touching yourself too? Pussy so desperate to be filled when my cock is in your mouth?” His voice rumbled, deep and primal, yet pained and desperate all the same.

“Mmhm,” you choked, trying to take him deeper than your throat would allow.

Javi reached out, cupping the back of your head as you took him as far as you could, stroking the rest of him with the hand not between your own legs. Your eyes squeezed tighter, tears brimming as you pushed too far again. “Gentle mi amor, you'll hurt yourself. Too big for that tight throat of yours,” he cooed, gripping your hair tighter. Saliva continued to drip from your mouth as you worked him faster, matching the rhythm with the hand on your clit. You inserted two fingers into your pussy, pumping a few times before alternating between your sensitive clit again.

Both Javi's and your hips jerked forward at their own accord, your bodies so desperate for release, you were both right on the cusp of teetering over the edge. Your moans and whimpers grew louder, Javi's curses continuing, yet the slick noise of wet skin from your mouth and hands prevailed as the loudest in the room. Squelching and sucking filled the air, an orchestra of filthy euphony.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum, baby, where do you want it?” Javi strained to ask, tension lining his jaw.

You removed him just enough to reply, “my mouth, please, Javi, let me taste you.” Immediately you returned your attention to the task at hand.

“Shit,” he groaned as you pumped the length of his cock that didn't meet your lips. His hips jerked and release spilled onto your tongue, salty and sweet. With his climax, you fell over your pleasure point as well, body shaking and tensing, your thighs clenching around your fingers as you frantically rocked against the air. You let out a pained squeal around his cock as you came in your hand.

His hips began to slow, the last of his salty release dripping onto your tongue. With a final suck, you removed your mouth with a pop and opened your mouth for Javi. White, creamy release dripped from your tongue onto his thigh and quickly you closed your mouth with a giggle, swallowing him and licking the spilled cum from his leg.

Meeting your eyes with his, Javi looked absolutely wrecked, his eyes dark and hair disheveled. He panted, and despite having just finished, you could still see the fire of lust in his stare. You imagined you looked the same, drunk on his cock and his release, your own orgasm having just subsided as well. You were somehow still hungry for more, and it seemed you were never fully quenched with Javi around. You'd always want more, no matter how much he gave you.

Javi grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap to straddle him. Though he was softening under you, your hips still jerked at the contact. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep kiss.

You pulled away, looking at him a moment before asking “you don't mind kissing me after I just had your cum in my mouth?”

Javi looked at you as if you spoke another language before realizing you meant it. “Fuck no, baby that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I don't mind tasting myself on your tongue. Ever,” he kissed you again, deeper this time. His tongue swirled with yours and you tasted his cum and his saliva, his scent filled your nose, and his body encompassed yours. Everything around you was Javi.

“I don't mind tasting myself on your lips either,” you pulled away, whispering shyly before going in for another kiss.

Javi pecked your lips, pulling away and raising his brow. “Oh? No?” He teased you. Your cheeks heated and you began to look away, but he lifted your chin with his thumb and forefinger. “We can make that happen,” he growled, kissing your lips and picking you up from his lap. He manhandled you like a sack of flour, easily tossing you to the bed with ease as he settled between your legs, his mouth inches from your waiting pussy.

“Ready for round two?” He smirked, nipping your thigh.

“Always, with you Javi,” you whined, and he dove in, pleasuring you the way you did him.

You were never surprised at his sexual prowess, but once again you were pleasantly amazed at his level of care and love he devoted to you. You didn't regret waiting, though you were glad he was willing to wait with you. The new experiences with him just grew better and better with each day.

If you told yourself months ago that you would be in bed, in love, happily wrapped in the arms of Javier Peña, you would have laughed at the thought. But then again, life is full of surprises.

515 notes · View notes

ncteez · 1 year

Text

COLOR EVASION (j.s)

You were just browsing, looking at all of the various kinks and fantasies the great world wide web had to offer. It’s not like you intended to make an account on a specific website to meet someone. Really, you were just curious about what was behind the “only members can view this page” banner. What you definitely weren’t expecting was to be pulled into actually meeting one of the men behind said banner, or enjoying it so much that you’d like for him to hurt you more.

or the one where you join a kink website and a specific dom’s profile catches your attention enough to actually meet him at a hotel and practically ignore your safe words bc man, he’s good.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni !! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do.

wordcount― 8.7k

pairing― johnny x afab reader

content― dom!johnny, open minded sub!reader, smut, reader wants to explore her interests in kinks and finds the best person for the job

warnings― this is mildly cnc in some areas but reader does want it and there are safe words (colors) but she intentionally doesn’t use them. she’s having fun, she feels good, and only alludes to a “stop” because it makes johnny go harder.

note― uh, hi. i know i'm always on a sub-idol agenda but i had this wip half written that i lost steam for and, well, johnny brought the fire back to finish it. disclaimer: im not good at writing dom stuff, but i tried so pls forgive me if this is the worst thing you’ve ever read.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― MONSTER COCK JOHNNY AGENDA, reader is referred to as: “sweetheart”, “baby”, “dirty girl”, “pain slut”, and “plaything”, face fucking (m receiving), bulge kink but like– via throat, choking, drooling, dirty talk, slapping, restraining, suffocation, degrading, praise, panty sucking, brief oral for the reader, teasing, short lived thigh fucking, cream pie, cock-drunk reader, biting, abuse of breasts, orgasm via nipple stimulation, clit abuse, hair pulling, fingering, overstimulation, johnny is kind of a sadist at times, unprotected sex, aftercare

You joined this website out of curiosity, and you also messaged user SayPlease out of curiosity. You said please to him, you thanked him, you used all of those manners you grew up learning in a way that they weren’t intended for through instant messages with the man.

Truly, it was because you were curious and you had no intentions of actually doing it. You wanted to try out some fantasies in the safety of your own room, alone. You wanted to keep it under wraps and just see how your body reacts to the words and images the people on this website offer. You were expecting your body to react at least a little bit, but you weren’t expecting to have one of the best orgasms of your life guided by his words through a muffled speaker.

Johnny knew you were new to this, he knew you were just exploring, and most of all, he knew he could control you. After all, you did so well during that first phone call. He’s truly not surprised that you were willing to meet with him in person after a short week or so of communicating. All of them eventually want the same thing, you’re no different.

Pulling up to the hotel felt ill-fitting for you considering this isn’t something you’d normally do. No, of course not. Why would you go out and meet some random man you met on a fetish website? Why would you be wearing the prettiest panties you own in hopes to get some praise for them? Why would you have been the one to suggest meeting him in the midst of a sexting session where he sent you the most delicious image of his hand squeezing around his cock, texting that he knew you’d do a great job of choking it?

Why you, right? No one needs to know that answer. This is a private affair, one where only you and Johnny know what’s going to happen. You’re nervous, based on how he speaks to you alone. You keep forgetting how new you are to all of this. Some rules you know are in place, but what about other things? Will he explain? Will he sit you down and make you sign a contract like what happened in that one book everyone was raving about?

The walk from your car to the room with dainty metal numbers screwed into the door felt like it took ages. You didn’t have a key, and you were a bit early for this meeting but the anxiety bubbling in your gut said that if you didn’t leave when you did, you probably never would have come anyway.

He was already behind that door though, and only when he starts opening it do you realize that never once have you seen his face. You’ve heard his voice, you’ve seen his body, but never his face. He, on the other hand, never saw you at all, he only heard you. Is this how this type of thing usually goes down? Are appearances not part of the fun? Suddenly, you find yourself worried that he’s only going to be attractive from the neck down, which would ruin it for you, if you’re being honest.

On instinct you back away from the door, ready to run back to your car and delete your profile, block his number, and ultimately pretend that none of this happened. When he comes into view though, you find yourself freezing on the spot.

Messy dark hair, tattoos, somewhat soft eyes. This man looks exactly like a dom that would talk to you the way he already has. It doesn’t match the face you imagined on him though. Hardened eyes, a grimace on his lips, something along the lines of a person who probably carries themselves as some type of cocky prick with a huge ego to match his cock. But no, this is what Johnny looks like. He looks big, and almost compassionate if you’re reading his facial expression right.

He doesn’t say anything to you at first, he just watches your reaction to his face reveal all while he takes in what you look like for the first time. He liked the surprise of it all, not knowing what his next partner actually looks like until he’s about to have them on their knees. He’s had all sorts of partners fulfill his fantasy without the expectation that he would want them to, after all, it’s about the pleasure and not entirely the attraction in his mind. You, however, are incredibly attractive already. He imagines how much better you’d look with tears in your eyes.

“There she is.” He says warmly, stepping to the side and letting you into the room. “More beautiful than I could have hoped for.”

Already you’re blushing as you step into the room, deciding once and for all that, yeah, you’re doing this. His confidence in complimenting you matches the way he talked to you before, except now he’s in front of you and looking at you. It hits you straight in the stomach, even as you still try to comprehend his kind words versus the ones he growled through the speaker at you just days ago.

You’re silent as you take your shoes off and stand awkwardly in front of the made-up, plush, probably half-assed cleaned hotel bed.

“I get it, you’re nervous.” He chuckles out, locking the door behind him and walking over to casually sit on the bed slightly behind you. His legs fall open easily as he looks down at himself, then up at you through the messy fringe falling in front of his eyes. “You can still back out, you know.”

You shake your head, struggling not to make eye contact with him.

“Are there like–” You’re embarrassed by how nervous you are, unable to string together a sentence or try to keep this calm and casual.

“Hm? Go on, I’m not going to do anything until you’re sure you want it.” He smiles, cocking his head to the side and trailing his eyes up and down your body. He really can’t stop looking at you, hoping that you’ll let him have his way. The memory of how you sounded on the phone flooding his mind as he puts your face to the moaning voice. He remembers how wet you sounded, he could hear you fuck yourself so clearly.

“Rules. Are there any rules?”

Johnny darts his eyes to the ceiling in thought. Right, he knows you’re new but– damn is he selfish.

“If you want rules, we can set them now. A safe word is good,” He pauses, reaching to grab at your hand to pull you next to him. “Sit.”

He says it politely, more like an offer than demand but you can’t see him as anything other than the dominant man you’d spoken to before. Even with a face that looks as soft as his right now.

“Usually, for me at least, a safe word is the only thing I set and it tends to help people learn their limits. I will stop if you say it.” He tries to explain, ultimately to leave limitations up to you during the act. After all, since you’re so new, how would you even know what you don’t like anyway? Sure, some people in this community find Johnny’s way of doing things shady at best, but he does communicate his preferred method first. He isn’t trying to trick you into doing something you don’t want to do, he just wants the freedom to let you explore all of the things that he likes.

“I’m not sure what rules are even meant to be set.” You explain, finally gaining enough composure to talk clearly now. “I’m not into water spots, though. I know that for sure.”

He nods in agreement with a shrug, looking at you as if he is encouraging you to continue.

“What’s the safe word then?” You ask, unintentionally fiddling your fingers in a nervous way. You catch his eye watching you, and you note the way he does his best to calm you from any anxiety.

“Some people pick random words, but colors are usually a good way to go. Yellow for when you’re not sure, but I can keep going. Red for when I need to stop.”

“No green?” You ask.

“I mean, technically everything is green until you state otherwise, isn’t it?”

He’s right.

“Any other things that are a hard no?” He asks again, ruffling his hair through his fingers. “Fair warning, I will hit you, choke you, restrain you, among many other things,” he pauses and looks for your reaction. “unless you tell me now that you don’t want it.”

You look at him and how his soft features have hardened slightly with his tense jaw, your thoughts derailing again as you see the words coming from a mouth so plush and pretty.

“Is kissing allowed?” You ask, completely unrelated to his string of offered abuse.

“If you want to kiss me through all of this, and your mouth is available, sure, I don’t see why not.”

You nod, taking it all in. Yellow. Red. No watersports. You’re going to hurt, and you can kiss him.

“Okay.” You say in a small voice, looking away from him and down to your lap. “Can you start slow?”

“Probably not.” Johnny admits. He’s incredibly attracted to your nervousness, and even more attracted to the way your voice is already shaking and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“You have safe words, use them if it’s too much. I don’t ‘go slow’,” He adds, spreading his legs a bit more. “I do what I want, you do what I want, and maybe you’ll get what you want in return.”

There is no tone of politeness in his voice, and you assume he switched fully into this persona the moment you muttered the word “okay.” More nervous now, you almost wonder if it’s too late to back out. Do you even want to though? Because now you’re turning to look at him and you can see the way he’s looking back at you. You’re just exploring, and he’s right, you have safe words.

“Okay.” You say against the anxiety in your belly, knowing that once it starts, that’s your chance to decide if your exploration was worth it.

Without warning, you hear the zipper of his jeans being pulled at, and before you know it his length is out and on display. He grips it much like he did in the photo he sent to you. Matching his body more to his face now, you stare at it. It’s much bigger in person, and more intimidating to imagine having inside of you. Not only is it long but it’s incredibly thick, part of you wonders if you could even fit it into your mouth at all.

“You mentioned being on birth control, right? And being tested as clean?” He asks, looking down at himself and then back at you to watch you slowly nod in an answer.

He basks in the way you stare, blinking at the way he’s gripping onto himself for you to see. But, like he said, he’s not going to start slow for you. With the brief discussion and questions out of the way, he’s going in full force.

“On the floor.” He nods his head to the space between his legs.

Your body takes you to the position between his legs without so much as a second thought. Your fingers instinctually land against the harsh fabric of his jeans as you attempt to prepare yourself, swallowing hard at the image of his cock towering before you.

“No, hands behind your back.” He guides you with a smile and watches the way you pull your hands back and put them right where he asked you to. “Already so obedient? I knew you wouldn’t be hard to handle.”

You can’t tell if it’s a compliment or not, but it feels like it is because it sends a sense of pride through you. Does he like to fight for what he wants, or does he prefer having full control?

Johnny releases the grip on his length and places his hand at the back of your head, slowly guiding your mouth to his balls, twitching a bit at the way you instantly have your tongue out to lick and taste wherever he guides you. That alone drives him wild, seeing as how you may be new to this whole submissive thing, but surely you know how to suck a man off, right?

“Dirty girl, you barely even know me.” He teases as he watches you lap away at him, a smirk against his lips while he guides your head up to the underside of his cock. “What would your parents think?”

You knew he’d degrade you, but in all fairness, none of what he just said to you is a lie. You don’t even know his last name, you didn’t even know what he fucking looked like until fifteen minutes ago. Your parents would have a heart attack if they knew, and somehow feeling this dirty makes your stomach tumble and panties dampen.

He stops guiding you for a moment, feeling your tongue travel back down to his balls, licking and prodding against them in a way that makes him want to buck his hips up, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t show want or need for his partners, ever. That’s their role to fill, because if he wants to fuck something, he can.

“Up,” He guides, feeling your tongue travel up the underside of his cock again. “Open up.” He adds as he smiles down at you, seeing you open your mouth fully while keeping your tongue flat against him.

When you circle your lips around the head, you wanted to take your time. You wanted to prepare for the fact that Johnny has a huge cock and it’s going to take some getting used to. Apparently, that wasn’t going to happen though, because now his hand is putting pressure on your head to go down, and your body fights it slightly because your throat has never taken a cock this big.

“No?” He asks, pulling your head off of him and seeing if you’re already going to give him a red, but you don’t. You don’t even look at him and instead, focus your eyes on the head of his cock trying to be better prepared.

You almost hear the chuckle he lets out, the silent code word of green shining through in the way you say nothing. With that, he places both hands on your head and holds it there.

“Deep breath–” He encourages. “Look at me.”

Your eyes dart up to his as you take in a sharp inhale, and then, suddenly, you’re feeling him press past your lips again. You close your eyes and try to move your head down on your own, but it doesn’t budge, he’s holding you in place and at this point all you can do is let him.

“Open your eyes, look at me.” He demands this time, pressing further into your mouth and leaving little room for you to fight it. You do your best to look up at him, straining your eyes as he watches his cock disappear deeper into your mouth.

For a moment, ignoring the fact that your lips are being spread impossibly wide and you can feel your throat attempting to constrict around the intrusion, you watch the way his face stares down at you. He’s really into this. Concentrated on sliding his full, hardened cock as deep as it can go into your mouth. And when he hits the back of your throat and there’s a tear shedding down your cheek, he fucking chuckles.

“It’s not so bad, right?” He asks, knowing you can’t answer with a mouth full of him.

That’s when the grip on your head becomes harsher and he starts fucking his hips forward, past your lips. He can feel you struggle, squeezing his length as it fills your throat, dripping precum and fully aware that you can’t even taste it.

“I can go deeper.” He decides, standing to his feet from the edge of the bed, holding your face on his cock and pressing in more, until he can feel the drool on your chin drip down and onto his balls.

He stares down at you and the way your neck cranes. He can almost see the bulge of his cock intruding your throat as he presses in tightly if he angles his head right. He coos at you, rubbing a thumb against your cheek.

“You’re taking me so well–” Johnny compliments, reaching his hand down to rest against your neck so that he can feel his length sliding in and out of your throat. “Do you hate this?”

You can’t respond, closing your eyes and trying to breathe through your nose. Your jaw is already hurting, your makeup is now ruined, and for some reason, you don’t hate it. You like the feeling of your breath being lost, with his hand pressed against any airway you could have possibly used at this moment.

Arms still behind your back, you can’t help but pull them forward to brace your hands against your own knees when he continues to fuck into your mouth at a more aggressive pace. When he pulls almost all the way out, you steal little gasps that end up sounding more like wet, desperate, attempts to breathe. When he presses all the way back in, bruising your throat in an immaculate show of how big he is, he doesn’t make a single sound and only concentrates on the way he can feel his cock sliding against the palm of his hand through the expanse of skin along your neck.

He does this for what feels like ages to you, and briefly you forget the pain of it and remember when he texted you the photo, saying you’d probably rather be choking on it. Experiencing it now, it’s more than you had imagined before, but also, in its own way, a million times better than you could have imagined.

Johnny’s hips start to slow as he releases his grip on your neck and moves his hands either side of your head. He holds you there on him as he tenses his muscles, your nose pressing against his abdomen and you can feel his cock twitch in the deepest depths your throat has to offer. You are continuously gagging around him and only now does he let out a moan, one that is deep and breathy. You open your eyes to try and look, but the angle doesn’t allow for it. All you can see is the expanse of skin along his abdomen and chest before his hands release your head.

He’s expecting you to pull back, considering you haven’t gotten a full breath of air since he started doing this, but you don't. He jerks his head down to look at you when he feels your hands grip at his jeans again. Johnny doesn’t even think to tell you to put them back behind your back, because you are willingly still choking on him. He can feel your tongue struggle to share the space in your mouth with him, the heaviness of his cock weighing it down.

“Shit–” He groans, staring down at you and the way you close your eyes so tightly in concentration, all in an attempt to please him. “Oh, fuck.” He throws his head back again this time, feeling the way you try to move your mouth on him, essentially deep-throating all on your own.

When he looks back down at you, not fully able to keep his head thrown back so he can bask in the feeling, he’s floored by the wetness against your cheeks. You’ve been crying this whole time, dribbling drool, and taking it so well. He makes a point to pull himself out of you.

The whimper that leaves your lips is something he doesn’t think he can forget. A raspy whimper. A fucking cry, he’d be lying if it didn’t sound like you were disappointed that he stopped suffocating you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He starts sweetly, pinching your drool-coated chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “You liked the way I fucked that tight little throat, didn’t you?”

You blink through your tears, nodding to him. You surprised yourself with how much you were able to take in that instant, and how willing you were to do it for longer.

“Like you were made for it,” He hisses out this time, pulling you up by the chin so that you can stand in front of him, “let’s see how wet you are.”

You can’t look away from his eyes, especially with the way he stares directly into yours when he cups his palm between your legs. Even with your clothes on, your body prickles with goosebumps at the sensation of him touching you there.

“Can feel you through these shorts,” he smiles, dipping his head down to ghost over the shell of your ear before moving his hand to the button of your shorts. “I bet you want me to touch you.”

You’ve never begged before, and you never really understood why people begged at all, but at this moment you think you would absolutely fall right back to your knees and plead for him to touch you. You can feel your shorts sticking to you, your panties uncomfortably tucked into your seeping pussy at the very act of him fucking your mouth.

“Please?” You choke out, voice still raspy as you try to speak.

Johnny chuckles at your pathetic attempt and pulls you by your shorts to step forward as he takes one step back. He shakes his head at you in pity, sitting himself on the bed as he drags you to stand between his legs.

“Turn around.” He guides you with his hand before circling your ass with his hands and landing a short slap against the back of your thigh. “Now, sit.”

He still guides you, positioning his cock between both of your plush thighs and holding in a shiver at the way the hem of your shorts drags against his length.

You know you get nothing out of this, and he’s not going to touch you yet but fuck, you need it at this point. He watched you gag around him, he watched you try your fucking best, and this is what you get in return? The head of his cock peeking from your thighs as you squeeze around them? So be it.

You keep both feet on the floor, doing your best to keep your legs together as you make an attempt to bounce against his lap but he stops you instantly.

“I didn’t say you could move,” he warns, placing his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist before leaning both of you back and then rolling you over to your side. “Cross your legs, and don’t move.”

You do exactly as he asks, crossing your legs at the ankle and lying there still as he slips his cock from between your thighs. You wait like this for a moment before you feel the head of his length nudging between your legs again, this time more wet than before, and then his hand is traveling to your belly and under your shirt from behind you.

“Ever get off from having your tits played with?” he asks, his hand ignoring your bra and pinching straight through the sheer fabric against your nipple. “Would love to see how you’d drench these shorts if you could do that for me.”

Your mind is racing, feeling his fingers tightening the pinch against your nipple and his cock lazily sliding between your thighs. You shake your head, not knowing if it is even possible to get off that way. Sensitive tits aside, if he can do it, you might just have to find a way to claim Johnny as your dom, and no one else's.

“You haven’t?” He chuckles from behind you, snaking his other hand under you and up to your other tit. “Let’s see.”

He uses both hands to move your bra to the outer swell of your breasts and gropes both of them before pausing and focusing on his cock between your legs for a split second.

“Keep your legs tight for me, sweetheart, I’ll reward you for it.”

You squeeze your legs tighter as you feel his fingertips gently flick both of your nipples. You try to focus on that sensation alone, feeling a short jolt of pleasure travel down your body and straight to your clit. God, you want him to touch your pussy so badly, because there’s no way you can come from this alone.

His focus falls back to you, fucking his hips forward all while he allows his fingers to put more and more pressure into the flicks and pinches. You must not realize the way your body trembles even at this, and it’s driving him fucking insane. You’re so new to this, but you suck cock like you’ve been a submissive plaything for years. You have so much to learn, so much to experience, and it’s hard for him not to want to do it all right here, right fucking now.

Without warning, he pulls his hips back and leaves his cock untouched. You’re about to turn your body to him in confusion but he does it for you. Rolling you over onto your back and positioning himself between your legs after standing to kick his jeans off first. He looks at you, deep and dark eyes matching the smirk on his face.

“On second thought,” he starts, pulling your shirt off of you in one swift motion and staring down at your chest. “I want to see your tits before I ruin them.”

Typically, it’s normal for you to be fairly silent in these situations, so having no response for him isn’t a surprise. What is surprising is the way your throat instantly forces out a small moan when his legs forces you to spread yours as he settles between them.

Even the sensation of your pussy opening beneath your shorts at the spread of your legs has you feeling more aroused than before. So, when he shocks you with a quick slap against one of your tits, you’re not even surprised that it feels good.

He watches your face after that slap, your slack jaw rising into a small and cocky smirk at the realization that you’re liking what he’s doing. He’s still in the green, so he slaps again, harder this time before leaning down and licking the spot he just hit.

He pulls your bra up with one hand, raising it to your collar bone to release both of your tits and leaving them vulnerable to any hit, kiss, bite, or pinch he has to offer. You don’t care, because when you manage to open your eyes and look at him, he’s entirely focused on the way your nipples harden and soften from the sensations.

When he leans down to lick, your pussy clenches at the wet heat of his tongue flicking your nipple, and when his teeth graze as a warning for a future bite, you only anticipate it. Your body instinctively humping up each time a jolt is sent to your clit. He bites hard, and then pulls back to slap against your other tit even harder. Until you’re left shaking, babbling incoherently with gasps and curses.

“Does it hurt enough, sweetheart?” He coos, leaning back down to lick the growing swell against your tits. “Do you want more?”

He’s surprised that you nod, chuckling to himself because he was already going just as hard as he normally would when a woman likes breast abuse. You want more? You want him to go harder? He hums in response, using one hand to pinch harshly against one of your nipples and dipping down to suck against a particularly swollen and sore area.

You feel the pain, the sensation running down your body much like the arousal and pleasure does. It’s almost hard to tell the difference between them, aside from the fact that the pain actually hits harder. The feeling of his mouth abusing you, his hands, all while his cock is hanging heavy and neglected against your thigh? You can take more than this even, you’re sure of it.

Without really intended to, your hands find their way to his hair. He almost pulls back to demand that you let go, to inform you that he gave no permission to touch him, but the way you pull against his strands has him replacing his harsh sucking and biting against your flesh to flicking his tongue against your other nipple. Surely, you can come from this. He’s going to make damn sure you’re soaking your shorts before he rewards you again.

You moan at the flutters of his tongue gently flicking your nipple, especially in contrast to his other hand bruising your other breast. It’s strange, really, to feel that familiar build up in your stomach but then again, your panties are tucked so tightly between your lips that your clothing is actually offering a bit of pleasure in that front too. Your clit is harshly being restricted and somehow, that offers relief in it’s own way.

For the first time in your life, you feel waves washing through your body that feel so hot that you’re sure you have a fever. He continues to stimulate your nipples, replacing his tongue with his other hand as he pulls back and watches you fall apart beneath him. His cock twitches wildly at the image. Your lips parting, tongue darting out to try and collect the saliva threatening to fall from the corners of your mouth, eyes rolled back before you squeeze them tightly and fucking tremble.

Your lower half is humping up, your chest is chasing the abuse of his fingers, and you feel nothing but heat as you orgasm for an embarrassingly long time. All the way until your ears pick up the sound of him cooing at you.

“Dirty girl, you made a mess.” He smiles, releasing your tits and sliding down the bed before resting his chin on your knee.

You’ve barely come back to reality when you feel your shorts unsticking from your core. Panties still tucked uncomfortably against you, he tries to coo again, but instead he groans at the image of both your pussy and your shorts.

“Fuck,” he stares. “You really did soak them.”

He analyzes your shorts briefly before tossing them to the side and bracing both hands on your knees to spread your legs out. There, he hooks his pointer finger beneath the panties sitting tightly against your hole and pulls them out.

“So fucking wet,” he comments, realizing that your entire pussy is glistening with arousal. He pulls your panties away from you, offering relief to your core before slipping those down your legs as well.

You weren’t expecting him to do it, but then again, you weren’t expecting to let him do it when he shoves the panties into your face.

“Open up.” He smiles, pressing the panties into your mouth with two fingers. “Suck.”

You do, wondering how the fuck you ended up in a situation where this actually turns you on. He’s loving it though, watching your hole pulse as you suck your own arousal out of the fabric for him. You almost forgot his promise of a reward, if you’re being honest. So, yet again, you’re surprised when you feel his tongue, without any warning, lick straight against that pulsing hole and up to your clit.

Your legs shake around him, instinctively closing around his head before both of his strong arms spread them back out again. He chuckles against your pussy, and when you inhale to try and regain control of the sensitive pleasure taking over your body, you can only taste yourself. Each breath replaced with your past orgasm, each moan coming out as a choked and desperate whine.

The pleasure is short lived though. Johnny takes note of your whining, licking and tasting you to the point that he’s the one that’s about to fucking lose it. He’s quick to regain his control, licking a languid stripe up your folds before landing against your clit and grazing his teeth against it.

He holds you down when you jump at it, groaning at the sensitivity and pain. He grazes his teeth against it again, and again, and then finally nibbles against it. Your whining gets louder and he swears he can hear a whisper of a ‘wait, stop–’ as you spit the panties out of your mouth and your legs still try to squeeze around him, but he still holds you down with a chuckle.

“You know the words to use, sweetheart.” Johnny reminds you before nibbling again.

You could end this torture right now. Your clit has been neglected this whole time until now, and it’s not gentle. He’s biting, he’s grazing, and it fucking hurts. All you have to do is say the color, all you have to do is choke it out between his evil ministrations, but you don’t.

“That’s what I thought.” He laughs, leaning back and sitting up between your legs. He releases his hold on your hips, now pressing one hand flat on your stomach and holding you down that way before using his other hand to tap lightly against your clit this time. “Didn’t know you were interested in being a pain slut.”

You groan, unable to answer between his quick slaps to your clit. Swallowing hard, you try to speak. He notices your attempt and holds back his next, harsher slap.

“Baby wants to speak now?” He asks, rubbing your clit gently and encouraging you to try.

“Yellow,” you finally whimper, and he raises his brow.

“Just a yellow?” He confirms, waiting for you to nod before holding back entirely from the slaps and instead, pinching your clit much like he did to your nipples.

For some fucking reason, this hurts more than the slaps but the consistent pain is more tolerable than the sudden, anticipated slaps. This, you like.

“Green.” You manage to moan out this time, hips humping up much like before as a way to ask for more.

He tilts his head, thinking it’s cute when you use the color codes and thinking it’s even cuter that you’re still fucking drooling through it all. He pinches harder, watching you react, he dips his head down again and offers a bit more pleasure that way too. All the way until your legs are shaking again, and he knows now that you’re already about to fall apart again.

Despite your confirmation and willingness to let him continue the abuse of your pussy, he pulls back entirely, collecting the wet seeping out of you and sliding it down his cock with his fist.

“Look at me.” He demands, staring between your legs. You listen, managing to open your eyes in frustration and watch him. “Did you want to come again?”

His eyes dart to you, and your pussy pulses yet again when you nod, releasing a frustrated sigh. He ignores it, looking back down at your hole, his thought process switching to his own pleasure.

“Do you know how much I want it to hurt you when I fill you up?” He asks again, fisting his cock faster, using his other hand to grab your face and force you to look into his eyes. “I could be so fucking deep inside of you right now, you know that, right?”

You groan, your body threatening to release something that resembles an orgasm on those words alone.

“Fuck–” You try to moan for him, you try to beg, but he stops you by squeezing your cheeks tighter.

“Fuck, what?” He asks, feeling his own orgasm welling up inside of him before he grips the base of his cock, denying him of that pleasure. “You?”

You nod aggressively, your hand reaching to grip his arms and brace yourself.

“Say it,” he demands, releasing his cock and using his other hand to run his fingers up your pussy. “Say you want me to hurt you.”

You choke out the words, salivating at the very idea of him doing it more than he already has.

“So dirty,” he groans, shuffling back on the bed and standing to his feet. He quickly removes the rest of his clothes, the musky scent of him blowing past you as he throws his shirt over your face. “Take your bra off, dirty girl, let me see how much you want it.”

Removing your bra ss quickly as possible, you toss it off the bed along with his shirt before looking at him with a question in your eye.

“Come on, take it.” He says, glancing down at his cock as he stands at the foot of the bed in front of you. “You think I’m going to fuck you? Fuck yourself.”

Honestly, it’s like you’re seeing tunnel vision. Nothing in this room exists but you and his cock. Entirely tuned into your pleasure, your pussy aching from sensitivity and lack of being stretched open, you’re instantly leaning forward to get to him.

He watches the way you pull yourself from the bed, acting like an animal as you fall to your knees and take him into your mouth much like you did before. His jaw tenses at your hunger, and he holds back a moan at the way you appear to have lost yourself entirely for him. He doesn’t fuck his hips forward, he doesn’t touch you, he just stands there. Watching you unravel on your knees, feeling your eager tongue try to force a reaction from him.

“I said to fuck yourself,” He warns, stepping back and pulling his cock from your mouth. “Go on, you can use it if you want to.”

He smiles when he says it, and in your head, you don’t care if it’s some sort of trick or play of words. You’d gladly spread out on the bed and absolutely pound your pussy on your fingers alone if he so much as hinted for you to do it, but at this point his cock is out, and it’s heavy.

Johnny is a bit shocked when you shove him back, eyes still glazed over in a way that shows him that you’re not in your right mind. He steps back, allowing you to press him all the way until he’s leaned against the hotel vanity. Raising his brow, kind of impressed, he allows you to hook one leg around him and instantly holds your leg in place to balance you there.

He still says nothing, he doesn’t move past holding your leg in place around him, and his eyes remain on yours as you reach between the two of you and position his cock to your core. There, he chuckles when your face turns from something that seemed determined, into relief at the stretch of his head entering past your lips.

Still, he stands, chuckling at how desperate you are to fuck him this way, rather than just turning around and bending over. Surely the position would be easier for you, but then it all makes sense when he feels your lips slacked against his, panting against him as you make attempts to find some sort of rhythm.

You did ask if kissing was allowed, and god, he’s glad you did. He growls into it, pressing his tongue past your slack lips and tasting the remnants of your panties.

“You’re already so gone,” he whispers into your mouth, feeling your shallow humps on his cock. “I’m hardly even inside of you, sweetheart.”

You don’t really hear those words. Honestly, your body is moving on its own and doing what it can do at this moment. The angle isn’t easy, but you wanted to kiss him so fucking badly, that you had to do it this way.

He pulls out of you though, leaving little reaction for you to do anything other than feel embarrassed by your attempt to fuck yourself on him. He doesn’t expect you to, apparently, because he’s instantly swirling you around and shoving you to the bed. Bending you over and placing a hand at the back of your head before pressing your face into the blankets. His other hand holding both of your hands behind your back with ease.

“Better?” He asks, easily positioning his cock and shoving into you with one quick thrust, bottoming out entirely. “Hm?” He adds, pulling out and shoving in again.

Your mouth is open in a silent moan at the intense stretch, tasting nothing but the fabric of the blanket your face is currently shoved into.

“Can’t hear you,” He grunts, picking up the pace and pistoning his cock in and out of you so fast that you can barely catch your breath regardless of the blankets already making it difficult. “Say something.”

You can’t. You can only groan at the feeling of his cock stretching you open repeatedly, at his hand shoving your face further against the mattress until all you can do is tense your body.

He feels it, your pussy clenching around him so tightly that even he gets the breath knocked out of him. Gripping your hair, he pulls your head up and listens to your gasps for air. His hips slam harder, harder, harder, until he feels the pleasure threaten to hit him. That’s when he stops, burying himself into you entirely before releasing your head and falling forward against you.

“Don’t fucking move.” He warns, twitching inside of you as he feels you heave for air beneath him.

You try not to move, but your sensitive body reacts to even the sound of his breath behind your ear. Everything is more sensitive than you could ever imagine your body being. Your bruised and swollen tits are throbbing against the mattress, your clit is pulsing at the fullness of his cock inside of you, and your pussy is struggling still to adjust to his size. It feels fucking immaculate. You want him to move, you want to move. You want to be fucked, obliterated, destroyed.

“Wait–” You manage to muffle out, knowing full well that it’ll get him to do the exact opposite.

“I’m not even fucking you,” he laughs, pressing his hips forward a bit more, causing you to whimper in response.

“Stop, just, give me a second.” You cry out.

“Not how this works, sweetheart,” He laughs, pulling his hips back and pointedly thrusting into you again. “So lost you forgot how to use words?”

You nod, smirking against the blankets and knowing he can’t see it.

“Liar.”

His hips speed up, this time thrusting into you so hard that the bed itself scoots further forward and bangs against the wall. You yelp in pleasure, rolling your eyes back and wanting so badly to see his face as he fucks you.

“Johnny, please.” You groan and he pulls back, wondering if you actually are so lost that you’ve forgotten the colors.

“Colors, sweetheart. Red for stop.”

You shake your head almost aggressively at that, bracing your hands on the bed and pushing your ass back against him.

It floors him, really, that you’ll ask him to stop and then blatantly ignore your own words by fucking yourself back on him. You’re insane, honestly.

“Please what, then?” He asks, smiling as he watches you fuck back against him.

“Let me see you do it.”

He obliges, tilting his head at the request but allowing it nonetheless. You can feel him slip out of you before his fingers replace his cock. He doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your clenched pussy even for a moment as he guides you to roll over and shoves you back on the bed, your legs hanging off the end of it. He braces himself at the end of the mattress, resting his cock against your core as he scissors his fingers inside of you with a smile.

“Wanna see me fucking ruin you?” He smirks at you, pulling at your legs and guiding you to wrap them around him. “Watch me then.”

You do, eyes zoned in on him as he grips tightly at your legs and pulls his fingers out of you. You can’t even catch your breath, which is no longer a shock to you, when he slides back into you. Studying his face as he does it, you can’t tell if he feels good or if this is just a service he does on the regular. You wonder what you’d have to do to break that stone-cold look in his eyes, what it takes to get him to moan without restraint, to show you that you’re also making him feel good.

He fucks you so well, so deep, and god, it becomes so difficult to keep your eyes on him with each painful thrust. The bed continues to knock against the wall, your cries become louder and louder, and finally, fucking finally, you hear him release his breath in a low and guttural moan.

That’s it. That’s what you want to hear from him, time and time again.

“Harder,” you urge him, feeling his hands tighten around your legs before he’s releasing them and dropping his hand to your throat. “Harder.” You continue.

He does, putting all of his strength behind his thrusts, losing himself momentarily in the moment and squeezing your throat tighter as he grunts out at you with a defeated chuckle.

“Of course, you’d be the one to pull this out of me.” He admits, his smile never falling from his lips as he closes his eyes and listens to the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of you. “Of course, you’d be the one to grip my cock like this.”

You’re gone, not even realizing that you’ve been on the edge for a while now in the way his thick cock continuously massages your g-spot. You tighten your legs around him, forcing him to bury himself deep inside of you as you clench and grip around him in a release.

He allows it, sliding his hand up your throat before releasing it and using two of his fingers to hook your mouth open. There, he watches you drench him, he feels your arousal gushing out of your stuffed pussy and onto the bed, and now, now it’s his turn.

“That’s it, come all over me,” he coos, pulling his hips back and slamming back into you despite your tightened legs around him. “Feel it.” he adds, accenting his words with another particularly deep thrust.

You’re entirely silent, and he’s loving it as he slides his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding your tongue down and imagining which way he’d like to fill you up. He could watch his seed run down your thighs, he could pull out and fuck your throat until climax, he could pull out and deny himself a bit more, just to see you fall apart more.

It hits him a bit too fast though, when he’s looking down your throat and watching your eyes slowly open to look at him. There’s the tears, your sensitive pussy probably begging for him to pull out, to give you some relief, to be gentle. He offers one last thing to you, pulling his fingers from your mouth and dragging them down.

There, he rubs against your swollen clit until you’re writhing under him to get away. Still no safe words have been used, and you’re fully capable of stopping him at this moment. But you don’t. So, he doesn’t stop. The sensation of your body writhing, fighting the pain, chasing the smallest hint of pleasure throws him into his release. He presses into you so hard that the bed remains in a slightly tilted position, fitting snugly against the wall as he paints your inner walls with thick, hot cum.

You whimper at the feeling, legs falling open from around him as your body tries to wiggle away with your post-orgasm shocks. He moans each time, falling forward half way through his orgasm..

“You love being filled with my cum, don’t you?” He growls against your ear as he fucks his cum into you. “Is this what you wanted?”

You listen to him speak, the words matching the pain in your body to such an extent that you’d probably let him keep going if he wanted to. You’d let him break you of all sanity, you’d let him tie you up, use you, abuse you.

And when he goes silent, his sweat dampened skin raises and he slips out of you with care and a deep sigh of relief. You simply lay there, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how long you’ve been here, why it took you so long to explore this side of your sexuality, and why you’re not ready for it to be over, despite your aching body.

You feel his presence leave you for a brief moment and return with a warm and wet towel. You jolt when it touches between your legs, and you almost pull away when he runs it over your clit.

“You must be sensitive,” Johnny says gently with a voice you’ve never heard from him, “They always are after their first time.”

Nodding, you try to pull yourself up and close your legs, but your body feels stiff.

“Relax, you’ll probably faint if you try to stand up too fast.” He tries to explain, folding the towel over to clean you with a different side of it. “It’s not like a normal hook up, you know? If you’re gonna let me hurt you, you’ve gotta let me take care of you after.”

Your throat is dry as you lay there, the sensation of even his gentle touches feeling like too much to handle. You feel like you can’t move, so you trust his words and try to relax.

“That’s it, yeah,” He encourages, going to try and help you shuffle your body up to the head of the bead so that you at least have a pillow. “Take your time. You have my number if you ever wanna meet up again.”

With that, Johnny steps himself into the bathroom and cleans himself up and when he comes back out, he’s already dressed and fixing his hair in the mirror before heading toward the door.

“Wait,” You panic, lifting up quickly and feeling a bit light headed at the sudden movement, “You’re leaving?”

He smiles at you, nodding. Everything else you do as a newcomer may be fairly expected, but it’s rare when Johnny ends up with someone who doesn’t want him to leave after.

“I do have a day job, you know,” He tries to play it off as a joke, but he really didn’t think you expected him to stay. “Stay here and rest up. Check out is tomorrow at eleven so feel free to enjoy the room. Not sure if you noticed, but it’s one of the nicest hotels in the city.”

Oh. Right, you didn’t notice. After all, when you got to the door the room practically didn’t exist to you outside of the floor in front of the bed, the bed, and the ceiling.

“Red.” You say, unsure if it’ll work.

“Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart.” He finds it sweet, but dangerous nevertheless. He doesn’t sleep over with his fetish website meetups. He’s here to bring you pleasure and pain sexually, not emotionally. “Like I said, you’ve got my number.”

You’re silent, watching him turn the knob on the door.

“Oh and,” He pauses, turning to look at you. “Don’t go off with other randoms from the site. Some of them don’t offer the kindness I offered to you today. Ease into it, I’ll be around to help if you need me.”

Wondering if he’s implying that you should only see him when it comes to this sexual dynamic, you nod to him, trying to ignore the fact that he claimed “kindness” was being offered to you. If this was him being kind, you can’t help but wonder what he’s like when he’s…you know, not.

#nct smut #johnny suh smut #johnny smut #nct 127 smut #nct x reader

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whosthatfunkyrat · 6 months

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Chapter 26 of Crooked Kingdom is so well written,

Literally it is a chapter of conflict. And I love that So much. Everything conflicts.

The way Kaz describes things, distance distorting, feeling too far and not far enough.

The way Inej makes him feel, her gentleness making him want to not be gentle.

His thoughts, the conflicting wants.

Helping/destroying

The way she looks at the world in contrast to how he does.

The way Kaz relies on Violence to help heal her. Direct opposites. He’s been so used to being dirty hands that he doesn’t know how to be gentle without relying on the experience of violence to help him.

Also the line “I can best this” in contrast to “he could not do this”

_______

|”creating a gap, feeling both regret and release as he broke contact with her skin”|

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Feeling both regret and release when he stops touching her.

_______

| “He secured the knot. 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. He did not step back.” |

(Not pictured because tumblr pic limit)

Disregarding his own commands.

How the sickness is there, the need to run, but so is the need for something else (alluding to his longing to be close to her)

“Kaz thought he knew the language of pain intimately, but this ache was new.”

“After all she’d endured, he was the weak one.”

How it hurts for him to stand so close to her, but it also hurts to be so far away.

“ 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐’𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸 he thought wildly”

Despite the pain, he pushes himself close to her.

Him waiting for her to reject him, her accepting him.

His imagination running wild the moment he kisses her. Images of her, alive, well, images of love. Only to be replaced with images of loss, her dead body before him, eyes that were once filled with life replaced with coldness. He feels Disgust and longing twisting in him.

Kaz is always at battle with himself. His wants are constantly conflicting depending on what side of him is talking.

I think the reason the chapter conflicts with itself so much is because this is the first time we see inside Kaz’s head as he directly is confronted by his other self. Kaz Rietveld is the boy who wants to love. Who wants to beg Inej to stay. Who wants to kiss her. It was Rietveld who bent his head to her neck. It was Rietveld who wanted the net. It was Rietveld who took his gloves off. It’s Rietveld who keeps pulling on Brekker’s strings. Loosening him until he gives. Kaz cannot hold off his other self. He cannot hold off who he is deep down. The farm boy who was filled with wonder. Who is 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 filled with wonder every time he looks at Inej.

And what makes this stream of thought horrible- is that when you follow it, everything Rietveld does, everything he Wants, everything he tries- touching her- kissing her-

Every time Kaz tries- Rietveld dies again. In the harbor, with his brother’s body in his hands. Every time Kaz allows his softer side to take hold- he’s brutally murdered again. He drowns. And eventually what’s left standing is Brekker. Cruel and inhumane.

When Kaz kisses her neck, he gives into Rietveld. His mind is flooded with images of love, things he scarcely let himself imagine because he scarcely let himself Be Rietveld. Only when he hears her laugh, sees her smile, looks at her hair, her eyes, does his mind wander to the soft side- the tender side of himself. Only when he’s near Her does he wonder “what happens if I move closer?”.

He kisses her and desire corses through him, love corses through him. But then Rietveld dies at the harbor again. Her body turns into a corpse’s and all the lovely lively things about her die with all the same things in him.

He jumps back, and stops her when she tries to draw nearer. He becomes cruel again. Brekker. He snarls on about who he tortured, who he killed. He see’s her flinch and a pain goes through his heart because beneath the layers of Brekker he’s built atop his heart will Always be Rietveld trying to reach out.

He covers himself in a facade, a mask, layers of clothing, gloves, armor. Layers to protect the boy inside him, still raw and hurt and in need of warmth, in need of love. He has armor in more ways than just his gloves. He builds walls nearly impossible to scale. But Inej is The Wriath, and there is no wall she can’t scale, and no secret she can’t steal.

“Then you can steal my secrets too.”

The hard truth Kaz has to face is that no matter how hard he tries, he will Always Be Rietveld. Deep down he’s not a demon. He’s a human boy. He needs love, companionship, friends.

“Tell Jesper he’s missed… around the slat.”

He cannot face the world alone despite the reputation he builds around the lie that he can. He cannot keep from Loving Inej. No matter how hard he tries, no matter how scarcely he lets himself think about her- he always will eventually wind up thinking about her when he lets his guard down, let’s himself be human, even if it’s for but a moment when her hair is freed from its braid and the sunlight dances through the window behind her. When she laughs. There’s no way, no matter how inhuman he believes himself, he can keep himself from wanting human things to want. Everyone needs love. It doesn’t matter in what capacity you’re talking- everyone NEEDS it. Friendship, romance, companionship, a pet, a kind word from a stranger, opening the door for someone, any of those things- it’s human nature and there’s no avoiding it.

Kaz Brekker Thrives being called a demon. He thrives on the mystery, the myth, the cruelty. He breathes it in because he can’t survive without it. His reputation is quite literally all he has. And his friends are even a result of it. The violence Fuels him. And he’s gotten so reliant on it that he doesn’t know how to be anything else. He doesn’t know how to be anything for anyone unless it involves a scheme, a score, a bit of blood. He quite literally cannot help Inej with her bandages unless he thinks about it as if he were drawing a weapon on someone. Violence was easy.

But the truth is he cannot be Brekker solely.

And he cannot be solely Brekker happily or even contently because he knows Inej will not have him with his armor. So the only option he’s left with is to indulge in Rietveld. To let himself die again and again at that harbor, for her. To use her voice as a tether so that he may not die again. So that she may pull him out of the sea. So that Rietveld can live to give her the love he longs to. He NEEDS Rietveld because he IS Rietveld. And there is no reasoning behind it, no scheme he can concoct to keep his truest self away.

“Dirty hands would have cut his losses and moved on”

But still he says “I would come for you”

Still he reaches out, grabbing Inej’s hand, staying with her, desperately fighting back the waters.

Still, he catches her when she falls, holds her up with worry in his eyes.

Because he’s not JUST Brekker. He’s not JUST dirty hands. He cannot be. No matter how much his hurt self wants him to be. He has to fight to stay alive in the harbor every time he touches her, but he will. Over and over again. For her. For them. He has to.

I’m not suggesting Kaz has some sort of personality disorder or something-

I’m saying I think his past is who Inej sees behind the cruelty. She understands the language of pain intimately, and knows when someone is responding out of pain. I think she sees him for all he is, Brekker and Rietveld, and loves him. He isn’t two people- but one- a very hurt boy who behaves like one, who’s built his life on pain. He conflicts so much with himself because he KNOWS Rietveld was too weak to survive in the barrel. He knows he cannot let himself be too soft. His tell is his love for Inej, and when all that mattered was for him to keep his cool, he looked at her- and Van Eck took her from him. His life is the same story written again and again with a different victim of his love each time- and he’s afraid that should he love anyone, go soft for a second, he’ll lose them. But there’s no way to avoid loving people. There’s no possible way to keep from caring about his friends.

So his only option is to let them have him, have Rietveld.

His only option is to balance both sides of himself, Rietveld and Brekker.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#six of crows #kaz brekker #soc #crooked kingdom #inej ghafa #shadow and bone #grishaverse #kanej #ck #kazzle dazzle #inej x kaz #kaz being kaz #kaz brekker x inej ghafa #kaz x inej #kaz tag #inej supremacy #sankta inej #jesper fahey

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onlyseokmins · 10 months

Text

the devil wears baby blue • h.j.s.

Pairing: joshua hong x afab!reader Genres: smut (minors PLS dni!), strangers to fucking lol Warnings: joshua hong himself 🚩🚩, swearing, alcohol, reader is a menace and tease too i'm ngl, grinding, groping, slight exhibition kink, degradation, name-calling, objectification, FINGERS (all of it fingering, riding, etc), mentions of knife/surgery, choking, wbk but major hints to big cock josh 💔, marking, licking, alluding to devil imagery uwu, roleplay sort of but not really, kind of public sex acts + a mirror, manhandling, lil slaps, dangerous fashion decisions + "fun" clothing shenanigans during sex ig????, mentions of car sex and oral sex (male rec.), dirty talk (joshua won't stfu), edging, lil bit of pain kink if you squint ❤️‍🩹, and tons of banter/insults, is there a thing like a wealth kink??? - as always lmk if i missed smth WC: 7k A/N: *taps mic* would love to thank @onlymingyus and @duhnova for proofing, hyping, and supporting me on this. also ofc a huge honorary shout out to @hwanghyunjinenthusiast for the constant cheering and screeching at me in and out of dms - hope you enjoy this hehe. idk if jackie will see this but her watch post(s) helped re-inspire me to attack this wip. and finally blowing kisses to the joshushushus in my inbox, i hope you'll like this! ps if anyone recognizes where the last dialogue is from, you receive a kiss on the forehead from me and get to spend one night with joshua!! 😏

↪ this is a loosely based prequel to idiot

Seungkwan's hand lays steady on your back, guiding you through the crowd much more efficiently than you could have on your own. He has a way of navigating through the waves of people with practiced ease whereas you would rather just be swept away. It's why you enjoy going to the club with him, especially one as crazy as tonight's.

You would think you were still on the dance floor with how many people are bustling around you, mingling and giggling just as much on the sidelines as they do moving to the music. Drinks in hand, they chat and flirt with one another so it takes nearly twice as long to make it to the bar than you think it really should.

"This better be worth it," you shout directly into your friend's ear despite how close you are to him. "For the amount of times my feet have been stepped on!"

There's a sharp pinch from his fingers that snuck to your side. "Told you not to wear those stupid shoes."

Though you can't exactly hear it, you can see how his pouty lips purse out in a huff. He's also grumbling under his breath and you're able to catch bits and pieces. Things like, "won't matter" and "swept off your feet anyways" and "don't blame me" make you roll your eyes.

"Acting like this is my social debut with the prince of wales."

"Someone's been watching too much Bridgerton. And with how often you fail to come —" he's interrupted by the loud thumping of the bass, "makes sense."

"You can't possibly compare me against your standards, Mister Social Butterfly. You know everyone… and you've probably screwed a lot of them as well."

Seungkwan can only guess a gist of what you actually say and is therefore mildly tempted to let you get lost in the sea of people like he knows you'd rather prefer. But he's finally made it all the way over to what seems like an impenetrable social circle, though the group readily parts to make room for the two of you to squeeze in. So, he'll have to bring you along for the adventure.

"Hey there!"

"Hello!"

"Fancy seeing you here."

"I know, right?"

Greetings are easily interchanged. Most of them are familiar faces — friends of your own or people you've gotten to know simply through Seungkwan's ever-growing collection of new instagram posts.

Jeonghan's got some poor new soul to flirt with again and Seokmin looks like he'd rather be at home watching cooking videos. Vernon is wearing headphones of all things while Seungcheol has a shit-eating grin on his handsome face. And you instinctively know Mingyu has to be up to no good because you don't see or hear him.

Not that you're actually paying that much attention to the same-old-same people, focus naturally drawn to the tall man standing next to Wonwoo. Light brown hair curls just beneath his ears, shaggy enough that the urge to run your fingers through and imagine what the tug of strands between them might feel like consumes you. It comes as a shock, considering that Jeonghan's had the same style before and you've never felt like this.

You drink in the baby blue shirt that compliments the mystery man's skin tone, top buttons left undone to showcase the delicate silver around his throat and framed by collar bones. The fabric's elegance belies the strength of the body it clothes, material straining tastefully in the tiniest bit over a broad chest and wide shoulders. Sleeves rolled up to accentuate the flex of his forearm down to the long, long fingers wrapped all the way around the glass of alcohol held between them.

"That's Joshua Hong," Seungkwan supplies helpfully though he can't hide how smug he sounds observing you and shares a knowing look with Vernon who snickers.

"Joshua Hong," you repeat and enjoy how easy his name sounds and feels coming off your tongue. "Is that so?"

"Yeah and to my knowledge, he's extremely single."

"Don't tell me that's how you introduce me to other people."

He feigns innocence. "Can't recall but even if I did, bet it's going to work in your favor. Don't look now but it seems like you've caught a big fish."

Of course, when someone tells you not to look, the first thing you'd logically do is look. Glad you weren't caught staring earlier now that the very same man you were drooling over has noticed your existence and is staring directly at you.

Brown irises drop down to scan your figure and the suggestiveness of it lights something deep within you. You're quick to nudge off Seungkwan's arm around your waist when Joshua's eyes linger a second longer on it than you'd expect, ignoring your friend's sassy mutter of "hook, line, and sinker."

"I… I really don't like that implication, 'Kwan."

"Sure you don't."

Joshua Hong's intent gaze is far from unsavory. Even if it was more perverse in nature, you think you'd feel drunk off the same amount of power it fills you with and you haven't had a single drop of alcohol yet. A swear word escapes under your breath at the dampness of your back — and elsewhere — before sending the admiring man a demure smile of acknowledgement and turning once more to Seungkwan.

"You were criticizing my shoes earlier?"

"'Cause you can barely walk in them!"

"Then let's put these bad boys to good use."

Your friend can only shake his head as you stride away. He'll keep an occasional eye on you from afar for the rest of the night but he has a hunch things will be… fine. He hopes. Wonwoo did say Joshua was a decent man, after all.

He'll have to be… if he's willing to put up with you, Seungkwan thinks to himself with a cringe as he watches.

Vernon hands over a much appreciated beer and he sidles up to the unbothered man's side, jutting his chin out in your direction and asking, "Are you ready for some entertainment?"

"Yo, always bro."

"Cheers to that."

Meanwhile, you've made it to the new company without stumbling once — something you're very proud of. You nod at Joshua. Nothing more than a soft flutter of eyelashes, alerting him that you're aware of his presence but indulging in nothing more. Instead, you choose to lean comfortably into his companion's space.

"Hi Woo, care to share?"

The bespectacled man wordlessly offers his nearly empty glass of wine, always easygoing and ever perceptive. Unlike his best friend who never fails to be endearing but can't take a hint to save his life. One of the many reasons why Mingyu has never succeeded as a wingman — unfathomably clumsy but still loveable in all aspects to steal everyone's heart involved.

You finish the rest of Wonwoo's drink off with a satisfied hiss at the taste but not without a snort. "I didn't mean that, silly."

He cracks a smile, returning the teasing with a fake, reproaching scold of your name. "Could've told me you wanted to steal my buddy and not drain all my alcohol!"

Joshua laughs — loud and clear above the din of noises surrounding you. It has an air of gracefulness to it and you're sure the club brightens in a way that's totally not from the strobe lights going crazy.

"So, this is Seungkwan's friend…"

You jab Wonwoo's side with a huff. "Hey, I'm much more than that!"

"If it's any consolation," Joshua cuts in with another laugh and a handshake, taking on a self introduction. "I'm just some guy named Joshua. Hope that doesn't disappoint."

"Just some guy, huh? One that wears a Royal Oak?"

He thrillingly doesn't let go of your hand, keeping a firm but gentle grasp when turning it with his to properly glance at the notorious status symbol wrapped around it. The steel casing glints just as fiercely as the sapphire glass over white gold hour-markers embedded on its face.

"Yep, still just some guy that's called Josh. Joshua Hong, to be exact. Scared you off yet?"

"I wear heels that have a one hundred percent chance of breaking my ankle to a place where there's a terrible combo of dancing and drinks. But you think I'd be scared by a pretty boy wearing thirty-some jewels around his wrist?"

He steals another appreciative look up and down your body. Not as fiery as the first one but still bold without shame, striking another bolt of heat that flashes through your veins and simmers in your lower abdomen.

"Taste. And bite. I'd expect nothing less from someone like you."

"Someone like me?" you scoff as he winks, taking a step back and extending your arm as far as it will go with the notion for you to follow.

"Dance with me?"

Wonwoo had quietly faded into the background and slipped away for another refill. Smart guy. There's no one to worry about leaving behind when you accept this unfamiliar man's invitation and let him whisk you in the direction of the dancefloor. But not before catching Seungkwan's mild and supportive yet watchful gaze before he raises his beer in a mock salute.

It's almost cute at how inept Joshua is maneuvering through the tumultuous flow and ebb of moving bodies compared to said good friend. The way his taller frame looks more like a poor cruise ship tossed helplessly in the waves of the ocean than the stationary lighthouse and its reassuring beacon you'd expect causes a chuckle.

"You're almost as bad at this as I am."

He shoots an apologetic smile at the same time someone once again jostles his shoulder, pushing him closer into you. "Nightclubs really aren't my scene."

You're not complaining about the aided proximity that lets you hear what he says without strain. Although you do try to match the beat as it changes to something more sensual yet still playful. Going along with the rhythm of the other dancers rather than against much smoother than Joshua's awkward attempt to mimic. He sticks behind you, failing to hide the blatant mesmerization at how you sway effortlessly to the beat.

"You're not bad at this at all."

You shrug. "I've been here often enough to blend in better than most. So tell me, what's a rich boy's usual scene then? Shanqin Bay's clubhouse?"

"Hah, you wanna come with me sometime and find out?"

"Only if you can promise a fun experience… oh," you throw a smirk at him over your shoulder, "and to cover all the costs, of course."

"A pretty thing like you would have anyone saying yes and wrapped around your little finger."

"Maybe, but only if they're worth my attention."

"Afraid to disappoint yet again when I spend most hours of the day in the operating room."

You turn abruptly to face him, grateful for the hand that shoots out to support your elbow despite his surprise at your dubious side-eye. "Are you a doctor?"

"Maybe."

"Director's son?"

"Cliché enough for you yet?"

"I recall someone who's wearing a Royal Oak saying I had good taste so I'm not going to complain. Though it would have been quite the story to hear you were the one under the knife," you take a step closer and slip a finger underneath his silver chain to tempt him closer, "to end up looking this good." When large hands hesitate to land on your hips, you raise an eyebrow. "Thought a surgeon would have a steadier grip."

"Oh." Brown eyes flicker with a carnal desire, focusing on your lips. "You expect me to be a rich, talented playboy and not be naturally handsome too?"

"Sorry, Doctor Hong but there has to be at least something wrong with you."

The polite smile he'd been wearing all night quirks up at the corners, changing into something more on edge. A little dangerous. Beckoning excitement. He spins you back around, hands solidly landing on your sides — this time without reserve — to prevent your lower bodies from touching and changes the subject back to when you approached Wonwoo and him.

"Do you always take drinks from guys?"

"Ah, hm. Just the good ones."

"Good alcohol?" His breath is hot against the ear he's speaking directly into. "Or… good boys?"

Biting your lower lip does nothing to hide the unfettered glee you're feeling. "Alcohol, of course." A breathy sigh and you take the leap. "Want a taste?"

There's no need to ask twice. It's like the right key turning its lock. The doctor's initial awkward movements are nowhere to be found as one hand smoothly leaves your hip, turning your chin toward him to meet you halfway with his lips ready to brush against yours.

At the last minute, he backs off and turns your chin to its original position of facing forward with a smirk you can't see. Who cares about a missed kiss when his other hand slides across your stomach? Urging you to press your ass backwards and grind against the very obvious bulge that his khakis do nothing to hide.

Its growing hardness and promising length cause you to automatically moan, arching your back with the feral need to feel more. Your head tilts to the side, hips swiveling and swaying not to the beat but the rise of his cock. The position willingly grants Joshua access to lick, suck, and bite at the exposed skin.

He hums along to the music with a melodic voice from what you can hear, though you find more enjoyment in the consistent vibrations against your neck. A naughty hand plays with the tucked-in hem of your blouse and an occasional finger teasingly slips under the waistline of your jeans.

You can now feel Joshua's smirk when in turn, your fingers tangle in the bottom hairs of his mullet. His lips curl up, moving to nibble behind your other ear and breathe in your scent. As delightfully predicted, there's a distinct pull by your rings when you tug them free from the strands that has him pausing. Eliciting a sharp hiss and equally as sharp — but appreciative — thrust against your backside.

In retaliation, the lax hand caressing your throat tightens around it ever so slightly while he growls in your ear, "You said there has to be something wrong with me, right?"

"Mhm, oh yeah. Totally."

"Wanna fuck around and find out, beautiful?"

Hook, line, and sinker was damn right, Boo Seungkwan. Of course, the devil would be wearing a shirt the same shade as the sky where heaven's clouds make their home.

And you eagerly take the forbidden fruit — his hand, once again — and teeter after him. The red flags are already starting to fly at full mast but into the dimly lit hallway you go, elated to find an empty and quiet corner right before the stairs leading down to the bathrooms.

Underneath the neon glow of the exit sign, Joshua pins you against the wall with your arms laying on his shoulders. If you thought the attacks from his mouth were rough on the dance floor, they turn ten times more animalistic now that he has something to support you with other than strong arms and big hands. A pair of soft lips and the warm wet tongue between them contrast with the digging in of his teeth that follow your necklace chain to its adorning pendant.

It hangs in the v-neck window of your blouse and he lets out a tiny grunt of displeasure at the breasts being concealed away by the fabric and its many buttons. That doesn't stop him from tugging the bottom of the shirt free like a petulant child, nothing preventing his fingers now free to tickle and feel up the bare skin beneath.

This man is good at distraction. You don't think much of the light grazing beneath your tits, only a fleeting and casual touch. It feels so good when he cups under them like an additional support for the bra you're wearing and squeezes, causing you to keen and push yourself further into him. Then quick as lightning, one hand sneaks around the back to unhook the bra's clasp and the other deftly unbuttons your jeans.

"Joshua!" you squeak in protest, stepping back and pressing flat against the wall. You're quick to rush and slap a hand against your chest to keep the beloved strapless bra that's served you well from falling to the ground. "Is your red flag undressing someone in public?"

"Only if you insist 'cause surely I would never decline such a request being the gentleman that I am." The doctor makes no further move despite the way he licks his lips and teases, only chuckling at the menacing way you squint. "Just know my full intentions are to be touching all over and especially under whatever layers you're wearing very shortly."

There's no use hiding the whine that escapes when he places a hand on the wall next to you and leans in with a smirk.

"However, sweetheart… "

You catch his line of sight dart off to the left and your heart plummets, the fear of being left high and dry (wet) setting in. "Josh — "

"You'll have to forgive this rich boy's schemes. You see, I've always been very spoiled and just have to take what I want right away. And you're much too irresistible…"

He speaks casually. Like your jeans weren't suddenly unzippered and he isn't currently running a tantalizing finger on the fabric below the waistband of your panties, causing them to soaken further down. Way more than they already had and almost where you need him but also not even close in the slightest.

"Though as a rich boy," he continues, "I'm more than familiar with providing a small courtesy here and there. Would this club's filthy bathroom offer enough privacy for you, gorgeous?"

"… Only if you make sure I'm presentable enough to get down there… and back up here after, for when I have to leave with my friends."

Joshua's eyes widen before he's throwing his head back and laughing, bright and cheery like he's not going to rearrange your guts. "So you don't expect to go home with me? Maybe I won't be such a walking red flag to you."

"Doubtful. Now fix me up, Doctor."

"With pleasure."

It's not like there are as many people milling about as in the main area. Still, it's good to be conscientious. The same adept hands re-fasten your top undergarment efficiently. When he ducks his head to kindly fix your pants — which is sort of hot — you take the opportunity to whisper in his ear for shit-and-giggles to gauge his reaction.

"You know there's a front clasp too."

He glances up from where he's eye-level with your covered breasts, eyes darkening. Bingo.

"What a little whore we have here, hm?"

The nonchalant, degrading question and burning desire in his gaze makes your knees weaken, arousal skyrocketing. Enough that you almost throw all caution to the wind for him to fuck you. Right here, right now. But then he's pulling away, offering a palm you can't seem to refrain from taking a hold of. And ever the true picture of being a gentleman — helps you descend down the dark stairwell.

Your killer heels really do nothing for you physically (besides the threat of rolling an ankle) because it doesn't matter how tall or short you end up with them on. It's the confidence and ego that are heightened exponentially, which is all that matters.

That's why you follow Joshua Hong into the sketchy bathroom, let him lock the door, and bat your eyelashes with a coy smile. Leaning against the sink and fussing with your blouse as he approaches like a predator eyeing up its prey. Greedily drinking in the bare skin revealed by each button that's undone until only one is still fastened — right across your tits — that the man can unclasp himself if he so chooses.

Barely anything stopped him before anyways.

And that's what also fuels you to put your arms around his neck, pressing your bodies close together. Even closer by hooking your right leg across his hip, the point of your heel digging intentionally into the back of his other thigh. It's hot and hard — the dick bulge that keeps growing pressed tightly into the snug warmth of your core — and Joshua lets you grind down and dampen his khakis for a few moments longer than expected.

"Desperate, aren't you? Didn't wanna fuck in public 'cause you're freakier behind closed doors?"

"Just a little." You fight back the urge to whimper or admit anything to him. Like you aren't humping his length that only swells more and feels achingly thicker the harder you rut against it, eyelids fluttering the few times it's able to deliciously spread your pussy lips just the slightest through your clothes. "I'm so wet — "

"The more of a mess you leave on my pants, the longer I'll have to edge you while waiting for them to dry." Joshua grins cockily at you trying to force your hips to stop themselves only to struggle pathetically in vain. "Think you'd like that. Haven't even gotten to fuck this hot little cunt yet and I'm already certain I wouldn't mind being buried in there for hours. But don't know if your friends will stick around for that long…"

"J-Josh, ah — Shua… mhm!"

"So I think you'd better behave if you know what's good for you," he stills your hips hard, "fuckin' slut."

You mewl at the hard, rude thrust that bumps your clit as if he was actually fucking you. Like goo, you let him manhandle you around so you're bent over and facing the smudged mirror, hands gripping tightly to each side of the sink basin. Aided by the reflections, you witness how he shamelessly ogles the tempting ass that's been rubbing all over him all night. And of course that means you have to perk up and wiggle your hips, giving him quite a show.

The small distance between you clears the lust cloud and you throw a smoldering glance over your shoulder. "If you fuck me with my heels on, I'll give you a chance with them off."

Joshua swats your ass — not very hard but you release a yelp of surprise. "Wasn't aware that you were running the show, sweetheart."

"It's my backside you're looking at."

"Knew you were mouthy the minute I saw you. You're aware of how kind I am, so let me give you a choice." He's anything but kind as he sighs and leans his weight over top of you. Despite the bracing strength of his arms, you feel suffocated by just being caged in between them and the overpowering scent of his cologne. "I shut you up with either my fingers in your mouth or around your throat."

Oh… decisions, decisions! Long fingers that would surely feel best deep inside your pussy but that wasn't one of the options. You purse your lips in thought and arch up, balancing the heavy cock supported by your ass and unconsciously pouting. Joshua has the audacity to look at the time while brushing back his hair and clicks his tongue.

"Wow, I'm letting you choose between sucking on my fingers like a slut or being choked like a whore and you still can't decide? What a high maintenance toy."

The urge to scoff is extremely strong. "Sucking it is then, Doctor Hong," you say sweetly and then add with a sneer, "like the perfect slut that I truly am."

"When your friends all said you were nothing but a gentle soul, I knew they were duped. Only one was partially truthful in saying you could be sassy which doesn't even come close. Little do they know there's a bratty cockwhore with quite a bite underneath all that charm."

"Haven't fucked any of them, that's why. No plans to either."

"Yeah, what was it you like — oh right, good boys?" He laughs — low, mean, and degrading. "Then what am I, sweetheart?"

"A doctor who's full of himself and needs taken down a few, ha, pegs."

"Ah, there it is." Joshua undoes the final button, slipping a curious finger beneath the bra's front hook pulling your tits together. You shiver when it snaps against your skin after he retracts, pointer finger tracing a lazy line up your throat to its final destination. "The attitude."

You willingly part your lips, lolling your tongue out mischievously to match the roll of your eyes. "Someone gets off on it."

"Is that so?" He smears the lipgloss on your lower lip by pulling it down before releasing it. "Do you think this is all a coincidence, darling?" Meeting the hardened gaze in the mirror, you shake your head. "The minute I saw such a sparkling gem on Wonwoo's story, I just had to have it for myself."

It's not hard to guess what he's referring to. A couple weeks ago, you wore enough scraps of fabric to just cover your nipples and the areas between your legs. Drinking far too much and hanging off of the WonGyu duo's broad frames while the whole gang partied it up together at Vernon's. You had even asked them to send you the videos and pictures after because damn, you did look hot as fuck.

Who knew it would be bait for an entitled pretty boy?

"At least you waited to find me when I wasn't drunk."

"Much more fun to break someone sober."

"Glad to know consensual exists in your vocabulary."

"How about it — will you let me destroy this little pussy of yours and ruin it to keep you crawling back to me for more?"

"Sure, if you ever stop talking and actually do something — "

Joshua's quick to shut you up, almost cracking your jaw with the harsh thumb that's jammed in the corner of your mouth to prop it open. The following two fingers are thrust cruelly inside as a replacement so it can move to keep your chin steady. They're able to reach so far when pinning down your tongue, ending up wedged near the back of your throat so you're already gagging around them.

"Most sluts behave the second I drop the nice guy act. But boy oh boy, it only makes you act up more, eh?"

He finally does away with your bra to allow those gorgeous tits to spill out and casually rips the garment from your body like it's personally offended him. Maybe it has. Shoving it away into his back pocket and then urgently tugging your jeans down. The binding position you're left in helps keep your shaky legs in place while you cling to the sink like it's a lifeline. Upper body supported only by the cruel hold he has on your face until he yanks it back so you're flush against him instead, the cool baby-blue silk of his shirt set ablaze by your shared body heat.

"Next time, wear something that has easier access. Or better yet… maybe nothing at all or I'll be forced to rip it off." A piercing set of eyes attempt to glare into yours that roll back delightfully despite what's likely some snark ends up sounding all jumbled. "Oh yes, there will be a next time, sweetheart. I have to train this cunt to yearn for my cock — and you don't think you'll get it that easily, right?"

Joshua chuckles darkly knowing you can't reply. But liking to be full of surprises, you relax your upper jaw while his fingers trail across your pelvis and close your lips around the ones in your mouth. Suckling and swirling once the tension in them relaxes despite the naughty thought of biting. That doesn't eliminate the occasional graze of your teeth as a threat, responding to his words in your own way.

"Just look at yourself, slobbering all over… bet you suck cock like a champ. And prolly like it real messy. How well-trained you'd look trying to balance on these pointed heels while I fuck that bratty mouth."

You moan at the visual he's painted in your head.

"That's right, darling." There's a mean pinch to your clit followed by the man's groan at the ruined fabric squelching between his fingertips and how the covered little nub was already begging for friction. "Now tell me how long your cunt's been warming up and soaking these drenched panties?"

"Since the beginning…" you admit once he's freed your sore mouth and chooses to bully your breasts next. "When you looked at me."

He snickers, pushing your underwear to the side and petting at the bare slippery folds. Just able to barely see a small glimpse of where his actions play with your lower body in the mirror. At least your expressions make up for what he misses seeing.

"Aw, this soft pussy started drooling the minute I laid eyes on you? While I was imagining all the things I could do to these tits," the hand on one of them palms at the rounded flesh hard. "This ass," his pelvis grinds in a slow circle against it. "Mhm, and of course, this hidden gem."

At that, a thumb brutally rubs at your clit while plunging a finger inside the warm, wet walls that eagerly pulse around it. You weren't wrong about how good the digit would feel inside, the length and stretch of its bony knuckle feeling good enough to substitute as a mini-dick when Joshua starts a slow and methodical pace with it.

"Thought about having you spread out in the backseat of my Bugatti La Voiture Noire, you'd look like a vision laying across its leather seats. And the best thing? No one can see inside so you'll get your much desired privacy while being right out in the open."

Then he's adding another finger, longer than the first. And finally one more with an additional push in and out of the others. Clearly his experience on how to work a pussy is more than helpful. Alternating between stuffing your hole full of all three or changing up the pace and number each turn.

And of course, your chest is attended to as well. Both nipples tugged in iterations to match the rhythm of each finger spearing into your cunt, the pendant of your necklace bouncing in time. Without fail, he hits the bundle of nerves with a deadly precision that has you going slack against him.

"Maybe we should do that 'cause," he mumbles in your ear, "this filthy hole is awfully good at convincing me to spoil its owner like no one else. Let's see if it can tell me how much it'll want me to fill it up one day."

Your ears ring with the devastating screams of white noise at the sudden stop. The moans you were letting out trail off into a dissatisfied growl. His hand falls away from your upper body while the one in between your legs merely sits nice and snug, still inside but not moving. Far too relaxed, limp even.

"Joshua!"

"C'mon, weren't you listening? Convince me."

"Fuck you," is what you spit out, glaring at the challenging and impossibly smug reflection of the menace behind you.

"You didn't say fuck off, so… I'm waiting."

Another check at his watch like he's bored infuriates you enough to move your hips. Whining at how his fingers fail to stiffen and only follow your pitiful motions back and forth. Out of protest, you reach behind and take a harsh hold of the hard length you're able to grab.

"Watch it, darling!" Joshua flinches and the way his cock twitches dulls the venomous words that come next. "Or I'll leave you here all needy and by yourself, waiting for some other pathetic dick to hop onto in order to satiate just a little bit of this wet and slutty pussy's behaviors."

Well, that idea doesn't appeal to you whatsoever so you lean on the sink with a huff to do what needs done. It's a struggle to stay balanced on your heels while grabbing at his wrist but a small part of you knows he won't let you fall, a bicep supporting under your breasts. Revenge comes sweetly by digging your nails into the tense muscle of his forearm and leaving scratch marks that have him hissing.

And now you know for sure — despite the doctor's incredibly huge ego and big talk, Joshua Hong's no better than a painslut.

"Hah," you breathe out and start to slowly rock your hips. "Disrespectfully, go to hell."

Ignoring the abrasive insult — because he's a demon anyways — Joshua focuses on the wet suctioning sound growing louder the faster you move. The feeling of your tits and necklace hitting his arm to the beat of your hip bounces and enjoying the view of how his fingers disappear beyond the jiggle of your asscheeks. Up into the tight heat of velvety walls as you force his hand to behave and serve your needs like one of your dildos, though they've never been this uncooperative.

"That's it. Yeah, there we go… just like that. Go ahead and make yourself cum riding my fingers, beautiful. Uh-huh, now who's using me like a little whore to get off?"

You're already losing yourself. Waiting for that rising wave to crest because despite his annoying mouth, Joshua's fingers are more than skilled enough to hurl you into a delightful climax. As long as nothing interrupts it.

"Answer me — or I'll make you choke yourself."

"Mhm…"

He likes seeing how your face contorts, moans getting louder. It's too addicting which is why he growls out, "Do it."

It's a feat to let go of the sink but the reward is to move his arm around your bra-line to your throat, making his hand envelope it. The visual in the mirror is depraved — limbs all wrapped and tangled with each other — and your half-closed eyes taunt the searing gaze in the mirror, repeating his words right back.

"Why not do it yourself, Doctor?"

"Are you some sort of succubus or what?" He spits out the question like it's the germs on the toilet seat next to you. Freeing himself momentarily from the grip of your hand and your cunt, the man's at least nice enough to assuage the pissed off whine with a consoling lick up your neck and tugs impatiently at your pants. "Take these off."

"Go fuck yourself," you mutter darkly with half the mind to walk out of there. But you do as he says, quickly shimmying them off while your clit buzzes and twitches angrily at the neglect of stimulation again.

Joshua's eyes don't look away, his hands steadying your hips and your pussy aching when you hear how he slowly slurps on his fingers to clean them. Once you step back into your heels, he throws the jeans over his shoulder.

"Careful with the phone," you threaten.

Joshua snorts and bends over to secure a strap for you — sucking harshly on the skin of your thigh as a "you're welcome" but pulling away before your hands can tangle in his hair and keep him down there.

"Wrong thing to say to someone who likes broken and expensive things. Shouldn't you be warning me not to break something else?" Suddenly, your other shoe dangles precariously off your foot when he uses a strong hand to lift and support your leg onto the sink's surface. "Like this poor pussy?"

The straining burn in your muscles and the added chill of the porcelain is all alleviated by harsh rubbing at the tender skin of your entrance. Middle and pointer finger eagerly prying sloppy pussy lips apart once again.

"Ah, but I might enjoy that."

A clear glob of arousal drips from your hole fluttering and clenching around nothing. Joshua leers hungrily past your shoulder at the mirror's erotic display of your exposed cunt and the wetness shining under the buzz of the bathroom's fluorescent lights.

"Dirty and yet it's such a pretty little jewel. Sparkling and glistening so, so lovely that I can't wait to watch it shatter while playing with it."

Finally, all three fingers from before work in tandem to scissor repeatedly inside of your tight warmth without forgiveness. This time, the devil has nothing but good intentions to send you over the peak of pleasure. His eyes can't stop feasting on the raunchy way your greedy hole gobbles up his fingers. The loud squelches accompanying his motions echo around the small enclosed space, mixing with the warm breath hitting the side of his cheek from your gasping moans.

Joshua thinks it's mighty cute how puffy your outer pussy lips grow and struggle to spread around the thick and long digits shoved inside plus the onslaught of his thumb bullying your clit. The angle shows the slightest bulge of them relentlessly stroking the bundle of nerves that has your leg twitching from the sheer pleasure.

He focuses on bringing you there, all on what you're feeling rather than his own pleasure because you have the most convincing cunt ever that deserves to be ravaged by a large, girthy cock. A shame it has to wait because he cannot give in so easily. But you're definitely a piece of work. Joshua likes that.

"Gonna keep making a mess on my fingers, darling? Leave 'em all sweet and wet enough for me to wrap around my dick later and pretend it's your pussy instead."

You'll be the death of him when your head rolls into the crease of his neck, drool dampening the skin as you mouth senselessly at the vein protruding beneath. There's a sharp sting — the certain kind he hasn't felt in a very long time. A telltale warning of a hickey, the beautiful colors of red and purple already rushing to the surface and decorated by little nips of your teeth after you soothe the pain with your tongue.

No one marks up Joshua Hong. Sure, he's had lipstick stains before but those can easily be swiped off with a handkerchief and washed away in the shower. He can't help but smirk though, knowing when he eventually wipes your sticky lipgloss off, something of you will remain for a bit.

However you can't go without a little punishment. If you can even call it that when he returns to wrapping a hand around your throat. Anyone else who dared to leave a mark would be walked away from. But you — you simply lose enough oxygen causing your head to spin more pleasantly than it already is.

And you claw at his forearm, scratching it up ten times more to serve as a further reminder for Joshua to look at. You're by no means urging him to stop but to earnestly keep going while simultaneously searching for something — anything — to anchor you down as you float into an almost unconscious state of pure ecstasy.

It's by far the strongest, most intense orgasm you'd ever experienced. Becoming nothing but a bag of bones in his arms as your walls pulsate around his fingers and the fruitful expenditure of your release drips down his wrist.

He stays in that position, unable to move anyways with the vice-like grip of your spasming cunt cramping his fingers. Instead, drawing out the pleasure as much as possible by squeezing and releasing the pressure on your throat over and over again. The true picture of debauchery — heaven and sin mixed in one — and he kind of wishes for a third arm to take a photo for a keepsake.

Everything in your body aches deliciously. You feel both refreshed and exhausted when you finally come to and even then Joshua supports your weak body as you try to regain control over your wits and whereabouts.

"Pants," you croak out and wave him off when he tries to gentlemanly assist. Which he still kind of has to when you almost topple face-first on legs that feel like jelly. "Bra."

Joshua's a little less enthusiastic to hand that over, bitter sarcasm lacing his words. "Wow, won't even grant me a souvenir?"

"Boo-hoo," you gripe back and pretend not to notice the eyes glued to the way your tits bounce when adjusting the garment around them. Turning to look in the mirror, you work on dulling the "just got fingered in the bathroom" appearance. "It's not like you need one and it seems even less likely you'll keep anything from a stranger, especially lingerie."

"Hm, I like how well you read me."

"Of course you do, fuels that large privileged ego. Don't get used to it. But, want me to do something about that one though?"

He coughs at the rather suggestive insult, shifting his pants and shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the messy boner you're referencing. "Guess I did a great job if you're begging for it already."

"Oh, for goodness sake I'm being courteous."

"Cute."

Joshua admits it almost like he's startled by the words that escape his mouth. Further surprising both of you with a clumsy, sloppy kiss to the cheek when he leans over to fasten the top button of your blouse. As if embarrassed, he's already halfway out the door when he remembers to mention, "I'll be thinking of you darling, look forward to your call!"

You're left staring at the saliva spot reflected on your cheek in shock. And then, you wipe it off with the rest of the accumulated sweat to make yourself a bit more presentable and then head back to the club as naturally as possible.

Dr. Hong is seemingly nowhere in sight as expected. You figure it would be hard to return with a raging boner despite the low lighting and he probably left through the back exit to likely jerk off in his ridiculously expensive car. The visual of white ropes of cum streaming past the steel band of the Royal Oak around his wrist haunts your mind, making your aching core buzz to life again and your sticky panties even grosser.

Out of pure spite, you hope he stains his shirt too.

Luckily, Seungkwan is still at the bar when you wobble over in search of him. He shouts your name in mock shock, assessing your appearance with pursed lips and eyeballing your figure dubiously.

"You look like hell."

"Yeah?" you laugh it off as nonchalantly as possible, unaware of the phone in your back pocket lighting up with a returned text message from a newly saved number and a scandalous picture attached. "I just got back."

onlyseokmins: July 2023 ©

#ez.creates #svthub #joshua hong smut #joshua smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #smut #hong joshua smut #hong jisoo smut #if this flops so does the hong schlong #i fist fought this joshua in the parking lot and WON #svt.smut

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 1 month

Note

Hope you’ve had a great day. It’s raining like crazy where I am and I have this little wolf plushie that’s reminds me of Jason so I had this thought. This would be a good headcannon or blurb but Jason grace x reader (you do daughter of Poseidon perfectly so please do that) where reader has a wolf plushie that she hugs when Jason isn’t around especially when it’s raining (you know cause she’s a forbidden kid and Zeus probably tried to use a storm to do her in once). Maybe Jason comes in because either Percy (being the overprotective brother he is) was worried about her being alone during it (y/n probably didn’t tell Jason so that he wouldn’t worry) or he just knows, and he finds her either trying to or already asleep with the plushie. So so sorry this is so long. Love you keep up the great work.

✮⋆˙ rain, rain, go away, don’t come back another day!; jason grace x daughter of poseidon! reader blurb

content: jason grace x daughter of poseidon! reader blurb warning: language and very brief mentions of murder at the end lmao author's note: i LOVED this prompt. so fun so cutesy. also, i feel the need to clarify, bc otherwise ill look dumb as fuck, the wolf's name is 'jason' backwards. and the pronunciation is completely from my brain, bc there needed to be something ig. kinda think 'no' 'sah' and then the 'j' acts like a 'j' would in 'raj'

the daughter of poseidon found comfort in a few things; the rain always felt like a warm hug from a parent, the crashing of waves upon a beach always managed to sooth her mind, the laughter of her friends working to ease the stress that grew in her bones.

thunderstorms, though, were not one of the things she found comfort in. even if they did remind her of her sweet boyfriend.

zeus was mad, for some reason that alluded most everyone at camp, so they had to suffer through some stupid thunderstorm. and every crack of thunder and flash of lightening had the girl curling up in her bed even more, her eyes nervously darting around and her wolf plush tightly squeezed to her chest. she wouldn't put it past the god to strike her down, even in the safety of her father's cabin. it didn't help that she, who he believed to a soiled and dirty greek girl, was dating her golden boy roman son. it gave him more motive and ocean's daughter watched enough criminal minds to know he had more than enough reasons to kill her. smite her into smithereens. to tear her atom from atom-

"i'll be back," percy murmured, interrupting her thoughts, maybe an hour into the storm. her eyes tracked him, swallowing thickly before jumping at another rolling of thunder.

"w-where you going?? it's not, exactly, um safe-"

"it is for me. i'm not dating his son," percy mused, trying to lighten the mood but his smile dropped as he saw the stress in your face deepen.

"well, i wouldn't say he's your biggest fan, either," you managed to get out without stuttering and percy rolled his eyes.

"fair. but ill be back," he repeated, vaguely before tugging a hoodie on and leaving the cabin. you said a silent prayer for his safety before yelping as a flash of lightening caught you off guard, leaving you huffing. you were a valiant warrior and the daughter of poseidon, gods damn it, you shouldn't be scared by some measly storm!

"can you come look after y/n?? the storm's scaring her shitless but she won't come get you because she thinks your dads gonna blast her into particles," percy asked as he shook jason away, the blonde boy groggily blinking his eyes and trying to understand his friends words

"huh?" jason asked, his hand jumping around on his night stand until he found his glasses and slid them on to his face, yawning as he took in a sopping wet percy.

"my sister, your girlfriend, is scared," percy restated, simply, and jason was already jumping out of bed, just barely finding time to grab a hoodie before running out of the cabin. percy rolled his eyes and went to follow before decided he'd rather not spend a night in his own cabin with his sister and her boyfriend...and jason's bed was inviting and unattended and probably would be for the rest of the night. i mean, i'd be downright wasteful if percy didn't sleep in cabin one.

"hon?" jason called as he walked into the poseidon cabin, closing the door behind him before walking towards your side of the cabin, "percy mentioned something about the storm and you-"

jason's words promptly stopped as he finally saw you, his strange girlfriend. you had built a tiny castle out of pillows, your shelter from the storm. you'd clearly stolen some from percy, two on either side of you and then one stacked before your head and one under it. weirdly enough, you had also laid a pillow over your feet as well. jason quietly laughed into his hand, his heard melting at the strange sight. but, you had somehow managed to fall asleep like this, the wolf plushy that you had lovingly named 'nosaj' (pronounced no-s-ah-j) tucked in your arms. jason took a mental picture, eager to remember this moment, before gently removing some of the pillows and replacing them with his body.

you reacted instantly and subconsciously, nosaj quickly abandoned in trade for jason. he smirked, proud to be chosen over a plushie as you wrapped your arms around his neck and threw your leg over his, cuddling into his form easily. jason wrapped his arms around your waist and comfortingly spread his hands wide over your lower back. you muttered something into his neck that sounded like 'i love you' but he wasn't completely sure. for all he knew, you could have said 'fuck you.' and he still couldn't have loved you more, even if you had. he pressed a kiss to your temple at whatever your words had been and he was met by the even lapping of your breath. he waited, watching for a few moments before he decided to speak.

"if my dad so much as thought about laying a hand on a single strand of your pretty hair, i'd tear olympus down and soak the place in his ichor. without a second thought, without hesitation. i'd electrocute the world if you asked me to."

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #jason grace #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x reader

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munsonluhvr · 4 months

Text

CRUSH

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 3.7k warnings: fluff, nervous Eddie, bullying, mentions of a fight, light cussing, alluding to eating disorder, probs misspellings lol

next chapter: part 2

You take a deep breath as you open the door to exit your classroom; feeling relief that you were finished with your least favorite class – chemistry.

Sneakers squeak all around you, your fellow schoolmates excited to be out of class and going to lunch, as you made your way down the hallway. You get to your locker, twisting the lock that held the door closed until it popped open. To your surprise, Chrissy Cunningham, your closest friend, slides up next to you, leaning against the set of lockers that neighbor yours.

“Look who survived chemistry another day,” she exclaims, nudging your shoulder. Chrissy knew how much you hated chemistry.

“Somehow; I zone out by the first twenty minutes,” You say, shaking your head. “I’m not looking forward to the final.”

Chrissy giggles, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “That’s me with Mr. Khan’s class. He makes history so boring.”

Before you could respond, Jason Carver, Chrissy’s boyfriend, sneaks up to hugs Chrissy from behind. She squeals with surprise, and you roll your eyes, annoyed by how in love your friends were. They had been dating for some time now, always having their hands on each other. Since then, you’ve been a third wheel, nonetheless, still very included. You put your books away, re-locking the door.

“You survived chemistry again, y/n!” Jason says, catching your eye.

Chrissy giggles, “That’s exactly what I said.”

You laugh, leaning back on your locker, joining Chrissy and Jason who watch fellow school-mates walk by. Several guys from the basketball team came up to Jason, patting him on the back and saying hello. Their girlfriends, who were friends of yours and Chrissy from the cheerleading squad, came up to you and Chrissy. Your group is bigger, having accumulated boys and girls from the basketball team and cheerleading squad. You chat together, laughing as your friends make jokes. Your eyes are pulled away from your friends when Eddie Munson, leader of the 'Hellfire' club walks by with his friends.

Your breath hitches as you watch Eddie walk by who is in deep in conversation with Dustin Henderson, laughing about something someone in their group said. Just as he passes by, Eddie looks up, making eye contact with you. Your stomach twists, already blushing under his gaze. His eyes go wide, noticing your gaze on him, and he pauses in his steps.

You take in his appearance, as you usually do every day, and your fingers dig into the fabric on your skirt. Today, he wears Hellfire's club t-shirt, a jean jacket, black jeans (hugging him in all the right places), and his typical dirty white sneakers. His face was beautiful, as always, freshly shaved and a smile planted on his mouth.

You're pulled out of your gaze when Jason claps his hands, also pulling Eddie out of his trance. “Keep moving, freak.”

Eddie's eyes automatically drop to the floor and he picks his pace to catch up with his group of friends that moved forward with out him. You blink, turning back to Chrissy who shoved Jason lightly. "That's not nice, Jason." Chrissy muttered, shaking her head. "Don't say that."

You feel guilty, associating with people that make fun of others, calling them names to make them feel inferior. You turn your head slightly to watch Eddie walk away, heading into the cafeteria. Jason and his friends laugh, amusing themselves.

You look back at Chrissy, "Should we head into lunch? I'm starving."

She shrugs, and then nods. "Sure."

You and Chrissy make your way into the cafeteria, weaving through the large crowd that is doing the same thing; Jason and his friends trail behind. The table you and your friends sit at every day waits for you completely empty, the perks of being on the cheerleader team. You hate to admit it, but you enjoy being popular. Being elevated in the high school social system adds an extra layer of ease and carefree-ness. Or does it?

Your eyes flick to find where Eddie and the Hellfire club sit, always on the right side of the cafeteria. You spot them sitting down with trays already in hand.

"I'll get your food for you, y/n" Alex, a friend of Jason, says as he pulls out one of the chairs for you to sit down. You smile, putting on your pleased face. Alex is sweet to you, but that's about it. Of course, Jason would disagree. Alex plays rough on the court, usually targeting the skinniest kids on the opposing team to knock over. He laughs when they fall, high-fiving other players. It makes your stomach twist to watch from the sidelines.

You sit with the some of the girls who wait for their boyfriends to bring them their food that the cafeteria is serving today. After only a minute, Alex places your tray of food down in front of you and you thank him. He smiles at you, pleased with himself, and you try your hardest not to roll your eyes. Jason had told Chrissy, who told you, that Alex had a major crush on you, spilling his intentions to ask you to prom. You had pretended to be excited, but in reality you would rather skip prom than go with him.

Jason sits next to Chrissy, who sat with no tray in front of her. You frown, "Chrissy, aren't you going to eat?"

Chrissy shakes her head, looking down at her lap. "Not hungry," she says simply.

Jason leans forward to look over at you, snickering "I think she's on a diet or something."

You turn back to your tray, picking up your fork. You bite your lip, thinking about all the times you've noticed Chrissy skip a meal lately. You didn't know if you should say something but you decided it was best to not bring up questions in front of everyone.

Conversation flowed across the table, the loud hum of everyone else chattering in the cafeteria. Chrissy whispers to you about how Alex was staring at you from the other end of the table but you couldn't get yourself to look over. Conversation came to a halt when a performance from another table occurrs.

"As long as you're into band, or science, or parties.." A voice, who you identified as Eddie, says as he stood up on one of the cafeteria tables. Everyone's attention turns to where he stands, elevated over the rest of the cafeteria. Jason and his friends snicker, watching him.

"-Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets," Eddie says, aiming his gaze to the table where you and your friends sit.

Jason stood up quickly, his chair knocking over behind him. "You want something, freak?" Jason yells back to Eddie. Chrissy covers her face with her hand, embarrassed by her partners outburst. You shrink in your chair, arms crossing in front of your chest, although you can't help but continue to watch Eddie and Jason's interaction.

In response, Eddie makes horns with his fingers, sticking his tongue out accordingly. For a brief second, Eddie and Jason have a moment of exchanging intense gazes and your breath hitches in fear of what will happen next. Surely, Jason could easily beat Eddie to a pulp in a fight.

"Prick," you hear Jason mutter, turning to pick his chair up and sit back down.

You breathe out, feeling relief that the intense moment between the two boys is over. Jason, however, is still annoyed.

"What is Munson's problem? It's like he wants to get his ass beaten." Jason says, shaking his head.

You zone out, letting the other boys conspire together. Chrissy leans over, nudging your shoulder. "Boys are so stupid, right?" She says, smiling big enough to show her two front teeth that overlapped. You smiled, agreeing, "So stupid."

The bell rang loudly across the cafeteria sending everyone to disperse from where they sat. Jason leans to kiss Chrissy on the cheek and followed his friends out of the room. Your eyes catch Eddie walking out, and again, he looks over and catches your eye. You smile, and his face expresses surprise that a girl in a cheerleader outfit would lend him such a gesture. You feel embarrassed for a moment until Eddie lifts his hand slightly, offering you a small, almost unnoticeable wave. You return the wave, and he smiles too, continuing to walk out the cafeteria doors.

Your stomach flips at the littlest interaction with Eddie, although this was the most you and Eddie had ever interacted before. You had noticed him look at you sometimes, and vice versa. Eddie had caught you looking at him too. But of course, your friend groups and social status kept you apart although you knew you wouldn't care what either would have to say about being seen with Eddie.

The rest of the school day went by quickly, you only had two classes left. The first one, English, went by fast without much excitement. History was your last class of the day and what occurs upends the rest of your day.

The previous week, Mr. Kepner had assigned a paper on a historical moment that was similar to the historical events the class had covered already. You had chosen to write about Egyptian civilization and you hoped you had done a decent job as you underestimated the complexity and denseness of the topic.

At the beginning of class, Mr. Kepner places graded papers on everyones desk. You take a deep breath before flipping the paper over to see a '100%' placed at the corner of your paper. Written next to the grade was 'see me after class.' You frown wondering how you could be in trouble by getting a perfect grade.

Your stomach was in knots for the rest of the class, afraid to hear what Mr. Kepner had to say to you. When class concluded, you walked up to your teachers desk.

"Y/n, I must say well done on your paper." Mr. Kepner says, taking his glasses off.

"Thank you, Mr. Kepner."

"I was thinking that you should submit the paper for the school's annual scholarship contest." Mr. Kepner says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I dare say you'd have a good chance at winning."

You're flattered, feeling stupid for worrying so much about the paper and not having confidence in your work. "I'd love to; do I have to fill out a form?"

Mr. Kepner begins to explain how to submit the paper and your mind went to the fact that you were cutting it close to missing your bus. Normally you peel out of class to miss the first bus instead of waiting twenty more minutes for the next one.

"-and that should be enough. I'll sign off on your submission of course." Mr. Kepner says, handing you the form to fill out.

You nod, taking the paper and side stepping away from his desk to head towards the door.

"Miss y/n, I still have more to discuss with you." Mr. Kepner says, watching you head towards the door. "I think you should take AP History next year. Your work is far more advanced than your classmates and I think you'd be better suited there."

You nod, still inching towards the door. "That would be great, Mr. Kepner. That would help with college admissions too. I'm really sorry but I have to catch my bus."

Mr. Kepner nods, standing up. "So sorry to keep you, y/n. I hope I didn't make you miss the bus. See you tomorrow."

You peel out of the room, listening to the door slam behind you. You jog to the end of the door at the hallway, ignoring the stares from the people you run pass. Once you reach the end of the hallway to the parking lot, you push open the door. Your eyes scan the parking lot to see the back end of your bus driving away from you.

"Fuck," you whisper to yourself.

"Let me guess, that was your bus." A voice says beside to you. You turn your head to see Eddie standing next to you.

You turn quickly back to look ahead of you, "That was my bus. Freakin' Mr. Kepner made me miss it. "

Eddie hums, "Ohh yeah. Mr. Kepner is a chatterbox. You're y/n, right?" Eddie leans against the brick wall of the school, his leg propping him up.

You nod, "That's me."

"I'm Eddie Munson." Eddie says, pushing himself off the wall to stand next to you. He has a curious smile on his face, as he puts his hand out for you to shake.

You match his smile, amused by his hand placed in front of you. You take his hand, shaking it. "I know who you are."

Eddie stares at you for a minute, analyzing your face. His eyes move from yours to your lips. You feel nervous under his gaze and you cough to break the moment. "So, what are you still doing at school? I'd assume you be out the minute the bell rings to go play that game you and your friends play."

Eddie places a hand on his chest. "It's Dungeons and Dragons; it's not just a game, it's a lifestyle. I'm waiting to make some extra cash." Eddie says, pulling a small bag with green lumps in it. You had previously heard some of the basketball players talk about Eddie's quality of products. You raise your eyebrows and nod, "I see."

Eddie tucks the bag away and clasps his hands in front of him. "When does the next bus come?"

You sigh, "Twenty minutes or something like that."

Eddie coos, "That won't do. I can take you home after my client comes."

You laugh, "Your client? Pretty fancy for a drug dealer."

"I'm not a drug dealer, it's just a side hustle."

"Sure," You say, a teasing tone lacing your words. You don't want to come off excited to spend time alone with Eddie. "If it's not any trouble, I would appreciate a ride home."

Eddie nods and before he could speak, Alex turns around the corner. "Y/n?" Alex says, looking between you and Eddie. "Is this freak bothering you?"

You shake your head, "No, Alex. I just missed by bus and I'm waiting."

"Are we going to do this or not? Twenty bucks, brother." Eddie says, displaying the bag of weed to Alex. Alex scoffs, "I'm not your brother and here." Alex places a paper bill in Eddie's hand.

Eddie takes the bill, tucking it into his pocket. "Thanks for doing business."

Alex ignores Eddie, turning towards you. "Y/n, I'll drive you home so you don't have to wait."

You grimace, but catch yourself and put a fake smile on. "It's okay, Alex. Eddie already offered."

Alex turns to Eddie who offers him a simple smile. Alex shakes his head, "I'm sure Eddie has a club of freaks to attend to. Just get in my car."

You turn away from both boys, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your puffer jacket. You want to signal to Alex to get the hint and leave you alone. You wanted to spend time with Eddie, certainly not Alex. "You have practice anyway, Alex. You couldn't drop me off and get back in time."

"Run along," Eddie says, snickering. "You heard the lady."

Alex glares at Eddie and mutters an expletive at him. Alex saunters away, taking one last chance to look between you and Eddie. Once Alex is gone, Eddie turns to you. "Shall we?"

You nod, following Eddie across the parking lot. The brisk Indiana wind cut through your jacket, sending shivers to your skin. Eddie guided you to his car which wasn't far from where you started near the school. His car was a large, maroon colored van, most certainly bought used, with a white stripe in the middle. Eddie walks over to the passenger side, opening the door quickly. He leans in, swiping objects of the seat.

Eddie backs up, helping you into the van. "Sorry for the mess, I didn't expect a co-pilot today." You smile, glancing at him. You could tell he was nervous by the way his eyes shifted.

You sit down in the passenger seat, taking a look around. In the middle of the two front seats there's a pile of cassette tapes. You lean over, picking two up; Iron Maiden and Metallica. Sometimes, late at night, you wondered what music Eddie might be listening to in his room at the same moment. Now you knew.

Eddie climbs into the van, sticking the key into the ignition.

"Nice music," You say, hoping he didn't ask what songs you liked. You had never listened to Iron Maiden or Metallica but you wanted to come off as cool to Eddie.

Eddie takes the cassettes from you, looking at which ones you picked up. "You like Iron Maiden? And Metallica?"

You nod, folding your hands in your lap. "Yeah."

Eddie raises his eyebrows, glancing at you. "I didn't expect that." Eddie puts the car in reverse, barely looking to make sure there was nobody walking or driving behind him.

"What do you mean?" You ask, cocking your head at him.

Eddie shrugs, "You're just a cheerleader, you know. I definitely didn't expect for you to be in my car ever."

You laugh, "Why not? I'm still a person even though I'm a cheerleader."

Eddie pulls out of the school's parking lot, starting to drive towards the street. "You hang out with Jason and all his friends. They don't like me at all."

You bite your lip. "Jason doesn't speak for all of us."

Eddie coughs, nervous at the sound of you alluding to the fact that you don't find him weird. "Where do you live again?" Eddie asks, before he pulls on to the street. You tell him your address, and he brings the car to a start again.

You sit in silence as Eddie drives. Your body flushes, the reality that you're alone with Eddie starting to settle in. You notice Eddie taking glances at you and clearing his throat. "Which songs from Iron Maiden do you like the most?"

You stomach clenches at the question. "Oh you know. They're all so good, how can you pick just one?" You roll your eyes at your response, and you look out the window.

Eddie laughs, "You're never listened to Iron Maiden before, right?"

You sigh, glancing at Eddie. "No, I just said that to sound cool to you."

Eddie raises his eyebrows again, turning his eyes back to the road. "Why would you need to act cool? You're already the cool one; in fact, you being in my car would get you kicked out of being popular."

You turn towards Eddie now. "Why do you think I care so much about being popular?"

"Don't you?"

You sit back in your seat. "No. It's lonely; you seem to have more genuine friendships with the Hellfire club."

"So you're watching me and my friends?" Eddie says, a smirk playing on his lips.

You are embarrassed at your choice of words and you quickly search your mind for a comeback. "It's kind of hard not to when you stand on a cafeteria table and publicly launch insults at the people I'm sitting at the table with."

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. "That was pretty good, wasn't it? God, I didn't think you'd be like this at all."

"You keep saying that, what do you mean?"

"I just- I don't know. I just always imagined you'd be-" Eddie stumbles over his words, causing you to look over at him. "The truth is I've had like a major crush on you since sophomore year and I always assumed you'd be a certain type of way because you're a cheerleader but you're..."

Your heart thumped at Eddie's confession but you tried to play it off. "But I'm kinda nice, right? You out of all people shouldn't judge how another may be."

Eddie glances at you, "Fair enough."

"So you've had a crush on me?"

Eddie nervously laughs, "I was hoping you wouldn't come back to that."

You cross one leg under your other, turning towards Eddie. "How could I? That's quite the confession."

"I shouldn't have said anything."

You shake your head, glad to finally get this secret off your chest. "I'm glad you did because the crush is reciprocal."

Eddie jams on the breaks, sending you forward until the seatbelt caught you. He turns towards you, cars honking behind him. "Really?"

You look in the side mirrors, watching cars dodge around you. You flinch watching a car almost slam into the back of Eddie's van. "Eddie you should probably drive," you say, afraid of what will happen if his car continues to sit in the middle of the road.

Eddie listens to you, pressing the gas. He turns the car onto your street, leaning forward to look for your house number on the mailbox. "It's the white one," You say.

Eddie parks the car in front of your house. "You really like me too?"

You smile at him, sad that your social status makes it seem impossible for you to be with Eddie. "Yes," you say simply.

Eddie's nervousness appears again, his words beginning to jumble and his voice high-pitched. "I-I, wow that's cool, I mean."

You laugh, opening the car door. You lean over, deciding to be bold, and you place a kiss on his cheek. You inhale, embracing the strong cologne he has on. You pull away, moving to grab your backpack and hop out of the car. "Thanks for the ride, Eddie."

You look back at him from outside the car. He offers you a small wave, startled by your move. You turn around but then turn back again. "Would you ever want to go out sometime?"

Eddie's jaw slacks, "Y-Yeah, I'd love to."

You smile, glad that he agreed to go out with you. You drop your backpack on the ground, pulling a sheet of of notebook paper out and finding a pen at the bottom of your bag. You write your home's phone number on the paper and hand it to Eddie. "Call me sometime." Eddie folds the piece of paper, putting it into his jacket.

You turn around, leaving Eddie behind you. You feel his eyes trailing you and you smile to yourself, proud of your boldness.

#eddie munson #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #Eddie Munson

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ravengards-rogue · 3 months

Text

[ cage training | astarion ancunin ]

✧ tags : muzzles, bdsm, sub!astarion, gender neutral + dom!reader, reader is strong (offers to carry him), dirty talk, orgasm control, feeding (?), cutting (for blood), anal (m!recieving), service dom reader, petnames (my star for astarion) a lot of alluding to hunger, more erotica than smut but 18+

✧ wc : 4.8k (what if all just kill ourselves)

✧ a/n : i dont even like this guy like this im just mentally ill about submissive men. also this is a very "read whats on the tin and make good choices" sort of fic.. i know this kind of play might be controversial for beloved white boy but they have a very loving dynamic Okay. Alright. its about Love.

ALSO. this is ASTARION FOCUSED. so reader doesn't cum (though astarion makes up for it as implied)

this is a fluke fic i cannot recommend following me for this guy!!!written mostly for a friend. had a lot of fun with this though!!!

✧ synopsis : astarion relearns manners and discipline. he's rewarded for his valiant efforts.

He comes to you wounded. Save from the scar on the curve of his spine, it's not a physical wound.

Astarion approached you like a caged lion, a circus animal - a predator paraded like a house cat who has only just remembered his teeth. That's why your empathy extended to his greed even when it caused him to wear the worst of himself. You don't think Astarion has ever understood the fact that he's hungry. He's always hungry.

He inhabits a body pushed to failure. His hunger cues are almost as ruined as he.

Like an animal in captivity, every choice he might've had to make slipped between his fingers for many years. How to live, how to hunt. Hunger is the hardest to remember, though it leaves the longest impression. It's a condition of a wounded mind. He had long since forgotten a body that knows a need stronger than staying alive.

He always waited for the violent gnawing to set in, the kind that can be ignored until it can't.

And so, his hunger became his ruin, became his new captor. Astarion met you in the midst of that delirium the first time

Once you let a captive predator free, you've damned it. A caged lion cannot become uncaged. Survival instinct has all but degraded to nothing, leaving only a wounded animal in its place.

You must nurse it to health. Care for it as it renavigates the world.

Curb its hunger when it threatens to wreak havoc.

Sanctuary. Regiment. Retraining.

It's easy enough to discern what he needs. All tender with wounds that need to be licked.

The muzzle is fitted. A gesture of glimmering gold adoration among the steely black of whips and chains.

Astarion is beautiful. Tenfold on his knees.

The leather straps pull back slight against his skin, three in total clipped together at the back of his skull. The thickest strap flattens sweet white curls, thinner ones curved around his ears and jaw.

The structured leather cage, reinforced with metal, rests over his nose and mouth. It fits better than you could've hoped. There's a collar around his neck to match it, with a weighted chain in your hand. He's looking up at you with a softened gaze, ruby red and lidded. Needy.

The velvet of the loveseat dips comfortably under your weight as you sit. Astarion stays where he is. He's as pleasant as he's capable of being, hopeful as he scoots in closer to you.

He succeeds in acting cute, naturally talented in the art of being appealing. He scoots himself close to your legs and positions himself to rest his chin on the edge of your knee.

You meet his eyes amused. You let your hand brush along the pointed shell of his ear. Little goosebumps form in the wake of your touch.

"You should know better by now that those sorts of tricks don't work on me, hm?"

He huffs. "Well that's not true. They usually do work on you. Rather well, I would say."

You pause, taken aback, before relenting with a laugh His pout endears you. You let your eyes narrow a bit in knowing.

"Not like this though. You know that very well."

His frown deepens. You really do adore him. He taps his forehead against your leg as you bite back a smile, his muzzle making the touch briefer than he'd prefer.

"Gods. Of course I know but this, this is torture, darling."

Pleasant and noncommittal, your hand cups his nape. You pet him wherever you can reach, his head before slipping along his shoulder and against your lap. You settle at his back, tracing over raised scars.

A sorrowful hum leaves your lips. Neither of you believe it.

"Torture? Perhaps I've gotten too soft if this is torture."

"Oh you're so awful," He huffs, biting his tongue and choosing to rest against your leg in frustration for a while longer. "Sure, fine - torture is too perfunctory. But it's been terribly difficult! Where is your sympathy."

"What's difficult, Astarion?"

You're being cheeky asking him. After all your rules have been clear and reinforced well for the two tendays that have passed. You've been working hard on reteaching him patience. He used to be so patient, back when you were exploring and unsettled but you've let him take too much and now he'll interrupt you at any moment just to get what he needs.

(Astarion leans on you for guidance. Of course, he has himself - has his freedom that he took with bloodied hands and a broken heart. There’s many choices that he’s able to make for himself, some of them he can’t explain even to you. Whatever they are, they’re his to make and yours to support.

It’s different though. Not having a choice, and someone making choices for him out of something inscrutable. You don’t bed Astarion until you fulfill the promise of killing his master. More accurately, you don’t lay so much as a hand on him. Only intimate, sparse touches. Only love. Only patience.

You’re disinterested in only having his body. His heart, and his mind, and his very soul - all of it. You want to grasp them so firmly and never let go. The chains and leashing and discipline are testament to what you want most of Astarion - and that’s all of him. You want to enrich him in every conceivable way. Astarion deserves the granular finery of thoughtful guidance more than anyone. He's brighter when he feels special, after all.

You’ve broken down the walls between you with a closed fist for this purpose - a not so quiet ask to love him by opening your hand. He’s given you the honor to let you think and act for him so he doesn’t have too. Duty binds you to reteaching him virtue.

It's a privilege to think for him. To wipe his bloodied mouth and care for his appearance prim and his mind sharp. No longer a matted beast but a loved, loved little vampire in the crook of your arms

You’re not strict to no end. You'd rip the Astral Planes apart in search of what he desires, should he ask it of you, after all.

Only the best for your immortal love. )

His neediness makes him more misbehaving. He’s been scaring away anyone who looks at you too long for business and otherwise, unable to keep his hand away from between your legs or his head in your lap.

"Not letting me drink your blood for two tendays is unreasonable enough but on top of that," He's exasperated just explaining the dilemma to you. His muzzle is cool against your pant leg. "On top of that I'm not even allowed any relief. Despite all of your cruelty, you wicked thing. I never took you for such a sadist."

He scoffs. There's poorly masked lust in the last sentence. You stop yourself from smiling.

"Sadist? Really? I don't see it that way. Seeing you act so desperately all this time and keeping my hands neat at my sides... I'm a paragon of patience." You pull on the leash in your hand but don't pull him forward - though you tighten your grip. "It's…good to lead by example."

Excitement flashes over his face in a short burst. It's so brilliant you swear his eyes look white instead of red.

"You cheeky little—" He huffs at you. You smile warmly as he starts to curl in on himself. He already knows how to get himself what he wants.

He gives up on pretenses. Briefly, just to beg, a monumentally hard thing. "Please. I can't take a minute more of this."

There's a croak to his voice. He has a hard time covering its tracks, even with his propensity for theatrics.

His throat is so thick with want. Something ripping at the seams of him and begging to be released.

"You've done well if it helps, but" You praise. He preens. Instantly. He squirms and wiggles around but doesn't move much more than that. "You act like I don't feed you."

"It is not the same, my love. You're well aware."

You ignore him.

"I even bring you human blood, don't I?" You tease, and his frustration darkens him. "I brought a beautiful and fresh body to drain just yesterday."

"Yes but," His hands turn to tight fists. He isn't sure what he wants to do with himself. You pet him a little more. "It's not the same, damn it. I want yours. Just yours. Just you,"

He adds the last bit quieter than the rest. Your expression is unchanged and cool though your heart might give you away with how hard it pounds.

"Just mine?" You tease. tugging at this leash a little. He makes a face like he's infuriated, a poor mask for embarrassment that endears you even more."Is that flattery?"

You're being a little mean this time. You'll make it up to him. He almost panics before he realizes just that.

"Gods you're insufferable," He complains with no bite. He's hoping for mercy you truly have no desire to give him. "You know that it's not."

"You speak so beautifully it sounds like it. Such sweet little noises you can make."

You let the heel of your boot press along Astarion's crotch. He makes one for you, involuntary - skin pink and sinful.

"See? How pretty."

Astarion is easy to bring to ruin as is. His own snark and disobedience is a poor disguise for that truth. A little tenderness and honesty makes him fall apart. Flirting back with Astarion goads him, though. Fuels his desire to win one over you. If you meet his cheekiness with more cheekiness, he won't relent at all.

Normally that kind of response would make him nip at you. It speaks to his desperation that it doesn't. That instead of making his own snarky remark, he tenses. A deep, shaky little breath. You could tip him over the edge through his clothes at this rate.

You're not so cruel. Not for today, at least.

"Sit up straight."

He does so without protest. You place a hand on his shoulder, the other one tight around the chain of his leash. Carefully, you drag your sharp nails down the front of his chest - leaving light pinkish marks on the pale skin. Over and over and over in light drags. His chest raises under the gesture, your nails scratching soft against his nipples.

"Hng," His voice is feather light. He's trembling at the slightest touch. His spine arches like he's trying to get more friction. "Don't you think you've proven your point?"

You let your palm drag down the smooth plane of his stomach, stopping at his pants. His cock twitches hard against the seam of his pants. You let a finger pull into the waistband, but don't go any farther.

"Not sure," You let the leash drop into your lap. You threaten to pull them down, but don't. Expression blank, you tilt your head to one side. "Have you learned your lesson?"

"My lesson," He repeats sarcastically. You feign innocence as you nod. "Really, darling?"

"I'm not so much of a tyrant," You let go, letting your hand cup the outline of his hard cock. "To torture you without reason, right? So what have we practiced?"

He stares. It must really be getting to him. "Patience."

"Yes. I ask you to be patient. Never kind, but patient. Because I'll give you anything you ask for if you wait. Things are better when you wait for them, right?"

He frowns in annoyance and disbelief. He's exasperated, rightfully - because you are messing with him. Just a little. "Right."

You squeeze his cock tighter. He hisses immediately, grinding into the touch. You blow hot air against his ticklish skin, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"So, have you learned your lesson?"

Your grip goes tight. Astarion craves the touch so badly. You doubt he's ever gone so long without anything at all - if the desperation he's rutting his hips with is anything to go by. His head drops heavy from his shoulders, his hands on the edge of the couch gripping for his life. Manicured nails digging into the cushion like it will save him. His voice is weary.

"Y-," He shudders but you don't let go. "Yes, I'm very sure I have."

"Oh, you're sure."

You enjoy bullying him. At a certain point, it bares itself out against all your own evading. Astarion knows it well enough, though normally it's through less truly intolerable means. Keeping him inside you soft or scraping orgasms one after another until he's too stupid too talk are favored between you.

Astarion likes being given a hard time, in general though. You're made for each other.

"Pretty little thing aren't you, my love?" You tell him, suddenly warmed. You miss the tadpole sometimes. If you could touch his mind right now, you would. Violate his thoughts with your own wants. You settle for a long stare. "So sweet,"

The anticipation makes his breath hitch. He goes completely limp in your grasp, weak and desperate. The weight of it all cracks and he looks up. His eyes glass over.

He shatters under his own need. "For the love of—please. I c-cant, I need to-"

"Shh." You quell him with a tender pet to his head. "You're looking at me so pitifully. Is it starting to be too much?"

He just nods. Your smile widens.

"You've been very patient for these two tendays, haven't you?" You lay it on thick. This is the part you like. You watch as Astarion goes boneless, the words reaching so deep into him he can do little more than collapse himself into your lap. You release all grips of him and let him hold against you soothingly, cling to your legs. "A very, very good boy for all this time. You're quite capable of it when you need to be, aren't you?"

He doesn't reply, but you can feel him melt into you further. For a minute you think you've broken him until you hear him mutter the softest yes you've ever heard.

(Astarion is not so easy to break, of course. And not so keen on opening up the softened wells of his heart to any stranger.

But he does break for you, and gods haven't you worked hard for that? It's a testament to all you've poured into him. Like you know all the right buttons to split him open tenderly.

And he lets you look. Touch and feel and cover your fingers with blood. He trusts you to stitch him closed.)

"Yes, that's right. You've learned your lesson now, and you're going to be proper and well-behaved because that's what good boys do. And Astarion is a very good boy. My very, very good boy."

He picks his head to look at you properly. He's darling. His face is flush, mouth turned into a soft pout and utterly, utterly desperate. His mouth is bitten, indented holes in soft lips.

"Yes, I'm. Please. I want you to touch me."

You aren't sure what you want to start with. He's being needy and you could almost feel guilty.

You pick up something from your side. A dagger from your days of travel. You unsheath it quickly, and let the blade cut along the tip of your middle finger. The blood comes quickly after, ruby red and thick.

Astarion goes wide eyed. He’s hungry, so hungry - like he always is. But there’s something defeated in the ways he hesitates that make you relish. You push your finger through the cage of his muzzle and tilt your head. There’s mirth in your eyes.

“Go on,” You say, tease, mock maybe. “Eat.”

He abandons restraint. All of it. You don’t make him work more for it. You push your finger down close enough for his mouth to lick at your wound and let your hand rest on the cage. He can’t get what he’s craving like this. The bone deep sensation starts to claw at him, a soft whimper tucked in the back of his throat.

More. He wants more. Of course he wants more.

“You look drunk.” You say, and there’s sharpness to your words. The ways in which Astarion is erotic have nothing to do with his theatrics. He is appealing when he’s giving up on everything but what he wants, always has been. “Have you missed it that much?”

“Yes.” He supplements, letting his tongue run over “More.”

You pull your hand away. “Take your clothes off.”

You watch Astarion scramble to stand. You bring your dagger with you then reach over to the table beside you. Scented oils roll around in the drawer. You’re careful with the blade as you fish out a bottle of it, taking it in your hands. Astarion stands naked, the heavy chain of his leash brushing against his skin.

“Kneel and lean on the couch, my love.”

Astarion is the picture of obedience. He leans on his elbows on the couch seats, with his legs spread apart, leash in a pool next to him as he folds his arms and tucks his face. You stand on your knees behind him, admiring his back in the lowlights.

Your hands rest on his thighs as you kiss up his spine. Small, short kisses all the way until you’ve reached the back of his neck. Your lips brush his nape, nose nudging against the metal of his muzzle.

Something overwhelms you. Addicting, euphoric as your clothed body drapes around Astarion, free hand on his waist - moving up his stomach to toy with his nipples. It thrums through you, listening to the ragged anticipation and distraught way he moves. Against you, against everything. Aching for touch.

You feel it overwhelmingly as you close in on his ear. Astarion huffs, long panting breaths. He needs this.

“Look at how naturally you yield to me now,” You all be coo. Astarion groans. Shuddering, your hand slides around his narrow waist and wraps a fist around his cock. He gasps. “You’ve become so pliable, so needy. But you know my star, I quite like when you’re needy.”

He hiccups and shivers and whines. “You’re the prettiest when you behave like the sweet little thing you can be, like I know you are. When you listen and yield and let me adore you in all the right ways. Such a sweet boy you can be, if only you let yourself.”

“Darling,” His voice cracks. There’s a helpless quality to it. A little more, that’s all you need. “I — you —”

You pull back and straighten your voice out, taking off Astarions muzzle after the valiant efforts he’s been making to wear it. It falls onto the couch unceremoniously.

“I’m saying, well done Astarion. I’ll reward you for all that effort. I’ll slash another scar in my hand for you to drink from and then again in the evening when I’ve recovered,” You lean back on your legs as you make promises on your own words. “I’ll bleed for you until you’ve sated yourself and let you get drunk on it. Then, when you’re malleable, I’ll fuck you. Again and again and again until you’ve all but forgotten yourself. All but forgotten who exactly you behave for.”

You open the oil and let it drip onto his back, watching mesmerized as it slips against every curve and crevice. When there’s enough to make opening him up easy, you stop and reach for your dagger.

The weapon slashes over the same wound. You’ve done this tens of times now. You don’t let the scars heal with a potion or some kind of spell. Astarion is far from the comfort of romance, but it is its own promise. Your scar is his.

The pain is brief, but it’s enough to feel it. You don’t flinch, though. When the blood finally seeps from it, you find yourself over Astarions back once again.

You let your bleeding palms clamp over his mouth. It’s as close to sacred as you can forge between you. Astarion moans. It is shameless. Pitchy, high with want and utterly broken. He laps at the blood like a dog, his tongue sharp against the familiar wound. You can feel his body twitch beneath you, the muffled sounds of his voice.

There is no performance in that kind of pleasure, but the amount of arousal that spikes Astarion’s whole body never fails to surprise you.

When he’s feeding from you, you busy your other hand with fucking him open on your fingers. Your dominant hand slips down the smooth curve of his spine, oiled skin soft and cool under your palms. He’s built like a dancer, beautiful curves. He’s a little softer now that he eats well. It looks good on him.

You let your middle finger brush over his hole, relishing in the soft gasp he lets out as you do. Astarion’s aroused enough to accommodate you as you circle it. The tight ring of muscle is familiar, and welcoming to your touch. You don’t need to teach Astarion to breathe, don’t need to remind him of it. You can feel his whole body push along your hands as if urging you towards him. You’re too delicate about the matter for his time.

Astarion is warmer inside than he is out. It fascinates you, makes your own stomach churn with want as your middle finger curves slowly. You pump in short motions until the resistance is all but gone. When you’ve made it as far as the knuckle of your middle finger, you start to search. You curl and press yourself against soft insides, search and search for what you’re looking for.

Astarion lurches forward when you find it. The most pitiful little moan you’ve ever heard squeaks out from his lips, against your hand.

“That’s it, isn’t it? Right there?”

Astarion makes noncommittal noises as you repeat the process again. Another finger, your ringer - spreading him open. Tight hole giving into your touch, filling him. Your mouth kisses the skin that you can reach. You peck and bite along the curve of his shoulders and all over his back as your ring finger penetrates him. His insides soften as you find your pace.

You see his hands start to fidget, but you chide him before he can do it.

“Not yet. You can touch yourself when I tell you too. Not before.”

Astarion needs more than this. You’ll give it to him, but patience is the virtue here.

You don’t know how long that’s going to stick though. The way Astarion is shaking underneath doesn’t give you confidence he’s going to hold out long enough for you to take him apart like you want. You’ll give him something proper later, when he’s not so pent you think the slight brush of skin could make him cum.

You do, desperately, want to see Astarion cum. But it has to be done the right way, or everything would go to waste in a single moment. You fuck him open on your fingers with a pinpoint pressure and accuracy, gauging his every move with the little gestures of his body. You know perfectly, know every inch of him inside and out like a book you’ve read page to page with the corners turned. The way he sways, lays intimately on the edge of cumming but never quite pushing himself over the finish line, speaks to that.

That, and the way he licks the blood from your palm like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted in his life. You can feel it, how messy it is - lapping at the split wound. Sharp unruly teeth digging into your skin, the soft breath of his nose tickling your hand as you cup his mouth. He licks so fervently, like it’s mouthwatering enough to die for.

It doesn’t help the arousal between your legs. It’d be damning for him to know how affected you are by this. By him.

“My beautiful boy,” Your voice is thick with desire. You can’t help yourself, the low possession laced it in. “Fucking perfect,”

“My love,” The words muffle against your palm. You move your hand away to let him speak and his face moves instinctually to bury himself back in it. “P-please. Let me touch myself, it aches,”

You weigh it for a minute, watching his body lurch forward as you fingerfuck him. You make a noise in the back of your throat, dropping your forehead against his spine - adrenaline making sweat drip down the crown of your head.

“Poor thing. Aches does it? Touch yourself for me, Astarion. I want to see you make a mess.”

He groans, hands moving immediately to fist his cock. You can hear it, the sound of him fucking his own fist like a wet, welcoming hole - cock wet and dripping with prespend. Astarions whole body starts to fall limp. His face pushed into the seat, little wet sobs spilling from his lips as he swears over and over.

It doesn’t take any time for his body to give into the feeling of being pleasured from all angles. You feel his face nudge against your hand for blood as his muscles start to go tighter and tighter.

“Shit,” He huffs, pushing himself back into your hands. “I’m going to cum.”

You keep your other hand in place, pace steady.

“Cum for me, baby. That’s it, easy does it.”

It happens so quickly you’re not sure if you should be impressed or if you should laugh affectionately. You can feel it, the way his hips stutter to a stop, his whole body grinding against you and holding tight to whatever he can cling to for purchase. His body weakens under the weight of your own, going completely tight like a bowstring before falling utterly helpless. Astarion moans loud when he cums, thick white ropes of it dressing the upholstery of the couch and falling to the floor. It’s an impressive amount. Save for what lands on the velvet, it pools thick and heavy. There’s so much, it’s like he can’t stop cumming. At least a minute passes before the twitching ceases.

He lays there, ragged and weightless and limp. You take your hand away from his mouth and slowly ease yourself out of him as he stays and catches his breath. You press soft, warm pecks up his spine.

You move away from him to give him some space to breathe, sitting back criss-cross on the ground. Astarion has no intention of getting up on his own, though. Before you can make sense of it, he crawls over to you. He must be worn out, given how willingly he’s coming into your arms in pure exhaustion. His cock is spent, soft against his belly and pink. He’s still naked and leashed.

Still needy, but the lust has subsided if only a little. Astarion seats himself between your open legs. You laugh lightly, letting him rest in your side - face in the crook of your neck in utter exhaustion.

“Hero of Baldurs Gate this, savior of the city that. I know evil when I see it, darling. Just outright cruel.”

You break out into a laugh at the change in behavior as he pulls away to look at you. His eyes are remarkably watery.

“That claim is undermined by that mess you’ve made on the floor there. Did you enjoy yourself?”

He almost looks embarrassed by it, a pinkish tint turning the tips of his ears bright.

“You’ve given me two terrible choices. I say yes and you think it’s a clever idea to do it again or I say no and I never experience whatever that was again in my life. A lose-lose situation.”

“So you did enjoy it,” You say warmly. Astarion scoffs but doesn’t protest. “I’m glad. You’re very attractive when you’re pitiful.”

“What despicable taste. I’m beautiful irregardless.”

You let your head bump against his, and Astarion half-heartedly returns the gesture. “That’s true. A sight for sore eyes as they say.”

“If you’re true to your word then I’ve earned a little more than just one,” Astarion purrs. Before that, he examines your (still bleeding hand) and picks your palm up to kiss. You grin wildy at his tongue lapping over the wound. “And you’re properly pent up, aren’t you? Let's get this cleaned up and let the real fun begin.”

“Aren’t you insatiable today? As you wish, my prince. We can move upstairs.”

He bemoans this. “You’ll have to drag my undead body up there if you’re asking me to get on my own two feet.”

“Or I could carry you like a bride.”

“A bride? How ostentatious. I’ll allow it.” Astarion says, then adds more quietly. “But we can stay… here a little longer first.”

You hum against his skin, peppering his face with soft kisses; he doesn't turn you away from the skinship, which you’re pleased by. “Of course my love,”

He lays in your arms quietly and the thought reaffirms itself. You’d do anything for him.

✧ a/n : no one is more upset by the length of this than me. trust and believe this. also sorry for the yapping i just... posting this is so foreboding. it feels like that picture of spongebob who puts his hands up so a car doesn't fall on him. i am Afraid.

maybe ill write a part two of him eating box or something. we'll see. anyway thanks for reading </3. please do rb if you enjoyed. so scared to be in the tags for this.

#rogues love letters #bg3 x reader #astarion x reader #astarion smut #bg3 smut #baldurs gate x reader #what other tags..idk..#this fucking thing cooked me to death i hate this guy BOOO throws tomatoes at him #zeros.dr #sub astarion

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tyunkus · 1 year

Text

perv

pairing: bf!huening kai x fem!reader summary: maybe kai is more of a pervert than he lets on. maybe you like it.

wc: 2.2k

warnings: reader is fem!bodied and referred to as a girl multiple times!!! dont read if that makes u uncomfy pls! there is also: established relationship, both of you are horny af Thus the references to being a perv and whatnot, making out, LOTS OF BEGGING from both reader n hyuka kinda, dirty talk (praise with elements of degradation n humiliation), pet names (baby, angel, good girl), penetrative, No condom (practice safe sex lovelies), not rly breeding but breeding-adjacent (hyuka comes inside u <3), some stuttering i guess cuz kai is nervous n opening up his sexual horizons but it’s all cute and mushy, kai talks a lot in this he can’t shut up ur pussy’s too perfect babe

note: less plot than amazon wishlist sorry hehe i just wanted to write cutesy kai trying his hand at dirty talk with his perfect sexy gf (you)! i love him so bad guys i tried to portray him as best as possible but i might have failed miserably and if i did you’re allowed to egg my house ALSOOOO kinda rushed and not proofread and unbeta-ed im so sorry the ending SUCKSSSS

ALSO! if you were wondering why it seems familiar i based this ask off of the draft for this

“Can I kiss you?” Kai asks.

He always asks first, even though he knows you will always say yes. And you always feel so fluttery whenever he does, even though you’ve kissed him so many times now his lips feel familiar when they nudge against yours. It usually starts out like this—just the two of you on his bed, straddling his hips as he looks up at you. He says it’s his favorite perspective of you, which you’re not sure you understand. But Kai is always firm in his opinions of you, so you don’t mind.

“Please, please,” you say, and so he does, lips slotting against yours, soft, soft. Kai makes a quiet noise, reaches up to brush away your hair. His hands, so large and warm where he keeps them on your waist, just above your hip.

“So pretty. My pretty baby,” he murmurs, and your heart sings. You bunch your hands up in his shirt, breathe him in. You want to bite him.

“Kai. Kai.”

“Yes? Hm?”

“Please. I want—I want—” The worst part is you can’t even verbalize what you want, either, but you’re squirming and panting on his lap, lips slick with his spit, and there’s honestly not many messages that those movements could possibly allude to other than I want your cock. “I—please, Kai, ah.”

“Gonna make me crazy,” Kai says, voice teetering on a whine. “Your noises. So cute. Want more, pretty? More?”

You kiss him again, drinking in his words, running your hands through his hair. Cute, cute. He’s breathing heavily, nose bumping against your cheek. Hours, you could spend hours just kissing him. Cute. You don’t realize you say it out loud until Kai makes a high noise at the back of his throat.

“Angel—so beautiful—I wanna—ah, can I, please—”

You take his wrist, guide his hand to the waistband of your pajamas. “Can you?” you ask, almost beg, your fingers trembling where they fold around his wrist. “Kai, please, I want you to touch me.”

You trail off when you see Kai’s expression, tentative and unsure. “Baby,” he whispers, tipping you down towards him so he can press a mountain of kisses against the column of your throat. His hand brushes over the hem of your underwear, soothing the divide between skin and bright pink lace. The warmth of his hand ghosts over you, where you ache the most, and you try not to sound too pathetic when you whine. “Baby, baby, shh, you know I want to.”

“Then do it,” you plead, your legs practically shaking with how badly you want it. Need it. You could hate him for not giving it to you. You could, but Kai likes good girls, and that’s what you are. What you want to be.

“Be a good girl,” Kai instructs, gently, his voice wavering still. There it is—Kai’s kinks slipping through the cracks. Finally, after you had to go through all the work to shatter it yourself. He’s still so shy about it, sounding so unsure when he talks dirty to you, but you can tell he finds it hot, with how red his cheeks get. “Not now, baby. Be good for me, don’t you want to be good?”

“Please,” you plead, completely ignoring him, inching the tips of your fingernails up and down his chest, his shoulders, his throat. You lean down until your face is practically buried in his hair, and you can feel his breath hit your tummy, his hands pressing down on your waist. “Kaaaaaiiiiii.”

But he only giggles brightly, face breaking into a smile against your skin. He loves this, gets off on this dynamic—you are normally the one taking the lead, but in here, like this, it’s Kai who gets to play with you the way he wants, coax reactions out of you with every touch. Treat you like a princess, be in charge, because it’s only in bed that he wants to. You can order him around during the daytime as much as you like, as long as he gets to fuck you up the way he wants.

“Want it that bad, sweetheart?” he murmurs, planting a kiss on your tummy. “So bad you’re practically gagging for it, huh? Want something else to gag on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Shut up,” you cry, heart fluttering at the way he giggles right after. “Fuck me first, please, I want it so bad.”

Kai coos at you, rubbing his hands along the sides of your thighs. “I know, baby, I know. Let me flip you over, sweetheart, I’ll take care of my cute baby.” And so he does, gently lifting you off of his crotch and letting you land softly on your back; he slides you a glittering smile, then settles his hands between your legs once again. “Want me to finger you first?”

You nod. “Anything, want anything. Please. Just you.”

Kai hums. “Anything? What if I made you get– get off on my thigh, hm? I…” He trails off here, steadies his breath. You can see the way his gaze trails down your body, hungry, wanting. “What if I used one of your cute toys on you, took it away right before you came? Would you… would you still want that?”

“Don’t care, Kai, just want you—you can do anything, anything, please—”

Kai groans and buries his face in your neck, thumbing over your clothed cunt. “F-fuck, baby,” he rumbles against your skin, feeling his fingertips dip inside you, slippery with your wetness. “So worked up over— over just a bit of touching, fuck, what a cute baby. So horny for me, for my cock, right?”

You let out a moan, your hips bucking up to meet his fingers. “Mhm, yes, Kai. Give me, give it to me.”

“Okay, okay, I will.” Kai presses a kiss to your cheek, so unfitting and filthy compared to his fingers rubbing over you. He pulls back slightly to look you in the eye. You can sense the flicker of nervousness underneath. “I’m not gonna last very long. Probably. ’S that okay?”

“That’s fine,” you breathe. “I don’t care. Just… I just want you inside of me.”

“I can do that,” Kai chokes, and you laugh. “Could I– could I fuck you like this?”

“Like what?”

Kai pokes your waist. “Missionary?” he says like it’s an offer, the corners of his lips rising when you squirm. “I want to see your face while I fuck you. You always look so pretty like that.”

Your cheeks heat and you look away. “You’re a perv. But okay, sure.”

“You’re the perv. Got all horny when we we’re just making out.” He presses a wet kiss to your cheek. “What if I had just wanted to kiss you, huh? Just some pure, innocent making out.”

“Sorry. You get me all worked up.”

Kai giggles. “I know. Love hearing you say it.” He hums while he takes off his sweatpants, and you do the same—you’re still tugging off your shirt when you feel his fingers brush against the clasp of your bra.

“You desperate?” you tease, letting him take it off for you.

Kai nods solemnly, moving down so his bare hips are parallel to yours. “Hell yeah,” he says, but you’re looking so intently at his cock that you forget to laugh. “Quit staring, perv.”

“You’re so annoying,” you shoot back, but there’s no bite, and he only smiles, taking the base of his cock to align himself with you. There’s a bare second of quiet, where you can hear both of your breaths, bated and waiting, and you can see the desperation—the hunger—in Kai’s face.

“Can I put it in now, baby?” he breathes. “Please? F-fuck, please?”

Shit. You might go insane if he keeps this up, begging prettily for you before he even gets his cock inside. You whine and nod, breath hitching when his fingers graze your tits. “Please, Kai,” you whimper. “Please, yes, please.”

Kai grabs the base of his cock again and eases the tip past your folds, his heart beating wildly. He breathes heavily, his other hand steady on your hip, so large compared to your smaller frame. “Jesus fucking Christ. You feel so good,” he says, trying not to sound too whiny when he barely put it in, but you don’t even notice, trembling beneath him. His brows furrow, lost in your warmth, but he manages to muster a smile. “You okay, angel?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is high and reedy. Your hands bunch up in the sheets. “Put—more, more, please.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he responds, sounding on the verge of tears, because he quite honestly is about to cry with how tight you feel already. He eases more in, slowly, letting you take it in inch by inch, relishing in the feeling. A few moments pass and your hips finally meet; you let out twin sighs of relief. Kai leans over to mouth at your shoulder, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Shiiit, baby, you feel fucking good.”

You only moan in response, almost drooling onto the sheets. Kai stays still for a while, letting you get used to it, marvelling at how wet you are.

“Shit, I could be inside you forever. Oh, fuck. W-would you let me? Hm? Ah, would you let me—shit—fuck this t-tight cunt everyday? Want me to be inside you all the time, right? Isn’t that right, baby?” Kai taps your cheek and you just sob, backing your hips against his desperately. Kai lets out a giggle, and it’s so high-pitched and out of place you would probably scold him if you were in any other state of mind.

Alas, instead you’re trembling beneath him as he pounds you, whining and drooling on the sheets because his cock feels so good. It should be embarrassing. It definitely is. But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“You’re a f-fucking pervert,” you whine.

Kai breaks into a smile, so wide and so fucking proud of himself. You can tell, even through your hazy mind, and it makes your heart swell. “Shit, I must have a good fuckin’ cock if I got you all f-fucked up like this,” he murmurs, using his free hand to play with your nipples. “I love you so much, angel. Love making you feel good.” The filth falls so easily from his mouth that it’s hard for you to believe that not one hour ago Kai was struggling to even call you a good girl.

“Luh—fuck, love you too, Kai,” you wail, bringing your hands up to splay across your face. “Please, please keep going, f-feels so good—”

“You’re so shy,” Kai whispers, his expression melting into a grin. He reaches up, pinches your cheeks. “How are you still so shy, hm? Your pussy is weeping onto my cock and you’re acting like this? So cute. Wanna fuck you so hard.”

“You already are,” you whine, reaching up to slap weakly at his chest. “Fuck, why are you t-talking so much?”

Kai giggles again. “Feels so good, that’s why. Your pussy’s making my brain melt. Fuck.” He gives a particularly hard thrust here, then moves his hand to rub over your tummy. “’M gonna come soon. Love you—I love you so much. Where do you want it, angel? Inside?”

“Mmm—yeah, fuck, please.”

“Gonna fuck you til your pussy’s all white and mine, alright? Fuck it back into you so it stays there, ffff-fuck, baby, I love you, thank you, I love you so mu— fuck—”

Wet heat inside you and a soft breath against the side of your neck—you feel his head drop onto your shoulder before his hand reaches over to your clit. His hips shift and he pulls out, only to move down between your legs and give your pussy a soft, almost kittenish lick. “G’na come f’me, too, angel,” he murmurs around your pussy, and you can see the hints of a smile gracing his face when your legs close around his head and muss up his hair. “Come on, please, please, want you to come—”

He lolls out his tongue and buries his face deeper in between your thighs, and it only takes a few mor licks, sucks, and the steady pump of his fingers before you’re coming, legs trembling around his ears and hands tangled in his messy hair. Your hips buck up into the air but his lips still follow, chasing the taste, and you whine from the overstimulation.

When he pulls away, a string of spit follows. He can’t move far before you’re grabbing him and pulling him into a kiss, smiling against his teeth when he lets out a small oof. He’s on top of you now, hand cupping your cheek.

“Love you,” Kai murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Love you so much. You okay? You’re making a face.”

You are. “Sorry—one of your plushies—Molang, I’m like, sitting on it—”

“Oh!” You lift your hips and Kai reaches underneath your torso to retrieve his blue penguin Molang pushie. He smiles down at you. “Were you on it the entire time?”

“No, I think it fell while you were eating me out and somehow ended up underneath me.”

Kai grins and nuzzles his face into your neck. “You were arching your back that much? Did it feel that good?”

“I think this concerns the amount of plushies you have, not your stroke game—”

“My pussy eating game, actually.”

You throw another Molang plushie at his face. It’s soft, just like his cheeks when he smiles at you and they get all squishy, just like his lips when you tug him down for another kiss.

#huening kai smut #huening kai hard hours #huening kai hard thoughts #huening kai x reader #hyuka hard hours #hyuka hard thoughts #hyuka smut #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts

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junggunz · 4 days

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♡⸝⸝ nsfw alphabet: wooin yoo

cw: fembodied reader. wooin is toxic. duh. typical thirsty rambles. an: what can i say- im a WHORE for sabbath crew. @ayylovley as promised, here is our community pp.

wooin's overall vibe while doing the deed: gfg by miguel // i like the way you kiss me by artemis

A - Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After rearranging your guts, Wooin is the type to ask you to get him water. He’s so sassy, saying shit like “I worked hard to make you cum that many times. All I’m asking for is some water.” Whether or not he wants cuddles afterwards is gonna depend on things like how he’s feeling, how much he likes you, or if he has time to laze around. In the event that he does want them, he’s not gonna ask you to cuddle; he will demand them. You wanna go to clean up or use the bathroom after? Too bad, Wooin thinks you should cuddle him while he’s feeling affectionate.

B - Body Part (their favorite body part on themselves and their favorite body part on their partner)

On himself, highkey I think Wooin is really into his tongue. Like, why else would it always be out? He knows it’s a killer.

On his partner…I’m not saying Wooin has a foot fetish, but he does give me the vibe that he would criticize you if you didn’t have good looking feet LMFAO.

C - Cum (anything related to 💦💦💦)

Wooin likes to get real nasty with it. He loves cumming on you and in you equally. Gives me the impression that if he’s in a committed relationship with you, he would go as far to slurp his cum out of you just so he could spit it into your mouth.

D - Dirty Secret

Would there even be any secrets with Wooin- he seems like he would be a very forthcoming person when it comes to sex for the most part in my opinion. Any ‘secrets’ he might have he would be the type to bring them up as jokes or like to allude to them in another way.

If he were to have a secret, I think it’d be something out of pocket like doing some blasphemous roleplay where you dress as a nun. This wouldn’t necessarily be a secret…but Wooin def seems like the type to be a bratty sub if you ever decide to dom him.

E - Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Wooin is a slut. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Argue with your mom bout it.

F - Favorite Position

Doggy. From the back. With his foot on your face. Also, butter churner if you’re flexible enough.

G - Goofy (are they more serious or playful in the moment?)

Wooin is a good mix of serious and playful during sex. He’s definitely a teasing little shit so his playfulness can easily come across as mean.

H - Hair (how well groomed they are)

Seeing how well he maintains his haircut (he’s def a slut who gets fresh cuts every week or every other week) Wooin probably partakes in a bit of manscaping. Once again, if he doesn’t keep it trimmed, you’re not gonna be able to see how much he’s packing- he gives me the impression that he might be totally smooth down there when he feels like it.

I - Intimacy (how romantic are they in the moment?)

It’s so rare to get Wooin to be romantic. He seems like the type to never really be romantic until you’ve been seeing him for a faaat minute. He’s actually so toxic- if you even give him just the impression that you’re thinking of seeing someone else, he’d probably put in more effort into showing you how much you actually mean to him.

J - Jack Off (how frequently do they masturbate?)

Not that often. Maybe every now and then if he wakes up really horny or can’t sleep. But Wooin definitely feels like masturbation is beneath him. Why settle for using his hand when he can use your throat?

K - Kink

Like mentioned in ‘I’ you are not getting romantic sex from Wooin. He’s giving you that rough, degrading sex that almost makes you regret hooking up with him because you have no idea if he’ll call again, but at the same time…it felt really good. That being said…Wooin’s major kinks are gonna be degrading, dirty talking, spanking, and a bit of breathplay.

Diving a little more into things, he’s also into:

Filming - so you can have a nice little souvenir of your time with him. Because he’s evil, he may or may not keep a copy of the video to show to his buddies.

Phone sex - especially when you don’t initially know that he’s getting off to the sound of you talking.

Cockworship - no comment.

He’s also the type to spit in your mouth. The more often he does it, the more he likes you.

Wooin definitely has a bunch of other kinks that I will leave up in the air, but those are just the main things I think of when it comes to him. Most important takeaway is that he likes his sex sloppy and exhilarating.

L - Location (favorite places to do the deed)

Anywhere and everywhere ??? This man has no shame.

M - Motivation (what turns them on and gets them going)

Wooin gets the most turned on when sex feels like a conquest or challenge. There are two types of people that I imagine him gravitating toward; someone who is hard to get and expresses initial disinterest in him OR someone who is a bit hesitant/shy when he puts the moves on them. He is a strategist and sees sex as a mental game before it becomes physical.

In a scenario where the two of you are already dating/acquainted with one another, Wooin would still like it when you play hard to get and initially ‘reject’ his advances so he could seduce you. But on the flip side, I think he would also like it if you came across as needy for him because who doesn’t enjoy the ego boost of knowing someone wants them real bad.

N - NO (what turns them off or something they’re strongly against)

Wooin seems very adventurous in the bedroom so I can’t think of too many of the common kinks he wouldn’t at least try once. One thing Wooin probably wouldn’t be too keen on trying is him being gagged. He has a filthy mouth and he’s the type to know exactly what to say to get you going; not being able to speak would frustrate him to no end.

O - Oral (preference for giving or receiving, skill level)

Whether Wooin prefers to receive or give head will probably depend on his relationship with whoever he’s fucking tbh. He already knows that his tongue is magic and he can do all sorts of neat tricks with it so when he’s on the giving end, he sees it as something you have to work for and prove that you deserve.

P - Pace

Wooin is the type to keep you on your toes. His pace switches up pretty often. A lot of guys do that thing where they slow down when they don’t wanna cum too quickly but I don’t think Wooin would be one. It’s more likely for him to slow down when he knows you’re about to finish because he likes teasing you and then his pace will pick up when he’s getting close.

Q - Quickie (opinions on them/how often)

He’s a big fan of quickies. Probably gets into them often because he’s a SLUT. Even in a serious relationship, quickies are still gonna be frequent.

R - Risk (do they like to experiment or take risks?)

Duh. Do I seriously need to say anything else.

S - Stamina (how long do they last? How many rounds would they like to go for?)

In my Lookism NSFW Alphabets, I mention how almost all the characters are gonna have insane amounts of stamina. Same thing is gonna go for the Windbreaker characters tbh. Like, c’mon. Windbreaker is all about cyclists. OF COURSE EVERYONE IS GONNA HAVE MORE STAMINA THAN THE AVERAGE PERSON.

With Wooin…I honestly haven’t decided if he would be the type to use sex as a means of improving his athletic performance or if he would work on his athletic performance so he could last longer in bed. But like either way, he’s taking you to Pound Town and then back several times.

T - Toy (how do they feel about using them?)

Wooin definitely dabbles in some toy usage when the mood strikes. While dating, he’s the type to make you wear one of those remote control vibrators in public when the two of you go on any sort of outing.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Wooin is actually so unfair it’s ridiculous. He loves edging and orgasm denial. He has some selfish tendencies so he’s one of the characters that I can imagine not caring if his partner cums or not. What matters more to him if he’s able to leave you craving more of him.

V - Volume (how loud they are and what sounds do they make?)

Already mentioned that Wooin is into dirty talk so it should be no surprise that he’s gonna be vocal. He makes all sorts of moans, groans and grunts. He might even whimper a bit when he’s feeling really good.

W - Wild Card

Wooin is the wild card if we’re being honest. If him getting territorial over you when the two of you are in the situationship phase wasn’t enough of a wild card… Wooin’s ‘secret quirk’ would be him being into you marking him and getting possessive when it comes to him.

X - X-Ray (what’s in those pants?)

Being one of the ‘shorter’ Windbreaker characters (but he’s still tall to me tbh) his pp is gonna be proportional to his height and average length. Leans toward the thick side though. Has a nice curve to it. PROBABLY HAS HIS DICK PIERCED TBHHHHH.

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Wooin’s sex drive definitely fluctuates. I can’t imagine him being a horndog 24/7 even while dating because he gives me ‘money over bitches’ vibes as proven by the playlist i made for him lol. His sex drive does seem to increase whenever he’s bored or craving physical intimacy.

Z ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 - (how quickly they fall asleep after.)

Wooin would only fall asleep after sex if he was super comfortable with you. Definitely the type to send his one night stands home before he goes to bed. But like even if he were comfortable enough to sleep in your presence, he’d probably be on his phone for a bit before actually going to bed.

bonus!

“It's funny,” Wooin starts off, a smug grin tugging at his lips as he looks at you. “You always say that you're over me but here you are; under me once again.”

You shiver as his fingers spider along your cheek and jawline, his thumb grazes your lips oh so gently before it catches the corner of your mouth and pries it open. It’s almost an instinctive response at this point for you to let your jaw go slack, sticking your tongue out so Wooin can let a fat glob of his spit land on the waiting muscle. He never has to ask because you just take it; willingly at that. Perhaps it’s because you like the way his saliva looks as it drips past the shiny jewelry in his tongue before it cascades down the serpentine appendage. Or possibly, between doing the Devil’s Tango with him and bickering with him because he did so many things outside of the bedroom to get under your skin, you developed a little crush on him.

Maybe just maybe, the old wives tale about letting someone spit in your mouth was witchcraft and a surefire way to become obsessed with them was true. No matter how many times you threatened to cut him off because you were tired of going in circles with him, you couldn’t resist picking up whenever he called. It was a bit pathetic to think about.

But thinking is unnecessary while you eagerly take Wooin’s spit in your mouth and swallow it down like it was the only way to hydrate yourself.

“Don’t start getting sassy with me…You’re gonna kill the mood.” You mutter, finally able to string together a response to his initial cheeky remark.

“It’s true though.” He laughs, getting you out of your clothes by tugging on the garments to silently command you to start stripping for him. “You keep trying to run away from me like I don’t already have you wrapped around my finger.”

By the time Wooin gets out of his own clothes, you prove his point by letting him maneuver your body into one of his favorite positions. Back in the perfect arch so your ass is up and ready for the taking, he doesn’t even need to prep you. From just a little bit of kissing and groping you when he first showed up at your doorstep was enough to get you like a fountain.

“Besides, why would you want to call it quits when your pussy gets this wet for me?” Wooin comments, tauntingly rubbing his shaft through your slick folds and making it a point to rub the leaking tip against your swollen pearl.

Aligning himself up to your hole then starting to slowly sink into you, inch by inch. You pant at the intrusion, clutching onto the sheets, feeling his hefty base slap against you when he bottoms out. Head empty and tight cunt full of him is exactly how Wooin likes you. He wouldn’t deny that he does like a few other things about you— some physical and some about your personality— but in this state, you’re more susceptible to this charm so of course this is favorite way to have you. You’d do anything he’d ask if it meant he’d make you cum.

As he remains motionless within your walls, you start to grow antsy; unable to stop yourself from rocking your hips back and forth just so you could feel his cock giving you the friction you craved. It was a fifty-fifty toss up of whether Wooin would let you continue like this or punish you; but those were odds you were willing to work with.

Luckily, Wooin was in a good mood today.

“That’s right, baby, there you go— feel how hard it makes me when you slut yourself out for me?” His praise is so dirty, it’s hard to believe that it’s not an insult. But with how tight your insides squeeze him, you can feel him throb inside you. Every twitch, every pulse. He’s all lubed up from your pussy and it allows you to move faster.

“Pretty little cunt just can't get enough of my cock.” Wooin muses, his tongue wetting his parched lips as his gaze remains fixed on your body beneath his.

The tantalizing sight of your hips undulating and your ass bouncing off his pelvis as you take him deep has Wooin stuck. He could honestly die happy if this was the last thing he saw. It’s kind of ironic to Wooin— how he insisted on only hitting it from the back so neither of you would catch feelings— yet here he is, convinced that he’s in love with watching your ass move and seeing how your hungry pussy takes his dick oh so well.

Maybe over time, he’d come around to settling down with you. Taking life more seriously. Knocking you up with a kid or two. For now though, he was just going to enjoy fucking the absolute lights out of you until he had no doubts about you ever ghosting him.

#windbreaker x reader #windbreaker smut #windbreaker headcanons #windbreaker scenarios #wooin yu scenarios #wooin smut #wooin x reader #junggunz.txt

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blossomwritesthings · 10 months

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𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭

pairing: minho x curvyfem!reader (afab)

genre: idol!minho. curvy!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. slight fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ ONLY. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. this shit's got some angst in it. reader had an abusive and fat-ph0bic ex in the past, and has trauma from that. reader is self conscious about their legs/weight. smut warnings below cut!!

word count: 5.0k

summary: you had thought that your scars from the past were healed, but evidently, your ex from college was still clouding your mind. thankfully, your boyfriend minho is right there to help you heal from the heartbreak.

18+ warnings: unprotected sex (stay safe out there, guys!). minho has a thing for reader in skirts/her thick thighs. fingering. minho eats reader out. DIRTY talk. dom!minho. sub!reader. making out. manhandling. praise kink. nipple/breast play. face riding. slight sub-space. excessive hair pulling. breeding kink is alluded to. pet names (babydoll, babygirl, kitten, etc.). degradation kink (minho calls reader a whore/slut). daddy kink. slighttt dollificaition/corruption kink. multiple orgasms.

a/n: started writing this last week after some of my good stay writing friends sortaa gave me the prompt to do a minho x thick reader. I originally planned for this to be just a short drabble but... here we are lmao. 💀 also, I am a thick girl myself, so I really appreciate writing/reading inserts where I can relate to y/n. anyways, enjoy you guys!! 😖

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

The moment Minho opened the door to the studio, and saw you standing there, he completely froze up. And the look on his face, of utter surprise, left you shifting on either of your feet in sudden anxiety.

You knew you shouldn’t have come to the company to surprise him during his work day, especially since he and the boys were so busy preparing for their next comeback.

And you knew that you shouldn’t have rolled up to the recording studio dressed as you were, in the new outfit that you had bought at the mall the week before. Originally, you had wanted to wear it the next time the two of you went out on a date night together, but with his rapidly growing schedule of duties, you decided that you wouldn’t get such an opportunity for a while.

The outfit wasn’t all that scandalous…

Sure, the white, lacy tank top was pretty skintight and showed quite a bit of your cleavage, and the pink skirt that was embellished with white satin bows on the sides was quite short.

Okay, scratch that, the flowy, baby-pink pleated skirt was really fucking short.

Like, borderline porn-star level short.

The hemline was cropped so much that it barely covered your ass.

But that’s why you wore the long, white lace stockings. To hide some of the expanse of skin that you were exposing.

You had never been particularly fond of your legs. Being a curvy girl and all, they had always been rather… chubby for your liking. Sure, your tits were nice and big. But having thick thighs? That would be a hard hell no in your book.

Even still, your boyfriend sure did like your legs. He talked about his fondness for them all the time, and showed his love for them in all different ways; whether it was by always seeming to have a hand on your legs, massaging your thighs when you couldn’t fall asleep at night, or giving them lots of sweet kisses while he fucked you deep into the mattress late in the twilight hours of daybreak.

So that’s why you decided to buy the outfit, to please him. Because even if you didn’t like your legs, you wanted to make Minho happy. And if that meant dressing up like a cute little doll - albeit leather slutty - then you were okay with that.

There he stood, mouth completely agape, as his eyes roved down the length of you. Going all the way to your cute little white platform heels before shooting back up to your exposed chest. You could see the tips of his ears start to turn red from the sight of you all dressed up for what appeared to be him.

“Hi, baby.” You mumbled, fingers fiddling with the frilly fabric of your skirt. Your gaze shot down to the floor in embarrassment, as you practically felt his eyes burn two holes into the fabric that barely covered your legs.

“Uhm- hi… kitten,” he finally managed to pull himself together, leaning against the doorframe. You caught glimpses of the room behind him. It was bustling with staff and some of his members, as everyone was busy preparing the tracks for their new album. “What are you… doing here so late at night?”

Your focus landed on his hand, which was gripping the side of the door. Veins popping from exertion, he was doing his best to hold himself together at that moment. Then you noticed how he tilted to the side a bit, seemingly hiding the sight of you from the rest of everyone who was just behind him in the studio.

Shrugging, you offered him a tiny, soft smile. “I don’t know… Just wanted to surprise you, that’s all.” You began, a frown already overtaking your face as the realization dawned on you that you might be a bother to him while he was working. “Sorry, did I come at a bad time? I can-”

“No- no.” He suddenly blurted out in a frantic voice. Throat bobbing up and down as you watched him physically fight the urge to not lunge right at you. “You’re never a nuisance, baby…” Then he was moving, stepping forward only slightly and reaching out to tuck a few strands of loose hair behind your ear. The feeling of his long digits brushing across your cheek sent shivers down your spine. “It’s just that, I’m super fucking busy right now, and I’d hate for you to sit around here without getting the… proper attention that you deserve.”

The 'attention' that he was talking about was not the innocent one. You could tell by the way his eyes sparkled under the faint lights of the studio - brewing with so many tamped wants and desires. You could tell from his jaw, that ticked painfully tight at the mention of you sticking around in such an outfit, for everyone to see.

Just then you hauled out the carton of coffees that you had been hiding behind your back, presenting them to your boyfriend with a wide grin plastered on your face. “It’s okay, I understand… I thought you guys could use these while you work. It’ll help bring your spirits up.” Minho stared down at the coffees you had ordered from a nearby coffee shop.

For a moment, he just froze there, looking at the Americanos. Then, he was gently taking them from your hands with soft eyes that never failed to make your heart melt. “Thanks, dollface… I’ll be sure to hand these out to the guys.”

“Well, I should let you get back to work, I know you have a long night ahead of you…” You started, leaning into him and pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek. “I’m gonna hang out at that cafe just down the road for a little bit, then I’ll head home.”

As you began to tug away from him, Minho’s free hand shot out and clutched at your hip. Fingers digging into the skin there desperately, he pressed you close to his form. “Please- don’t go to that cafe tonight.”

Staring up at him, you rose an eyebrow in question. “Why not?” You asked, noticing the way his eyes widened a little bit in desperation. His lips pressed together in a firm line, cheeks blooming with a slight flush as he gaped down at you.

“I- it’s… it’s too late- not safe for you to stay out alone,” he gave your lips a soft kiss before he was tearing away from you again. You could see the furrow in his brows, and how hard he was fighting himself to have control over all of the urges that coursed through his mind just then. “Don’t want anything to happen to you. So go home and wait for me… I shouldn’t be too long at the studio tonight.”

You nodded gradually, flashing him an easy smile. “Okay, if you say so… just don’t work too late, okay?” You reached up, carding a few fingers through his shock of crimson-red hair. “I need you to come home with enough energy tonight.”

At that, he smirked wickedly, licking his lips with that perfect, pink tongue of his. “And why’s that, princess?”

“I think you know why…”

Before he could do - or say - anything else, you were dragging away from him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll see you later then?” Just then you purposefully dropped your keys on the floor. And as you bent down to retrieve them, you made sure your ass was in clear view of Minho. You rose, flashing him the matching white lacy panties that you had on peeking out just from underneath your skirt. “Bye, baby… love you.” You said as you turned around and offered him another tiny smile.

The look of utter desire he had on his face at that moment was unmatched by any other expression he had ever had in the past. His eyes widened for what felt the millionth time that night, but you didn’t let him say anything else, as you were already sauntering away, swinging your hips from side to side alluringly.

The night seemed to drag on painfully as you waited at home in your shared apartment for Minho to finish work. And when the sound of his keys at the front door finally rang out throughout the place, you were up in an instant, already in the entryway as he filed through the threshold of your apartment. You had taken off your white stockings soon after arriving home, hating the way the itchiness of the fabric irritated your skin.

“Welcome home, baby.” You said, giving him a soft smile as he bent down and slipped off his shoes.

He stared up at you, gaze turning immediately dark as he once again took in your attire for the night. The shirt had rumpled since you had last seen him at the studio, and the skirt had risen a little bit more up your legs from your lounging on the living room couch. This resulted in you flashing him your white panties.

You didn’t have any time to think or breathe or even speak, as within the next beat, Minho’s hands were wrapped around your waist, pushing you until your back hit the nearest wall.

His face neared your exposed neck, as his lips suckled on your jaw sweetly, teeth biting into your skin hungrily. When he drew back to take a shuttering breath, his mouth was already a little puffy from the violet bruises that he had given you in just the past few seconds.

“Fuck- I didn’t know how long I was gonna last at the studio tonight,” he murmured, dipping into you again and running his hot tongue over the length of your clavicle. “Every time I tried to focus on work, I’d lose myself in the thought of you - of you in this slutty little skirt. And fuck- I also came right there in front of everyone as I kept remembering how hot you looked like this.”

Minho’s hands were leaving your hips as he spoke the words in a low voice, fingers already finding their way under your skirt. Trailing up, up, up, he finally stopped when his palms came in contact with your asscheeks.

“I picked out the outfit just for you… saw it at the mall the other week, and I knew you had to see me in it,” You said, voice cutting off slightly as his nails dug into the flesh of your ass rather harshly. “Thought I’d surprise you at work after the long, hard week that you’ve had.”

Minho kneaded either of your asscheeks, mouth hovering over yours as he stared down at you with lust taking over his eyes. You moaned into him at the feeling of him working you up so well- getting you so flustered without even doing that much, to begin with.

“You gonna be a good girl for me tonight, princess?” He purred seductively, tongue poking out between his two stunning red lips and tracing the line of yours. “Gonna let me fuck you in this pretty little skirt?” He swallowed down the strangled moans that threatened to leak out of you just then. “Gonna let me ruin it for you?” He suckled on your mouth, tongue pressing past your teeth and tasting you irrevocably. “Gonna let me have my way with you tonight, hmm?”

You were already a shaking mess beneath him, limbs going all melty and jello-like as he held you in his grasp. So close, yet not nearly close enough. “Y-Yeah, I’ll be your good girl… I wore this to please you, baby. I know how much you like these kinds of- outfits on me.”

Then without another word, Minho was moving. Hoisting you up into his arms and walking you across the apartment’s slick wooden floors. In no time at all, he was gently setting you down on the bed, as he took a seat just beside you.

“Come here and sit on daddy’s face, kitten.”

His command came out all gravelly and stern. He stared at you with beseeching eyes, cocking his head to the side as he watched your face transform. From one that was full of sensual mirth to downright horror.

“W-What?” You found yourself stammering out, a flush already creeping up your neck and pooling in your ears and cheeks.

Minho shrugged nonchalantly. Like him asking you to practically suffocate him with your thick thighs wasn’t that big of a deal. “You heard me, babydoll- want you to ride my face.”

You felt yourself dissolving onto the bed in embarrassment, the fears from years past already starting to creep into the corners of your mind. You thought you had gotten rid of them long ago, but as it turns out, the words your abusive ex had once told you continued to resonate in the back of your psyche for years afterward.

“I… I can’t, Min.” You said, shoulders slumping in defeat. The tears began to cloud at the rims of your eyes, as you started to recall all of the horrible things that your college ex had told you. About how you had ‘almost suffocated him’ with your heavy-set body the one time you tried to ride his face. He had constantly shamed you about your curvy physique. And even still, years later, the terrible things he’d tell you during and after sex continued to vibrate low in your soul.

There was a deafening silence that came over the entire room, and you saw the way Minho’s face dawned with recognition as he tried to fit the puzzle pieces together. You had told him about your ex before but had never gone too much into the specifics of everything. Especially when it came to sex. No, that shit was too embarrassing to ever bring to light again.

“Why… not?” He asked, tone quiet and wavering as he watched you crumble under the pain of remembrance. In the next breath, he was next to you, clasping your hands in his and trying to shake you out of your dazed stupor. “Baby- baby, listen to me. I’d never force you to do anything,” he began, raising your hands to his mouth and pressing kiss after soft kiss to your knuckles. “If you don’t wanna do something, that’s okay, darling. Just please, don’t cry, yeah?”

“But I want to do it!” You cried out, the tears blurring your vision and painting him out to be a red-haired splotch in the forefront of your mind. “It’s just- every time I think about it, I get so paralyzed with fear and I… then I suddenly can’t do it.”

Minho leaned into you, pushing a few gentle kisses to your lips. “It’s alright, kitten. There’s no rush for anything. You can take as long as you need.”

“I want to make you happy, Min.” You wailed, burying your face in the crook of his neck. One of his hands wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him as your shoulders shook with your sobs.

“I know baby, I know… but I’m not happy if you’re not happy.”

For a few minutes, you were completely silent. Letting the tears and emotions flow out of you like water. And your boyfriend Minho held you the entire time, offering up words of praise and love as his fingers gently stroked through your hair.

“It was… my ex, from college,” you finally found the courage to admit after a long bout of silence. Immediately upon mentioning him, Minho’s hand stopped moving in your hair. You felt him go completely still, as he waited for you to finish. “He… he was a real ass and- and he said some horrible things about my weight sometimes.”

“What’d he say, baby?” Minho asked, voice sounding strained as he did his best to hold back his anger for you. At your silence, he continued to rake his hands through your hair. “It’s okay, love- you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. All in your own time, yeah?”

You took in a deep breath, gulping in air as the memories from years past began to overtake you once again. “He said things like… I’d kill him if I sat on his face. Stuff like that,” you began, the shaking in your limbs beginning to come to a stop as you recalled everything. “And I guess… after a while, I just became so afraid that I never wanted to do something like that ever again.”

Minho pulled away from you then, grabbing ahold of either of your shoulders and squeezing there so that you stared up at him through your misty vision. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, baby- I can’t imagine how hard it was for you,” his thumbs gently danced underneath your eyes, wiping away your excess tears. “But I want you to know that I’d never tell you such things - I love you just the way you are, no matter what you look like, I’ll always love and adore you.

You nodded slowly, giving him a soft, genuine smile. The first one of the night. “Y-Yeah babe… I know you’d never do such a horrific thing. But like, I just wish I could get over that shit, ya know? Move on from it and all.”

“Well… what if I could help you overcome it?”

Staring up at him with wide eyes, you bit down hard on your bottom lip in thought, “H-How would you be able to do such a thing?” Your fingers began to fiddle with the short hemline of your skirt. The white satin bows at your sides brushed against your nails, the soft material soothing your racing heart somewhat. “I don’t know if-”

“You trust me, yeah?” Minho started then, cutting off your nonsensical ramblings that were charged with nervousness. At your nod, he was brushing some of your hair out of your face, offering you a grin that gradually tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Then let me take care of you… let me make it all better, hmm?”

You gulped over the lump that was forming in your throat. Already, you could feel the wetness surge again between your legs, and you squirmed in his hold. One of your boyfriend’s hands tore away from your waist, traveling up the back of your calf and landing on your exposed knee.

He pressed into you, his muscular chest rising and falling against your bosom which was barely covered by your tiny shirt. “Can I take off your panties, darling?” He purred soothingly against the shell of your ear, the sound of his deep, gravelly voice shooting a bout of shivers down the length of your spine. “Can you let me make you feel good tonight, kitten?”

“Y-Yes,” you found yourself mumbling quietly, nodding frantically as you felt your heart pound against your ribcage. “P-Please… help me forget about it all, daddy.”

Minho peered down at you, a sardonic kind of smirk blooming across his mouth, “That’s my good girl,” his hand moved away from your knee then, traveling up, up, up, and stopping at your inner thigh. “So pliant- such a good listener too,” he continued to praise you, fingers skating over your clothed core as he made his way towards your panties. “Makes me wanna give you everything you ever wanted, hmm…” His fingers danced along the edge of your panties waistband before he was languidly dragging them down your legs, and finally throwing them off to the side.

“P-Please, daddy,” you whimpered up at him, the tears brimming in your eyes again, but for entirely different reasons. You were sitting perched in his lap atop your shared bed, giving him a pleading stare and asking - begging - for him to do more, just with your whines alone. “Can you give it to me? Please, I’ve been so good…”

“Hmm…” He mused out loud, tapping a lone finger against his chin in thought. You felt his hand come between your legs again, cupping your warmth there. “I don’t know- do you think a good girl shows up to her boyfriend’s workplace dressed like a shameless whore?” His fingers traced around the edges of you, toying with your pussy lips and making you lose your fucking mind from the teasing of it all.

You cried out in agonizing bliss, moving against him just a little bit so that there was some friction between your legs. “I-I wanted to please you, daddy… everything was for you.”

Minho flashed you a slight, playful frown, the light in his eyes burning with desire and fiery passion. “And look at you now… all hot and worked up and soaking wet, but with no respite in sight.” He cooed in that baby voice that he always used on you whenever he was feeling especially commanding in bed. “But you want daddy to play with your pussy- want me to fuck you wide open with my cock, even after everything you’ve done tonight…” He smirked down at you imploringly, like he seriously couldn’t believe you had dared to visit him at the company dressed up as you were. “You’re definitely a big dreamer, I’ll give you that.”

Before you could say anything else, Minho was laying back down on the mattress again, propping his head atop a downy pillow. You gaped at him, squirming in your spot beside him as you felt your arousal drip down your legs.

Minho rose an eyebrow your way then, “Well, what are you waiting for?” He motioned with his head for your to draw closer to him, and you slowly began to make your way to his side. “If you’re good- you might just get daddy’s cock tonight… so don’t act up like a brat, yeah?”

The blood rushed through your veins wildly then, as you shifted on the bed and threw a leg around him. Carefully, you positioned yourself over his face. It was quite a rare sight- to have Minho be underneath you, flashing you that wicked smirk and studying you with those lust-filled eyes.

“Do whatever you have to do to make yourself feel good, babydoll,” he coached in that whispery voice of his. The one he always used on you whenever he was trying to soothe you through your fifth orgasm of the night. “And if I die from suffocation of your pussy, I’d die a happy fucking man.”

His words set you into action and cast a light film of red fiery passion over your mind. In no time at all you were lowering yourself down on his face.

The moment you made contact, you were already a moaning mess. With his sharp nose pressing up into your clit, and his lips offering your cunt sweet kisses, your eyes immediately rolled into the back of your head. It felt so fucking good - everything felt so much better than you had imagined.

As his tongue dipped into you, lapping at your taste, you frantically ripped off your shirt, stripping yourself of your white lace bralette. At this, Minho stopped for a breath, his eyes hooded and swimming with shadows.

“See? You’d never kill me with just your thighs alone,” he mused, his voice rumbling against your cunt and making you yelp out in oversensitivity. One of his hands fell away from your hips, rising up to cup one of your breasts. “More like, you’d kill me with these beautiful fucking tits.”

With one hand, you were holding onto his head, threading fingers through his crimson locks as he got back to work between your legs. Meanwhile, your other palm was busy pressing against his, guiding his fingers as they traced across your chest, pinching and toying with your swollen peak there.

You ground against his face the whole time, head thrown back in pure bliss as the vilest of sounds fled from your mouth. With his nose buried against your throbbing clit, and his tongue thrusting into you with every other breath, you were quickly approaching your release.

“Fuck- you taste so fucking amazing, wish I could eat you every single day.” He mumbled against you. His lips sucked on you like you were the best lollipop he had ever had, the lewd sounds he was making casting across the entire dimly lit bedroom in sensuality.

“I-I’m gonna come-” You cried out desperately, chasing your high as you rode his face at a frantic pace. At your confession, Minho’s nails dug into the skin at your hips, fingers relentlessly toying with your breast as he delved with a renewed kind of vigor into your essence.

Your orgasm came over you in a blinding flash of whiteness, casting galaxies across your vision as Minho helped you ride out the wave of release. Your entire body melted against him, and just as you were slipping into the headiness of blissful weightlessness, your boyfriend was moving from underneath you.

Grabbing onto your hips, he was flipping your positions. And in the next breath, he was towering over you, leaning in and threading a few fingers into your hair. He pulled at the roots there, making you whine out in slight pain. The harshness forced your eyes open, and your gazes locked.

“Now… I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll completely forget about that asshole from your college days,” he growled, his anger about your past abusive ex unbidden. It shined through in the way a dark look cast over his entire face. His lips attached to yours, as he sucked the breath right out of your lungs.

“D-Daddy… please, need your dick so fucking much,” you clawed out to him in your blurry vision, still cresting over your previous orgasm. Your hands wound behind his neck, holding his face close to yours as your kiss turned frantic - tongue against tongue, teeth clashing together. You tasted yourself on him, and the dirtiness of it all only made the pool of energy in your core grow deeper.

Minho yanked away from your lips, a string of saliva stretching taught between the two of you. With his strong, big hands, he grabbed ahold of either of your legs and pushed them apart. “Open wide for me, kitten… wanna see your tight little pussy as I stretch you open with my cock.”

You moaned wildly at his words, watching with shallow breath as he rid himself of his baggy sweatpants and black briefs. When he neared you on the bed again, you felt your heartbeat thump inside your ear.

“N-No condom?” You asked, voice coming out raspy from all of the cries and moans that you had been doing that night.

Minho stared down at you, as his weight dipped the mattress underneath you. He drew close to your frame that was splayed out of the bed haphazardly, still in your short skirt that had risen your waist exponentially.

“Nah- gonna fuck you raw tonight,” he began, just as he reached out to you, hand finding that same spot between your legs. Then he was drawing shapes against your puffy clit, index finger dipping into your entrance. “Gonna bust this tiny pussy wide open with my seed.”

You swallowed over the groan that wanted to escape from you then. And then the breath was completely caught in your throat, as Minho guided his cock through your folds. Your entire body shuddered at the feeling of it all, and you stared down between you, anticipating everything.

In the next beat, he was ramming into you. As soon as he sunk in, bottoming out, he set a hellish pace. Skin slapping against skin, he thrusted in and out. Already you were beginning to move up the bed, screaming out in mindless bliss.

“Holy shit- you’re so fucking hot, babygirl,” Minho purred lowly, as his hands gripped onto your waist, guiding you up and down on his cock with each pound of his hips, “Makes me wanna ruin you so much… you’d like that, yeah? Getting fucked over by my cock- bet it’d make you go all crazy and shit.”

“Mhm-” You groaned in a loud voice, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as his dick pressed into that gooey spot inside of you. His thumb ghosted over your clit, dragging you back across the cliffside of orgasm faster than you had thought. “Want you to ruin me, daddy… fuck me til I’m crying.”

As soon as you felt one of his hands travel up your sternum, stopping at one of your breasts, your eyes were shooting open. His fingers toyed with you, pulling and twisting your pert bud. “Oh, don’t worry, kitten,” he said, words trailing off as he pressed you so far into the bed with his rutting alone that you swore you saw the heavens cast over your mind. “I know how much of a cockwhore you are- how much of a slut you are, for dressing up so provocatively at my work- so I’m gonna give it to you nice and good… gonna have you screaming my name, mind all fuzzy and thoughts gone as I pump you full of my cum.”

Your eyes locked after that, and the spark that had been lit deep inside of your heart the moment you laid eyes upon Minho burned brighter. Because you knew that no matter what, he’d always love you.

And no amount of weight gain, or weight loss, was going to change that.

He was always going to be there for you,

Helping you survive through all of the pain and memories,

Guiding you on the pathway of forgetfulness,

Wiping your mind of all the heartbrokenness in just the right way.

Fin.

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roanniom · 2 years

Text

The Shift - Part 2

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 9k~

Read Part 1 Here

Note: You can blame @millenialcatlady (lovingly) for the angst in this part. She is reminding me daily to appreciate a wider range of emotions in fic (i.e. more than horniness) and that spilled out big time here. You can also thank her for the length, because without the part that happens mid way, this part - as originally planned - would have been literally half as long lmao

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV sex / Unprotected sex / Car sex / semi public sex, fingering, teasing, dirty talk, slight degradation, slight praise kink, kinda inappropriate PDA in a grocery store, brief mention of masturbation (m), mentions of food and food consumption, Angst with a capital A (you are pretty mean to Steve at a certain point but then we realize you might have intimacy issues), enemies to lovers continuation

Steve is fucked. He knows it from the minute he touches you that he’s crossed a line he’s not going to be able to uncross. But you just got under his skin so much and on his nerves so frequently and the heat in that back room had been so unbearable he wanted to rip his clothes off - and yours in the process.

And that’s what’s got him banging his head against the counter today, while he sits overly early for his morning shift. He almost could have gotten away with blaming the heat - both the heat of the moment and the heat in that damn back room. He almost could have been able to chalk it up to a mix of repeated-bad-date-blue-balls and a hyperactive sex drive in need of an outlet.

But then he’d called you sweetheart. And you’d reacted like that.

And he’d said what he said.

He’d called you sweetheart and you’d positively clenched around him. You’d moaned and opened up even more for him and suddenly he’d confessed to having always wanted to be sweet with you.

It wasn’t a false statement. He’d spent hours at home, especially after particularly long shifts, touching himself to thoughts of you. It always had the same pattern - it always started out with frustration. Fantasies of shutting you up with his cock in your mouth, or pushing you onto the checkout counter and fucking you where anyone could walk in and see. But they always melted into something different. Something slower. Deeper. Lips clashing and hands roaming. Harsh pants and expletives became low moans and whimpers.

And your face.

In his fantasies your face always opened up. Gone was the judgmental frown, the challenging quirk of your brow. Instead, you always gazed up at him in wonder. Lips parted in a silent gasp. Eyebrows knitted together in startled pleasure, like you were teetering on the edge of crying.

Intentional or not, that is what he had been alluding to when he said he wanted to be sweet with you. And your reaction was like a beat out of those fantasies. The only bad part about it was that he didn’t get to see your face when it happened.

Robin’s sudden presence had thrown a wrench in everything. The two of you had scrambled apart before he’d even had a chance to consider what you both had just done. Steve had never pulled up and buttoned his pants so fast in his entire life, and when he’d looked over at you your eyes were wide with panic, hands manically tucking your shirt back into your jeans.

The jeans he’d just admitted to getting so turned on by only minutes ago.

Your shirt, however, was ridiculously askew, but you apparently hadn’t noticed it because you’d moved on to smoothing your hair and attempting to arrange yourself in a casual pose next to the vending machine as Robin approached the door.

Steve had lunged forward and adjusted your shirt and you had glanced up at him, startled by his sudden action but then softening at the gentleness of his touch.

Your eye contact only had a moment to simmer though because he’d had to jump back again as Robin barreled through the door, launching straight into a lengthy description of every exchange, look, and breath that occurred during her date.

Steve was happy for his friend. He really was. It had been such a long time in coming and he was so happy Robin was finally on the path towards actual, tangible romance.

But currently Steve is too bogged down with his own actual, tangible - what even should he call it? Definitely not romance. A hate fuck? Couldn’t be that, not after what he said and how you’d reacted. Steve continues putting Family Video stickers on the boxes of the new shipment of tapes that had come in the night before. Every few moments his eyes flick towards the door, both desperately awaiting and desperately dreading your impending arrival. It’s Sunday morning - the shift you usually work together, the previous day having been out of the ordinary what with you covering for Robin.

More often than not these shifts aren’t memorable. The two of you orbit around one another on a wave of sarcasm and antagonism, but other than that the day usually passes by quickly. Perhaps because he spends all of his time and energy trying to think of new ways to annoy you and make the cute angry furrow appear on your brow.

But today will be different. Because now he’s been inside you.

Steve abruptly slams his head into the counter, letting the intrusive thoughts finally take over, but a voice interrupts his self-flagellation.

“How could something possibly be wrong with you already? The day just started.”

Robin’s voice rings out along with the bell as she enters the front door, shouldering on her Family Video uniform vest. Steve’s mouth goes dry.

“What are you…this isn’t your shift.”

“Nice to see you, too, Steve,” Robin says, patting the back of his hand over the counter before walking towards the back room to put her bag down. Steve jogs after her.

“Yeah, nice to see ya - but seriously. You don’t work Sunday mornings.”

Robin places her bag down and turns to Steve with her hands on her hips.

“I picked up the shift. That something you need to be made aware of? Should I have called you last night and informed you ahead of time?”

“Well I mean, first of all yes because I’m usually your ride,” Steve points out, rubbing the back of his neck. “How did you - ?”

“The bus. I am capable of public transportation, Harrington. There was a time before you graced my life with your presence, you know.” Robin breezes past him and walks back onto the main floor, grabbing onto the stocking cart and bringing it out to the shelves lining the far wall. Again Steve has to jog to catch up.

“But…the trainee usually works on Sunday.” Steve’s voice is low, almost speaking to him self as he realizes that this line of questioning probably isn’t going to get him an answer he will like. But to his surprise Robin turns on her heel abruptly, rounding on him with a finger pointed at his chest.

“Two minutes!” she cries triumphantly. Steve lifts his hands up in confused surrender.

“What are you talking about?”

“It only took two minutes for you to bring her up. You guys fucked, didn’t you.” It’s an accusation but a massive smile splits her face. Steve cringes away from her enthusiasm.

“What the fuck, Robin!”

“Was it good? Did you initiate it? Did she?!” Now Robin is the one to chase after Steve as he stalks back to the front counter.

“I don’t know what could possibly make you think - ,”

“Because she called me and asked me to cover for her today, dumbass.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the counter.

“I don’t see what’s so incriminating about that.”

“The incriminating part was the fact that she didn’t call you an asshole once. Didn’t tell me to make your life miserable today or anything. Either of which would have been standard trainee behavior.”

“Did…did she say anything about me?” Steve asks, internally kicking himself over how pathetic the question sounds.

Robin’s face melts into a look of pouting sympathy.

“Bangs her once and he’s hoping she’s thinking about him. Steve Harrington’s a sap, ladies and gentlemen.”

Steve’s about to wag his patented stern babysitter finger at her when the bell on the door rings, signaling the entrance of a customer. Both Robin and Steve whip around, tense with the knee-jerk instinct to provide low-grade customer service. They both deflate immediately, however, when they notice it’s just Dustin.

“Not now, Henderson,” Steve calls out across the length of the store. The curly headed boy throws his hands up defensively.

“How can I already deserve this hostility? I just got here!”

“Steve’s having a crisis,” Robin says, as if it is a holistic explanation. Dustin leans against the checkout counter.

“Did he run out of that mousse stuff he puts in his hair?” Dustin asks, nodding sympathetically. Steve's head shoots up with a frown.

“What? No!”

“Really?” Dustin asks. “Cuz it kinda of seems like it’s got less va-va-voom than normal.”

Robin cocks her head to the side and surveys Steve beside her, making him scowl.

“You know, now that he mentions it, you’re a little less shampoo-commercial-ready than you usually are,” she agrees. Steve runs a hand through his criticized locks in frustration.

“I was a little distracted this morning. Maybe I didn’t pay as much attention getting ready, alright? Lay off, guys.” Steve pushes the stock cart back to the counter to pick up the next set of returns to shelve.

“What’s got you so distracted, buddy?” Dustin asks, resting his elbows on the counter and his chin on his hands. He looks so genuine that Steve’s heart pangs and his usual instinct to yell at the kid is dulled. He opens his mouth to respond but then Robin speaks up from behind him.

“Steve’s got a lady love.”

“Another flavor of the week or is this like an actual thing?” Dustin asks, his eyes lighting up.

Steve rolls his eyes and feels the moment of sincerity pass. He grabs the next stack of tapes with a little too much aggression.

“Dude, grow up, don’t say ‘flavor of the week.’ And women aren’t ‘things,’ dumbass.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Steve,” Dustin points out.

“That’s because your question is stupid and not worth an answer,” Steve dismisses, pushing the cart back onto the floor. Dustin watches him retreat quietly for a second before turning.

“Robin?”

Robin runs over to the counter and opens her mouth to respond but Steve throws up a hand from across the room.

“NO!” He interrupts. “No. We aren’t having this conversation.”

“Ooo he’s mad mad. That means this is an actual thing,” Dustin says, shoving a candy display off the surface of the counter and hopping over, landing ungracefully behind it.

“Not again, Henderson damn it!” Steve yells, covering his eyes with a hand. “And what did I say about calling women things!”

“It’s the other girl who works here, isn’t it?” Dustin asks. He directs the question to Robin who’s nodding and smiling before Steve can stop her.

“Why the fuck would you assume -,”

“It is her! They had…a moment, it would seem,” Robin says, catching herself before she says anything inappropriate but wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“You guys had sex?!” Dustin cries out, this time whirling around to address Steve. Steve’s hands fly to his head and he ducks, as if he could dodge out of the way of Dustin’s out of line comment.

“Woah. WOAH. You are a child. You are not allowed to ask me that!”

“I’m fifteen, I think I can handle -,”

“Robin, you’re a bad influence. You lose your babysitting privileges,” Steve says, speaking over Dustin and grabbing Robin by the shoulder to drag her away from the boy.

“I mean I never really wanted to babysit your kids in the first place, Steve, so that’s not really a punishment...”

“But I don’t get it, if you had sex with the trainee, why do you seem so mad?” Dustin pipes up, clearly confused.

“WAY out of line, Henderson.” Steve cries out with a glare.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Dustin again puts up his hands defensively. “I mean, if you ‘made love’ with the trainee, then why - “

“Jesus FUCKING Christ!” Steve covers his ears and stomps to the back room.

“What did I do?” Dustin asks Robin, shocked. Robin shrugs.

“I mean to be fair, ‘make love’ is absolutely gross, dude,” she says before running after Steve. Dustin remains alone in the front of the store, defeated.

“Well then what can I call it?” he calls out after them both. “The horizontal tango? The beast with two backs?”

“HENDERSON!” Robin and Steve both scream from the back room.

“Yeesh. Puritans.” Dustin rolls his eyes and jogs to join them.

~*~

Later that evening you find yourself dragging yourself through the entrance of the local grocery store. You’d spent the whole day in bed, flipping through radio stations with shitty static and thumbing through magazines and books you’d long since finished. Doing anything and everything to keep Steve Harrington off your mind.

Fuck Steve Harrington.

Well…you had.

Fucked Steve Harrington that is.

And it had been good. You slap a hand over your tired face in front of the bananas in the produce section as the memory of his hands on your hips comes rushing back. It’s been like this all day. A nonstop highlight reel of every second of your sexual encounter with your archnemesis. But can you even call him your archnemesis anymore after what happened yesterday?

Was calling him your archnemesis ever even accurate to begin with?

You’d spent hours revisiting conversations and arguments and blow ups in your mind, trying to piece your way through the memories to make sense of the way your body had reacted to his touch and his words. The more you thought about it, the clearer it became.

You’d had a thing for Steve when you first started working at Family Video, Robin hadn’t been wrong when she told him that. You’d always been intrigued by him from a distance back at school, and being up close at the same job just intensified things. He was pretty and cocky and funny. And that first week he seemed genuinely kind and welcoming. But as you traced your memories back, you realized exactly where your favor started to darken. It was the way he flirted with any girl who stepped over the threshold of the store, turning on a charm that shot so much electricity through the place that it could probably blow a fuse. The girls often ranged from neutral to interested in response, but their presence and his behavior around them infuriated you.

You’d always chalked it up to the fact that it would be against your feminist nature to accept such flagrant hounddog behavior. You’d lied to yourself that you felt bad for these girls and that you were annoyed that Harrignton couldn’t keep it in his pants long enough to do a second of his job right.

But today, in the cold hard light filtering through the window of your shitty apartment it dawned on you that jealousy was the root of your problems. You didn’t hate Steve for going after women. You hated that you weren’t a woman he was going after.

After this earthquake of a revelation rocked your world around midday, you had barely enough strength to drag your ass to the kitchen until the sun started going down and your stomach screamed in protest. Upon opening your fridge, however, you’d come to the sad realization that you had little more than a half empty jar of jelly and a few pickles. Money had been tight since you’d defiantly moved out of your parents’ home after graduation. You probably shouldn’t have skipped your shift today. If only the fucking sex god with beautiful hair and an infuriating personality hadn’t also been scheduled.

And that’s how you find yourself poking at tomatoes and trying to figure out what food will land squarely in the center of the venn diagram of stuff you can afford and stuff you can bear to eat.

“You know if you bruise them they make you buy them.”

The voice coming from behind you makes you jump, sending several tomatoes rolling down to the ground in the process. You drop down to your knees and busy yourself with picking up the spilled produce, doing your best not to look over at the person who had spoken.

As you reach for the last tomato, however, your hand touches another hand reaching for the lumpy little fruit. You wrench your arm back and whip around to look at Steve Harrington.

“I can handle this, thanks,” you snap, lumbering to your feet with an armful of floor battered tomatoes. He straightens up holding the one he’d managed to snag and he watches you as you dump your own back onto the display. Your heart is beating out of your chest but you bring your eyes up to meet his.

“Hey,” he says. It’s anticlimactic. It almost makes you laugh. But you don’t. Instead you continue frowning.

“Why are you here, Harrington?”

“Um…getting groceries?” He quirks an eyebrow. “Because it’s a grocery store.”

You shift awkwardly from one foot to the other while grabbing onto your shopping cart.

“I guess that makes sense.” You’re searching for something - anything - that you could say to transition out of this conversation so you can run home and throw yourself under the covers. Before you can make a hasty exit though, Steve speaks up.

“You weren’t at work today.”

“Congrats Sherlock. That means you can tell Robin and I apart.” Your words are biting, but you see a smirk play at the corner of his lips at your familiar antagonism. “And here I thought anything with boobs looked alike to you.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck and seems to contemplate his next words carefully which annoys you, so you continue.

“That was a softball, Harrington. I assumed you’d say ‘well now I’ve seen your boobs so I’d know them anywhere,’” you challenge.

“Technically I only felt them. I was behind you, remember? I didn’t actually see anything,” he challenges with a sheepish grin. You feel your stomach drop. The urge to reply with “well do you want to?” is so strong you literally have to bite your tongue.

You need to get a hold of yourself.

“I do remember. But I was pretty sure you were going to claim amnesia,” you answer casually, pushing your cart onward. Steve puts his hands in his pockets and kicks the corner of the tomato display lightly before deciding to follow you.

“And why would you think I’d do that?”

“Mr. Steve another-date-every-week Harrington? Pretty sure blacking out experiences is what makes it easier to move on, right?”

Your flippant comment wounds him harder than he would have liked, and you would have been able to see it on his face if you were looking at him. But you’re not because you’re turning the corner and starting to walk down the frozen foods aisle.

“You really think you’ve got me all figured out,” he says bitterly. It’s a statement, not a question. You wrench open a freezer door a little harsher than you intend. Let the icy chill from inside waft over you and hopefully help calm your frazzled nerves at his biting tone.

“I know I do,” you reply simply without looking at him. You peruse the frozen dinners, trying desperately to remind yourself that there is a goal to this grocery trip. You hadn’t dragged your ass out of bed and all the way here just to be grilled by an asshole with amazing hair.

You try not to think about the fact that his hair seems more disheveled than usual today. You also try not to think about the fact that you like it that way.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” Steve counters, leaning up against the freezer door next to the one you have open. You tear your eyes away from the rows of unappealing lasagna and fix him with a glare.

“And you don’t know the first thing about me.”

Steve lets out a bark of a laugh and you raise a brow at him.

“I know some things now, sweetheart.”

Steve doesn’t miss the way you involuntarily shiver. At his words, not the fog that starts to accumulate from the freezer chill mixing with the warm grocery store air. He pushes himself off the freezer door and moves towards you. In a panic you try to step away but he’s quick, and suddenly you’re pressing yourself up against the inside of the freezer door as you try to keep space between your bodies.

“You’re such an asshole, Harrington.”

“Yeah. And you’re…a slut.” He whispers the word, conscious of the fact that you’re in a public place. A deserted aisle. But a public place nonetheless. Again a ripple passes over your face and your eyelids flutter closed, only for a second. Steve chuckles and leans a forearm against the interior freezer door right next to your face. “I saw that.”

“We’re in a damn freezer. It’s f-fucking cold.” Your lie sounds weak even to your own ears.

“That’s a shitty excuse and you know it,” Steve reprimands. His tone goes straight to your core and you shift from foot to foot. His eyes search your face, so you do your best to lift your chin in defiance.

“So you know some things that make me horny. It’s 1986, not the Victorian era. I’m not, like, ashamed.”

“So you admit I make you horny,” Steve points out, a grin on his stupid handsome face.

“UGH! I said ‘things’ that make me horny.”

“A little dehumanizing to call me a thing, to be fair, but hey if you want to use me like one, baby…”

“You are IMPOSSIBLE,” you whisper-scream, fisting your hands in the front of his shirt. Steve’s eyes go wide at the contact and he takes a lurching step forward due to the force of your grasp. The hand of his that’s not braced on the door behind you lands on your hip to steady himself.

“I’m impossible?” Steve asks incredulously. “You’re the one who’s both pushing and pulling. I’m getting fucking whiplash over here, babe.” His eyes glance down at your hands on him and back up to you pointedly.

“You make me so mad, Harrington,” you say, your voice low. He sees something other than anger in your eyes, however. If you hadn’t pulled him this close, maybe he wouldn’t have been able to notice it. But it’s there, just under the surface.

“Yeah? And I think you like that.”

“What?”

“I make you feel something,” Steve says, like it’s a cold hard fact. “None of those other assholes ever make you feel anything. You’re so fucking desperate not to be numb that you pick fights with me just to get your blood pumping.”

Your fists tighten in his shirt, nails pinching his skin through the fabric. Steve hisses.

“Well if that’s true about me, what about you? Those bimbos not stimulating enough? Can’t get your dick hard if you’re not getting yelled at?”

That statement pinches one too many nerves and suddenly Steve is pressing up against you, chest and pelvis flush to yours, your fists trapped between your bodies. Your back pushed hard up against the condensation wet interior of the freezer door. The door strains on it’s hinges from the force, threatening to hyper extend past its 90 degree limit.

“And you get off on being an absolute bitch. Being mean to me makes you wet, huh? I bet you’re soaked under that skirt right? Dropped those tomatoes earlier because you hoped if you bent over I’d fuck you right there in the produce section?”

Your gasping inhale is so loud both of your eyes widen, the sound ripping the two of you out of the lust-filled haze of aggression in which you’d been wrapped. You turn your head to break eye contact, blinking and taking a few centering breaths while Steve tosses a look over his shoulder to make sure nobody’s walked up.

You’re still alone in the aisle.

And Steve’s still got you pressed up against the inside of the freezer door.

You wait a few more stuttering heartbeats before you allow yourself to look at him again. When you do, your heart palpitates even more. He’s abandoned his grasp on your hip to run an agitated hand through his hair again, making himself even more disheveled than before. His lips are wet and red from nervous biting and his eyes are sheepish as he gazes back at you. You give yourself only a split second to think before you’re ducking under his arm and peeling yourself out from between him and the door.

“Hey, I didn’t - ,” he starts to call after you, but you grab his wrist and yank him to follow you. He stumbles but recovers, breaking into a brisk walk to keep up with the way you drag him. Out of the frozen food aisle, abandoning your empty cart. Past the empty row of checkout lanes and the bored cashier who doesn’t look up from filing her nails to perceive either of you. Through the open door and into the wall of heat and humidity of the Hawkins summer night air. You stop abruptly when you step off the curb outside the store and Steve’s still moving body collides into yours.

“Where’s your car?”

“What?” he asks, still a few seconds behind, physically and mentally. You bounce on the balls of your feet impatiently, scanning the sparse smattering of vehicles spread out in the lot.

“Where is your fucking car, Harrington!”

“Um it’s that one,” Steve rushes to say, pointing to the maroon BMW parked a couple spaces from the front of the store, mercifully to the side on the row furthest to the left of the lot. You drag him by the wrist over to his car as his confusion continues. “Why do you need my car?”

“Because I suspected, and it appears I’m correct,” you say, sizing up his car as you approach it. “That your back seat is bigger than mine.”

“My back - hmph!” his response is silenced when you shove him in front of you and slam his back into the side of his car. You get right up into his space, pushing him against the door and getting up on your tiptoes as you reach up and wrench him down by the hair at the nape of his neck.

And suddenly you’re kissing him with a ferocity of which you didn’t know you were capable. Your other hand pushes against his chest, fingers splayed and palm pressing, feeling his muscles clench and tighten.

Despite the surprise nature of your attack, Steve doesn’t miss a beat. He’s kissing you back and matching your intensity head on. His hands grip at your waist and he hauls you against him, helping you press him harder against the car and making sure your bodies are fused as tightly to one another as physically possible.

You’ve never been the one to press someone against anything before, and there’s a heady rush that hazes your mind as the dynamic sinks in. Sure you’ve had men press you up against walls or doors before, but you’ve never been the instigator. Never felt the need to exert control over someone else’s body so bad that you have to take it. Have to ground them against a hard surface to ensure they feel the weight and pressure of your touch. The power trip sends you reeling and have to pull away, gasping for air before you can get so lightheaded you do something stupid like pass out.

“Harrington.” His name sounds desperate with your jagged voice. Steve seems utterly out of it, staring down at you dumbfounded with drooping eyelids and wet lips parted to facilitate a heavy pant. When he doesn’t respond, just staring at you, you pull at his hair, making him hiss. “Harrington, open the fucking car.”

It takes him a beat to comprehend what you’re telling him to do, but then his hand is digging in his pocket and he’s scrambling to unlock the vehicle. You step back to give him space to do as you told him, trying not to think too hard about the heartbeat hammering away in your chest and between your legs. You throw a glance over your shoulder at the entrance to the grocery store, but it still seems quiet. A quick scan of the parking lot gleans a similar silence. When Steve’s got the car unlocked he opens the back seat and turns back to you, leaning heavily on the open door.

“Um…did you…what…” he’s blinking at you, suddenly unsure. The streetlight overhead illuminating this section of the parking lot has him looking younger than he ever has before, and there’s a softness in his eyes when he looks at you that doesn’t match the mood of what you’ve been doing. You swallow the emotion threatening to climb through your throat and you step forward briskly, ducking into the backseat and pulling him in along after you.

Steve clambers into the car to find you laying yourself out along the bench seat. Your hands grab at the front of his shirt again and drag him to climb over your body. He barely has the wherewithal to pull the door closed behind him before your lips are attacking his once more. You’re greedy and grabby and you wrap yourself around him like a boa constrictor. Arms wind around his neck and shoulders. Legs come up around his hips, ankles locking against his back. Steve feels suffocated and overwhelmed and turned on and agitated and -

“Fuck just - easy. Easy!” Steve’s loud words in the close confines of the car rattle you, as does the vibration of his raised voice against your body. You freeze and he is finally able to pull away a bit, propping himself up with his hands on the leather seats on either side of your head.

“What? What is it?” You seem confused. A bit dazed even. Now you’re the disheveled one. Steve takes in the way you look beneath him - clothes askew, eyes too bright if a little hazy, lips kiss bruised and wet. You blink up at him with a furrow deepening in your brow, becoming more and more uncertain with every second that passes of him just looking at you.

“You just…” Steve exhales in frustration and goes to sit up abruptly, slamming his head on the car ceiling. He yelps and grips his skull, but looks down quickly when he hears a giggle erupting from beneath him. You have your hands covering your mouth to try and contain your laughter, but the mirth is evident in your squinting eyes, crinkling at the corners. Steve can’t help but chuckle along, trying to ignore the zing of fondness that burns behind his eyes along with the pain from the bump.

He lurches forward and grabs your hands away from your face, dropping to support himself with his elbows on the seat either side of your head and pinning your wrists against the door behind you.

“You think that’s funny?”

“A little,” you admit, biting your lip in a continued attempt to contain your laughter.

“Of course you think my pain is funny.” He rolls his eyes and your eyebrows shoot up.

“You squealed.”

“I shouted,” he corrects. You shake your head.

“You went very high pitched there. Sounded like it hurt,” you say cheekily. “If it still hurts don’t mind me. Feel free to whimper if you’d like.”

Steve chuckles low and you feel the vibrations in your abdomen where his is pressed to yours. It makes you squirm against him and he notices.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” When you nod with another uncharacteristically light giggle he smiles down at you. “I’d like it too, you know.”

“You whimpering?” you ask. Steve shakes his head and dips so that his lips are a centimeter from yours. You hold your breath.

“No, you.”

Just as you lean up to try and make your lips meet, he ducks his head down and latches onto the skin of your throat. You gasp out, disoriented by the sudden switch and thrown off by the pleasurable sensation.

“You seem to like getting your own way,” he says gruffly, shifting your two wrists into one of his hands so his free hand can hike your legs higher up around his hips. “But so do I.”

Steve rolls his hips into you, starting a steady rhythm out of nowhere. The friction of his hard on against the apex of your legs is delicious and immediate and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lip to keep from reacting too dramatically.

“You really should open your eyes, sweetheart,” Steve coos, gripping onto the flesh of your outer thigh. Your eyes snap open and you find him smirking over you, watching. “You’re the one who dragged me in here. Be fucking polite.”

“You don’t know anything about being polite, Harrington.” Your response floods out on instinct, words not even matching tone because they aren’t even congruous with what you’re currently feeling. You’ve just got such extreme muscle memory of being combative with Steve that you can’t help it.

Steve gasps in mock surprise before tsking at you, his eyes dropping to your lips which part wide after a particularly good roll of his hips.

“We’re not doing that. You’re not going to fight me. Not when I’m on top of you.”

“Why…why not?” Your jaw tenses and he nips at it with his teeth.

“Because we’re doing it my way this time,” he replies definitively. His hand slides from the outside of your thigh up to your hip, flipping your skirt up in the process and exposing the comfortable pair of cotton panties that you’re wearing below.

“Was you fucking me from behind in the break room not ‘your way’ enough?” you challenge, though your voice is losing its edge. Steve’s hand slides horizontally from your hip, over your abdomen and down to cup your mound, fingers pressing into the wet spot on the fabric lower down between your thighs. “You always get your own damn way, Harrington.”

“Can you just fucking…” Steve closes his eyes for a second and hums out a frustrated exhale. When his eyes open back up he looks serious and it makes your stomach swoop. “I’m going to stop if you keep fighting me.”

“Why?”

“Because I won’t fuck someone who doesn’t want it,” Steve says definitively. He lets go of your hands and sits back on his heels between your legs, this time remembering to stay low enough not to bang his head on the ceiling.

Panic floods your system from the decrease in physical contact and your newly freed hands scrabble to clutch at his shirt.

“What - no! I want it!”

Steve shakes his head and grips your wrists gently but firmly, getting you to unhand him.

“You seem angry with me and I…that doesn’t work. I need like…enthusiastic consent or whatever the fuck they call it.” Steve passes a stressed hand over his face and slides it up to ruffle through his hair distractedly. Your chest moves up and down frantically as you try to think of what to say to reroute from this disappointing new trajectory.

“I’m the one who brought you here. Obviously I -,”

“There is nothing ‘obvious’ when it comes to you, sweetheart.” Steve sighs. “Pretend I’m stupid, like I know you already think I am. Spell it out for me.”

“You and I argue. It’s what we do…” you try to reason.

“We argue, yeah. But it’s usually fun. Teasing.” His hands finally drop back down, resting on your thighs, albeit closer to your knees than the apex. His thumbs begin smoothing circles into your skin. “But today you’re mad.”

You swallow harshly and try to look away but there’s nowhere to go. You’re in a car. Underneath him still. In the place where you wanted to be. Where you dragged him. Emotion wells up inside you and you shiver from discomfort this time.

“I’m not…mad. I just…” you struggle with your words and Steve seems to take pity on you, stroking his hands back and forth on the length of your thighs.

“You just what?”

“I don’t…god damn it.” You turn your head to blink rapidly in the direction of the passenger seat. “I don’t know how to…be sweet.”

“What?” Steve lets out an incredulous laugh. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said,” you mumble, still not looking at him. Steve’s fingers gently grip your chin and he turns your head back to face him.

“Now I know that’s bullshit because I’ve seen you be sweet plenty of times.” Steve lowers himself slightly. Not fully back on top of you, but removing some of the distance he’d place between your bodies. “You’re always sweet to kids who come into Family Video. You’re very nice to your friends. Robin fucking loves you…”

“Robin isn’t very discerning, to be fair,” you say with a self deprecating snort. Steve gives you a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, she keeps me around, doesn’t she? Points against her taste.”

You laugh in response but then you screw your eyes shut and put your hands over your face.

“See! Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t even pretend not to say something mean.”

“Hey hey hey,” Steve says to you, prying your hands off your face. “You’re not the one who said the mean thing about me, I did. And we’re laughing. This is okay.”

“This is okay?” you ask uncertainly, squinting up at him through one open eye.

“As long as you’re not frowning up at me as if I kicked your hypothetical puppy, we’re all good.”

“Well good then. Just make sure not to kick my hypothetical puppy then, Steve,” you say, cracking a hesitant smile. Steve’s answering smile is radiant. You’d called him Steve, something you don’t often do.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

Then he’s leaning down and pressing a kiss to your mouth. A proper kiss, firm and sweet. Unlike the aggressive ones that had passed between you when you’d first toppled into the car. You breathe him in and when your lips open his tongue seeks refuge, which you welcome.

Steve settles back down over you. Your arms wind back around him and pull him close, making him chuckle against your lips in response. He breaks away only to pepper kisses across your cheek, around the curve of your jaw and back down the side of your neck. His attention to the skin of your neck makes you hum, so Steve hums right back at you.

“See? Sweet.” Steve kisses your collarbone as his hands return to where they had been before your emotional intermission. He begins to rub his finger over your dripping slit through the fabric of your underwear while his other hand begins to push up at the bottom hem of your top. “I like all of your flavors, to be honest. But right now this just…this works for right now.”

Your breath catches in your chest as he lifts your shirt up to expose your naked breasts. You’d left the house in a rush for what was supposed to be a quick trip to the grocery store (what a lost cause of a goal), so you had just left wearing what you’d slept in. Steve bites his lip at the sight before him.

“Fuck. Yeah…” comes his inarticulate assessment. His hands grips your sides over your ribs, thumbs sweeping up to swipe slowly at the bottom curves of your breasts. You chuckle at his reaction and reach up to push his hair out of his face like you’d been wanting to do.

“Yeah?” you prompt. Steve shakes his head.

“Committing these to memory. So next time I can say ‘I’d know them anywhere’.”

The call back from the produce section has you full on laughing. His grin is obnoxiously wide as he takes in your relaxed body language and open, happy features.

“You know you’re so fucking pretty,” he says quietly. Your laughter calms down a little and you shrug. “Shut the fuck up,” he adds, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t say anything!” you gasp with mock offense. His hands slide up higher under your arms so his thumbs are now rolling over your nipples. You let out a sigh.

“You’re pretty and that’s a fact. Not an opinion, so don’t you shrug at me, sweetheart.”

“Pretty sure an aesthetic assessment can only be opinion, so -,” you begin to argue, but Steve puts a hushing finger up to your lips.

“Ah ah ah,” he interrupts you. “We’re doing this my way, right?”

“Right,” you agree quickly, not about to let things backslide now that his hands are making you feel so good. The hand on your lip returns down to your abdomen, tiptoeing back down to your panties. But this time it slides under the elastic, coming down to rub through your waiting slick. Almost like a reward for cooperating.

“According to me, you’re fucking pretty.”

“Okay, Steve,” you say, testing your theory about whether or not he rewards you for cooperating. Immediately two fingers of the hand between your legs sink deep inside your pussy, just ask his other hand closes fully around your breast for the first time. “Oh god…”

“Say that again.”

“Oh god,” you repeat, this time more of a moan.

“No not - christ,” Steve laughs, breathless. “Say my name again.”

“Steve,” you whisper. His middle and ring fingers have begun to move in and out of you while his thumb rubs circles into your aching clit.

“I like that,” he says, his honesty unmistakably vulnerable. You get a fleeting urge to make fun of him for it, but then your heart pangs, taking in the way he blinks at you, eyes dark.

“Steve,” you repeat.

He’s on you then, back to kissing and sucking and biting. Now that there’s more exposed surface area with your shirt pushed up, he has more real estate to mark and explore, which he does diligently with his mouth.

His preoccupation leaves you beside yourself with want and need. Your hips have begun to rut up into his hand to meet his thrusting fingers and your moans become more substantial.

“I-I want…want…” you keep trying to speak but the words get trapped on your tongue.

Steve pulls away from your wetted skin long enough to check in.

“What do you want, baby?”

“I want…you.”

You’re not asking him to fuck you. You’re not demanding he get inside you. You’re just asking for him. It makes his throat tighten and he’s nodding. He props himself up on one hand and uses the other to unbuckle his belt and jeans but he fumbles so you reach up frantically to help him. Together you manage to yank his jeans down far enough to expose his boxers and you slip your hand against him to massage through the fabric. You feel the aching emptiness now that his fingers are no longer inside you. Now that their much better replacement is in your sights.

Steve pulls his cock out and pumps it a few times while you admire the pearlescent precum that’s collected on the tip. Subconsciously you lick your lips, causing him to laugh.

“You’re something else, sweetheart.”

“No you are,” you mutter with a smile.

“Nope, just you,” he shakes his head and rubs his nose against yours while settling lower between your legs, pushing your panties to the side to line himself up with your entrance. You laugh.

“Are we now being argumentative over compliments?” you tease.

“Sounds on brand for us,” he agrees. He slides in with little resistance. Just a slow, agonizing stretch that has you both moaning. Your heels dig into his lower back from where you legs lock around him and he buries his face in your neck.

“Oh my fucking…christ, how are you…” Steve struggles with speech for a second before nipping at your shoulder, making you squirm. “Not sure how I forgot how good you feel.”

“There’s that amnesia,” you joke hesitantly. Not sure if it is too soon to bring up the mean spirited thing you had said earlier but wanting desperately negate the intent you’d had in the first place. Steve’s answering chuckle calms your nerves and you relax, melting down against the leather seat as he begins to move inside of you.

“I think it’s less amnesia and more that I blacked out from how fucking amazing this pussy is.”

“Jesus, Steve,” you admonish, but it holds little weight because with the crescendoing pendulum of his hips Steve is already well on his way to undoing you.

“God, I wasn't exaggerating. You sound really good when you say my name,” Steve says with a moan.

“Mmm, Steve,” you hum. His face pulls away from your neck and he looks down at you with a renewed intensity in his eyes.

“Just one thing missing,” he says. Your brow furrows in confusion.

“What?”

“I meant it when I said I want you to whimper for me.”

Before you can react, Steve has your legs hoisted higher, pushed so that the tops of your thighs are pressed further toward your stomach. You take in a hasty inhale as he begins to pound into you with vigorous intent now.

He’s steady and persistent with it. Rocking into you - pulling in and out and adjusting to hit different angles until he finds the one that has you throwing your head back against the seat, back arching.

“Oh we like that? Yeah?”

“Th-that the royal ‘we’?” you laugh breathlessly, making fun of his word choice.

“Yeah I guess,” he answers, but he’s distracted.

“Makes sense. You are King Steve, after all.”

He rolls his eyes and punishes you by reaching down and pinching your clit, making you spasm.

The windows are way past fogged up by now. The heat coming off your bodies makes the air thick with sex and tension and Steve is sweating above you, but so are you. The wet slap of skin on skin has never sounded better. Your head thrashes from side to side, stopping only when Steve descends down upon you again, kissing up the hollow at the base of your throat and migrating around that sensitive expanse of skin.

“Where is it…” he mutters against your skin under his breath. You barely hear it, as if the statement isn’t intended for you. “It’s here somewhere.”

“What?” you ask, biting your lip and squeezing your eye shut from the sensations. Your hips are slamming up to meet each of his thrusts by now, teetering closer and closer to bliss. Steve’s lips suck and his teeth nibble at different patches of skin up and down your throat, around to the side of your neck.

“There’s a spot here that fucking wrecks you,” he says by way of explanation. You scoff even as your fingers knit through his hair and tug, toes curling.

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” he doubles down. You can practically hear the honeyed smirk on his lips as they continue to kiss and search. “It was a spot that had you convulsing, baby.”

“I don’t seem to remember convulsing,” you contradict, despite the way the coil in your belly tightens impossibly tight. Your eyes are halfway rolled to the back of your head and you’re panting openly. Steve snorts against your shoulder.

“So maybe your memory isn’t as great as you claimed? Huh, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know, all I’m saying is - .” You’re about to continue challenging him when suddenly he’s sucking on a spot just below your left ear and your back shoots right off the seat.

“St-Steve!”

“Bingo,” he gloats against your skin like a fucking nerd before sucking on the spot again. Hard.

“Oh my-oh my god.” Your voice is high pitched. It’s a certifiable whine, tapering off into a whimper. “Steve.”

“There it is baby, that’s all I wanted from you.” His voice is teasing, but it’s considerably huskier than before. He’s close. You can feel him throbbing inside you, though it’s a miracle you can feel anything beyond your own pulsing, aching need. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t respond to him, though, and he knows that. Which is why he doubles down by reaching between you to rub again at your neglected clit. You let out a choking sob which seems to please him even more.

“So god damn good. That’s right.” His words are more rambling now. His face hangs right over yours, eyes staring into your unfocused ones, watching your brow pinch and your lips part in an unending gasping pant. “You’re so pretty. So fucking sweet.”

“I’m…sweet?”

Your words come out garbled and he almost feels like he’s hearing things, but you’re staring up at him with as much focus as you can muster. Expectant. Waiting for a confirmation that you seem fearful might never come. So Steve nods.

“So sweet, baby. Always knew you were,” he affirms through gritted teeth. You roll your hips up into his arrhythmically. Desperate for release now that you feel worthy of it.

His praise breaks you and suddenly you’re a writhing, whimpering mess beneath him, hurtled over the edge with a flurry of spasming muscles. He fucks you through the imact, holding onto you for dear life.

The car must be rocking by now, if it hadn’t already been for a long time. You think in some distant coherent part of your brain about the fact that anyone could have walked out of the grocery store at any point since you first entered the car. A working mom who’d gone out on a late night shopping trip. A broke college kid not unlike yourself who needed a TV dinner. Any of the many people who you had known your entire life growing up in small town Hawkins, Indiana.

But none of that matters with Steve driving into you with abandon. With Steve’s hot, sweating body bearing down on yours, heavy and solid and wanting. He pumps into you long after it’s beneficial to your orgasm, finally chasing his own release. In answer you tighten your grip on him. You go back to meeting him thrust for thrust, even through the achy feeling of overstimulation. He buries his face back in your neck and you coo into his ear things you never would have imagined you’d say - to anyone, let alone Steve Harrington.

You hadn’t exaggerated when you’d said earlier that you didn’t know how to be sweet. You’d never truly settled into anything like sweetness with any previous hookups. Your past ‘boyfriends’ had really only ever been long term flings, with little to no actual vulnerability shared. Sure, you knew how to flirt. You knew how to tease. But usually that was the extent of it. Your inability to meet Steve on his level initially had been part of a deeper problem, one you were probably only just beginning to acknowledge.

But pressed against the leather backseat of his car on a hot summer night, held in his arms, you find it in you to be sweet for Steve.

“So good. Yes Steve. Yes. Please.”

He groans against you and you feel his hips begin to stutter. He’s so close and you want this for him more than you wanted your own release for yourself.

“Please, baby. Come on, Stevie.” Your hand smooths his sweaty hair away from his forehead comfortingly, just as the walls of your pussy squeeze down on him, your pelvis tilting to cradle him down against you.

And at the warmth of your words and your touch Steve cums. His moan is loud and low in your ear and you hold him through the orgasm as it rocks his body, his hips pushing against yours once, twice, a final time before seizing, his hot cum spreading within you.

If the air inside the car had been thick with sex earlier, you can’t even fathom what it’s like now. You feel your nerve endings buzzing as Steve shudders on top of you. Your fingers mooth soothingly on the skin at the base of his neck, helping him come down.

A few minutes pass where there’s nothing but the sound of breathing - his ragged gulping breaths mixed with your more even ones. When he pulls away from your neck to look at you, his eyes are lighter. More clear. He stares at you and the intensity should make you uncomfortable but it doesn’t.

You want to ask him something - anything. What does this mean? What happens next? A nagging feeling in the back of your head reminds you that this almost didn’t happen because you’d almost fucked everything up. Another nagging feeling worms it’s way in too, reminding you that you’d previously convinced yourself that this - he - isn’t something or someone you wanted in the first place.

Your warring thoughts must be visible on your face because his nose nudges yours and he speaks for the first time in a while.

“What’s going on in there?” he asks, eyes darting up to your forehead indicating your mind.

“I -,” you go to speak but your voice is hoarse, so you swallow thickly and go to start again.

Maybe you were going to be honest or maybe you were going to make something up. Even as you opened your mouth to speak you still didn’t know exactly what you planned on saying.

But you never get a chance.

Suddenly there’s a timid knock on the window of the front door. Both of your heads snap up to find the shape of Robin hazy through the foggy glass, body angled away with a hand covering her eyes. Steve sighs and covers his face with his own hand as if just remembering something for the first time.

“Sorry to, um, interrupt guys but Steve…you drove me here and…”

“I thought you said you could handle public transportation Robin. Fuck!”

~*~

Tag list (tbh I’ve lost track of who wanted to be tagged so I am trying my best lmao, will try to add more people later): @millenialcatlady @theoncrayjoy @sacklerscumrag @boomhauer @copycatkillerfics @theshoehanger @zegrasbabyy @notafinalgirl @amelialupin-black @wroteclassicaly @peeaachyyyyy @thegirlwiththatolduglybookshelf @marvelwomen3000 @miraclesabound @thatstoomuchman

#the shift part 2 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington/you #stranger things smut #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x you

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tremendum · 1 year

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please give me alllll of your mr miller headcanons, particularly the really kinky nasty stuff, i'm obsessed with your writing!! (no pressure)

yessss twist my arm i will start a little hc list for all the kinks mr miller would have (these aren’t thattttt nasty tho) NSFW BELOW THE CUT. MDNI. (rough sex, various kinks so be cautious lol)

(disclaimer - most of this is informed by my own interpretation of Mr Miller!Joel as well as some other great concepts i’ve probably read in a similar vein.)

ok let’s kick this off

fighting. this is obvious but he gets unbelievably hard seeing how worked up you get and the lengths you will go to piss him off. nothing gets him more turned on than when you call him disgusting or you disrespect him (he’s fucked up a bit ok)

he’s def got a sir kink in this series, loves when you act up but then have to treat him with respect to get what u want. he loves to tell you what a little slut you are for him and to hear you mutter back “thank you, sir”

i’ve mentioned this before: slapping. he’s def the kinda man who would get a thrill from fighting as we’ve seen and like if he makes u mad or something and you just smack him BAM he’s instantly hard. he thinks your anger is so hot and it fuels his fire

would be the kind of man to make you watch him jack off. he’d sit you on the ground on your knees while he palms himself, not let u touch yourself maybe even cuff you while he fucks his fist. and dirty talks the whole time, teasing you but absolutely losing it over how badly you want to touch him, how you beg to feel him in your throat. he’d def get off to the fact that you were a fucking mess for him and he’s in control

he’s def into ass play…. he’d threaten it at first but if you’re into it he’d fs finger your tight hole while fucking you or he’d make you finger yourself while fucking you doggystyle….,,, omfg.

he’s def into overstimulation and edging BOTH depending on his mood:

the brat tamer in joel would absolutely love to edge you until you’re sobbing - usually when he’s super pissed off. slowing down just as you’re about to cum, bringing you to the edge with his fingers, tongue, cock, anything and then taking it all away until you’re sobbing and furious. he’d also relish in making you touch yourself but not let you make yourself cum until he says so.

similarly but in a different tone, if Joel’s feeling affectionate or even jealous he’d want you to cum as many times as possible. nothing is sexier to him than how your slippery cunt squeezes him when you’re overstimulated - how your chest sweats, hands and thighs shake.

alluded to this already but he’d LOVE to tie u up. leave u stuck like that and tease u for hours oh my god and like seeing ur pretty holes exposed and so wet for him it’d drive you crazy

the sound of you begging while his cock is down ur throat. he loves throatfucking you god he dreams of it, making you choke on him and swallow around him, completely at his mercy.

if you’d established consent before he’d love to go down on you while you’re sleeping. waking up with his head between your thighs, def drawing several orgasms from u until ur screaming. or waking u up with his cock at your lips, slipping into ur mouth as u wake up. he’d love the bleary, blissed look in ur eyes as he takes u apart first thing

and of course he’d have a kink for almost getting caught. be it in the woods on patrol (if it’s safe ofc), near an open window, in public…. GOD and he’d love to tease you under a table or something before pretending he hadn’t done it. maybe he’d tell u not to wear panties under ur dress when you sit in the back of the cinema in Jackson during movie night so he can feel u….

i think he’d love loveeeee cumplay. cumming on you - your face, chest, tits, ass, pussy. even ur clothes. all of it. he wants you to lick it all clean for him, he’d be obsessed with playing with your puffy cunt that’s full of his cum and yours, then shoving his fingers down your throat to watch you lap it all up. he’s obsessed with it.

my last hc is a breeding kink. it’s more of the possession that comes with it - he doesn’t rly want a kid rn, lord knows he already has his hands full w ellie, but he gets so goddamn riled up at the idea of you walking around full of him. so he’d mutter the dirtiest shit to you about it and your flushed reaction just pushes him further - calling you dirty for wanting to be plugged full of him.

no tag list because i’m in class and lazy 😚 a work in progress. lmk what y’all think or if you have any other ideas!! i can expand on any of these 😏

#let's chat abt mr miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #the last of us (hbo)#the last of us (tv)#the last of us #mr miller is ruining my life tbh

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thecruellestmonth · 3 months

Text

quick and dirty guide to Jason Todd in the masterpiece Batman: Battle for the Cowl—canon and fanon

CANON

Jason canonically is a cop-killing asshole garbage manbaby hypocrite who shoots a ten-year-old in the chest.

is a bad person explicitly because his dirty criminal childhood on the streets made him crazy and immoral. He canonically was ruined before Batman ever scraped him out of Crime Alley. (Canon—only a fake fan would argue against it!)

The Lazarus Pit also worsened his mind.

Described as "deranged" and "delusional" and "broken" and "rabid".

Crucifies Tim's Batsuit on a literal wooden cross, but Tim rises from the dead because he's Jesus.

Shoots ten-year-old Damian in the chest, then ridicules Dick for trying to save a "meaningless life".

After being shot, Damian lies on his sickbed just long enough for Dick to brood over his unconscious body.

As soon as Dick leaves, Damian jumps up, tries to swing a wrench at Alfred's head, makes a sexist comment to Squire, and then goes out running around as Robin like nothing happened.

Dick tries to use some unspecified shameful childhood trauma to trigger Jason into accepting Help, but for some mysterious reason Jason refuses—and obviously deranged, delusional, broken people Refuse Help because they're bad people who don't want to change.

-- (Somewhere, John Calvin is moaning in pleasure.) --

Uh thanks for the brief help in the B-plot, Cass—now go away, your thoughts and feelings about all this don't matter.

Apparently Jason can't transform into a man-eating tentacle monster anymore. :(

Overall, the art is pretty swanky.👌

AFTERMATH: Jason commits some dozens more murders.

Dick rightly finds him to be an insufferable asshole, and gains the ability to say so without resorting to ableism.

Damian doesn't care about being shot in the chest and suffers no lasting damage, he is too busy being in fun stories that actually further his character.

Going forward, none of the next writers really try to push long-term "Lazarus Pit madness" for Jason again--except Winick did try to slip it into the prequel, to salvage his baby.

Jason is never shown apologizing for his actions, yet less than a year later apparently decides he wants "redemption".

Bruce happily hands him a full position in Batman Incorporated, with seemingly no special supervision.

While Jason agrees to be subordinate to Batman, he still enjoys being a cocky bastard, and shows no remorse for his past crimes—which are only vaguely alluded to having happened.

CANON(?)

Battle for the Cowl was canon from 2009 to 2011.

It was wiped from existence when the universe reset in the 2011 Flashpoint reboot.

Presently as of the Infinite Frontier "timeline", BftC probably isn't canon until a writer actively writes it back into history, like No Man's Land fairly recently was.

AFTERMATH: It never happened.

FANON

Some scenario loosely inspired by Battle for the Cowl happens because Jason has glowy eyes Lazarus Pit Madness.

What is a female character...?

The conflict is wrapped up in like 200 words.

AFTERMATH: Dick gives Jason a big hug and apologizes for being the worstest brother ever back when Jason was a lonely little angel child.

Jason finds out that he is the most favoritest Robin for tiny 10-year-old Timmy, and he cries tears of remorse for his Lazarus Pit-induced violent frenzy against a nine eight seven-year-old little spleenless baby Tiny Timmy.

More hugging, cuddling, fingers affectionately carding through hair.

Damian doesn't exist for some reason.

If Damian does exist, he's treated like an unwanted booger instead of a human child. He talks like a robot and has no sense of humor.

Jason maybe scolds insensitive meanie Dick for picking evil Damian over Tiny Timmy. Timmy has been suffering fainting spells and consumption, all alone until Jason rescues him.

FANON

Massive overcompensation for other fanon.

CALLOUT post for Jason Todd!

Jason was a good kid. He isn't a bad person at all because of his childhood on the streets. (Fanon.)

The Lazarus Pit had no effect on his mind.

He is 100% sane and willing.

He is a bad person because he's sanely choosing to be an asshole garbage manbaby hypocrite who shoots a ten-year-old in the chest.

Damian isn't sexist to Squire, because she doesn't exist.

Dick destroys Jason with facts and logic and perfectly ethical therapy-speak, and never gets his hands dirty trying to trigger mental illness.

Jason destroys Damian's spine.

Tim and Damian suffer lasting physical and psychological trauma from Jason's torture—being a soldier is now harmful for a delicate developing child, but only on this singular occasion because Jason.

Alfred is the one who stole the Robin mantle from Tim to give it to Damian. 🥺 Dick was forced into a tough situation—he had no choice in how he handled things! It's Alfred, I tell you!

Dick suddenly has a close bond with Cass.

AFTERMATH: The loving idyllic Batfamily hard-blocks radicalized incel full-grown 18-year-old manbaby Jason.

They live happily ever after.

Paradise Lost Satan Jason must suffer his totally self-inflicted isolation, knowing he can never go back to the warm embrace of the very healthy and functional Batfamily, because of his petty, stubborn, definitely made-up unreasonable delusions of being a soldier in an endless warzone.

Hopefully some more cruelty and isolation can make Jason realize he's receiving karmic punishment for being a bad person—somehow this is clearly different from all the cruelty and isolation that happened to him for no reason at all.

--(John Calvin has recovered from his refractory period—he is now moaning more loudly and passionately.)--

"Yes, this is totally what happened! Read a comic, fake fans!" *makes up a fake version of BftC that never happened*

#Jason Todd #Batboys #post Crisis #canon vs fanon #fanon vs canon #Batfam #Batfamily #Battle for the Cowl #Batfam meta #Batman Battle for the Cowl #meta

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precious-little-scoundrel · 5 months

Text

Like Lightening

Summary: A Snapshot of Elvis and Elaine, newly married, hardly satiated, very in love

Warnings: 18+ entirely made up of fluff and smut and fluffy smut, sorry to the sweet ask -this got a bit off track. We don’t have them going at it like bunnies herein so much as alluding to that having been happening and determined to continue. What we do have is a lotta smutty thoughts, breeding kink, innocence kink, oral sex fem receiving, unkosher usage of baby oil, the very beginning of penetrative sex, some begging and dirty talk…most importantly we’ve got a bit of body consciousness, Elaine is slightly embarrassed by her new stretch marks and her pretty husband sets out to show her they’re incredibly cool

Word count: 5k

Hope you enjoy sweet anon, so sorry your original ask got eaten by tumblr, I hope this notification finds you!

Elaine had taken to water calisthenics classes at the Elders Club in Killeen Texas out of sheer need to move without dying of heatstroke. Swelling each day into a fluffy little matron, Elaine made house for Elvis on base one month after the next as May and then June and then July ticked on by in a sweltering dust cloud. And, whenever she wouldn’t be missed, the new Mrs Presley dashed to the pool and swam with the grandmas.

It drew a bit of a crowd, this swimming of hers, and Elvis, sympathetic and prouder than anything, took it upon himself to order from the catalogs the very best and loveliest and most advantageous swimsuits to accommodate his wife’s growing belly and plush breasts to their best advantage. He also threatened crushed jugulars and broken spines if any of his army buddies so much as drove by the dinky place for a peek at his ripe little woman.

Truth be told the larger she grew, the more evident her condition, the fruit of his loins obvious to the world, the more Elvis’ excitement for her grew. If breaking her innocence had proven more tantalizing in theory than practice and if her submission had been a versatile thing he found himself often teetering under the sway of, this, her ripening form, was one fantasy that matched his dreams.

In the early morning her plush body wrapped beside his was the only thing dragging him out of bed for basic and to watch her clip clop about in heels and a ever stretched apron while serving him breakfast was a sorta dream state of things he hadn’t dared hope would be as perfect as it was in reality. All that sickly pallor and nausea of the early months had vanished in its place he had a freckle-nosed bride shimmying into dresses increasingly too fitted. Zippers groaned and buttons popped in their little house on base and Elvis gloried in it, sat on the edge of his bed and watched her dressing struggles with splayed thighs and appreciative groans. He reveled in putting his hands on her to aid her and glutted at what he’d done to her fresh little self. He liked to tease her to “suck in” when her bust no longer fit in her old dresses.

“You’re carryin’ my whole world” he told her time and again, whispering it into her ear and squeezing her tight. He sang to his babies and they quited, he read to them from the Gospels and they kicked: “just like the John the Baptist” and in the latter months when he’d teasingly mimic a babe's cry when snuggling his wife, her breasts would begin to leak.

And now the swimsuits. Graduating up one size after another in these later months, Laney had packed on a bit of tush along with her belly and tits and the sway of it, atop long stems sat upon pretty footsies in heeled sandals, drove Elvis and half his army mates wild. See, after awhile, the secret was out and the other army wives came to swim, too. And their husbands became over eager to pick them up after class.

Threats be damned. Elaine Presley was sweet and pretty and often made chit chat with their wives and babies, towel slung uselessly over her shoulders and pool droplets running from her clavicle to the never-never-land of her bosoms when she bent to kiss a child or two goodbye. Just lanky enough to require a bend, that lady, and just affectionate enough to not content herself with head pats.

Dodger observed these things and pondered them but kept her mouth shut, sat like a disapproving crow under a umbrella and sipping gin and tonics after Elaine had insisted they wouldn’t kill her. Elaine liked to press the cold glasses to her throat when playing Bingo on the patio chairs. Eileen Macdermot went home, scandalized, one day at the way the girl splayed her legs over the side of the lounger, like a primitive or else - a man.

These things filling her days and bothering neither of the newlyweds much, if at all, Elvis had come home one evening to the smell of pork chops and gravy and no Laney in his kitchen. Their house was tiny with few rooms and after inspecting the empty single bedroom he proceeded into their bathroom and found her there, stripping out of her sodden swimsuit.

It was black, with lemons on it and white polka dots intermingled and it paired so well with her tanned skin and white headband that Elvis groaned aloud at the sight and spooked his wife who didn’t suspect him home.

“Lord, Elvis-“ She clutched her chest and heaved in a breath, smile breaking out as soon as her shock calmed, “-you’re home early.”

He wrapped a hand around the doorframe and practically lounged against it as much a person could lounge while standing, while vertical, stupid, giddy grin in place. She was halfway through stripping and there was something so very domestic, jarringly normal and almost raw about seeing his swim pink wife in a modest chipped tile bathroom of a single bedroom house, swollen and barefoot. Just one more regular American housewife among many in a tidy row of white picket fenced army accommodations.

Playing house, it was moments like these when it hit him just real enough to taste a dream and chew it and swallow it down till it fizzled out his fingers and mouth in a hunger fueled by gratitude. This wasn’t gonna last forever, not the normality of basic training or the ruthless hours of not belonging to himself, this too would pass he told himself when it got awful. But so would these precious days of just the two of them, Laney alone to putter around their house and think only of him and he to come home to her with only her on his mind and in his arms.

“Elvis?” she prodded again when he barely managed more than a soothing, faraway humm of greeting when she calmed.

“Yes Mrs. Presley?” he asked, doorframe digging into his cheek, wondering when she was going to drop the lovely sweetheart neckline she was clutching to those creamy tits that heaved under his stare like she didn’t endure such admirations regularly.

“A-are you going to-“ she was oddly hesitant, his pretty wife tonight, she’d been a bit voracious recently as the health came back to her but maybe it was just the fright.

“Am I gonna what, babydoll?” he asked softly, eyes flicking up to meet hers and he saw a little panic brewing in their warm depths. “Why, what’s this, huh? Caught ya at something?” he teased her, genuinely unsure of what was amiss and why she still clutched the soggy suit to her goose pimpled skin. “You’re gonna get cold, shuggums.” he straightened up and moved towards her, army boots mashing down the pretty green pile of the bathroom rug.

She stepped back reflexively before catching herself and giving a forced little laugh and shrug, a shrug that was very hampered in it’s carefree intentions with the way her arms crisscrossed over her chest. Perhaps he’d been too eager for her lately, he thought with self chastising consternation, perhaps she was flighty from soreness or neglect of more cerebral pursuits or maybe it was bad news from home.

“Is everything alright?” he finally asked, grave and soft spoken.

“Oh yes I was just-“ she mumbled, gesturing to the pink marbled countertop and its bottle of baby oil and pearlescent nail polish “-about to moisturize. The pool, the chlorine it…I’ve become itchy lately after going in. Doctor said it was normal, stretching and such but-“ she raised her eyes to his and they looked so young without the coal lining of cosmetics, sometimes he forgot his Tink wasn’t an ancient love goddess, just a sweet and unsure teenage girl. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”

It didn’t make sense why her tone would be apologetic about that. He was early and she was industrious, dinner already baking and even if she hadn’t -they’d been making such ravenous love of late that often they ate charred remains of her carefully made meals or else opted for burgers at the joint in town. There’d been no apologies then; why now?

“C’mere babeh, lemme help.” he drawled and before she knew it he’d slinked across to her and laid his warm hand on her chilled shoulders.

Such lovely, large hands, they spanned her shoulders and a clavicle each, thumbs meeting like a little talisman adornment at the hollow of her throat. Seconds before he even did it she could predict the soothing swipe of his thumbs there, and so he did, and like clockwork she found herself taking in a larger breath, one that expanded her chest and made her clutched swimsuit a little obviously absurd. She used the breath he’d given her to let out a sigh of defeat.

“I’ve been growing.” she admitted rather resignedly and at this admittance Elvis had to check himself from nodding in furious, appreciative agreement, there was invisibly some catch here and in his own enjoyment of her ‘state’ he tried his damndest to recall it must be uncomfortable at best, growing and stretching and creating life inside one’s guts. Hell he wanted to die sometimes from too many sandwiches, how much fuller she must feel, about ready to burst with kids.

So he restrained his enthusiasm and nodded encouragingly. “Mhmm.”

“All perfectly normal, doctor says it is and others too, all the others say so. Nothing out of the ordinary and I was expecting it. Yet still, it’s quite-“ Elaine trailed off on this long prelude and Elvis held his breath lest his concern leach into impatience.

“Buuuuut?”

“But it doesn’t lessen that it’s quite ugly.” Once decided upon a course she finished up quite tidily but Elvis found himself further confused.

“What is, baby?” he asked, bewildered. “What’s ugly?”

“This.” she gestured resignedly at her belly and scratched the clinging nylon, her skin irritated from the pool.

“Don’t, stop that.” he chided softly, knowing it would make it worse and caught her waists in his hands, swaying them between them gently. “I don’t know what you’re on about but let’s get oil on there so you ain’t so prickly.” he suggested and let go of her hands, dropping them gently before raising his hands to her shoulders again and sensuously trailing his fingertips over the swell of her breasts till he met lemons and polka dots, and peeled the material down away ever so gently. “How’d you plan on hidin’ from me?” he asked her as the pert darlings came into view with the enlarged areolas and lengthening nipples.

“I wasn’t planning!” Elaine protested, biting her lip as he tugged further “It just- it showed up out of nowhere and it’s-“

He’d managed to peel the thing over half her ponderous belly, uncovering her belly button, when he caught sight of something entirely new. Red with a tinge of silver, a split, a crack, a bolt, scarred across her navel, running up and down -straight as a proper zig zag.

“Well. Goddamn.” he breathed, sitting back on his heels to take it in. His hand shook a little as he laid his palm on the stretch mark, an awed expression on his face as it was nearly the length of his whole hand. “Why, goddamn Tink,” he repeated, marveling, “you’ve got yourself an honest to God lightnin’ bolt on yous.”

Like her belly were heaven and in the paying of her dues for such a miracle as two lives with one body, it had been rent like a sheet. His stomach churned, something a little worshipful filling him. He took his hand away, marveling at the perfect design.

A lightning bolt. That’s not at all what Elaine expected from him, some kindness and maybe even relieving indifference, she anticipated that despite her embarrassment, but awe wasn’t on the cards. “I guess it rather does look like…that.”

“Looks like Shazam done paid you a visit, lil mama.” he nodded enthusiastically and Elaine laughed before she could help herself, thinking it funny her naked state was suddenly a costume in his mind. “Don’t you see it?” he crunched down to his knees and took her still suit clad hips in his hands and turned her towards the mirror.

“I-I suppose it bears some resemblance.” she muttered with distaste at the sight of it only more angry and prominent since the pool. “It’s a horrid color, looks like an scar already-“

“-oh hush up it’s amazing.” Elvis swatted her backside with his hand and she yelped, the jangle of his watch chain familiar as was his grinning face at belly level. “You’re mama’s all down on herself,” he loudly whispered to the babies inside her house, “don’t appreciate the fact she’s lookin’ like an gen-u-ine superhero. I know how to solve that.” he muttered darkly and Elaine felt him gather her hands again and he placed one in the counter for stability before he yanked the rest of her wet costume off, letting it pool round her ankles and helping her disentangle it.

“What are you going to do?” she asked with some trepidation as she stood fully naked before his keeling, uniformed, booted figure.

“Gonna convince ya.” he stated sure of himself before reaching for her nail polish, the pearlescent, silver shimmer of it drawing his eye like a magpie. “Gold would suit better, but between you’n’me doll, we’ll assume it’s platinum.” he murmured conspiratorially before giving her a solemn wink and unscrewing the cap.

Before she could worry for his trousers, he didn’t carry her foot to his knee and paint her toes. No. Instead he brought the tiny brush and its icy paint to her belly and began to swipe it along the design of her recent marring. Elaine gasped at the chill and in shock of his ingenuity, the tongue bitten concentration on his pretty face and the way his free hand splayed on her skin like an artist’s beside its canvas, anchoring his work.

Tink was yet a new little thing, barely broken into the art of the marriage bed and now accommodating his children, her bred little body hadn’t yet widened in all the ways it would eventually come labor. Her hips were beginning to comically expand whereas her waist in the back remained tapered and gave her a nearly illustrated quality to her proportions, that Elvis had begun to obsess over watching in the mirror when he was taking her.

Everything about her was ripe and taut and now this. He found his eyes going glossy and he tried to finish his painting in a tidy manner, his groin pusing distractingly beneath the material of his slacks as he worked lower, catching a whiff of her own interest in those soft curls.

He could almost taste her by memory.

He pulled away and surveyed his work, immensely pleased with the glistening silver lightning bolt stamped across his children's abode.

“It’ll smear with the oil.” was all she said, soft, distant.

“Then we’ll have to let it dry.” he decided, letting his fingers trace up the backs of her shapely thighs, appreciating soft flesh and toned ridges. He gave it some thought before he pursed his lips and blew. His cold breath blasted against the freezing polish and Elaine felt herself start, a gush of arousal puddling between her lips, almost burning at her entrance as she tried to clench it shut, keep some demureness in the face of it all. She thought she’d caught him sniffing, it wouldn’t do to have her legs a running mess with her need.

But the chilled ghosting of his breaths, the tantalizing burn of his fingertips’ trail- they made her throb and Elaine let out a helpless little moan, shifting on the pink rug in restless wanting.

“What’s that, baby honey?” he asked softly, looking up at her equal parts eager and questioning. “Makin’ you feel funny?”

“It’s the oddest sensation.” she shivered.

“What’s it make you want?”

“You.”

“Which’aways?”

“All of the ways.” she giggled bashully and stared at her swollen reflection and his at faucet level in the mirror, kneeling still. She chose to put her foot on the counter top, opposite hand balancing against the wall, “Elvis, won’t you lick me, please?” she asked.

“Since you ask so nicely.” he whispered, “And since you hold the power of a million universes.” he gestured to her belly once more before ducking his head running his nose along the seam of her slit, nudging her nosing like a puppy.

He hadn’t even kissed her mouth in greeting. He regretted that before opening his poofy lips and beginning to caress her pretty pink labia like he was smooching a lover. A gush let out against his chin, she must’ve been keeping that to herself for some time, there was too much of it. As was the pained moan that followed as her cunt clenched around nothing at his expert manipulations and teases. He opened his jaw and gathered as much of her in as he could before closing his mouth and sucking, amused at the sounds of shock she made as he swirled her, guarding her from his teeth, just his tongue and lips and the hot inferno of his mouth turning her to puddy.

He reached into his pants pocket and adjusted himself, and finding the need to touch too strong to ignore, he kept his hand there and jostled his stick and balls like a boy, moaning further into the taste of her as she came down from her high. She tasted different since pregnancy, and of late, was wet at whim. Elaine was as puzzled and shocked by the changes in her own body as he was, and it gave Elvis immense satisfaction to further surprise her with what he could draw from it. It drove him mad, this shock of hers, and he flattened his tongue and gave her a few parting, broad strokes to collect his winnings as she shoved at his shoulders in helpless, sensitive distress, yelping and shuttering and her propped leg kicking the bottle of oil over and off the counter.

He caught it before it hit the ground without even pulling his face from her muff. Elaine giggled again at his skill before whining at his repeated attempts to slurp at her sensitivity.

“You still gots an itch, lil mama?” he asked her, finally pulling away and looking up at her from under the dome of her belly, his hands planted on hips and his face aglow with her pleasure.

“I do.” she whined breathily, slumping against the wall.

He neared her again with his face and she questioned his motive the whole way until he stuck out his tongue and tried the nail polish on her belly. “S’dried.” he informed her as if he hadn’t just done a stupid thing and then with a decisive nod of his head, swiftly rose back to his full height and presented his hand to her.

“You come with me now, and I’ll tend to it.” he said and, meek as a lamb, Elaine put her little hand into his sticky one and he tugged her into the bedroom, oil bottle in hand. “If we’d been bad, mamas, if we’d been real naughty like, if I’d been a lil less good to ya, we’d be a couple of young folks new married and you swellin’ and barely a pan on the stove or a mattress on much else but floor. We wouldn’t be playin’ house in this lil shack, we’d be livin’ it and barely makin’ it.” he explained to her and Elaine was confused by his meaning, his analogy too, and where this was coming from, but pliant and tripping over her own feet from post orgasmic clumsiness, she chose not to question it, assumed it was play acting of sorts as he led her to the foot of their bed and sat himself down on the floor, still holding her hand. “But even then, Laney baby,” he glowed up at her with a bright, crooked grin on his slick face, “even if we was poor as dirt, I’d invest in a mirror so I could watch that tight lil snatch under your pretty belly swallowing me down like it’s got hunger pains.”

Elaine whirled around and stared at the mirror opposite the bed, positioned lovingly in the tiny space of a walkway where she might view the effect of her outfits and he might straighten his uniform, but perhaps more intentionally, it was placed opposite the bed where Elvis managed to configure them most times in some manner and at some point in their lovemaking so that they were near the foot of the bed and he might watch. Recently Elaine had come to enjoy the nearly lewd prospect of her growing body being gripped and kneaded and caressed, the unarguable beauty of it in the reflected image convincing her of prettiness she herself did not always feel.

The act, him, her responses to them both -they were all still new to her and now this, this pregnancy and the surprise of a million unexpected things.

Surveying themselves in the mirror she thought he looked a bit more debauched than herself, fully dressed though he was. He sat on the floor like a drunk, pussy dazed and loose, legs splayed and collar wet, pit stains prominent and swollen outline bulging in his pants. In his dishevelment he looked worse news than her wholesome nakedness and she licked her lips at the thought that it wasn’t at all wrong to indulge in such a dangerous fella. He belonged to her, and she to him.

“Did you ever think about it, Elvis?” she asked eagerly, her face aflame.

“Think of what, darlin?” he murmured, lazily undoing his fly and pulling himself out, pumping his fat pink member with an elegant pump of his wrist, ogling her appreciatively like she was a poster looming above him and not a living woman stepped between his thighs.

It made her drip. Elaine could feel the slick down to her knee, a stray dribble escaping her curls. Since marrying, since rubbing shoulders with other married women and being allowed into the gossipy little circles on base, she had begun to grow an inkling of awareness that her case was rather special. It was true, all couples made love, most couples had children, and plenty of couples were in love. But there were extracurriculars, such as she had been led to believe quite common in her own marriage, that were rarely mentioned by others, and if so, done with scandalized and hurried admittance. Elaine had begun to notice that while plenty of men liked their wives, wanted their wives even, there was a peculiar singleness of focus to her husband‘s interest in her that was not matched by others. Why, she’d even become aware of men’s magazines and the reasons for their existence, and yet never had seen one in her husband‘s possession, although she had awoke plenty of times to the sight of him pleasuring himself over her sleeping form, or as he was now, unabashedly admiring his view. She was in essence, both fantasy and form for him.

It was enough to make any woman proud and wet.

“Think of what?” he repeated with a laugh and an edge to his voice, looking up at her under an arch brow.

Elaine snapped out of her daydream and stepped up to him, enjoying the way his hands cupped the back of her knees, a little tickle, his head leaned back against the mattress. “Did you ever think to -think of…taking me sooner?” she asked, carding her fingers through his hair. “Ruining me early?” she smiled at the thought, at how clueless and helpless she’d have been if one of those nights on the den floor at Graceland during their short engagement, if one of those times he had rolled atop her - her sleeping father be damned - and had his way. It wasn’t his style but she wondered, what with the way Elvis could barely make it to the wedding, now that she knew what she knew, she wondered. In another world, would she have been a plundered little thing and he a dutiful young bachelor with a set of twins in need of a baptism to cover their conception?

“Thought of it every goddamn night.” he admitted earnestly, “Ruined a couple dozen pants over it.”

“No!”

“Mhmm.”

“Heavens. But never- you never-“

“-not while I was with ya. Bad as I wanted it.” he tisked, “I done told ya, you’re special baby. I was savin’ ya, couldn’t have brought myself to it, had plans for ya.”

Those plans of his were kicking and rolling in her belly as her heart rate sped up with the gentle trailing of his fingers over her thighs and the sight of his bobbing cock, jutting out from his uniform pants.

“I see.” Elaine simpered and pressed her palms to his own, swaying over him before he tugged her down, doing a pretty, clumsy little split over his lap. He groaned at the contact and the sight of her bare backside in the mirror.

“I missed ya today, Mrs. Presley.” he informed her as always and Elaine was grinning when he slotted his mouth against hers in a long overdue lover’s greeting.

Elaine blithely allowed him his smooching way across her throat and the swell of her decollage as she set to undoing his tie with loving firmness, and then stripping the pungent material of his worn shirt off his shoulders and at last tugging his trousers further down which broke his kisses contact and caused much protest. She stayed firm however, insisting that painting her belly with polish was one thing, but if he thought she was going to risk baby oil stains on that uniform, he had another thing coming.

“Your supposition bein’ that I’ll be in some position for stainin’!” he protested as if she were the one with all the wiles and meddlesome ideas.

“What plans did you have for it?” She asked dryly, crouched at his feet and yanking his boots off with much eagerness and little finesse.

“I intended to slather it on my wife.”

“Funny how what’s slathered on me always ends up slathered on you.” she pondered with a pretentious finger to her lips before she was tugged back atop his now bare lap, and spun so that she could lean against his chest.

“S’not always slathered.” he rebuts in a low tone, his voice gone intimate at the new position and their bare cuddling. Elvis hooked his chin over her shoulder and petted the lightening bolt gleaming so well in the mirror, the late summer’s sun beaming through the slanted blinds. He should close them before he did what he intended, before they got nekid in the first place, but if they were just any ole new couple there’d be no need with being off the road and the blinds partially drawn.

He squeezed her harder and reached for the oil. “S’not always slathered, sometimes I manage to get it real nice’n’deep, don’t I?”

Elaine sucked in a shaky breath as she felt him shift beneath her in his reach, the hot, eager firmness of him cradled under her cunt lips. She felt their privates begin to pulse in unison.

“Don’t I?” he asked her, one oily hand splayed low on her belly and the other gripping her jaw.

“Yes.” Elaine moaned, her head lolling back against his shoulder so she might keep his gaze.

His hand began to move again.

Slathering.

“Hmm?”

“Yes, daddy.” she whispered, and saw him smirk in satisfaction.

Witchcraft, it was, the way his hand could go through all the same motions as before but like a switch flipped, his own intent could bleed into his touch and suddenly he had gone from tending her stretched skin to driving her mad, oil and warmth spreading all over her, her breasts shining, her shoulders shining, her thighs aglow and golden.

Shining, all of her.

Elvis hooked his hands under her knees and spread her legs, bent and wide, feet settled far apart on either side of his own thighs. She could see little Elvis twitching futilely against his thigh, glossy, shiny, leaking oil himself. She cupped them both and did some slathering herself, wiping his arousal up her slit, rubbing his head and her puffy bud with her fingertips, the both of them moaning and whimpering in unison at the tease.

“Baby, baby let’s…let’s…” he was saying urgently and she pulled her hand away at his direction, allowing him to bring the bottle between their legs.

She felt that patter of drops against her clit and the silky run of it down to his cock. She ached, back arched and hips grinding against him like she could start a fire with the friction if she moved insistently enough.

“I-I-I want it!” she begged, overcome and her neck straining as she tilted her face to the ceiling. Waterstains patterned the white paint and she squeezed her eyes shut in a exstastic grimace as she felt him pull at his cock and tap it, all oily slapping, at her spread petals. “Elvis, please, please put it in.”

“Mm, m’not sure you’re slick enough.” he disagreed slyly, rubbing his glans against her fiery little hole as her legs kicked out in frustration. She knew he was staring in the mirror at his handiwork without even having to glance there herself. She squinted harder and aimed a thrust downwards, catching him. It was bend or enter. She had him, it took great willpower to hide her smirk as his breath gusted against her cheek.

“My baby still got an itch?” he asked softly, his large hand cupping their joining, just the tip of him snug and cozy inside her swollen channel.

“Yeah.”

“Where?” Elvis rumbled in her ear.

She took his shiny hand and spread it low on the lightening bolt, “Here, real deep.” Elaine whispered, “Right hyer.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. Xoxo 💋

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