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justmeinadaze · 2 days

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Secret Underneath Part 4 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: I did update the Ko-Fi so now you can just donate whatever you can if you would like to :)

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Warnings: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, light choking, spanking, DIRTY TALK, hair pulling, etc. FLUFF, they like her :).

ANGST, readers ex is a dick and tries to show off (boys put him in his place ;) ), mentions of their ex with some more details of what happened, reader mentions missing them when they are away, SLIGHT cliffhanger ending but nothing too dramatic, mentions of how their life style could affect her.

Word Count: 6457

Series here

You weren’t sure how you would feel when Eddie and Steve were away on business trips. You expected to miss them terribly and you absolutely did but what surprised you was how much you were missed in return.

One evening you got a message saying that a car was going to pick you up from work that Friday and the next thing you knew you were being driven to an airport where a private jet dropped you off at Steve’s hotel where you were met with a big grin and a fancy dinner.

“Steve, this is too much.”

“Not to me.”, he beamed as he pulled you into his embrace and rested his head on top of yours. “I just needed to see your face.”

“Aw, did you miss me, Daddy?”, you coo making him chuckle.

“I always miss you when you aren’t with us, pretty girl.”

Another weekend, the same driver and jet coordinated to drop you off at the back of a packed amphitheater where a big overly muscled security guy guided you backstage, where Eddie waived at you like a little kid, his long hair bouncing behind him as he ran to hug you and lift you off your feet.

“You’re here! Ah I missed you, sweetheart, so much.”

“I missed you to.”, you giggle.

“After the show, the guys and I were going to relax, order some beers, and a pizza. Made me think of you so I thought you’d want to join.”

“I’d love to as long as I’m not an inconvenience or anything.”

“Hey.”, he scolds, grabbing your chin firmly. “Don’t ever let me hear you say that again. You are never an inconvenience, baby girl.”

Even though they were only gone for a week or two at most, they always fucked you like they hadn’t seen you in one or two years.

Steve’s heavy pants filled your ears as his head hung to the side of your own and your fingers tangle in his hair as your other hand clings to his shoulder. His hips thrust his cock slowly into your cunt, hitting that sensitive spot inside you roughly.

“Fuck.”

“Come on, honey. Give Daddy one more.”

“I-I can’t.”

Lifting his head, his nose grazed the tip of your own as he ever so slightly pumped into you at a faster rhythm.

“Yes, you can, Y/N. Fuck, you feel so good. Cum on Daddy’s cock, baby. That’s it. My good girl.”

You and Eddie drunkenly laugh as the lamp by his bed falls to the floor as he stumbles into his bedside table trying to keep his lips on yours. Shoving you against the wall, you groan as he grinds his lower half between your legs and hooks his arm under your knee to lift one around his waist.

You fumble with his belt desperate to feel him as his wet kisses trail down your neck and his tongue runs along your skin. He mewls when your soft palm wraps around his length before guiding it into your sex. As you clung to him, he rolled his hips roughly relishing the sound of your moans as your breath warms his flesh.

“Jesus, listen to that little pussy taking Daddy’s cock. You’re so fucking wet.”

“Y-You looked so fucking sexy on stage playing your—mmm—guitar. Couldn’t stop…staring at your…fingers.”

Eddie’s thick digits slide into your mouth and your pussy clenches around him at the feeling.

“You like my fingers and how they move, sweetheart” Again, you tighten around his cock and he growls as he pumps into you faster slamming his cock deeper inside you. “Fuck, Y/N, they’re all yours, babe. Only yours.”

After you came back home, you immediately felt their absence and it killed you but this is what you signed up for so you never said a word. You remained silent when a couple of days would go by without hearing from them because they were extremely busy.

“Hey, baby. Why are you still at school?”, Steve asked as his voice flowed from your computer. They had both been gone this time for a little over a week and unlike other times hadn’t sent for you to come see them. They did explain that this particular trip was supposed to be a big deal for them both.

Steve was working on new deal that would help him get recognized globally so he could expand further and Eddie wasn’t touring per say but doing the talk show circuit with his bandmates to campaign for the Grammy he personally couldn’t care less about. Even as they spoke to you, the mogul was at his desk in the hotel room flipping through documents and the rockstar looked like he was smoking on the roof of a radio station.

“I’m doing some work here, you know. Grading some papers and things like that.”

“Hm.”

“Yeah…I hear it to, Ed.”

“Hear what?”

“You’re hiding something.”, he chuckles. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

A heavy exhale leaves your lips as you lean back in your chair.

“I’ve gotten used to you being there and when you’re not… it just feels empty.” They softly smile at your admission and suddenly you can��t seem to stop yourself as the words begin to flow. “My apartment also doesn’t really have a lot of your stuff, you know? It’s like when you’re gone, you disappear completely. Add in the fact that you have to pretend like I’m not yours so I see girls touch you and flirt… I hear you tell reporters you’re single which…I guess you are but…”

“Y/N, sweetheart—”

Eddie’s voice in your ear is interrupted when someone loudly knocks on your door making you jump.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Holden. You scared me.”

“I scared you? Pretty much everyone has gone home. Why are you still here? Who are you talking to? You’re new boyfriend?”

“None of your fucking business. We had a deal. Get out of my classroom and leave me alone before I give you another black eye.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see both men had completely stopped what they were doing to focus on you, realizing now you were talking to ex.

“You always did like it rough, babe.”

“I’m not your ‘babe’ or ‘baby’.”

“Hm but I’m always going to be your Daddy, sweetie.” You weren’t sure if your ex could feel it but you definitely did through the screen as Eddie and Steve’s anger radiated through. “Look, calm down, I just heard your voice and came by to ask if you were going to the faculty thing tomorrow?”

You glared at him with equally annoyed eyes making him chuckle sarcastically.

“I’m just asking because I’d love to meet your new man. Maybe exchange some stories—”

“Like how you’re so desperate for attention, you physically hurt me, put a picture of us in a book I borrowed, and are now here puffing up your chest like a peacock, you fucking idiot? Trust me, you have never nor will you ever be MY Daddy. The men—man—I’m with showed me what having that title actually means.”

“Hm, well they, I mean he, will learn how much of a pain in the ass you are and you’ll come crawling back, Y/N. You always do. Why even bother hiding it if you have multiple men in your life. You were also always a bit of a freak. It’s unfortunate, unlike myself, most men can’t handle a woman with your…proportions. Have a good night, honey.”

Your eyelids flutter slightly at his passing insult as he walks away.

“What’s the faculty thing?”

You jumped when Eddie’s voice roughly pulled through your earbuds.

“We’re doing a costume party at the school for Halloween since the actual holiday is on a school day.”, you answer with a crack in your voice you try to hide. “I’m sorry.”

“What on earth do you have to be sorry for, baby?”

“I just… I feel like he wasn’t only being a dick to me but you guys.”

“Look at us, sweetheart.” When you do as your told, you take in there still seemingly agitated demeanors even though their eyes reflect nothing but care for you. “You are absolutely right, he was. But you were also right about the fact that we know the true meaning of the word Daddy when it comes to you. All that matters to us is how you’re feeling.”

“I’m going to send Thomas to come get you, Y/N—”

“You can’t. It’s another reason he was coming in here to stir up trouble. He already knew I was going to the party. I have to…we all do… I wish you could come with me.”

“We can. We may be fashionably late but—”

“No, no Steve. This trip is extremely important for you two. I’ll be ok, trust me. I can handle one asshole.”

##################

You grin as you watch you teacher friends dance out on the floor as you sip from the red cup in your hand. You had sent the guys a picture of you in your white angel costume knowing Steve would love the white high heels and Eddie would go crazy over the relatively short spaghetti strap dress but neither man responded.

Assuming they were busy with work, you made sure to keep them updated, letting them know when you got to the school and that you were safe.

“Y/N, come on! Dance with us!”

Placing your drink in the trash, you sauntered over to your friend, laughing as you allowed yourself to let go and have fun. As the music began to slow and people paired off, you shuffled to the side, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs to look through your messages.

The seats on either side of you suddenly became occupied but you didn’t think anything of it until one of the strangers spoke directly to you.

“Beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be distracted by her phone.”

“Hm. Thankfully I’m my own woman and I don’t answer to you so…”

“Technically, princess, you do unless you decided you don’t want us anymore.”

Your head abruptly lifted, your eyes coming face to face with a handsome devil in a red mask. His long hair was pulled into a ponytail held back by devil horns and his matching red suit had you salivating as it clung perfectly to his frame.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?”, you whisper. “You had an interview tonight!”

“You’re more important than a meeting and an interview.”

Swiveling towards the other voice, you took in Steve’s all black suit with an equally colored mask and horns as well.

“So, angel, you wanna dance?”

Grinning, you nod your head and take his hand as he rises and leads you to the dance floor where he places his palms on your waist while you put your own on his shoulders.

“Steve, you really didn’t have to come here.”

“I know we didn’t have to. Remember, baby, we never do anything we don’t want to do. Plus, you’ve been coming to meet us these past couple of months, we wanted to show you that we can do the same.”

“Really? I think Daddy was just jealous.”, you giggle.

“Yes and no.” Your smile grows as he spins you before pulling you back to his chest where you rest your head. “The fact that this fucker thinks you still belong him did spike those feelings but it was more the fact that he had the audacity to disrespect you and hurt you.”

“He didn’t hurt me.”

Strong fingers grip your chin forcing you to look up at him.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

“I can handle it.”, you murmur.

“I know you can. It’s one of the many reasons we like you but, honey, what we’re telling you is you don’t haveto.”

Tilting up on your toes, you kiss his lips as he smiles against them.

“Do you, um, do you guys want to see my room?”

***

“Look at you, you nerd.”, Eddie teases as he points to your bookshelf full of the usual English books you would see on a reading list.

“Said the Dungeons and Dragons geek.”, you jest making him throw a wink your way. “The school district requires they read one ‘English’ book a semester and write a report. A lot of these kids struggle financially so I try to make it easy where I can.”

“Who’s this? Your parents?”, Steve asks as he holds up a framed photo you have on your desk.

“Yeah, that’s my mom and my dad. This right here is my best friend since grade school. She’s still in my hometown but we talk as much as we can.”

“Seems like you gave up a lot to come up here with…Holden?...was it?”

“I told you I was stupid.”

The rockstar smiles as walks over to you and lifts you up onto your desk.

“You weren’t stupid, sweetheart. You were in love and hopeful. We get that.”

Your head slightly hangs as you glide your hands down his arms to hold his hands while your silent question hovers in the atmosphere.

“Yes.”, Steve answers before he jumps up on to the desk to sit beside you. “We did love her…Gina. We’re still trying to figure out if there was ever a point where she loved us back.”

“With how it all ended, we’re thinking no but…”, Eddie shrugs.

“How long were you together?”

“Officially? On and off for 2 years, I think. Right, Harrington?”

“Yeah, but we were friends before that. We met her at a film screening for one of her mom’s movies a few years prior. She could be a bit of a brat but she didn’t have a kind heart like you.”, he grins as he reaches for your hand and intertwines his fingers with your own. “She could never really turn it off. She was rude to everyone and that nepotism leaked out constantly.”

“What made you leave?”

“It was a couple of things but the main one being her cheating with some twenty something football quarterback. Paparazzi caught her in the back of his jeep and plastered the image everywhere. She had the audacity to run to us after to see if we could make it go away.”, Eddie sighed as he stepped forward and rested his head on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I would never do anything like that. I can be a bit of bitch when I need to but—”

The rockstar’s lips cut you off for a brief moment before you wrap your arms around him and hug him to your chest.

“We trust you, Y/N. That’s why we’re trying to be more open and let you in.”

You wished you could pause this moment and revel in it for a long while with you tangled in both their arms. You felt so safe with them which is something you had been desperately looking to attain for a long while even when you were with your ex. After you moved away from everything you knew, you struggled to find your footing and Holden didn’t make it easy. You always felt like you were falling through the cracks which strengthened you own resolve but you were tired. With these two men here, you could finally feel safe letting go.

“Wow, when I said multiple men, Y/N, I didn’t think you’d have them at one time.”, Holden echoed sarcastically as he leaned in the doorframe of your classroom.

As they turned to look at him, they took a few seconds to take him in before Eddie loudly cackled as a wide toothy grin painted Steve’s features. Your ex was dressed like the front man of one of his favorite bands, Corroded Coffin, but it was very haphazardly put together.

“Oh my god. Sorry, man. I can’t wait to show Gareth this. He’s going to flip shit when he sees how assholes perceive him.” Eddie continues to laugh as he takes a picture with his phone.

“So you are thee Holden?”, the mogul asks as he sizes up the man in front of him.

“I am and I don’t appreciate the condescension.”

“Well, we don’t appreciate the way you treat and talk to Y/N so we’ll call it even. We’ve actually been dying to meet you. We heard what you said yesterday about still being this beautiful woman’s Daddy.”

“Oh, you heard that huh? Good. Trust me, boys, you can’t handle a little brat like her.”

“Is that why you put your hands on her?”

“Please. I don’t know what she told you but I know her. She’s a needy thing that likes it a lot rougher than most girls.”, he shrugs.

Steve sarcastically smiles turning towards Eddie who does the same.

“See, Holden, there’s a few problems with that. The first being, that little one there…she’s ours. You put your hands on something that doesn’t belong to you.” The mogul moves out of the way as the rockstar’s fist flies, hitting your ex in the nose before grabbing him and shoving him to the ground. “Secondly, she does like it rough but she consents to that with us. She told you no and, Holden, no means no. Can you say that for me?”

“Fuck you, dick!”

This time Steve’s the one that punches him.

“Try again.”

It takes a couple more smacks before he finally submits.

“No means no! Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“We know, bud. Come on now. On your feet. Good boy.”, Eddie responds calmly as he guides the man to a standing position clinging to his collar. “But we aren’t the ones you should be apologizing to.” Shoving him in front of you, they wait for him to continue and when he doesn’t the rockstar’s ringed hand smacks the back of his head. “Go on, dumbass. Geez, what did you see him?”

You smirk as your eyes narrow playfully in his direction.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Y/N.”

As Holden glances towards Steve, the man rolls his eyes as he gives him a keep going motion with his hand.

“Um, I’m sorry for hurting you on our date and calling you a whore. I, uh, and for bothering you at work e-e-even though we agreed I wouldn’t.”

“And?”

“And what?!”, your ex yelled sarcastically causing Eddie to push him to his knees.

“Holden, we heard you talk about her weight and from what she’s told us we know it’s not the first time.”

“I find it amusing that you seem to think most men can’t handle her ‘proportions’ yet your way is to bring her down and make her feel like she’s unattractive. That really is a shame because quite honestly she’s the most beautiful woman we’ve met and that’s without taking into account how fucking sexy her body is.” Holden’s eyes meet yours as Steve speaks. “I also think it’s interesting she seems to think she’s a brat to yet, Ed, have we experienced that side of her yet?”

“Nope. I mean she’s a bit sarcastic but I wouldn’t say bratty. More than anything she’s confident and knows what she wants. Nothing a Daddy can’t handle.”

The mogul sunk down on his heels to get on your ex’s level.

“That’s why you lost her. You, little boy, thought you could handle a woman like Y/N. MEN can handle her attitude and her proportions. Do you know why?”

“Because we don’t see it as something that needs to be handled.”, the rockstar answers for him. “We wouldn’t have her any other way.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I promise I’ll leave you be.”, Holden sighs as his head hangs.

“Good boy.”, Steve praises as they help him to his feet again and dusts off his outfit. “Come on, baby.”

He reaches for your hand and you immediately take it, walking with them towards the door before they both pause.

“Oh and Holden.” The man lifts his mask to his forehead making your ex’s eyes widen. “If you ever hurt her again, we won’t be so nice. I have some friends in high places.”

“Honestly, buddy, it’s best if you just not talk to her at all unless it involves school. Trust us, we’ll find out if you cross anymore lines.”, Eddie adds as he lifts his own mask and winks.

##################

“Where are we?”, you ask as Steve takes out a set of keys and jiggles it in the lock.

You knew they weren’t taking you home when they passed all the regular streets it took to get there but when they stopped at a building that wasn’t a hotel you became curious.

“Our place.”, he answers as he slowly opens their front door and gestures for you to enter.

They watch with amused eyes as you gradually step forward and take in their massive apartment. The living room was spacious and open with tall ceilings and large glass doors that opened to a pool on their balcony. Beyond that you were able to see the beautiful city lights that made you smile. Maneuvering down a hallway, the first room you found had to be Steve’s with the strong cologne smell that made you swoon.

There was a large bed in the corner with a small gym area he created off to the side. Your fingers ran along his suits in his closet but you were more fascinated by the polo and t-shirts you had yet to see him in. Against the wall by his window was his desk and you took in all the paperwork scattered across the wood.

A framed photo by his bed catches your eye and you pick it up, giving it a good once over before flashing it in his direction. The photo was one he had taken one of the many times you went to go visit him during his business trips. You had both been talking on the balcony of his hotel with one of his shirts wrapped around your naked frame. While you were leaning over the railing looking out into city below, he had come up behind you, wrapping his arms your waist as he kissed your cheek and snapped the image.

“You have a picture of me?”

“I have a lot of pictures of you.”

“I know I mean…”, you giggle. “You have a picture of me by your bed in a frame.”

“Yeah, of course. I like that your face is one of the last things I see before I fall asleep.”

He softly smiles your way and you feel like your heart is going to explode.

“I have one to.”, Eddie beams as he gestures across the way and you immediately head towards his room.

A wide smile painted your feature when you entered the rockstars area and were promptly hit with the smell of cigarettes and his own signature body scent. Along the walls were posters of other metal bands and guitars he had collected over the years. His floor was littered with his own clothes and on his dresser you took note of the many fantasy books you had actually begun reading so you could understood what he enjoyed.

On his bedside table there were a few photos of different people. One was of a gorgeous woman who looked exactly like him that you assumed was his mother. Another was of him with an older gentleman rolling his eyes backstage at one of their concerts wearing a Corroded Coffin t-shirt as Eddie threw his arm around him throwing up the rock n’ roll symbol with his tongue hanging out.

Beside that was his picture of you at one of the after-concert parties you attended with him and his friends. You were sitting on his lap with his arms tangled around you as his forehead rested against your cheek with you both tenderly grinning.

“We thought, maybe, we could give you our key and that way when you miss us you can come here or maybe even…I mean if you’d want to…”

“You could move in with us.”, Steve finished for his friend with as much a shake in his voice as the other. “Of course, you don’t have to but we just wanted you to know the option was there and—”

Your lips cut him off as you jumped into his arms and kissed him almost desperately. After defending you, protecting you, missing you, and showing you how much they genuinely seem to care, you needed to show them how appreciative you were and how much you felt the same.

Stumbling forward, you both fall onto Eddie’s bed, his mouth never leaving yours as he shuffles off his suit jacket and tries to unbutton his shirt before getting distracted trying to grind his lower half against your own. A mischievous chuckle emits from your lips as you take hold of his collar and rip his shirt open, your palm running up his warm, hairy chest as his moans vibrate through him.

After throwing your halo headband to the side, he does the same with his and grips your back as he rolls you on top of him. Noticing you struggle to remove your wings; Eddie comes up behind you and assists, making you smile as you tilt towards him to taste his lips. His hand clings to the back of your neck as Steve’s own begin to roam along your sides to your tits over the fabric of your dress.

Carefully the rockstar unhooks your garment and delicately lifts it over your head and the mogul immediately takes advantage of the opportunity, hastily sitting up to press his face in the valley of your breasts as he open mouth kisses your skin.

“No underwear, sweetheart? Naughty girl.”, Eddie teases as you press Steve’s head closer to you, feeling his fingers travel up to unhook your bra. “Wait, Steven.”

The man pauses as you both watch his friend scurry to quickly grab your halo and place it back on your head, beaming down at you as he gently brushes some of your hair away from your face and kisses your cheek.

“Our angel.”

After pushing Steve flat against the mattress, you fumble with his belt and unbuckle his pants as he helps you push them down his legs. A loud groan escapes his chest when you soft hand wraps around his cock and your tongue licks the precum off his tip.

“Fuck. D-Don’t tease Daddy, baby.”

“Or what?”

A ringed hand lightly but firmly comes down on your behind making you squeak and pout. Unhooking your jaw, you took him into your mouth, flattening your tongue, always remembering what they told you.

We like messy.

You whine around him when you’re spanked again but it turns into a moan when two fingers effortlessly slide into your folds.

“Atta girl. I know how much you like the way my fingers move.”, Eddie coos in a husky tone that has you clenching around him.

Steve’s hand rested on the back of your head as he guided your rhythm, grunting and groaning as you gagged around him.

“There you go, honey. Fuck, that’s it. Taking me so well down that little throat of yours. Let-Let me take over.”

After giving him the ok, his grip tightens in your hair as he thrusts his hips and his friend matches his pace. You were overwhelmed with sensations as you choked around him and your stomach began to tighten at the impending orgasm building up inside you.

Tugging on your hair, Steve leaned his forehead against yours as you panted, not needing to be told to keep stroking his cock with your hand.

“That’s it, baby girl. Fuck, are you about to cum on Daddy’s fingers?” Your big, blown out eyes locked with his as you nodded and felt his dick twitch in your hand. “You’re so fucking perfect, Y/N. We’re gonna fuck you so hard and ruin you for anyone else. Do you want that?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Yes Daddy what?”

“Yes Daddy I want you both to ruin me. Oh my god.”, you whine loudly as the coil snaps and Steve’s lips crash to yours as he swallows down your moans.

Rolling you over, he grabs your ankles and drags you till your lower half is hanging off the edge of the bed with you on your tummy. You squeak when his palm comes down hard on your behind before lifting one of your legs onto the mattress and guiding his thick cock into your core.

In this position, you felt like he was stretching you in half as he slowly but firmly pumped his hips.

“Daaaaddddy…”

Leaning over your back, his fingers gripped your jaw as his lips hovered over your ear.

“You can take it, baby. I know you can. Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” Steve fell against your shoulder and you both grunted when he delivered you a few hard thrusts practically punching the air from your lungs. “That’s a…a good girl.”

Standing to his full height, he picked up his pace as the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. You were so enthralled in the euphoria you didn’t even notice when a now naked Eddie was stroking his cock in front of you.

You tried to lift your head but you struggled which Steve noticed, slowing down to drop your leg and take hold of both your wrists to help pull you back while giving him more leverage to pound into your cunt.

“Jesus, princess. You look so drunk on his dick right now I don’t think you can handle mine.”

“Ah…no, please, Daddy. I-I-I can handle it.”

“Are you sure? It looks like you won’t have much control.”, he replies with slight mocking knowing already you don’t care.

“I trust you both.”

Smirking, he scoots himself closer to you, threading his fingers in your hair and guiding your lips around his length.

“Shit, sweetheart, you take us both so well. I think you were made for us.”

Occasionally tugging you back, Eddie allowed you to collect some air as you moaned. When he realized you were close to your climax, he cupped your jaw and stroked his cock with his hand as you licked and sucked on his balls.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna fuck you so fucking hard, you’ll be feeling me for weeks. Now that we showed that asshole who you belong to you can show him how your Daddies take care of you.”

Leaning your sweaty forehead against his upper thigh, he continued to hold you as you panted against his skin before a loud scream ripped through you and you came.

“God fucking damn it!”, Steve shouted as he folded over you and chased his high, slamming into you with rough abandon until you felt him coat your insides.

Ringed fingers petted your hair out of your face as soft kisses landed on your temple.

“Color, baby?”

“Green, Daddy. Thank you.”

“Color, Steven?!”, Eddie chuckles at the other man who falls back first onto the bed breathing heavily.

“Green…fuck…”

“Good.” Yanking you further up the bed, you giggle as he places you on your back, grinning down at you as he quickly grabs a pillow and puts it under your hips.

Tilting down, he gives you a gentle peck on the lips.

“My turn.”

Balancing on his knees, you mewl as he slides his cock into your entrance and watch as his face scrunches in pleasure. Taking ahold of your legs, he lifts them over his shoulders on either side of his neck straight in the air making your eyes roll and shut.

As his fingers dug into the meat of your waist, he clung to you as he kept his promise and pounded his length deep inside of you, hitting your sensitive spot repeatedly.

“Atta girl. Fuck, this pussy is so good. You’re just…choking my dick…baby.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“What do you need? Tell Daddy, sweetheart.”

Taking a hold of his palm, you brought his digits to your mouth and an audible groan left his chest as your tongue wet the tips.

“Touch me. Please.”

When his fingers began rubbing fast circles into your clit, you knew you wouldn’t last too much longer.

“Jesus.” Rolling his waist, his hand reached out to grip your throat and you nodded, pleading with your eyes for him to get you there. Eddie’s grunts were like music and you moaned his title as your legs began to shake and you came. Dropping your limbs, he fell on top of you, aggressively thrusting his hips to elongate your high.

“Fuck, Daddy. I need you to cum. Please…”

With your encouragement and a few more sloppy pumps, his release warmed your insides.

The rockstar couldn’t help but groan happily when your fingers started running through his hair.

“I like when you do that.”

“You make it sound like girls don’t play with your hair.”, you smile. Glancing towards Steve, your eyes widened when he shook his head. “No? Not even your fluffy head of hair?”

“Hm. Nope, honey. Just you.”

Eddie whines when his friend pokes his side, silently ushering him to get off you so they could get you clean. As you tried to get to your feet, you wobbled a bit and that was enough for the metalhead to lift you into his arms and carry you to his bathroom.

“Told you he had a big bathtub.”, the mogul teased as the other man stuck out his tongue. “Shit. We don’t really have any…”

“Girly smells?”, Eddie tries to help by finishing his sentence making you laugh.

“I don’t mind. I like smelling like you two.”

They both softly smile as they guide you in and take care of you, falling asleep as they began to dress you in some of Eddie’s clothes.

###############

When you woke up, you were slightly thrown off guard, forgetting for a moment you had spent the night with them. Shuffling out of bed, you found both men out on their patio smoking a cigarette. As they spoke you couldn’t help but visually take them in. Eddie looked incredibly comfortable in his black sweats, wild hair, and bare chest, bearing his many tattoos for all to see should anyone be looking out their window. Steve had on his boxers and a Hawkins University shirt that was tight enough that you could see almost every muscle along his upper body.

They both seemed so calm as they spoke to each other and that made you happy. With the lives they had they deserved peace and you were glad you could give that to them in some way.

“Ah ha. So the business tycoon Steven Harrington DOES smoke.”, you jest as you exit their apartment onto the balcony.

“Told you.”, Eddie chuckles as he makes room for you to sit between his legs and lean against his chest in the lawn chair he was sitting in. When his arms circled around you, you immediately felt safe.

“Y/N, we, um, we wanted to talk to you about something.” Steve’s tone made you nervous as your body visibly stiffened. “No, hey, no. It’s not bad or anything.”, he soothed as he took a seat in the chair across from you both. “We just…it’s a big step and—”

“Steve wants to know if you would like to come to an event with us next weekend.” The mogul sighed as his friend shrugged. “You were taking too long.”

“In what capacity?”, you ask.

“It, uh, wouldn’t be like as a girlfriend but, um, we don’t want you to think we don’t see you that way. It’s just…a taboo I guess that…”

“Don’t you make deals for a living?”

“Jesus! Then you tell her, Edward.”, Steve growls.

“You think of me like a girlfriend?”

Both men exchange a glance before the man in front of you tilts his head.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want to be.”

“After Gina we said we wanted to take things slow with the next girl we were intimate with but Y/N we trust you. We wouldn’t have brought you here if we didn’t.”

“Of course, because of the circumstance there are some stipulations—”

“Stipulations?”

“Yes, for example, when Gina would go out with us she and we would tell people that we were just friends.”

“Which would mean the paparazzi are going to make assumptions a lot about us and another girl we even talk to. Other women will continue to flirt and try to touch us…” Eddie cringed as he spoke and you could tell they both hated what they were telling you.

“And you would let them?”

“No. Hey fuck no. Y/N, that’s not how we are. We would tell them or anyone to fuck off but we just want you to be prepared.”

“What about me? If I’m showing up and presented as a friend…men will hit on me and touch me in front of you.”

Steve’s jaw tightened as he glared off into the New York skyline.

“You’re right, sweetheart. They will. But we just watched you tell us to fuck off when you didn’t know it was us sitting beside you. And you know any unwanted touches… we can break their fucking hands.”

“That’s not the only attention I would get either right? If people know we’re friends, they’ll pry and ask me questions about you guys. Try to get scandalous details. I may even lose some people I imagine.”

Your head hangs as you sigh before Eddie sits up and shifts you around so he can see your face.

“I’m sorry we have to keep bringing her up, Y/N, but Gina shattered, fucking SHATTERED our trust in most people. Everything you mentioned, she did and then some. She took advantage of the opportunities and made them work for her. We’ve spent almost 4 some odd months getting to know you and we trust you way more than we ever did her and we knew her for years.”

“You don’t have to do this, honey, if you aren’t comfortable. We can wait a few months and talk about this later down the line. That’s not going to change how we feel about you. You’re ours and we’re yours.”, Steve added, lifting your chin with his fingers. “Tell us what you’re thinking, baby girl.”

“What’s the event?”

“A charity thing downtown.”

“I’m a little scared. I don’t know how to be at something like that.”

Eddie smiles as he kisses your temple.

“Neither do I, sweetheart. That’s Steve’s territory.”

“Please, that’s my parent’s thing. If anything, I’m good at faking it.”, the mogul grins as he caresses your cheek. “So…do you want to come with us?”

##############

@aol19 @paradisepoisons @paleidiot @dashingdeb16

@lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer

@aactuaaltraash

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19burstraat · 1 month

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run rabbit, run! (jesper fahey + rabbits)

crooked kingdom / shadow and bone season 2 / crooked kingdom / the velveteen rabbit by margery williams bianco / the runaway bunny by margaret wise brown / florence + the machine, rabbit heart (raise it up) / why i am not a christian by bertrand russell / crooked kingdom / cornflake girl, tori amos / boy and rabbit, henry raeburn / watership down by richard adams / six of crows / pigeons and rabbits, edgar hunt / the velveteen rabbit by margery williams bianco

#desperately trying to put all my thoughts on the table now before I go back to uni for the kicking and screaming fight that is deadlines #hence the ten billion web weaves and incessant yapping rn #six of crows #crooked kingdom #jesper fahey #web weaving #parallels #my post #shadow and bone

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rafesmuse · 2 months

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rafe cameron’s rich and confident baddie!gf hcs ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

moodboard . outfits . masterlist . jj version .

ꨄ︎ rafe usually goes for sweet submissive girls, since he likes to have control, but the moment you laid your eyes on the pretty boy, you knew you had to have him. and as usual, you always get what you want.

ꨄ︎ all eyes are focused on you when you both enter a room, rafe simply being your accessory as your louboutin heels clack on the ground, head held high with your make up, nails and hair perfectly done.

ꨄ︎ rafe used to get lots of attention from girls before, but now that you’re dating him? girls don’t even dare to look his way because of your intimidating aura. if they were stupid enough to still flirt with him, then you’d have no problem putting the bitch in her place. “listen, yeah? you better go flirt with topper or kelce or whoever the fuck, cause trust me, you don’t wanna know what happens when my girlfriend finds out.”

ꨄ︎ you secretly pay the bill at a restaurant when rafe’s at the bathroom, a trick he used on his previous girlfriends. he comes back to the table, pulling his wallet out before you place your hand over it with a smile, telling him it’s already been paid. “oh for fucks sake. you really gotta stop that, a’ight?”

ꨄ︎ it’s always a battle for dominance in the bedroom, rafe desperately wanting to have all the control but you not letting him have it easily. one time he accidentally slipped out a ‘mommy’, which you’ve never let go of ever since. “i never fucking said that, okay? you heard it wrong!”

ꨄ︎ topper and kelce constantly tease rafe for being your bitch but not daring to say a word when you’re around, their demeanour instantly shifting when you walk into the room, making rafe smirk as he looks at you proudly. “not much to say now, top? yeah, that’s what i thought.”

ꨄ︎ you have no trouble confronting ward whenever he treats rafe unfairly. ward was taken aback at first, not being used to rafe’s girlfriends talking back at him, making his eyes widen and almost choke on his expensive wine. later, he realised you’re exactly the kind of girl rafe needed this whole time.

ꨄ︎ you’re the centre of attention at parties— your hips swinging to the beat when you’re dancing with your girlfriends, your short dress leaving little room for imagination. you’d try to drag rafe to the dance floor, interrupting him when he’s busy dealing drugs, but knowing he won’t ever say no to you. “jesus, just fucking leave me a— i mean. i’ll… i’ll be there in a bit, okay?”

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psychedelic-ink · 7 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, childhood bestfriends to lovers, tlou'verse, jackson era, mild hurt/comfort

word count: 4.9k

summary: When your boyfriend is desperate to win back what he lost, he bets on you this time without your knowledge. And everyone knows you don't go back on your word when it comes to Joel Miller.

warnings: okay so technically not cheating because your boyfriend literally gambled you buuut if that's not your thing I totally get it, piv, dirty talk, choking, spitting, size kink, soft!joel & feral!joel, he likes hearing how big he is, affectionate whore calling™, a hint of analplay, oral (receiving and giving)

a/n: another joel fic inspired by p.orn, we love to see it

a special thank you to @nothoughtsjustmeds for the beta! 💕

Joel was never that into gambling.

Back before everything had gone to shit, that had always been more Tommy’s forte than his own. Joel doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d had to bail his brother out, either by protecting him while putting himself in the middle or by giving him loans he’d never ever see again. Joel hadn’t minded. Tommy was his baby brother after all. As long as he was safe Joel was happy—annoyed, for sure, but happy.

He was surprised when he learned that Jackson had a pretty heavy gambling scene and that Tommy wasn’t a part of it. He didn’t know why that was, because even on the nights where he had to go bail him out and bring him home all bloodied and bruised, Tommy just made the same mistakes. Not even Sarah’s worried expression, while she peered from between the wooden stair railing, deterred him from it.

Guess it was different when your own kid was on the way.

However, despite his lack of interest in gambling, he found himself betting away what little he had for someone else—someone he thought he would never see again. But honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it so he didn’t mind it that much. His only complaint was when he had to get messy hunting down those who didn’t pay up.

One by one the men around the table folded, only leaving Joel and Liam. A huge stack of weaponry lies in the middle of the table, Liam’s eyes constantly flit between the stack and Joel. They stare at each other long and hard. Joel knows that he’s going to win. He usually did with these face-offs.

Liam folds.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips. There’s nothing better than to take what someone he absolutely detests wants.

“Let’s go again,” Liam grunts, his forehead shining with sweat.

Joel raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have anythin’ else to bet on.”

“Come on now, Miller,” Liam leans back into his chair. “There must be something that you want.”

Joel’s eyes bore into his long enough for the man to grow uncomfortable and nervous. Only then did he speak.

“You still have that pretty girlfriend?”

Someone Joel didn’t bother learning the name of pipes up from his right, “I thought we were only betting huntin’ supplies this time.”

“Come on, let the man try to win his rifle back.” Joel grins.

“Fuck you, Miller.”

“Careful now,” he slowly places his elbows on the old table, his weight on it enough to let out a threatening creak. He cocks his head to the side, his smile small but still there. “My kindness wears thin.”

Liam’s an addict. And of course, he says yes.

“You fucking gambled me away?!” your voice is shaking, body trembling all over as you pace back and forth in front of the couch Liam was nestled on top of. At least he has the decency to look guilty. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Liam? I’m your girlfriend, not some kind of deer hide you can put on the table.”

“Look I said I was sorry alright?” He stands up fast enough to make you flinch. He holds you by the shoulders, thumbs moving in a soothing manner. “Won’t happen again, I promise.”

You scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.” You lift your chin up in defiance. “I won’t do it. I have free will. You can’t make me.”

That makes Liam sweat. You can’t blame him, you’ve heard of Joel’s. . . outbursts. But honestly, that’s the least of your worries. You’re mostly confused as to why Joel asked for you specifically. You’re positive that he’d been avoiding you ever since he came into Jackson, only talking to you a handful of times. Why now? And why like this?

“Baby,” Liam whines, snapping you away from your thoughts. “You have to. He’s crazy, he’ll kill me.”

“You should’ve thought of that before.”

“Please. All you’d have to do is entertain him for the night, make him happy.”

“So to be his plaything? Is that what you want?”

“Maybe he’ll ask you to cook him dinner, hell if I know.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure he’ll just want something to eat.”

You give him one more look before slipping away from his gentle hold. Your heartbeat is slow, hours spreading across every beat, making your chest feel heavy and lightheaded.

“Fine,” you cave, wrapping yourself with your shaking arms. “But after this, I’m done, Liam. I’m so tired of bailing you out.”

“You can’t leave, where would you go?”

The soft tone he used while begging you to spread your legs for Joel quickly turns into a tone with sharp, dagger-like edges. You don’t say anything. Don’t answer him or agree with him. You’re lost in a broken world.

And now, amongst all the things you’ve been through, you have to see the pity in your childhood best friend’s eyes.

You don’t want to be here. You don’t. It’s embarrassing.

Your boyfriend is in the other room, brooding on his couch, examining his life choices. You’re not doing any better. Your robe loose over your shoulders, the chill of the bedroom settling over your skin. It’s especially embarrassing because it’s Joel for crying out loud. You’ve known each other since you were kids causing mischief all around the neighborhood. You still remember the time you fell and scraped your knee, how he kissed it better and placed a pink bandaid over it because it was your favorite color.

Why the hell had he asked for you? To humiliate you? Well, he definitely succeeded.

The door opens and you jolt. His presence is large in the room, making you shudder despite yourself. Your pulse quickens. You shouldn’t be afraid of him yet here you are, trembling like a newborn doe. He closes the door with a gentle click, the wood creaking and solidifying your fate.

You haven’t known him for years. Even before the outbreak had torn the world apart. You had moved away two years prior and after everything went down you never expected to see him again. When he showed up in Jackson you barely recognized him. He looked rugged, more salt than pepper in his beard, his eyes drained of life. He had scars that ran deep and he had found a kid along the way. You were surprised but relieved to see he still had a big heart.

You were ashamed the first time you two sat down after years. Everyone knew of Liam’s gambling problem, he couldn’t help it, and you knew that Joel knew. You hated the idea of him pitying you, of him seeing the world weighing down on you. You’ve heard from around that Joel also started to place bets. Nothing too big though, unlike your boyfriend who would bet on almost anything in the house. You knew those bets could turn out violent and people feared Joel. Even in a safe utopia like Jackson, the kind of man he’d become traveled from ear to ear, striking fear. And when someone that owed him money ended up with a bloody nose and broken jaw. . . no one dared to deny him of anything.

And it seemed like you were no exception.

Joel stands in front of you, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy muscle. He stands close. Close enough that you feel his breath on your lips. Your eyelids flutter before you avert them, tears stinging the corners.

You drop the robe, the old fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re left in a decent enough-looking bra and somewhat matching underwear.

“Not interested,” Your entire body goes taut, eyes wide. You hear the blood rush in your ears. Joel moves past you and takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over the expanse of his broad chest. You stare at him and a thick knot forms in your throat. He gives you a brief look before explaining. “I only wanted to teach your boyfriend a lesson. He’s reckless. One of these days he’s gonna be in real debt to me and, darlin’, I don’t want you gettin’ caught in the middle.”

Your heart drops. You don’t know what you’ve been expecting but it certainly isn’t this. Tears blurring your vision, you quickly bend over and scoop up your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. Somewhere along memory lane, you forgot to remind yourself that Joel was your first; first crush, first love, first kiss, first time. But it just hadn’t worked out. You had stayed close friends until you moved away, he had Sarah, you had a promising career. You were planning on getting back to him. It just never came to be. Liam didn’t know you knew Joel, only Tommy knew about the connection you two had, mainly because he was there.

And now you had Liam—Boyfriend who calls you names because he hates everything, Liam. Shitty boyfriend, Liam. Boyfriend who put you up as a prize, Liam.

It’s just too much. All of it. Your heart can’t handle how unfair it all is. The pity Joel shows you, the way Liam treats you. He loves you, you know that much, but he just doesn’t care enough to treat you right or tend to you when he’s so broken himself. He doesn’t understand that you would take care of him just as much.

And now you’re just a shell. A shell of your former self.

The first salty tear slips from your lashes, it’s followed by another and then another.

You manage to reach the end of the bed on shaky legs, collapsing, you cover your face, heaving silently into your palms. You don’t want Liam to hear you cry, deep down you want him to think Joel is fucking you this very instant. You want him to feel guilt, or at least a sliver of the way you feel.

There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your brain doesn’t even register that Joel is pulling you into his chest, wrapping solid arms around your shaking frame. He holds the back of your neck, squeezing tenderly just like he did when your mom yelled at you and he wanted to calm you down.

“Why are you cryin’?” he mumbles. “I told you I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you. Or to him. I just wanted him to think before he put you in any danger. What if it wasn’t me there? Not everyone is as they seem in this town.”

After all this time Joel Miller is still looking out for you.

“It’s not that,” you answer, between sniffled and muffled hiccups. “I’m embarrassed and so fucking tired. I don’t want you thinking I’m some damsel in distress, even though me crying isn’t really helping,” you take a deep breath and peel yourself unwillingly from his chest. “I don’t feel good about myself. I never do with him. I just feel like shit with some more shit thrown over. And well. . . now I know that you don’t want me either. It’s just too much. But I’ll be okay, thank you for looking out after me even though I’m a mess.”

He suddenly grips your chin and pulls you close enough that your noses almost touch, “What the hell makes you think that I don’t want you?”

“You. . .” with a sigh, you look away. “You didn’t want to fuck me.”

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

Squeezing your chin, he forces your gaze back to him. His lips are parted, pupils wide enough to hide the chocolate brown of his eyes. He seems just as surprised as you feel. Arousal pools between your legs, heat dripping down the curve of your spine. You press your thighs together and swallow.

Joel’s hand moves up to your cheek and cups it gently, thumb toying with the corner of your lip, “I just never thought you’d be interested if I’m bein’ honest. Especially not after. . . everything I’ve done.”

“You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive,” you kiss the curve of his palm and he shifts, coming even closer. “I always wanted to come back to you, you know? You’re my first love, Joel Miller. Deep down I always wanted you to be the last.”

Joel was never an emotional guy. He always had trouble expressing what he thought and felt, thinking he always had to hide behind large invisible walls. The outbreak had put a magnifying glass over that quality of his. You can only tell that your words affected him by how the crease between his brows softens and his cheeks gain a subtle red hue.

He only grunts as he forcefully brings your hand to his crotch, his cock hard and throbbing under your palm. His lips skim down your neck, kissing where your pulse beats frantically. Joel grinds into your palm, “You still want to fuck with your boyfriend waiting in the living room?”

“God, yes.”

You stand up and he parts his legs for you, allowing you to take your rightful place between them. Looking up, his fingers dance up your shoulders, pushing off the robe so it once again pools at your feet. The fabric of your bra has worn away with time, meaning that your nipples meet no resistance as they stiffen under his gaze. Joel licks his lips and brings both thumbs to the peaks, rubbing them until they’re fully hard.

Then he suddenly shoves you closer to him, your aching nipple met with his wanting mouth. He sucks through the fabric. Saliva darkens the color. He sucks and moans each individual nipple until both are hard like diamonds and only then do you find yourself on the bed, his mouth still on you, starving for more. Your back forms the perfect arch, the sheets feeling like silk against your skin despite them being years old—almost rotten.

He drags his lips down your body, rough facial hair tickling your skin, your hips helplessly stutters into the air. Two large hands pin your hips down. You can’t help the noises that tumble from your lips. For the first time, you’re feeling whole. He lays soft kisses against your inner thighs and finally, he reaches where you want him most.

Joel sucks your clit through the fabric and your body jerks, seeking the heat of his mouth against your bare cunt instead. He smiles, digging his blunt nails into your flesh.

“Patience,” he licks a stripe down your clothed folds. “I want you to be loud, sweetheart. Make noise for me. If you want me to fuck you, that’s my price—your sounds.”

Liam never liked the sounds you made. Unless you were mimicking porn and whispering how close you were, which was a very rare occasion.

Joel slides his hands up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing gently. Like you might fade away at any given second. He kisses the lips of your pussy and his eyes flutter closed.

“Doesn’t it feel good,” he begins, his southern drawl more prominent as his voice grows deeper. “To have that prick in the next room listenin’ to me fuck you, riddled with guilt because he bet on his pretty girlfriend?”

It does feel good. “You think I’m pretty?”

“‘Course I do,” his brows furrow, eyes finding yours. “Prettiest girl I’ve known since the first day my dick got hard.”

The words send a tingle up your spine but Joel doesn’t allow you to linger on them for long. He slides your underwear to the side. The fabric sticky with slick, he immediately presses his lips deep into your cunt, tongue swirling around your entrance and teasing it by pushing in the tip. You cry out and grip his head, your legs pressing against his ears. Your heart hammers within the confinements of your ribcage.

“Gonna ruin you,” he groans, licking himself deeper and rutting the bed. Your eyes roll back, your body melting with every fat stroke of his tongue.

Joel takes you apart slowly. His jaw moves, head lazily going from left to right. You feel so wet, soaked, from both his mouth and your slick. It’s almost like he goes slower the more soaked you are. He draws various shapes around your throbbing clit. You're left withering under him, shaking, begging, and moaning his name loud enough that the entirety of Jackson could probably hear. The wet smack of his mouth is followed by loud slurps and groans, and your stomach coils tight.

After all these years, Joel Miller had certainly learned a few new tricks. He wasn’t that same teenager anymore, though, neither were you. He feels different, yet he also feels the same. Like a familiar wind stroking your skin.

“So damn wet and sweet like honey, fuck.”

He moves away and you nearly cry out of frustration, fingers burrowing into the old sheets. You only move when you hear the deafening sound of a belt buckle coming loose. Joel’s pants drop to his ankles, cock painfully hard and slightly curving to the side. Your mouth waters, “No underwear?”

“Got too lazy to wash’em last Sunday,” he lazily strokes himself. Today is Tuesday. He’s been going commando all this time. More saliva fills your mouth, you don’t know why but the thought excites you and he seems to notice. “You always did get turned on by the weirdest things,” he mutters. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart. Been waitin’ a long time to feel those lips again.”

You pout, “Forearms are sexy, ask anyone.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, his dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. He ignores your comment entirely. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You sink to your knees immediately after that.

He’s so much thicker than you remember. The bulbous head a beautiful shade of red, shiny beads of precome gathered at the slit. You notice the vein meandering down the underside of his cock and you trace it with the tip of your tongue. The blood pumps harder in response, his length twitches and smears the shiny pearls against your cheek.

You moan as you finally take him between your lips. The corners of your mouth sting from how wide you need to open to accommodate him. You manage to take him half way in, swirling your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks.

“That’s it—That’s it, fuck—suck me harder, sweetheart, please—” his hips rock forward, his cock filling your mouth until the head is hitting the back of your throat. You choke on him and his head falls at the way your throat constricts around the width of him. He then pulls out, prompting you to look up. His hair is a mess, lips swollen and parted. “Use your spit, need you to wet my cock good if you want me to fit darlin’. I ain’t that teenager anymore.”

You kiss the soft crease between his balls, rolling them with your tongue. You’re delighted to witness how he shudders at the soft caress of your lips, “I can see that.”

“Get on with it then.”

Joel sounds almost annoyed—no, not annoyed, but eager, desperate—to have your mouth wrapped around him with Liam in the other room. You don’t want to make him wait so you slowly allow a thin line of saliva to drip from between your lips. His thighs tense when it touches the head of his cock.

“Is his dick as big as mine?” he asks, jaw locked, words bouncing off of clenched teeth.

“No,” you gasp, dragging your lips down the length of him while staring at him through heavy lashes. “No, it’s not as big as yours.”

Suddenly you’re lifted to your feet, your body nothing but a ragdoll as he pushes you to the bed, the old mattress creaking with protest at the added weight.

“Play with that fuckin’ pussy for me, I want to see it.” He wraps a hand around his weeping cock, his strokes hard and calculated. Your breasts tingle as you push a hand between your thighs, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, approaching the end of the bed. “Spread your legs wide, honey.”

As soon as you open your legs and spread your folds for him to see how soaked you are, he’s quick to climb up the bed. Turning you to your side, he gets right behind you. Joel wets his own fingers, sucking on them with a loud groan before replacing yours with his own. He rubs your clit with precise movements, each stroke hitting the mark and making you see bright, dazzling stars. Your body moves on its own. Heat pools between your legs, your hips grinding back to feel the heft of him on your ass.

“Joel, please,” you whimper. “Please, fuck me, please—”

His lips touch your cheek and he breathes heavily, his chest heaving and rattling with every exhale. You feel the head of his cock slowly sinking into you, stretching you wide as his lips decorate your sweaty skin with fleeting kisses.

“You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey,” your eyes roll back, a mild pain blossoming from where you two connect. He brushes his fingers over your clit, the sharp pleasure shortening your breath. “That’s it. That’s my girl takin’ my big cock so well. So good. So good for me.”

Your jaw drops as you take him inch by inch. He continuously plays with your clit, kissing you and whispering words of praise while his tongue plays with your earlobe. You feel like mush. Like dough that only he can mold. Your lashes grow wet with tears, your heart beating so wild that you swear he can hear it as well. Joel slightly pulls back his hips and pushes back in, your breath catches in your throat, and soon enough he begins fucking you with shallow thrusts.

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he mutters into your ear. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Tell me, louder, come on,” a smack echoes in the small room, and pain blossoms over your ass cheek. “Come on, louder.”

“Yes!” you cry out. In a weak attempt to meet his thrusts, you roll your hips. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I’ve never stopped thinking about it—never stopped thinking about you.”

“Is this pussy mine?”

“Yes, it’s fucking yours.”

Your voice must’ve come out too much like a whisper because Joel’s pace quickens. He fucks you hard, deep, hammering into you until you’re struggling for air. He wraps thick fingers around your neck, squeezing until there’s pressure building under your eyes, your lungs burning.

He loosens his grip around your throat, “I wanna hear it, come on now, don’t make me beg for it. Tell me, is it mine?”

“Yours! It’s fucking yours!”

Suddenly Joel is underneath you and you’re on top, his hips relentless as he snaps his hips up into you. It feels even better now. The way his cock massages your walls shooting crackles of electricity up your spine. He holds your ass with both hands and spreads you for his liking.

You moan his name and when you look down, seeing him staring at your face, a sudden gush of embarrassment overwhelms you and with a small whimper, you cover his eyes with both your hands. Joel grits his teeth at that. He fucks you harder, the vicious way he presses inside making you gasp and drop your hands so you can brace yourself by flattening your palms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger.

“Why the fuck—” he growls, “would you cover my eyes?”

“I–I got embarrassed—” you squeeze your eyes shut and open them back again. You push down your hips, taking him to the hilt as a form of apology, but he doesn’t seem to accept it and holds you still. Your head falls back with his every thrust.

“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll take you over my knee,” he rasps, ignoring the way your pussy clenches at his words.

His finger teases your asshole and beads of sweat gather at your tailbone. Joel’s grin is dangerous, something you’d run away from rather than run towards. But you can’t help it. A wanton moan rattles your throat, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. He presses forward, burying his finger down to the first knuckle. You shudder over and over, your body building tension and releasing it simultaneously.

“You like that, wildflower?” he groans, thrusting his finger in and out while snapping his hips up. “You enjoy it when I play with your tight little asshole?”

“Fuck, fuck—Joel—yes, yes I do.”

His other hand snakes around the back of your neck and yanks you down. His damp lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck this hole one day, pretty thing. . . gonna fuck it so hard you’re not gonna be able to stand for weeks.”

Before you can catch your breath, you’re being hauled towards the closed door, the emptiness you feel sudden and cold. He pulls your hips up, presses your cheek against the barely standing wood. Your hard nipples graze against the surface, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Again, Joel thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. The mild pain tingles within your lower abdomen and you melt against him, eyes rolling back as you wiggle your ass for him.

With every rock of his hips, your body hits the door with a thud and you’re sure Liam can hear every forceful fuck, “Tell him how fuckin’ bigger I am than him—I wanna fuckin’ hear, it come on.”

“He’s so much bigger than you!” you groan, bracing your palm against the door. “You hear me, Liam? Never had a bigger cock in my life, I’m soaked.”

Liam’s muffled voice follows through, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You fucking whore!”

You know it shouldn’t, but his words still jar you.

“I’ll fuckin’ break his hands for that, don’t you worry darlin’,” Joel mutters into your skin, his words marking you as something untouchable. “And I’ll make it fuckin’ hurt.” He then kisses your shoulder and shouts towards the door, slamming especially hard this time so the thud of you hitting the door echoes. “You’re the one who gambled her like some kind of prize you dickhead. Don’t blame her for feelin’ good about it!”

“You could never satisfy me,” you say barely above a whisper, like you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to feel good about this. About finally having him all to yourself.

“That’s it, tell him,” Joel growls, pushing his cock even deeper. You swear that if you looked down at your stomach, you’d see a bulge, as impossible as that sounds. “Tell him.”

You desperately grab at Joel’s forearms, feeling the sinewy muscle tense. Your slick drips down his length and wets the inside of your thighs. With a loud moan you repeat your words and it feels delightful.

You only smile when you hear the outer door close shut. Liam is gone.

“Yes yes yes,” Joel murmurs into your neck, ramming into you harder. “That’s it, come on my cock, sweetheart, please—I wanna feel it—”

Your breath catches in your throat, body seizing, “B—Bed,” you manage to choke out.

If he pulled out, you’re not aware. His body is a constant presence against your back, lips always latched on to a patch of skin, tasting the salt. Joel lays you down gently and pushes your legs high enough that it grazes your forehead with every desperate snap of his hips.

“Is this what you want?” he groans, the wet noises of him fucking into the tight fist of your cunt bouncing off the walls.

“Yes, Joel— this is what I want.”

“My whore,” he leans over and grinds into you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. The back of your thighs ache with protest but you whimper into the kiss anyway. Breaking the kiss, Joel breathes into you, “My good sweet little whore,” and another kiss.

Your eyes roll back, “So deep,” you groan, breaking the kiss.

“Deeper deeper deeper,” Joel mocks you by mimicking your dazed tone with his drawl. He slowly pushes in, holding himself there, he halts your breath. “How’s that, wildflower? Deep enough for you?”

“Oh god, Joel—” you choke. You fist the sheets, your cunt fluttering and throbbing. He doesn’t move, he flexes his cock and the pressure of that is enough to break you.

Joel wasn’t expecting it, this much your muddled brain is able to realize from the shocked groan he lets out. His lips find purchase on your forehead, kissing and mumbling praise as your entire body clenches and releases, your pussy gushing around him. You feel the trickles of fresh wetness ripping out of you and all you can do is take it when Joel resumes his thrusts, fucking you through your messy orgasm.

Despite your insistent begging of wanting him to come inside, Joel pulls out, coming undone instantly as he does so. He rubs himself over your mound, thick ropes of come spurting across your stomach and even the underside of your right breast. He releases your legs and they fall limply to his sides.

Joel kisses you long and deep, his weight comforting above your trembling body. When he finally pulls away, he lets out a low chuckle and brushes your noses together.

“I think he left, sweetheart.”

“Good,” you mumble and press a quick kiss to his flushed lips. “All I want is you.”

Liam’s not your boyfriend anymore.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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starryeyedjanai · 15 days

Text

Steve and Eddie meet through their local buy-nothing-sell-nothing group when Steve’s getting ready to move in with Robin and he realizes he can't keep everything he owns while trying to merge households with her.

The first time they meet, Steve hadn't even been meaning to actually meet the person picking up the free toaster oven he’s giving away.

He’s setting his toaster oven outside his house on the porch when Eddie hops out of his van to pick it up and it would be rude to duck back inside without saying anything since he obviously sees him coming up, so they make small talk for a minute and Steve has to keep his eyeballs in check because they keep wanting to rake all the way down this guy’s body.

He’s covered in tattoos and so extremely Steve's type, but he knows better than to hit on someone who lives in his neighborhood and is not here for that reason.

He laments to Robin about it the next day, about the hot guy who’s probably using Steve's toaster oven as they speak, who he’ll probably never see again.

Robin rolls her eyes fondly at him and tells him that maybe if he puts more stuff up for grabs on the facebook group, he might see him again, but Steve suspects she just wants him to get rid of more of his stuff so it doesn't overcrowd their new apartment.

The set of items he puts up in the group next is an old blender and a butcher block that has three of the knives missing—seriously where did those knives go? He has yet to find them.

He tries to pretend he isn't secretly hoping Eddie will comment under his post that he wants the items, but he isn't fooling himself when his heart literally skips a beat when the first comment is from Eddie. He messages him and tells him to stop by later that day.

When Eddie shows up, they talk for longer than last time, Eddie asking why Steve needs to get rid of so much stuff and Steve asking why Eddie needs all this stuff—especially considering Steve snooped through the group and saw that Eddie joined over a year ago and hadn't once commented before now (he doesn't mention that thought, but he is thinking it real hard).

Eddie laughs and says he was in the market for a toaster oven when Steve posted one and wouldn't you know it? He also needs a blender—the knife set is just a bonus, he says.

Steve tries not to read too much into it, but his brain is spinning the interaction around in his head for the next week.

He puts up a space heater in the group and within minutes, Eddie has claimed it.

“I should just get your number and text you directly when I find something I want to get rid of next time,” Steve says flippantly when Eddie comes by to grab it that night. “Instead of clogging up the facebook group.”

Eddie smirks at him and steps a little closer. He says, “Maybe you should.”

His neighbor’s car alarm decides to go off right at that moment, ruining the flirty atmosphere with its incessant shrill. They can barely hear each other over the drone of it, so Eddie leaves without giving Steve his number and Steve is left feeling like he keeps having these missed connection moments with Eddie.

In a fit of desperation to see Eddie again, Steve puts up a bunch of random stuff in the group the next day—a shoe rack that’s missing a piece, a step stool, a cheap side table he got from Ikea—and Eddie is still the first person to comment like he’s been refreshing the page, just waiting for Steve to post.

“I left without giving you my number last time and I didn't want to be creepy and message you unprompted,” Eddie says as they load the side table into his van. “I think I was overthinking things and then got kind of spooked.”

“It doesn't look like anything could spook you,” Steve says.

When they get the side table inside the back of the van, Eddie turns to him and admits, “A very pretty boy could.”

Steve can feel his face getting hot. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Why do you think I keep coming here? There's no way a person who’s lived here for as long as I have would need all this stuff.”

“Did you need any of it?” Steve asks in a teasing voice. “Or were you just so blown away by how cute my profile picture is that you just had to meet me?”

“Oh, I needed the toaster oven, but everything after that was just to see you again,” Eddie says before biting his lip.

There’s an entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach when Eddie's hand brushes his, when Steve takes Eddie's hand in his and leads him inside his box-filled house.

Later, when they’re making out on Steve's couch—when Steve really should still be packing since he has to move in less than a week—he pulls back to ask, “Wait, so are you gonna put the rest of the stuff you don't need back up for grabs in the group? I feel like that would start so much neighborhood gossip.”

Eddie grins wide and Steve wants to kiss him again, wants to feel his smile against his mouth.

“Oh, we’ll be the talk of the town, baby,” Eddie says, pulling him back in.

#steddie #stranger things #janai.doc

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luveline · 5 months

Note

Hi lovely!

Can you please do one where Hotch and Reader are in a fight and it gets heated and he maybe raises his hand just because he’s shouting and she flinches?

He would be prepared to FIGHT whoever made his honey feel that way 🗣️🗣️

💘

for you my sweetheart. fem, 1k

cw implied past domestic violence

“It was right,” you're saying, on the defensive, your voice molten, “it was the thing to do!”

“It wasn't.” Hotch closes the door. “It wasn't the right thing to do, it wasn't even close.”

You realise, under everything, that he's right, but you couldn't help yourself, you had to try and save the day, had to swerve the SUV. Plus, he's done it himself, and you both know that. “If Monikie got out of that exit we never would've seen her again.”

“There were roadblocks on the I–46, and I don't think I have to tell you that you could've gotten a lot of people seriously hurt–”

“You've done worse,” you deny.

His expression, broadly furious, narrows into something sharper, “And that is my decision to make, but you report to me.”

“You can't seriously want to act like a boss now,” you say.

The room isn't overly large, and so you stand close to one another with no need for shouting, but your voices begin to overlap. Hotch is so angry. It isn't like him to yell at you, his voice strained.

“You can't truly think that the decision you made today was the right one. You need to calm down, and you need to listen to me when I tell you that this was the wrong move. We'll talk about it more tomorrow.”

“You're shrugging me off?” You could laugh. “You can't be serious. Every member of this team has done the same, or worse–”

“But they're not you!” His voice peeks, his hand jolting out in front of his chest, flat-palmed in incredulity.

You're really quite close to each other.

It's not his fault.

You step back, desperate to be away from the movement, the hand, because it doesn't register as his hand, only there's a chair behind you and a table behind that and you bump into the plastic with a creak and screech. You're righting yourself as quickly as you're tripping but Hotch is already moving away. Three steps that feel like a gorge.

Your heartbeat soars.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

“Of course.” You breathe out funny. It's not his fault, but there's something wired in your brain now, and it knows that the first strike isn't the last. Your hand shakes as you brush at an inch under your eyes.

“I'm not mad,” he says.

“You sounded pretty mad."

“I've changed my mind.” He gives you a long hard look, and then he moves to the office door to open it before returning to his initial position. He's given you an exit route. “I'm not going to hurt you,” he says.

You put your hands on your hips and bend at the waist, breathing out hard. “Fuck, I know that."

“You thought I might.”

“So profile me,” you say, panicking still, face hot and itchy all over. “Tell me why.”

“Someone's hit you before. Enough to anticipate the second blow.”

“But you knew that already, didn't you?”

Your ears get cloudy like there's water in them and you can't stand the feeling of Hotch's gaze on the back of your head. You force yourself into a standing position and try to ignore what happened.

“You're unfairly angry with me,” you say.

Hotch just shakes his head at you.

“It's… It's not a big deal,” you say, quieter. He already knew because of course he did, every member of the team gets checked. You have records, and he's in a position of power unlike most, he could've read them like the morning paper.

“Why would you say that?”

“I can still do my job.”

“I wasn't going to suggest you couldn't.”

Then why… why is he looking at you like that? You're humiliated enough, and his gaze is so… so soft. So sorry. Tears gather warm behind your eyes and your chest aches like you've been holding your breath. You frown, eyebrows lifting at the starts, not knowing if you should beg him to forget the whole thing or finally give in.

“Come here,” he says gently. Completely optional, his fingertips twitching but stationery at his side.

You stare resolutely at your shoes.

“I'm sorry I scared you, it wasn't my intention. I can imagine how it feels. I'm not mad, honey,” he says. His voice drops to a murmur, “Come here,” he pleads.

You take a clumsy handful of steps and he meets you in the middle, arms going carefully over your head. You'd feel condescended by it if it weren't shockingly nice to be considered in such a way, or if the solid mass of his arms around you didn't soothe. You feel protected rather than boxed in, held, and not restrained.

His hand slides open down the length of your back.

“I'm sorry I scared you,” he repeats, for your ears alone.

“It's not like it was really you that scared me.”

The memory scared you. The flinch was instinctive, less to do with Hotch and more to do with the connection between a moving hand and stinging pain.

He hangs his head by your ear until his nose touches your shoulder, and for a few seconds, it's just you and him together, no fighting, and no fast-approaching hands.

“You didn't scare me,” you mumble, hiding your face in his shoulder instead, forcing him to stand tall.

Incoming footsteps cut your embrace short, but he doesn't pull away too swiftly. His hands grave the lengths of your arms, and he gives you a long, loaded look. Before you can calibrate the action to the man, he's chucking you under the chin, a stroke of his index knuckle, a promise of more to say.

He catches Morgan before he can enter the room and directs him back out. “Take a minute,” he advises you.

You sit in a chair and do as he's offered. Memory is a tricky thing.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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coldfanbou · 8 days

Text

The First One is On The House

Ningning fic once again a challenge given by @i-am-lifeform24

Length 2K

Ningning X Mreader

“Hello? Yes, I can fit her into my schedule. I should have an opening at 7. Later? I guess I could take her in after the show. Alright, I look forward to her visit.” You put the phone back on the receiver and walked back to the table; you were so looking forward to going home early for the evening when you got a call from that customer. You would've preferred taking the appointment for another day, but you wanted to keep your weekend free. You sit back in your office chair and stare at the ceiling before gazing at the clock hanging on the wall. Three hours, that’s how long you’d have to wait for your guest to arrive.

Getting bored, you pulled out your phone and checked social media, seeing posts from stars from earlier in the day as they walked the red carpet for some fashion event nearby. You see a few of your usual clientele post pictures, liking them before moving on. Eventually, you get tired of that and begin some repetitive tasks, trying to seem busy as you wait for the client to arrive despite them arriving a couple of hours from now.

Soon enough, you went back to looking at your phone, checking out photos from the event, and seeing the different kinds of people that went. You stopped on a picture of Ningning from the group Aespa when you heard the door open. It was your friend, a manager for various groups. “Sorry for getting here late. She just felt so tired during the show, and we thought it best to call you.”

“Just who is it? That they needed a massage so desperately? I could’ve had a nice evening for myself.”

Your friend stands aside, letting his gues walk forward. “I’m sorry for making you stay late.” You recognize the woman as she bows her head; it’s Ningning. She was still in the same clothes you had seen in the picture a moment ago, a revealing short black dress that clung to her body.

You wave her off as you refocus. “It’s fine. Just prepare for the massage. I’m going to talk to your manager a bit.” You point the small woman toward a changing room and look back toward your friend.

You see him heading out the door before you can say anything. “I’m going to get some food. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Hey!” The door shuts, and you’re left alone again. You head toward the window and watch him walk toward a nearby restaurant, shaking your head. “I’m gonna talk that guy's head off when he comes back.”

A small voice catches your attention, “I’m ready.” You turn back around to see Ningning covering herself with the towel provided. “Where did my manager go?”

“He went to go eat across the street. Anyway, please follow me.” You lead Ningning into one of the massage rooms and have her lie face down on the table. “I hope the clothing in there wasn’t too tight. I’m going to move the towel down now.” Ningning nods her head.

You move it down slowly, revealing the tan bra that was provided to all female guests who would rather not be naked. It was thick and padded, meant to be comfortable. Your eyes move down her back, noting her flawless skin. You lather your hands in an unscented oil, rubbing it in between your fingers before placing your hands on her lower back. You apply slight pressure on her back, dragging your thumbs away from the center of her body. “Did you have a good time at the fashion show?”

“It was alright, but the chairs were so uncomfortable. My body started to ache from sitting in them.”

“I see. Is there anywhere that aches specifically?”

“I mean, my butt hurts,” Ningning says with a laugh. You just nod along, creating an awkward atmosphere. You kick yourself for not laughing at her joke. Continuing the massage, you move your way up her back, reaching her shoulder. You could feel the tension in them and increase your strength as you began to massage all the knots out. Ningning groans as she feels your hands dig into her shoulders and release the tension in them. “Ooh, that feels so good.” You focus your efforts on Ningning shoulders, and once they relax, you take a step back.

“I’ll be moving down now.”

“That’s fine,” Ningning moans as she places her head on top of her hands. You move the towel up slightly, keeping her ass covered as you begin to work on her thighs. As you ran your hands across them, you could feel the toned muscles underneath. Working on the one nearest to you, you give her thigh a strong squeeze.

Feeling your hands move across her thighs, Ningning feels her body getting warmer. She used her hands to cover her mouth, struggling to keep her groans from filling the room. Your hands felt good; Ningning could feel a growing wetness between her legs as your finger brushed against the inside of her thigh. Her cheeks begin to turn red as you switch to the other side, starting the process over again. When you accidentally squeeze her thigh a bit too hard, Ningning couldn’t hide her moan—letting the long, smooth sound of her voice fill the room before catching herself. She buries her head in her hands, too embarrassed to look anywhere in the room. You try to ignore it and continue on.

Needing Ningning to turn onto her back, you finally speak up, “Ningning, I finished with your backside; I need you to turn over.”

“O-okay,” She turns herself over slowly, glancing your way. You began to massage her arms, and as you got to her shoulders, you noticed Ningning continually glancing at you. Nearing her chest, Ningning groaned again. She rubbed her legs together, growing more aroused as your hands glided along her body. Moving down to her legs, you noticed the wet spot between Ningning’s legs, and she knew it too.

You tried to ignore it, but Ningning continued to rub her legs together as you tried to massage her. “I…I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. We’ll just stop here.”

Ningning grabs your hand. “Wait!” She let go briefly before grabbing your hand again. “I-is there any other services you offer?” You understand what she means. Ningning’s voice grew smaller as she went on. “I mean, I see in videos that sometimes masseurs offer special services. Is that an option here?” You were about to reply when Ningning placed your hand on her breast. I can pay you. I-my body just feels really good when you touch it.”

You had to admit that Ningning was a beautiful woman that you’d be lucky to have sex with, and you considered your options. You look at the clock on the wall; half an hour has passed. Knowing your friend, he’d likely be going for seconds right about now and want to take his time getting back. “Alright.” Ningning gives you a soft smile and lets go of your hand. You place it over her slit, the briefs she was wearing keeping your away. Still, it was enough to make her groan. Like the bra provided, the briefs were meant to keep customers more comfortable. Ningning stares at you with lustful eyes as she squirms on the table. You snake your hand under the briefs and drench your fingers in her nectar as you slide your hands along her slit. Feeling your fingers touch her sends Ningning over the edge; you watch her toes curls and eyes shut as she cums at that moment. “I’m sorry. It’s my first time,” She mumbles.

“I…figured.” You reply as you begin pulling down the briefs. Ningning covered her face, her shyness taking over. You turn her body towards you before dropping your pants. Ningning’s eyes become glued to your growing bulge. “It’s not polite to stare.”

“It just looks so big.” Her comment makes you chuckle. You pull down your underwear, revealing your cock to the young woman. She reaches toward it without uttering a word; you feel her soft hand wrap around the tip. “It’s so warm…”

“So you’ve used toys?”

“...yes,” She says shamefully.

“It’s natural, Ningning. No need to be ashamed, but let’s see how the real thing compares.” You tell her as you take a step forward and rub the tip of your cock against her slit. Ningning whimpers and stares at your cock as it runs along her cunt. You lean in, kissing her neck softly as you push your head against her cunt. She wraps her arms around you, holding you closely as she begins to fill the room with her moans. You feel her walls squeezing your cock as you push inside of her.

“Ahh, hold on,” Ningning moans, her hands gripping your shirt. You stop moving, giving her time to adjust. You pepper her with kisses as you wait, softly squeezing her body. “You can move now.”

You push more of your cock into Ningning, watching her expression carefully. You see her shut her eyes and moan as you bury yourself inside her. Her walls are tightly wrapped around your cock, rubbing against the head. You begin thrusting slowly, holding onto her hips to keep her in place. Each thrust brings out more moans from Ningning.

The small woman holds you tightly, wrapping her legs around you as you thrust deeply into her. You could feel Ningning’s walls tighten around your cock, as she neared another climax. “I’m cumming again,” She whimpered. “I’m going to cum.”

You speed up your thrusts, making her cry out from pleasure. You feel her thighs squeeze your sides as she cums. You continue thrusting into Ningning, making her let out a high-pitched whine. Each one was driving her crazy as you overstimulate her. You force your tongue into her mouth as her eyes roll into the back of her head.

Ningning’s arms lose strength. Falling onto her back, Ningning lets out weak moans. You revel in the feeling of her walls clamping down on your cock. When you feel your orgasm coming, you begin to slow down. You pull out entirely and turn Ningning onto her stomach. You press your cock against her cunt, holding onto her waist with one hand. You ram the length of your cock back inside the petite woman, slipping in with ease. As you drive your cock in and out of Ningning, you watch her ass bounce as it slaps against your body. “You’re so tight, Ningning. I’m getting pretty close to cumming.”

“Cum…” Ningning mumbles as her head bobs with every thrust. You feel yourself getting closer. Your hands dig into Ningning’s flesh.

“Where do you want it?” You ask as you ram your cock deep into her cunt. Ningning doesn’t respond to the question, only repeating the word cum. You make the quick decision to pull out, knowing it would only cause trouble if she got pregnant. You pull out at the last moment, painting her back as you spurt cum onto her. Ningning feels the warm cum hit her back, groaning as her mind slowly returns to her.

You check the clock; your friend should be back in a few minutes. You grab a few towels and wipe the cum off Ningning's back. “Your manager is going to be coming back soon. You better get changed.”

“Manager?” Ningning slowly blinks as she realizes. He’ll be coming back soon. She struggles to stand up, and you’re forced to help her get into the changing room while you clean up. You wait by the entrance for her manager to show up, and soon enough, he appears.

“I’m back.” He says with a burp. “Where’s Ningning?”

“You really didn’t hold back on eating, did ya? Did you get me anything?”

“Uh, no, sorry.” Ningning steps out of the changing room looking like she did when she first stepped foot inside, the only difference being her slightly frazzled hair. “Oh, there you are.”

“Sorry for the wait. I struggled with the heels.”

“That’s okay. Let’s get you back to the dorms. Thanks for dealing with her.” Ningning nods her head and follows her manager out the door, picking up a business card before giving you a wink and leaving.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #aespa smut #ningning smut

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rowanswriting · 7 months

Note

…. also biker!eddie taking you in the bathroom of some shitty bar because seeing you bent over the pool table makes him feral 🫠

JEALOUSY

((older!biker!eddie x fem!reader smut))

word count: 1.7K

18+ only! feedback and re-blogs are appreciated! ❤️‍🔥

a/n- this was literally supposed to be a blurb and I went absolutely crazy instead. I really hope you guys enjoy this, it’s my first long smut in a long time so I’m so nervous! thank all of you for supporting me!

The smell of alcohol and sex fills your senses as you step into a grimy bar in the middle of downtown. Normally this wasn’t your scene, but Eddie had practically begged for you to come. His whole crew was already inside sitting at a booth when you arrived.

Besides, who were you to pass up an opportunity to be seen out with your hot boyfriend? He ran a biker gang and was the sexiest guy in town. Women, and men were practically begging at his feet for a chance, but he was all yours.

As much as you had a jealous streak, Eddie’s was worse. The older man couldn’t stand it when someone tried to get at what was rightfully his, especially when that was you.

Completely oblivious to a man checking you out in the corner of the bar, you lean over the pool table in the middle of the room, chatting up Chrissy Cunningham as you play together. You lean your head back laughing loudly at some joke she was telling you, but before you could respond anymore you feel a rough hand grab your arm.

“Hey! Fuck off-.” You’re cut short, turning around and widening your eyes at your fuming boyfriend. “Eddie…. I’m sorry baby I didn’t know it was you!” You quickly start, trying to apologize the best that you could but it was of no use, he was already pushing you towards the bathroom, a dark look overtaking his face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” He shouts at you as you step into the bathroom, pushing you up against the door as he locks it. Your whole face flushes as you try to stutter out a response. “You know exactly what you were doing, don’t you? Don’t play dumb with me doll.” He says. You shake your head ��no’, pouting up at him and nervously shuffling your feet.

“I swear, I wasn’t trying to do anything sir I was just playing with Chrissy.” You say softly. He slowly reaches up, wrapping his hand around your neck, putting just the right amount of pressure for your knees to feel weak and for your head to start spinning. “You, bent over that pool table, showing off to everyone, and people were looking princess, and I think you wanted them to. Now, I’m gonna have fun making all of those disgusting perverts listen to you scream about who you really belong to.”

He pouts at you as you whine. “Awww, what’s wrong doll, you thought that you could get away with teasing me all night? That’s too bad. Get on your fucking knees.” You’ve never moved faster in your life, seeing Eddie worked up this way was already making you throb and all he’d done was hold your throat. You drop down onto the floor, looking around at how filthy it was but right now you didn’t care. Right now, all you wanted was for him to fuck your throat, and nothing was going to stop you.

Your eyes almost roll into the back of your head as his calloused hand reaches forward and drags your face to his crotch, pressing you up against it. “That’s it baby, you’re gonna put on a show, you can be louder than that music that’s playing I know you can. Let them hear how filthy you are for me.” He says, titling your chin up and making you look at him. “Lemme see that pretty little tongue.” Your mouth drops open, and before you know it his spit is rolling down your throat. “Good fucking girl.” He growls out, slapping your cheek before working on the button and zipper on his pants.

You keep your tongue out for him, looking so pathetic drooling for him on the grimy floor of the bathroom. He loved seeing you this way, his desperate little fuck doll that he could do whatever he wanted to. “Fuck, please.” You moan as he finally takes his cock out, it’s harder than you’ve ever seen it, leaking precum, his balls heavy with the cum that would soon be going down your throat.

Your eyes focus on the piercing that’s through the top of his head, you smirk before leaning forward and teasing it with your tongue. He got it pierced years ago but you still found it incredibly hot, it made you drool every time you saw it. Eddie moans out, watching as you tease his head over and over, swirling your tongue around it and giggling.

“Tastes so good, baby.” You whisper before going back down, sinking yourself down onto him all in one go, gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat. “Christ!” He says, bucking his hips against your face, fucking himself deeper, you didn’t know how that was possible. You were sure by now there was a line for the bathroom and your friends were wondering where you went, but you didn’t care as Eddie fucked your throat as hard as he could. His filthy praises make you tremble, as you keep your legs apart, feeling your underwear getting soaked more and more as he keeps going.

Suddenly you’re being pulled up and off of him, you gasp as he yanks your head back, looking at you with his lust blown eyes. “Can’t take it anymore baby doll, gonna fuck you, gonna sink my cock into that pretty pussy and let everyone hear you scream, get up against that door and show me your needy holes. Now.” He demanded.

You whimper, his words running right through you as you press your face up against the door. You reach back with both of your hands, spreading yourself for him as he stands behind you working his cock in his fist. He groans, seeing the outline of you through your panties from how wet you are, before taking one of his rough fingers and hooking it in the waistband, pulling them down slowly.

“Always so fucking wet for me doll, bet that guy out there couldn’t make you get wet like this, could he?” Your mind spins as Eddie spanks your pussy, once, twice, before his cock is pushing into you roughly. “O-ohhhhh fuck.” You scream out, if getting someone to check you out was the way to make Eddie fuck your brains out, you were considering doing it a lot more now.

He thrusts a few times, his balls slapping harshly against your clit as you try to hold yourself up against the door. It’s no use, you slowly slip down it until you’re standing bent in half, with Eddie holding you up by your hair, fucking into you as hard as he could. The sound of your breathing and moans fills the room, dirty words slipping past yours and Eddie’s lips like some sort of song. The sound of him losing his mind because of you was one that you’d love forever, you wish you could hear it all the time.

Feeling him tense up behind you, you turn your head back the best you can to look up at him. He looked beautiful, the years had been kind to him, he only had a few wrinkles here and there. His hair had gray coming through but it only made him sexier. Not to mention all of the tattoos he had, your favorite one was right above his cock, ‘lucky you’ it says. He was one smug bastard but he’d earned every right to be.

The feeling of your orgasm inches closer and closer the filthier he gets, muttering something out about how you’re his favorite cock sleeve. You push your ass back against him, begging for him to go deeper, harder you wanted to feel him for days after this. Eddie is never the type to turn down any request you ask of him, you scream in surprise when Eddie pulls out of you, hooking his arms under both of your legs before holding you up with just one of them.

His biceps bulge as he lines himself back up with you before he’s sinking you down onto himself. He turns towards the busted mirror in front of you and makes you watch him. “You love it don’t you baby? Having my cock this deep inside of you. Who’s pussy is this?? Say it loud and proud, I want everyone to know.” He whispers in your ear, biting the lobe harshly. You can barely keep your eyes open, your mind is floating as you hear your own voice screaming out for him. “It’s your pussy- all yours Eddie please!”

“That’s it princess, fuck!” He yells out, giving you no warning as his cock throbs inside of you, causing you to squeeze down around him. Your own orgasm taking over your body. Both of you are breathing heavily as Eddie slowly puts you down. He catches you as your legs buckle, you giggle and he smiles at you. “You know I wasn’t actually trying to make you mad right baby?” You ask, bending over to find your underwear, Eddie wolf whistles behind you and you roll your eyes.

“Oh I know sweetheart, you love me too much, but that guy out there looked like he wanted to eat you alive, I had to show him who you belong to.” He tucks himself back into his boxers, zipping his pants back up and buttoning them. As you shake your head at him. He was adorable, getting jealous enough that he just had to fuck you in a dirty, darkly lit bathroom.

“Cmon big guy, let’s get back out there before Chrissy comes looking for me.” You say, smiling at him and opening the door. You hear Eddie laugh behind you, just as you turn around to ask what’s so funny you see the man that Eddie was talking about standing right in front of the door. His ears red, and face flushed as he looks between the two of you.

After tonight you were certain of one thing, you were going to make Eddie Munson jealous again, but this time it would be on purpose.

this is like my baby, please be nice to me I took so much time writing it haha, hope you enjoyed!

Taglist 🏷️

@reidsbtch @dani-is-a-princess @harley1608 @probablyin-bed @avobabe87 @live-love-be-unique @tlclick73 @urfavoritevamp @lilthbunny @tylevx @onegirlmanytales @inourtownofhawkins @eddiesxangel @xxhellfiregirlxx @moonbeamsandmayhem @chrissymjstan @comfortcharactercraze @f4ndomfa1ry

#biker!eddie smut #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x you smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson fic

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sleep-0-deprived · 7 months

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Step dad Toji . F x bottom male reader

Female aligned Dni 18+ only content below, all ageless blogs will be blocked and I hope you all enjoy ;}

Warning daddy kink, breeding kink, overstimulation if you squint, sub/dom dynamic,age gap the reader is over 18 but you can choose the exact age

Today was a perfectly normal day beside the fact that I am being forced to have dinner with my moms new husband, “honey come down stairs” I heard my mom yell “be right their” I responded while hurriedly putting some body spray and deodorant on “honey I want you to meet your new step dad Toji” mom said pointing to a tall muscular man in a tight black shirt “nice to meet you, I’ve heard great things about you” toji spoke with a grin looking the other male up and down “I bet” I said feeling disinterest in the whole situation. I follow mom and my new step dad into the kitchen, sitting down at the table while mom walks off into the kitchen to start dinner “so what do you like to do in your free time?” Toji ask me “nothing much mainly f/h” I said while being blunt “oh that seems fun” Toji said grinning at me “it is” just as I said that my mom walked through the dinning room doors “dinner is ready” she said smiling I just want to get this over with and get back to my room but I can’t deny that Toji looks good I thought as I ate my food while listening to my mom make small talk with me. Finally dinner was over and I go to my room and lay on my bed while scrolling through my phone for a little while or so I thought I look over at the clock seeing the time “it’s already 11:00” I say shocked at how long it’s been, well I guess it’s going to be a late night shower tonight I think while walking into my bathroom “god it’s cold in here” I whisper while turning the shower on and letting it get hot. I slowly take my clothes off and look at myself in the foggy mirror before I get into the hot shower “this feels nice” I grumble as I let the water run down my back “I bet” I heard Toji say “what are you doing in here?” I feel my heart start beating faster and faster “just enjoying the show baby” the man said while licking his scar “what aren’t you supposed to be with mom right now” I gasp out while seeing him start taking his clothes off “well she fell asleep and I thought I could use a shower” he spoke while getting in the shower with me “and just what are you planning?” I say trying to pretend I don’t like this “I’m getting a shower” the larger man spoke teasing me. Toji took his large hands and ran them over my body only stopping at my thighs “god your so fucking pretty, you have no idea how much I wanted to bend you over the table and fuck you at dinner, especially when you were being bratty” the older man groaned while lifting me up with ease and pushing me against the shower walls “ahh~” I groaned as I felt the pleasure of Toji sucking my nipples until they become red and puffy

“just like that~” I moaned wanting more “your so desperate already and for your step dad, what a sick little boy you are” Toji spoke while I tried to grind myself onto him but to no avail Toji gripped my hips tightly and held them in place while not letting me move “god your so fucking desperate like a damn whore” he degraded me while rapping one hand around my head and passionately kissing me, only leaving bite marks and bruises on my body while he takes the hand from around my waist and starts stroking my dick “hahh~” I yelp out in pleasure “your so naughty, letting your step dad give you a handjob in the shower? Oh what would your mom think of you if she knew you wanted your step dad” Toji whispered in my ear while nibbling on my neck “I know it’s wrong but it all feels so damn good” I think, feeling my thoughts cloud over with Haley bliss “I’m so close toji~” I moan out while bucking my hip into his hands “since I’m your step dad you better start calling me daddy” The much older man said with a demanding voice while speeding up his pace and stroking my dick faster than before with more pressure behind it “I’m gonna cum~” I scream out while thick white strings of my semen shoot on toji’s chest and stomach but quickly getting washed off by the now cold water “how about we continue this in your room since the water is cold now?” Toji grunted out “yes please” I spoke with a broken voice. Without hesitating Toji swiftly turned the shower off and carried me to my bed

Toji soon laid me down onto my bed and snapped me out of my trance “face down ass up baby” Toji shot me his signature grin while licking his scar, I waist no time in rolling on my stomach and I soon feel on finger coated in saliva prod into my hole “god your so tight, are yo a virgin?”he asks me “yes” I whispered, my face feeling flush with embarrassment “oh well I guess I’m lucky aren’t I?” And before I could say anything he swiftly shoved two mor fingers in “hahh~” I scream at the three large fingers fucking into my virgin hole. soon I become used to the feeling and it soon turning into pleasure “right there~” I groan feeling Toji hit my prostate “looks like I found it” toji grunted while pulling his fingers out and earning a needy whine from me “don’t worry I’ll be filling that pretty little hole of yours very soon with something better” before I could speak Toji bottomed out “ngh~” I scream in pain “don’t worry it will all turn into pleasure soon baby” Toji grunted out while starting to move his hips and slowly thrusting into me “yes please right there~” I groaned out as Toji nailed into my prostate “damn your such a fucking slut I’ve just started and your already cock drunk” Toji said in a stern voice while snapping his hips har against mine “yes please I’m your slut daddy~” I moaned in my pillows and gripping my sheets while he railed me from behind “your taking daddy’s cock so well, I just my have to turn you into my personal cock sleeve~” Toji groaned out “yes please turn me in to your cock sleeve daddy~” I moan out as Toji pounds into me, nailing my prostate head on with every thrust “ahh~” I scream out as Toji starts stroking my dick in rhythm to his thrusts almost like he is milking me dry “hahh I’m soo close daddy~” I scream “I’m close too baby boy just hold out a little longer~” Toji groans out with his thrusts becoming faster and harder, fucking me so hard all I see is stars “I’m gonna cu~” before the moans left my lips I came all over my sheets and my cum pumps onto them with a few more thrusts Toji cums inside me, letting his hot seed fill me up. Soon I collapse on my bed “what are you doing I’m no where near done yet it’s only 12:50 I’m no where near done breeding that hole of yours yet pretty boy” Toji groans as he flips me on my back and shoved his dick back into my burning hole and starts thrusting again “oh god faasterr~” I moaned out as my dick started to get hard again “such a fucking slut aren’t you baby?” Toji asks as he rams into me over and over again hitting my prostate head on every time “yes yes I’m your slut daddy please fill me with your cum~” I beg the older man as he continues to relentlessly pound my burning hole “I’m close please~” I moaned out while feeling my third orgasm approach “I’m almost there too just hold on baby~” Toji grunted out as he picked the pace up and started fucking me at an inhuman pace, gripping my hips hard enough for bruises and rearranging my guts “I’m cumming~” I shout as my cum shot on toji’s muscular chest “I’m going to breed your hole so full of my cum that you’ll be filled for a week~” Toji groaned with a final thrust, letting his cum fill me up for the second time tonight.

#x male reader #sub male reader #x male reader smut #bottom male reader #jjk smut #jjk x male reader #toji fushiguro x male reader #toji x male reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro

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fyorina · 23 days

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ᡣ𐭩 ALL THINGS END

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: all of dazai's carefully calculated plans come to an abrupt halt when you run into him at a club. he thinks fate is a funny thing, that despite all of his desperate attempts to stay away from you, it still leads you right to him. one night, he decides, is all he'll allow. one night of indulgence, and then things will go back to how they were. that's how it has to be to keep you safe. {wordcount: 11.8k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: wow we're starting side b—side b can be read separately from side a but you’ll get some neat references if you read both (｡♡ ‿ ♡｡). i'm so nervous actually HAHAH i put my heart and soul into side b and trying to characterize beast!dazai properly. it was really hard because the majority of the fic is from his pov and getting into his mind is a lotttt harder than canonzai imo. anyway, reblogs are always appreciated! thank you guys & i hope you guys love this as much as i enjoyed writing it

GENERAL WARNINGS: dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book, it's going to be a common theme throughout the series so i'll leave the heads up now. + as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings!

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

Dazai Osamu thinks that his touch might be noxious, indiscriminately rotting all he comes in contact with until only putrid remains are left of what had once been lively souls. His gaze drags across his fingers from where they’re splayed on top of the table, absently tapping out a familiar name over and over again, the only thing grounding him to the meeting taking place around him in one of the second-floor VIP rooms of the Port Mafia’s most elite nightclub. If he looks hard enough, he swears he can see that the tips of his fingers are blackened, ready to lay the curse of decay upon the next person he brushes them against.

He can feel eyes on him—the impatient glares from the foreign emissaries and the tense stares of his executives, as they wait for him to respond to the offer, laid out to him by the top brass of the Russian kingpin called Nabokov, an old ally of the Port Mafia courtesy of the previous boss. Dazai was already annoyed coming into this meeting, thinking that the Russians were presumptuous for assuming that the Port Mafia should come to their defense in the three-way territorial war going on in their motherland, but the fact that Nabokov couldn’t even bother to come speak to him himself after Dazai’s executives insisted that he be the one to personally handle this only made him even more bitter and irate. He hates having to leave the headquarters.

He takes a long drag from the cigarette hanging between his lips, lifting his free hand to pull the end from his mouth before putting it out on the table in front of him. The buzz of the nicotine isn’t enough to keep him present anymore. He keeps tapping, steady and controlled, the same bunch of letters again and again—everything around himself feels hazy and blurry. The only thing clear that he can focus on is the uniform drumming of his fingers, his voice doesn’t even sound like his own as he speaks:

“Why should I even entertain your offer when Nabokov couldn’t bring it to me himself?”

The first words that he speaks during the entire meeting are cold and harsh, as they should be in response to the disrespect shown by the Pale Flame, but Dazai just wants to be done with this and return to the base before anything can go wrong. His executives are vaguely pleased by his words, evidently taking more offense to Nabokov’s failure to show than Dazai himself does, and the three emissaries of the Pale Flame bristle, sharing looks as they try to figure out what to say in response to Dazai’s remark. Dazai doesn’t even care to hear what they have to say, lost in his thoughts as he glances up at the ceiling.

He thinks that if his touch isn’t entirely noxious, as there have been a few people who haven’t faced ruin after being exposed to it, then his presence makes up for it in its draining effect. The black hole in his chest is just as indiscriminate as the corroding touch of his fingers, emptying people of hope and exhausting them of energy. A part of Dazai mourns over the fact that those who can survive his touch are drained by the void—(chuuya. atsushi. their names weigh heavy on him, knowing that he’s dragged them so far down with him in this life)—while those who can withstand the void are inevitably killed because of their proximity to him—(you, odasaku, your names ring through his head, cruel and taunting. he pushes away the longing that rips at his chest, as he always does.)

His fate is to be alone, a cruel design drawn out by whatever sadistic gods reign above.

In every universe, it’s proven to be true. Even in this one, he can’t spare people from the effects of his existence. Atsushi, Kyouka, Chuuya—as years have passed their eyes have become dull and their souls have become as black as the blood that he forcibly injected into their veins. He considers whether or not he might just be better off dead, that way he can give those who have been the most affected by him, in this life and all of the others, a much-needed reprieve from him. But he can’t, not when he’s unsure over whether or not those who’ve been condemned by his touch will actually survive if it means he’s gone.

“... okov sends all of his reg…”

The tapping becomes a bit harsher, faster. If he was writing out the name rather than tapping it, the script would be jagged and unclear. His surroundings start to fade out again, Nabokov’s executives are speaking but the words are going in one ear, out the other. His head feels fuzzy and his free hand is starting to go numb.

Odasaku. You. He’s sure that there are plenty of others, but you two are the only ones that matter to him. He doesn’t know if killing himself would mean that the two of you could live out your lives to the fullest. You could both die anyway, for all he knows, and then he would’ve died for nothing and he can’t risk that, not when this is the only universe where he’s aware of the fate that you and Odasaku face in every other world.

He can work to protect the two of you in this world; he’ll do what must be done from the shadows to ensure that you and Odasaku can finally fulfill your dreams. A life without you, and a life without Odasaku, is a small price to pay if it means that you two can actually live out your lives. You’ve granted him enough good memories from every single other universe that the least you guys deserve is one without his presence bringing you ruin.

“... the previous b…”

Sometimes, he longs so badly for a life with the two of you that it makes him sick. A world in which Odasaku lives and Dazai can be with you, a world where he’s untouched by the shadows and the tarry substance corrupting his blood. He thinks that Odasaku would adore you if he’d ever been given the chance to meet you—you both have a similar dry humor and an intrinsic desire to help people, even those who decidedly don’t deserve it. On nights that are a bit too dark and a bit too heavy, Dazai imagines dragging you to Odasaku’s place so he can introduce you to him and he imagines how his face would flame up in embarrassment when Odasaku tells you all of the humiliating stories of Dazai’s youth that he knows the man has stocked up.

Moments like this, when everything feels a bit too far away and his mind can’t connect to the present, lost in the pages of all of the other worlds he’d seen, he swears that he can feel the ghost of your touch running across his skin as you trace patterns along his arms and brush kisses against his jaw. He thinks it’s cruel that his mind tortures him with the unattainable; taunts him with the knowledge that the only person he’s ever entirely given himself to, and was accepted by, is out there waiting for him, but the moment Dazai gives in to the aching in his chest, it’ll be ripped away from him again.

“… disorder in the motherl…”

He can’t feel his left arm, and that awful numbness is starting to spread across his chest to his right arm; with nothing left to consume, the black hole in his chest is devouring him again. Now is not the time, not when his executives are around, and especially not when outsiders are around. He taps more intensely—your name, over and over and over again, the only thing that can ever pull him out of these states. It’s the reminder that you’re out there, alive, and that even if it’s not in this world, you love him in every single other one, no matter how absurd the idea is.

“... will not be contained to…”

He needs to focus. He knows what the Pale Flame emissaries are saying even if Dazai can’t actually hear and process the full conversation—whatever is happening in Russia will spread, and it will spread to Japan, certainly, if Dostoevsky comes out on top. This conflict never occurred in the other universes and Dazai doesn’t know what exactly he did in this one that caused this change. Figuring it out and adapting needs to be his first priority because Dostoevsky’s arrival in Yokohama will put everything he’s built at risk.

It will put you at risk.

How many times have you died at his hand? Too many. Too many for him to risk this.

He was able to handle Odasaku’s fate years ago when he got ahold of that painting and convinced him to join the Armed Detective Agency. Odasaku’s fate was easy in comparison to yours, that painting and the Port Mafia have been the cause of his death, removing them from the equation will be enough to keep him safe until Dazai follows through with the final phase of his plan.

Your fate is always more arbitrary—Fyodor Dostoevsky will be the first trial he has to overcome to ensure your survival and then depending on how things play out after that, Agatha Christie will be the second trial. They’re the two leading causes of your death besides Dazai himself. Once the two of them have been taken care of, Dazai can move on to Phase Three, the beginning of the end.

The darker part of him, the one that has festered and corrupted and spread to every inch of his soul without the light you and Odasaku had brought to him in all of his other lives, wonders if he should have you kidnapped and tucked away until he can make sure that Dostoevsky is six-feet-under and unable to disrupt the world he’s built for you and Odasaku. Unlike Osasaku, you have no ability to protect yourself with if everything starts falling apart. You’ll be the most vulnerable, the most at risk.

But he knows he can’t for the same reason that he knows he’ll never be able to approach you in the same way he did Odasaku so many years before: Dazai has never had any sort of self-control when it comes to you and he doubts it’ll be any different in this universe. Even when he knows you’re better off, even when he knows that each second he spends in your life is slowly destroying you, he can never bring himself to part from you. He fears that even the slightest look of you will condemn him and all of the work he’s done, that even just the knowledge of where you are will tempt him into wandering the area in hopes of running into you.

He’s done everything he can to ensure that he never has any contact with you or any information about your life. He assigned Kouyou to look over you, being the best suited for such types of missions. She’s spent years making sure that you’re safe and nothing from the underground disturbs your studies or everyday life. The woman was naturally curious about the request, even more so when Dazai instructed her to never give him any updates on you unless it was a life-or-death situation, but she knew better than to question him.

At this point, only the hand of god and sheer chance could lead him to you, which is why he’s particularly against meetings like these where he’s forced to leave the shadows of his towers and dally into the public. Dazai doesn’t beg, and he certainly doesn’t pray, but whenever he has to leave the Port Mafia base for extended periods, he gets damn close to it because each moment in the light risks everything.

“... oevsky and Tolstoy…”

The ice spreads to the wrist of his right arm and just as Dazai thinks he’s about to be fully swallowed by the void, his gaze drifts to the window looking down on the main floor of the club and he catches sight of a figure leaning on the bar, and it’s ludicrous, really, because how does his gaze tunnel on one person in the sea of hundreds before him. But his mouth goes dry and his body stills as recognition floods through him, replacing the numbness so quickly that his body is almost palpitating in the sudden shock of it. Flames burn through his veins and the fingers that had been steadily tapping out your name jerk so abruptly that Chuuya, Kouyou, and Gin are all casting him hesitant looks.

He rises to his feet suddenly, ignoring the fact that all eyes are on him and that he’s completely disregarded whatever the Pale Flame emissaries had been explaining. He waves Gin off as the girl instinctively moves to follow him, the room is spinning and closing in on him so swiftly that he doesn’t even think he’ll be able to make it out of the room before his mind and body collapse in on themselves.

If there is a god, Dazai realizes, then he’s abandoned Dazai since the moment he was born, because standing there with glittering eyes and a smile so painstakingly familiar and foreign at the same time is you.

There’s a hazy smile on your face as you stumble out of the main room of the club, and down a side hall toward where you’re pretty sure the restrooms should be. You lean against the wall as you try to regain your bearings, inhaling the air greedily—you hadn’t realized how deprived of it you’d been in the stuffy club, where there were more bodies than pockets of air, and even those were smogged with thick, floral perfume and sweat.

You think you’re having a good night—for the most part, at least. You and your coworkers have been at the club for an hour already celebrating your acceptance into Waseda’s prestigious graduate program. You’d been pressured into inviting one of your more unsavory coworkers, having been told you would seem rude and ill-mannered if you invited everyone else except him. You think now that it really shouldn’t have mattered to you, you’re leaving the office soon to prepare for school anyway, but you suppose you’re easily peer pressured. Sometimes.

But you’re free now, momentarily, at least. One of your friends had distracted Takeda so could sneak off to the restroom to freshen up. God knows he probably would’ve tried to follow you there if he didn’t.

You push yourself off the wall with a sigh, wishing that you’d tied your hair back before coming to the club because you can feel it sticking to the back of your neck. Maybe you’ll run into a girl in the bathroom who has a spare tie for you, but you frown as you look around, noticing that the hallway is a bit too empty for it to lead to one of the club’s restrooms.

You pout when you realize that you must’ve gone down one of the halls leading to the VIP suites on the second level, but as you turn to make your way back into the main area of the club, your eyes catch a figure leaning against the wall dressed in a long black coat and sleek dark suit that probably costs more than your life savings.

He’s tall, you note absently, drawn to the man a bit more than you probably should be for no good reason, handsome, too. He hasn’t noticed you standing there, so you just observe for a moment—he has dark hair and smooth, pale skin, partially covered beneath bandages. He’s struggling to light a cigarette, frustration twisting his face; his lighter won’t light no matter how many times he tries, and you think it’s a bit funny that for all of the expensive clothes he wears, his lighter won’t work.

Finally, you take a few steps forward, moving closer to him and fishing into your purse for your own lighter before you hold it up and ask, “Need a light?”

The man freezes, gaze cutting toward you—his eye is so dark and so empty that it almost chills you, an endless abyss that threatens to consume you. You swear the black is so intense that it seems to be swallowing the dim lighting of the hallway, and you watch as something akin to recognition flashes deep within it. He hardly reacts to your presence otherwise, only his gaze shifts as it roves over you, vaguely reminiscent of a parched man in the desert setting eyes on a distant oasis, unsure if it’s just a figment of his imagination. You raise your eyebrows, feeling a bit exposed underneath his stare, and wave your lighter pointedly.

He doesn’t make a move to reach for your lighter as you hold it out to him. You can’t tell what the expression on his face is as he watches you, it’s entirely indecipherable, his lips are pulled flat but his eye is swimming with emotions that you just can’t quite place. Just as you’re about to take it as rejection and put your lighter back in your purse, he suddenly closes the distance between the two of you, leaning his head down, cigarette dangling between his lips and gaze trained on you, expectant.

Oh, you think to yourself a bit breathlessly, throat spasming as you falter under his gaze. He looks amused, watching you carefully, and you can’t help but notice that the dark pit of his eye starts to lighten as he watches you get flustered. When you struggle to light it the first time, you want to blame it on the martinis you’ve been drinking with your friends, but you know from the way your cheeks feel extra hot and your fingers shake that it’s definitely because of the man standing in front of you.

The scent of his cologne floods your senses, you can almost taste the old whiskey on his warm breath, which you can feel fanning lightly across your fingers, making goosebumps rise to your arms—you pray he doesn’t notice, but from the way his eye flickers up a bit to your arm and the corner of his lip quirks up, you think he probably does.

You thank every god that might be listening when your lighter finally lights, catching the end of his cigarette. Your breath catches as he makes eye contact with you and you think you might be able to get lost in his gaze if you’re not careful; your lips part a bit as if to say something to occupy the silence but no words leave them.

After what feels like eternity, he finally stands straight and you can breathe again, watching as he leans back against the wall next to you, head falling to the side a bit as he takes a long drag of his cigarette.

His gaze doesn’t leave you once.

“You smoke?” He finally speaks, and his voice is low, raspy, and hoarse as if he doesn’t use it much. There’s a lilt to his tone, something caught between subtle criticism and surprise, reminiscent of a disapproving old friend who’s taken aback that you’ve picked up such a bad habit.

“Sometimes, why?” you answer, a bit defensively when you catch the edge to his tone.

You don’t smoke—you carry around your brother’s old lighter as a memento, safekeeping for if he ever decides to come back to you, you’re honestly surprised the thing still works as well as it does—but you feel like you have to prove a point now because he sounds a bit judgmental about it.

He only shrugs lazily. “Don’t look like the type.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Is there ‘a type?’” you ask sarcastically.

He pointedly looks over you, gaze raking up and down your body once in a slow, borderline sensual way. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, you curse your body violently for betraying you.

“Yeah,” he drawls after a few moments. “Not you.”

You scoff loudly, looking away, and you blame the alcohol when you find yourself admitting, “… I don’t smoke.”

The man smiles thinly at the three words, a triumphant spark shooting through the brown of his eye and an expression on his face that tells you he somehow knew it without you having to say it out loud but appreciated the confirmation.

“Told you,” he says. “Don’t look the type.”

“Hmph,” is all you respond with, flipping your lighter shut and slipping it back into your purse.

You don’t leave right away; you don’t think you could even if you wanted to, you feel like a deer caught in headlights beneath his gaze, feet glued to the ground. But the problem lies in the fact that you don’t want to leave, there’s something about him that has you drawn in like a moth to flame and you don’t even know why because you don’t even know his name yet. And you probably shouldn’t be, you’ve always had a keen sense of self-preservation and there’s a dangerous edge to this man that should concern you—you can see it in the way he looks at you, the way he dresses, and the way he holds himself.

Dangerous, you think to yourself, but you’re charmed by it—you know you should probably get back to the bar where your friends are, but your feet don’t budge. He’s watching you curiously, not making any move to say anything, just observing you and you feel like you might crumble beneath his gaze. You can’t tell if he’s searching for something or if he’s just looking at you to look at you; the air between the two of you is tense but not in an awkward way. But you decide to break the silence with: “What’s your name?”

He hesitates, gaze narrowing just a bit as if he’s considering whether or not he should tell you, and you feel a bit embarrassed, tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth as you anxiously wait for his response.

“Dazai,” he finally says, and you can’t help but notice he sounds a bit breathless. “Dazai Osamu.”

The name feels so achingly familiar that it almost makes you question whether or not you’ve ever met this man before even though you’re sure that you would remember if you did. You give him your name in return and watch as his lips curve upward slightly as he repeats it out loud, making your chest feel warm and your mind a bit foggy. He says your name as if he’s spoken it dozens of times before, the intimacy of it nearly has you reeling.

It has you reeling so badly that you speak without thinking, longing to drag the conversation out.

“Would you… maybe want to have a drink with me?” The words spill from your lips before you can stop them and instantly, you want to swallow your own tongue, shifting a bit nervously on your feet. Usually, when you drink you’re more outgoing, but with this man, you feel like a teen girl fumbling over words with her school crush.

His lips part to respond but no words leave them, conflict swims in his gaze so flagrantly that it makes you a bit embarrassed, realizing he’s probably trying to figure out the best way to reject you. You notice, distantly, that some other foreign emotion flashes on his face and it’s so brief that you almost miss it, but you swear that it’s something akin to a reality slap from the way his eye widens and lips part a bit.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you wait for the inevitable rejection, he casts a look backward, in the direction of the steps that lead to the second floor’s high-end VIP rooms that only the most elite of Yokohama can afford and you realize that this man is probably a bit more important than you thought if that’s where he came from, throat a bit dry.

You start to try to make up some excuse and rush back to your coworkers with your tail between your legs but then he finally says:

“We can get a drink.”

Your eyes widen a bit, a smile splits across your face. You catch a sour look crossing his face as soon as the words escape him as if he regrets them right as they’re spoken. For a second, it’s almost as if he’s fighting an internal battle, and you wonder if he’s trying to figure out if he should take back his words. You hardly think anything of it in your tipsy state, too excited to even fully register it all.

“Yeah?” you ask so eagerly that you want to rip your own tongue out because the last thing you want is to seem desperate.

But clearly, he loses the battle, because his dark eye only softens a bit at your enthusiasm. The corner of his lip curls upward and you swear you see something else in his expression—something caught between grief and longing that makes your throat swell even with the alcohol clouding your mind.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

You hold your hand out to him; you’re not really sure why and you think you might’ve just embarrassed yourself again when his gaze cuts down to it intensely. You withdraw your hand with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” you say quietly. “Got ahead of myself, I guess.”

Dazai doesn’t respond for an agonizing amount of time and when you’re about to head back to the main part of the club and hope he follows you, he decides to hold his hand out to you.

“No need to apologize,” he tells you, voice a bit more hoarse now.

You reach out to take his hand, fingers brushing his bandaged wrist, where his suit jacket is riding up his arm just a bit. His pulse is erratic and rapid beneath your touch, a complete 180 from the calm, aloof expression on his face. His fingers intertwine with yours as you lead him back into the club—his grip is a bit too tight, but you don’t mind. For some reason, it feels a bit comforting.

You and Dazai make your way back down the hall in the direction of the main room of the club. As soon as he pushes open the door, he pulls his hand from yours but before you can even process the action enough to pout at the loss of contact, he’s slipping his arm around your waist to tuck you into his side to not lose you in the crowds of drunken clubgoers and you think you might feel a bit faint at the way his fingers press into your lower hip through the thin cloth of your dress.

You can’t help but notice the way people seem to part for the two of you, even with the majority of them drunk out of their minds, it’s like they catch one glance of Dazai and move out of his way. It seems instinctual, almost, as if he’s exuding an aura that no one can bring themselves to come near.

You peer up at him curiously, watching his eyelashes flutter as he looks down at you as if he can feel you looking at him. Your face is hot when he catches you looking at him so you immediately avert your gaze; you can feel him let out a puff of amusement, but he doesn’t say anything as the two of you finally reach the bar.

“A gentleman,” you tease when he pulls out the stool for you to sit. He waves the bartender down and you watch, a bit surprised, when the man instantly makes his way over to you, gaze flickering to Dazai.

It had taken you twenty minutes to wave the man down earlier to get your drink.

You also can’t help but notice that he doesn’t even ask Dazai what drink he wants, pouring him whiskey on the rocks, a luxury brand that probably costs more than your monthly rent.

You feel a bit embarrassed ordering your cheap martini after, distracting him with idle conversation.

“Do you come here a lot or something?” you ask him curiously, lifting your drink to your lips to take a sip of your drink once the bartender passes it over—it tastes better than it did before. Smoother.

“Or something,” Dazai agrees cryptically, the corners of his lips tilting upward as he looks over you. “Why?”

“So mysterious,” you say playfully, before shrugging. “I’m just curious, he seemed to know you… maybe I’m also trying to figure out if I’d be able to run into you again here.”

You watch him hesitantly, wondering if it was a bit weird to add that, cursing your lips once again for moving before your brain can process. But Dazai doesn’t look weirded out by your comment—he looks a bit surprised, yes, but in a pleased way rather than a disturbed way.

“Already trying to plot out meeting me again?” he drawls, watching you from the corner of his eye with an indecipherable look that doesn’t match the curl of his lips. “What if you decide you don’t like me? If I end up being dangerous?”

“Oh, you’re definitely dangerous, Dazai Osamu,” you say firmly with a laugh, eyes glimmering. “I could tell that from the moment I saw you. I’m not that drunk.”

His eyebrow raises a bit as he tilts his head to the side. “And yet you invited me for a drink anyway,” he notes, his index finger on his free hand thrumming steadily on the bartop.

“Maybe I like danger,” you say, leaning in a bit closer just to test the waters.

Dazai doesn’t pull away, your heart races in your chest as his gaze traces your face, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips. You think you might’ve been wrong before when you compared the color of his eye to an abyss—now, beneath the lighting of the club, you think they’re far more reminiscent of a starry night, just as endless as the abyss, but not quite as dark and hopeless with the celestial bodies glittering within them.

“Maybe you should be more careful,” he murmurs, and there’s an odd shift in his voice—a warning, as if he knows something that you don’t.

“Maybe,” you agree idly, “or maybe I enjoy living life on the edge. It’s short enough as it is, isn’t it? I’d prefer to live it to the fullest than die having barely lived at all.”

“Living life to the fullest involves inviting shady men to drink with you and scheming out a second meeting without even having decided if you like them?” Dazai questions, voice low and amused.

“Shady?” you grin. “Well, I guess you said it, not me. Anyway, I’ve decided that I already like you, Dazai Osamu, so, of course, I’m going to scheme out a second meeting—hopefully, one where I’m not quite as drunk so I can actually charm you, I’m very charming when I’m sober, I’ve been told. I don’t fumble over my words quite as much, or lighters, for that matter.”

You’ve literally never been told once in your life that you’re charming when you’re sober, so you don’t know where that came from, but you decide to roll with it and hope for the best.

“I’ll have you know that I’m quite charmed already,” Dazai says, lips tilting up into a smile that seems a bit more genuine, reflecting in the way his eye curves up too. “If you get any more charming, I might just be in danger.”

“Well, do you like danger then?” you ask, resting your elbow on the bar so you can prop your chin on your hand, looking up at Dazai through your lashes. “We’ve already established that I enjoy it, are you going to join me on the edge, Dazai?”

For some reason, for a split second, it seems as if you’ve asked Dazai the most difficult question in the world—the space between his brows creases and the easy smile on his lips flattens, the starry sky painted in his eye dulls back into the terrible abyss. Your lips part to say something, because even with the fuzziness of your drink clouding your head, you know you made a mistake somewhere.

“I usually stay far from the edge,” he admits quietly, “... too much at risk for that.”

“... Usually?” you press, latching onto the word quickly as you toss him another teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Am I enough to tempt you closer to it, then?”

“You have no idea,” he breathes out so quietly that you think you’re not meant to overhear it. As if he realizes he might’ve said it a bit too loud, he tilts his head to the side and gives you half of a smile as he asks, “What makes you so sure you like me already, anyway?”

You match his smile, making a show of humming, dramatically thinking long and hard about it. Then you shrug, smile widening, “Don’t know. Maybe I just decided. Or maybe, I’d like to think it’s fate.”

Andddd you’ve made a mistake again. You falter when you see how his expression closes off instantly and you wish you could bite your own tongue off because, of course, it’s just your luck to have misspoken twice in a span of two minutes. This is why you don’t socialize with people.

“I don’t believe in fate,” he finally says, voice a bit tighter than it was before.

“Why?” you ask curiously, brows furrowing a bit.

He hesitates, gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turns his gaze away, lifting it to the ceiling instead. All he says is: “I don’t like the idea of my life being predestined by some higher power—if there’s a fate, then I’ll exhaust everything I have trying to defy it.”

“Okay,” you agree, still not entirely understanding why he’s so against the idea of fate—you think it’s rather romantic but to each their own. Either way, you raise your glass to him, waiting for him to click his against yours. “To defying fate then.”

His throat bobs as he swallows at your words, an odd look in his eye as he repeats quietly, “To defying fate.”

Dazai is in trouble.

He thought he could indulge himself just for one night. If it’s his fate to meet you, then let it happen only once so he can be done with it—one night, and then everything will return to how it should be. He’ll fall back into the shadows and you’ll live your life in the light, a long and fulfilling life where he isn’t putting you in danger just by being around you. But he’s realizing, very quickly, that he severely overestimated his self-control, which is a feat in itself, really, because Dazai knew that his self-control would be abysmal when it comes to you but he still somehow managed to critically misjudge just how abysmal it would be.

He thinks he probably looks like a fool—you’re rambling about your work and the graduate school program you’d just been accepted into, you’re switching between topics so quickly that Dazai can hardly keep up, but he doesn’t care, he’s content just hearing your voice, slurred and excitable as it may be.

It’s different hearing it in person than it is in all of the vague memories of the other worlds—you’re different. You’re brighter. More alive. A shining star in a sea of midnight. The warmth of the sun giving life to a rotting corpse. For the first time in twenty-two years, Dazai Osamu feels like he’s finally breathing. The misty memories didn’t do you justice in any regard, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to return to the shadows alone after having felt the brief glow of your light, warm and comforting against his skin, because Dazai already can’t seem to get enough of it. He thinks you must be like a drug or something because there’s no other explanation for the way he’s so utterly entranced by the sight and sound of you.

A part of him wonders if all of the other Dazais have met this same fate at your hands: bewitched and spellbound, unable to draw their eyes away from you, hardly even able to remember to breathe in your presence. He thinks that they must have—he can see flashes of their lives and feel echoes of their emotions, and it’s always most intense whenever it involves you.

It’s a struggle just to remind himself to play the part of the ordinary man with you around so as to not scare you off, pretending he's like any other human being and not a monster wearing the skin of a man, like you haven’t been the object of his obsessions since the moment he came in contact with the Book. He tries to keep himself pliant and inviting with a loose posture and warm gaze, free of the intensity curdling through his body. He keeps his smile small and gentle, hiding the sharp and bloodied teeth decorating his mouth, and he keeps his touches brief, hardly ghosting your skin in fear that you’ll start rotting beneath it. He doesn’t know if he succeeds. He honestly doesn’t even know if you notice, you’re way more intoxicated than you originally made yourself out to be; he can tell from the way your ever-present smile is lopsided and the way your eyes are a bit glazed over, if it wasn’t abundantly apparent by the slur to your words.

“... and then, Hinata kept talking even though everyone else was… Dazai Osamu, are you even listening to me?”

He hums quietly as you abruptly turn your gaze back onto him and for a moment, Dazai is breathless—his name rolls off your tongue with the familiarity of a pair of lovers who’ve been together for years, and he swears that your eyes glitter beneath the lighting of the club as you look at him, and he doesn’t think anyone in his life has ever looked at him the way you do in this moment. Dazai Osamu has always been a name that no one would rather hear, attached to a man that no one would rather see. He’s not used to being talked to like this. He’s not used to being looked at like this.

He wants to be used to it.

He so, so desperately wants to be used to it.

You lean in when he doesn’t respond to you, a bit too close because he can smell the faded scent of your perfume and the gin on your tongue when he takes in a sharp breath to respond—it goes straight to Dazai’s head, his words dying before they can even formulate in his mouth. Everything feels fuzzy and light and Dazai thinks he might actually pass out. You’re such a far cry from the numb void that he’s used to, overwhelming his senses with the sight and touch and scent and sound of you, overwhelming his mind with emotions that he doesn’t know how to cope with and he just can’t get a handle on himself no matter how hard he tries. Every time he thinks he does, you throw another curveball at him like leaning in so close that Dazai swears if you were any closer, his lips would be brushing yours.

He’s never yearned like this before, not when he found himself in Odasaku’s house years ago as he tried to get ahold of that wretched painting and not during the long, dark nights when he found himself gasping awake, torn from dreams of lives he’ll never experience, the ghost of your lips still smiling against his skin. He can feel it deep in his chest, clogging his lungs and throat. He feels like he’s fighting the strings of a marionette as his fingers twitch at his side, begging him to reach out and feel the skin of your cheek beneath the palm of his hand, cup the side of your face just to see if you’d lean into his touch, craving it the same way he craves yours.

He yearns and Dazai Osamu doesn’t know if he has the strength to deny himself of you now that he’s finally gotten a taste of what he could have. He tries to remind himself of what’s at stake, he tries to conjure the images that have plagued his nightmares so many times before—the sight of you crumpled in his arms, cold and still, and the sound of your cries for help, jarring and agonizing to his ears. But all he can muster is the sight of the wide and genuine smile that only you have ever directed toward him in all of his other lives and the sound of your bright laughter ringing in his ears, two things that he’s been deprived of entirely in this life until now.

“... if the phone call is that important, you can take it, y’know? You don’t have to sit here pretending to listen to me when you’re focused on that.”

Dazai is hardly able to drag himself back to the conversation at hand, your words processing slowly, as if his thoughts are being dragged through thick tar, but he forces himself to focus because even in your drunken state you sound a bit irritated.

He glances down at the bartop, where he had placed his phone down after taking a seat next to you, watching as it vibrates against the hardwood and as Chuuya’s name flashes across the screen. A few seconds pass, and his phone goes still and the missed call notification pops up on his screen—evidently along with nine others.

Dazai winces. He wishes the phone call had been what was distracting him—unfortunately, it’s impossible to tell you that he’s spiraling because of you without sounding psychotic.

As soon as the call ends, his phone is buzzing again, Chuuya's name flashing across the screen once more, persistent as ever. Dazai’s gaze cuts backward to where the two of you had come from, up to the windows on the second floor that look down on the main floor, and then he glances back down at his phone.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Dazai tells you quietly, reaching for his phone.

You toss him an easy smile that nearly has him faltering, whatever irritation you may have felt is gone in an instant.

“I’ll be waiting,” you tease, and Dazai’s heart is in his throat as he hesitates for just a second too long, as familiar words echo through his head, memories that aren’t his own from a life that he’d never be able to experience.

“I’ll wait for you.”

He lingers too long evidently because you shoo him away, spinning on the bar stool to face the bartender as you try to flag him down for another drink that you probably should not be having, seeing how you’re swaying a bit on the stool. Dazai only shakes his head as he makes his way away from the bar closer to the edges of the club, where it’s a bit quieter, if only marginally.

As soon as he leaves your presence, the familiar cold numbness returns, spreading like ice through his chest and he’s desperate to be back in your vicinity already, missing the warmth. Oh, this is trouble, he laments to himself, trying to push away the longing feeling spreading through him and instead turns his attention to purposely waiting until the last ring to answer Chuuya’s call, if only to be a bit spiteful because the other man’s persistence is the reason he had to leave you.

Lifting his phone to his ear, he asks coolly, “Do you need something, Chuuya?”

“Where the hell did you go?” Chuuya immediately hisses back, fury dripping from his words. He’s speaking quietly and Dazai can’t hear any conversation in the background, so he can only assume that Chuuya had stepped out of the room where the rest of the Port Mafia and Pale Flame executives were having their meeting. “You’ve been gone for forty minutes, Kouyou and I have been handling the meeting. Do you even have anyone with you right now? Hirotsu? Tachihara? Atsushi?”

“I’m sure you and Ane-san have been conducting the meeting perfectly fine without me,” Dazai says dismissively, leaning against the wall as his gaze cuts through the crowds to the bar he’d left you at but he can’t catch sight of you through the masses of people. He frowns, pacing a bit down the room to try to get a better angle.

“Bastard,” Chuuya spits out with a venomous type of disrespect that he only attacks Dazai with when he’s exceptionally frustrated. “Answer my question. Where the hell are you? Do you have a protection detail on you? What are you doing?”

“I’m in the club still,” Dazai says distantly, and he’s sure Chuuya can tell that he’s barely paying attention to the conversation because the man lets out a noise caught between a snarl and a growl, much like the dog he is. “I’ll be fine, we have men stationed all over—you’re always so uptight, Chuuya, you should pull out the stick every once in a while.”

“You-” Chuuya says loudly and sharply, cutting himself off abruptly, evidently having realized he’s let himself get too loud. Dazai is hardly listening at this point, getting increasingly more agitated as the masses of crowds block his line of sight to where you should be sitting. “I’m coming down there.”

That catches Dazai’s attention.

“Do not.” The two words leave his lips, a command so cold and cutting that he can practically hear Chuuya jolt in surprise at the sudden shift from the absent tone he’d been speaking with before. He forces his voice to take upon a more teasing lilt as he says, “I met a girl, Chuuya. If you come down here, your ugly mug will scare her right off.”

“What?” Chuuya sounds so baffled it’s almost comical. Dazai might’ve found amusement in it were he not so irritated with his current predicament. “I-you-what?”

“You sound so shocked, Chuuya. Some of us talk to more women than just Ane-san and Gin-chan, you know?” Dazai drawls, noticing that there’s a gap in the crowds up ahead that should give him a direct view toward the bar, beelining toward it immediately.

“Shut up,” Chuuya seethes. “Who the hell would even give you the time of day? And since when do you seek out women? You’ve never shown any interest before.”

“Are you jealous?” Dazai croons. “It’s an ugly look on you, Chuuya.”

Chuuya splutters. “The fuck is wrong with you tonight?” he demands. “You’ve been acting like a damn freak ever since we left the base. Mood swings left and right.”

“You know I don’t like…” Dazai trails off as he finally gets a direct view of the bar, dark eye focusing in on where you seem to be arguing with an unfamiliar man. The smile that had been curling to the corners of his lips falls flat and his gaze goes cold—ice spreads through his chest again but this time it isn’t a result of the numbness, rather it’s a much more dangerous emotion that threatens to erupt. “I have to go.”

“Bastard, if you hang up on me-”

Dazai doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence, hanging up the call and slipping his phone into his pocket, ignoring it when it immediately starts buzzing again. He doesn’t waste a second before he makes his way back across the club to the bar.

If people had avoided him before, it was nothing compared to now, watching them scramble out of his way even in their drugged-up and intoxicated states. He doubts that most of them even know the significance of who he is, they can just feel the cold fury rolling off of him in waves. It’s a bit impressive, honestly, how quickly he’s able to get back to you, and his hand darts out quickly, fingers wrapping tightly around the wrist of the man who was grabbing your forearm, if his grip was any tighter, the man’s bones would be cracking beneath his touch.

The reaction is instantaneous. Your gaze draws up to him, relief flooding your eyes at the sight of him—distantly, Dazai notes that he thinks that this might be the first time in his life anyone has ever been relieved to see him, but he’s more preoccupied with the man who was bothering you, who’s now turning toward him with an irritated expression.

“Look, man.” Dazai’s hidden eye twitches at the casual address, but he makes sure that the annoyance doesn’t show on his face. “Just trying to get her home, the rest of our coworkers left already.”

Dazai’s vice-like grip doesn’t budge, but his mind races. This is his out. If he lets you go home with your coworker, then he can go back up to the meeting taking place on the second floor and he can try to scorch his mind of the yearning that’s been plaguing him so intensely. Things can go back to normal—his one night of indulgence over, no matter how agonizing the thought of that is. He can return to the Port Mafia base, back in the shadows, and he can use the memory of this night with you to fuel his dedication to his grand plan of protecting this world. It’s a perfect setup, honestly, if he disregards two critical issues: 1) he’s probably incapable of scorching his mind of the yearning you’ve brought on and 2) more importantly, you’re staring at him with an expression nothing short of pleading, seemingly begging him not to leave.

The words escape his lips before he can think to stop them: “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take her home.”

The faux-concern that the man had been directing toward you disappears as soon as Dazai speaks, shifting into an expression that probably would have been concerning to anyone who wasn’t a literal mafioso, and Dazai is not just a mafioso, he is their boss and he has dealt with people who were objectively much more powerful and concerning than a regular civilian who thinks he’s tougher than he is. So Dazai only tilts his head to the side a bit, the corner of his lip curves up in amusement as he pointedly looks over the man once. The cool metal of the gun hidden in his jacket weighs heavily as a reminder that it’s there and ready for him to use; his fingers twitch toward it, but instead, he pockets his hands, deciding against it, if only because he thinks pulling out a gun might scare you away. He doesn’t want that.

“Who the hell are you?” the man asks furiously—Dazai wonders, a bit absently, if this is that Takeda fellow you were complaining about earlier, he certainly fits the picture with the beady eyes and weaselly face.

“An old friend,” Dazai drawls—not entirely a lie, just in a different life, and definitely more than friends, but he doesn’t need to know that. “We’ve been catching up. You can go.”

It’s not a request, and evidently, the man isn’t stupid enough to keep pressing Dazai because his confidence falters as he takes a step back, letting go of your arm. Or more probably, he caught a glimpse of the glint of metal hidden by his coat when Dazai shifted to look at you. Either way, Dazai doesn’t care because the man stutters out a few words and a ‘see you Monday’ to you before turning tail and leaving.

Dazai doesn’t bother correcting him—he definitely will not be seeing you on Monday. He ensures that through the silent order in the sharp look, he gives Tachihara Michizo, who’s been lingering on the outskirts of the club for five minutes now, no doubt trying to keep an eye on him under Chuuya’s command. Tachihara doesn’t hesitate as he nods his head, gaze following the retreating figure of the man before he slinks right after him.

He thinks you have bad friends. Coworkers. Whatever. All of them leaving you drunk and alone with someone who’s a stranger in their eyes. Yes, he scared the only one that tried away, but if it was Dazai in his position, not even god himself would be able to scare him away from making sure you get home safely.

They don’t deserve you, he decides firmly, and those dark thoughts from earlier return, whispering that he should just take you for himself, tuck you away in the tallest towers of the Port Mafia base. He’d keep you safe. He’d make you happy. You’d never have to want for anything ever again, he’d give you the entire world if you so pleased. He shuts off the train of thought before it can become any more tempting, knowing that his thread of self-control concerning you is waning at best.

Dazai promptly turns his attention back to you and all of the irritation that he might’ve been feeling about your coworkers and that man washes away when he catches the dazzled look on your face as you look up at him, elbow propped on the bartop and chin resting in your hand.

“Thanks,” you say so softly that Dazai barely hears you over the thundering music and clamoring people around the two of you. “That was Takeda… I don’t know, maybe he didn’t mean any harm but… I just don’t want him to know where I live, I guess.”

You look sleepy now, eyes a bit heavy and shoulders slumped; the alcohol must’ve worked its way through you already. Dazai also can’t help but notice that the front of your dress is drenched with what looks like the rest of your drink; it must have spilled in the brief struggle between you and your coworker.

“You’d rather a stranger know, then?” Dazai can’t help but ask, making sure to keep his voice teasing, watching you carefully for a response.

He’s curious to know if you feel even half as drawn to him as he is to you, to know if this really is a mutual bond that transcends worlds or if it’s a sick obsession on his part triggered by the revelations of the Book. Or it could be both. It’s probably both. Dazai is pretty sure what he feels for you isn’t normal or healthy, and he’s not sure if it’s any healthier in any of the other universes or if every other Dazai is just as twisted when it comes to love as he is.

“You don’t feel like a stranger,” you admit quietly, looking up at him through your lashes and Dazai’s heart leaps into his throat, clogging his airways and threatening to suffocate him. “Is that weird?”

“No,” Dazai breathes out instantly, the confirmation that your words give him lights a dangerous fire in his chest, one that he needs to put out but can’t bring himself to. “I feel the same.”

Your expression softens, eyes tracing his face, and Dazai thinks he would set the entire world on fire just for you to look at him like that again. Then, he realizes, throat a bit tighter now, that the words are not quite the empty promise that they would be coming from anyone else’s lips—he might just be setting everything he’s built on fire just for you, and your warmth is not enough to push away the cold awareness that suddenly spreads through his body, putting out all of the fires that his time with you has set within him.

He reaches out, knuckles grazing your cheek. Your lashes flutter as you lean into his touch and instantly, he’s set aflame again, it’s raging through his chest and melting the ice and Dazai thinks he doesn’t care if this is a bond that transcends worlds or a sick obsession. He thinks it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he needs you so desperately that it might kill him if he doesn’t have you.

It might kill you if he does have you.

Fire and ice wage a brutal war within him, a futile battle because no matter how much the ice tries to spread, the flames melt it away, and he realizes that he can’t be around you when the war is inevitably won because he’ll never be able to drag himself away from you.

One night, he reminds himself, sharp and scolding, one night of indulgence. That’s all.

“Come on,” Dazai murmurs. “Let’s get you home.”

Dazai wonders how a place he’s never been to can feel so much like home.

Or, well, he assumes this is what a home would feel like, it’s not like he’s ever actually had one to compare to. The penthouse suite of the Port Mafia base is closer to a prison than something he can consider a home. He doesn’t remember enough of his childhood to know if he lived somewhere back then that he considered a home. The shipping container he lived in during his teenage years is probably the closest thing he has to compare to and even then, he never felt safe or warm or comforted there, he just had the distant reassurance that no one would ever bother him while he was there and that was more than he had anywhere else.

And this is…

He doesn’t really know how to describe it, the words just won’t come to him—a rare occurrence, considering Dazai’s always been known to have a tongue of the purest silver, acquiring the most lucrative deals for the Port Mafia despite egregious odds and hostile parties solely because he’s learned to read and charm people to the best of his ability. His brain and his tongue have been the driving force behind the Mafia’s rapid and exponential expansion across Japan and into the mainland, yet both fail him now.

Courtesy of you and your influence, naturally.

The curve to his lips is fond as he trails his fingers across the back of the couch in your living room. It’s all so achingly familiar, as if he’s been here a thousand times before—if he lets his eye flutter shut, he can almost picture you cross-legged on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate tucked neatly between your hands, dozing off as he regales you with nonsensical stories.

Everything is just how he remembers it from the vague memories. Your desk is set up near the window on the far side of your room, next to the bench where he would sit and watch you while you study, pouting until you finally decided to give him attention. Papers are strewn all across your coffee table; he flips through them idly, realizing that they’re all study materials for the entrance exam to the graduate school you’d just been accepted into—he makes sure to leave them in the same order that you’d left them in, recalling how often you’d end up yelling at him for messing up your piles. A picture hangs on your wall near the door of you and your brother—familiar, why is he so familiar? His gaze lingers for a moment, brows furrowing before he shakes his head, putting the thought in the back of his head as he wonders if he ended up passing in this universe too.

He wanders over to the kitchen and his eyes narrow just a smidge, noticing that there are two dirty mugs in your sink, the ones you’d always use to make those fancy hot chocolates of yours. He hums to himself softly as he traces his finger along the rim of one, recognizing the same shade of lipstick you wore tonight staining the brim. The other mug has no such stain. His throat tightens a bit, gaze flickering up to the cabinet he recalls you usually putting your ingredients and when he opens the cabinet, he thinks he might feel a bit sick, seeing them all up on a shelf too high for you to reach on your own—you always put them on the lower shelves.

His jaw tightens as he pointedly puts them all back down on the lower shelf before shutting the cabinet, a bit more tense now than he was a few moments before. His gaze cuts across your apartment, searching for any sign of who you might’ve been having over—someone important enough for you to make your favorite hot chocolate for—but he finds none until his eyes land on a jacket crumpled in the corner of the room that’s definitely not yours, hidden halfway beneath one of the pillows on his window bench. He has to remind himself that it’s not his and he’s never been here before now so he has no claim over anything.

He makes his way over to it, yanking it out and lifting it to his nose. It doesn’t smell like you, it’s an unfamiliar woody scent that makes his stomach churn for more than one reason—the most primary one being that he doesn’t know whose it is and why they’re leaving clothes at your apartment. It’s a man’s, certainly, he can tell that much from the scent and the size and Dazai thinks he might feel a bit light-headed at the idea of you having other men over your apartment. His only solace comes in the fact that there doesn’t appear to be any other signs of his presence, but it’s a small solace at best.

He has to leave. The longer he lingers in your apartment, the more he’s struggling to decipher the already blurred line between the lives he remembers and his unfortunate reality.

One night of indulgence, he reminds himself for the nth time because the night is over. You’d passed out long before even arriving at your apartment, after you gave the address luckily because for better or for worse, that had been one of the few things Dazai hadn’t retained from the vague memories he has of the other universes.

He trails back over to the door that leads to your bedroom, a heavy feeling settling over his chest as he leans against the frame. His gaze draws to where you’re fast asleep beneath the covers, still dressed in the outfit you’d worn to the club because although all of the other Dazais would have changed you into something more comfortable when you’re too drunk to do it yourself, he does not retain that privilege in this world. The last thing he wants is for you to think he’s some perverted creep.

Dazai sighs, eyes sliding shut as he lets himself bask in the moment for just a little longer, dreading having to return to the harsh reality of a life without you, fated to be alone until he’s sure that he’s secured the safety of this world when he can take the final step in guaranteeing that you and Odasaku will be able to live out your lives peacefully. Without him.

He wants to touch you one last time, brush his fingers against your cheek, enjoy the way your warmth spreads through him, but he thinks he’s tested his self-control too much for one day. He fears that if he pushes it anymore, he’ll never be able to go back to how it was, so it’s with a heart that pleads for him to reconsider and a body that resists his every move that he turns away from your bedroom, making his way over to your kitchen counter to grab the key that he fished out of your purse.

It takes all of his restraint to not look back, jaw clenched so tight that he thinks his teeth might grind down to dust. He steps outside and the fresh air feels like poison to his lungs, he wants to step back inside, drown himself in the familiar scent of you, the familiar scent of the only home he’s ever known in any lifetime, the one he has to deny himself of for the sake of preserving this world, for the sake of saving Odasaku and saving you.

His fingers tremble a bit as he slides the key into the lock and turns it, checking twice to make sure it locks properly so no one can sneak in while you’re sleeping, before kneeling down to slide the key beneath the crack of the door back into your apartment.

As soon as the key is out of his reach, Dazai feels cold and empty; the black hole within him expands now that he’s vulnerable again without your presence fighting it off, and the force of it is ten times as lethal now that he’s experienced what life might be without it constantly consuming him. He stares at your door for a second after rising to his feet, his mind and heart and body all at war with each other. The parts of him that haven’t festered and withered over the years beg him to just go back to you, tell you everything, and crumble in your arms and pray that you don’t think he’s delusional and call the police on him; the parts of him that have been corrupted by the time he’s spent in the darkest parts of the world whisper more dangerous words, telling him to go back in and take you back with him, it doesn’t matter what you want if it means he can keep you safe, and he knows that one day you’ll understand why he did it, you’ll even be happy because you’re meant to be happy with him, no matter how it comes about.

And he thinks he’s a fool because the only fortunate thing about his circumstances had been that no matter how vividly he remembered you and your apartment, the Book had not passed on the knowledge of its location, so he’d never been tempted to “accidentally” seek you out by wandering in locations that you frequent because he had no idea where you were. Yokohama isn’t a small city and he was never going to cross the line of purposely seeking you out through the use of Port Mafia resources because that meant he was purposely putting you in danger.

But now, he’ll have the knowledge of your location dangling in front of his face for the rest of his life, however long it may be. Every day will be a struggle to resist the urge to seek you out, as if everything isn’t hard enough for him already.

Frustration builds in his chest as he makes his way down to the parking lot of the apartment complex. Realistically, Dazai had plenty of options that would have objectively been better than this. He could have sent you with his driver alone, but the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Albatross, the Flags remain among the most loyal members of the Port Mafia, but Dazai doesn’t think anyone is worthy enough to lay their hands on you. He thinks that if Albatross had reported back to him that he had to carry you into your apartment and put you in your bed, he might’ve put a bullet through his skull and then he’d have to deal with mutiny and he can’t afford a mutiny when things are already so tenuous, stability in the Port Mafia has to be paramount until he can get through all five phases of his plan.

But even if he didn’t send you with Albatross, he could have had Kouyou handle this. Kouyou already knows of you, she’s the one that he assigned to make sure you’re never threatened by Yokohama’s underground, and she knew where your apartment was already. It still leaves a sour taste in his mouth but not as strong as the thought of sending you with Albatross. He could’ve had Kouyou take care of this and he could’ve been free of the temptation already looming over him but-

But Dazai is selfish. Dazai is selfish and reckless when it comes to you; even when he knows what’s at stake, even when he knows the destruction that he brings. Fate, the word rings through his head, mocking him. Fate, fate, fate. It’s his fate to always be drawn to you, like a bee to honey and a moth to flame, irresistible and inexorable. He can’t avoid it and he can’t control himself no matter how hard he tries. You’re tied together by threads that the gods shorten with every passing second and they laugh down at him as they watch him trying to resist it.

It’s his fate to be drawn to you.

It’s his fate to be your destruction.

Dazai slips back into the backseat of Albatross’s sleek black car, shutting the door just a bit too harshly, gaze immediately drifting back toward the apartment complex, up to the closed door on the second level where he’d left you. He waits for the car to pull away, but it doesn’t. Irritated, he turns his gaze to the rearview mirror in the front of the car, catching Albatross staring at him curiously, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose.

“What?” Dazai asks, voice low and icy.

Albatross is unperturbed—of all of the members of the Port Mafia, only he and Chuuya never flinch at his unapproachability. “Ya gotta girl now, boss?” he asks curiously, tilting his head to the side as he waits for Dazai’s response.

“No.”

“Hm.” Albatross only hums as if he’s disappointed by the answer. “You seemed happier, s’all. Never seen you like that before. Was nice.”

Dazai’s jaw tightens again at the man’s words, biting words threatening to escape his lips but he swallows them. Instead, he becomes acutely aware of the jacket that he’s still holding in his left hand. His expression twists and then he tosses it into the front seat at Albatross, who blinks and catches it, looking down confused.

“Whadya want me to do with this?” he asks, baffled.

“Burn it.” Is all Dazai responds with. “Take me back to the base.”

“... You got it, boss,” Albatross murmurs, and he still sounds disappointed, but an order is an order so he doesn’t hesitate as he starts the car back up and pulls out of the complex’s parking lot.

Dazai’s gaze doesn’t leave your apartment door once until Albatross finally turns down a street out of sight of the building.

One night of indulgence, he reminds himself for the last time. One night of indulgence and then he’ll never encounter you again. For better or for worse, that’s how it has to be.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #beast dazai osamu x reader #beast dazai osamu x you #beast dazai x you #beast dazai x reader

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roosterforme · 1 month

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Always Ever Only You Part 35 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You arrive home to your husband and a visual representation of how much he loves you. Your house is filled with treats to make you smile, and the attic has been ripped apart to start accommodating your new addition. The way Bradley loves you and the baby makes everything even more exciting. But as much as things are changing, they are also staying the same.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff, smut, oral sex

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

When you woke up, you were afraid you were still on the flight home to San Diego. You desperately wanted to stop throwing up. Your ribs were starting to ache from it, and your back was sore from hunching over the toilet. But the unique smell of a new car filled your nose as you opened your eyes, and you knew you were in the red Bronco.

"Roo?" you groaned, reaching for him but accidentally hitting the vase full of flowers that was for some reason in the cup holder instead.

"We're home," he replied right away as he pulled into the driveway. "I'm with you, and we're home."

You whimpered in response as you saw the front window of the craftsman glowing with a cozy orange light. The week in Annapolis had been one of the longest of your life, but you were home. And Tramp was here, and so was your own bed and your bathtub.

Bradley knew you were crying again before you did, and he swiped at your tears as soon as he turned the engine off. "It's okay, Sweetheart. Let's go inside." You made some sort of pitiful sounding noise, and a few seconds later, Bradley was carrying you up to the porch. "I'll go back out for your stuff. Are you hungry? I think you should try to drink more ginger ale or maybe a seltzer or gatorade."

You just gasped as he took you inside; every surface was covered in unlit candles and yellow flowers. Even in just the soft glow from the lamp on the end table, everything looked exceptionally romantic. "Bradley."

He kissed your cheek and continued toward the kitchen while Tramp followed along whimpering for you. But the kitchen was more of the same. Your husband must have gone grocery shopping without you, because there was a little box of pastries and different snacks and more flowers lining the counter. He set you down and held your face gently in his hands. "What can I get you to drink?"

Your lip quivered as you looked up into his brown eyes. "You made everything so romantic."

He sighed and kissed your forehead softly. Then his lips found your nose and then your cheek before ending up on yours. "What can I say, Baby Girl? I missed you. Both of you. A lot."

You thought back to the way you were begging for him and his cock when you talked to him on the phone, but right now you could barely stand up after the horrible flight home. "I don't think I can be romantic right now. I feel disgusting."

He smiled against your lips. "This is peak romance to me. Yeah, I was going to light some candles and feed you some snacks and let you take the lead, but all I really wanted all week was you. Here. At home. With me."

You kissed him deeply, and then let your cheek come to rest on his chest while your stomach churned softly. "I love it. The flowers are beautiful. And can you leave the candles out until tomorrow?"

He nodded and kissed your ear. "I won't put them away yet. Now can you tell me what you want to drink? I just want to dote on you and the nugget all weekend."

You smiled and whispered, "Gatorade." Next thing you knew, there were several chilled bottles lined up on the counter for you to choose from. Bradley opened the orange one and put the rest away, and then you saw the refrigerator door. He had hung up the ultrasound photos in the shape of a heart, and you couldn't stop smiling. He went to the pastry box and broke off part of a croissant and held it out for you to nibble on. When you nodded he fed you more until you shook your head.

Then he helped you into the shower, and it took almost no convincing to get him to join you. "I want you with me," you said, and he started taking his shirt off. A minute later, there was a discarded pile of clothing on the floor, but the two of you were under the steamy spray. You washed his hair for him even though your body felt physically exhausted, and he melted into your touch. "You really missed me, huh?" you joked softly.

His eyes were closed, and he grunted softly before he said, "I miss you when you go out to brunch while I play golf. I miss you when I don't see you for eight hours at work. I miss you when you spend seven hundred hours at Costco without me. But this week was unbearable, Sweetheart. Let's not do it again."

When he didn't even mention being deployed for weeks and weeks on end, you relaxed a little more. You pressed your lips together as his big hands settled on your belly. "The nugget is already calmer with you around," you informed him. "The baby definitely prefers you."

He kissed you and rinsed off all the soap and shampoo. "Yeah, well the nugget and I are about to have a conversation once we get in bed."

You brushed your teeth and removed your contacts, and Bradley already had his UVA shirt ready for you. A couple minutes later, you were in bed with your fingers tangled in his damp hair while he pushed the shirt up so he could kiss your belly.

"What did I tell you about being nicer to Mommy?" His lips found your belly button, and his breath was warm on your skin as he said, "She's the best fucking thing in the world."

"Don't teach the baby bad words," you mumbled as you set your glasses aside.

He kissed along to your dainty rooster tattoo and traced it with the tip of his nose. "Nah, that's what Aunt Natasha is for," he said, and you giggled as he kissed you everywhere.

"Roo?" you asked with a yawn.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for taking care of me."

"It's literally my favorite thing to do."

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

Bradley didn't realize just how poorly he had been sleeping until he ended up staying in bed with you until almost noon on Saturday, finally feeling refreshed. When you woke up and immediately reached for him, he scooped you up in his arms and rolled you onto your back.

"I'm hungry," you whispered as your stomach started growling loudly while he kissed you.

"Hi, Hungry. I'm Bradley," he replied with a smirk as his fingers brushed along your belly.

Your eyes lit up with mirth as you gasped. "Oh my god! That was your first dad joke!"

He chuckled against your neck. "I'm going to be so fucking good at this shit."

"The nugget already likes you better," you whispered as he started to kiss his way down your chest over the shirt. Bradley paused with his hand tucked beneath the fabric, fingers stroking your side softly as he looked at you.

"You said that yesterday, too. I don't like it when you say that."

When you swallowed hard and turned your face away, you whispered, "I swear it's true."

"No," he said sharply. "This is just because the first trimester is filled with so many changes in your hormones. After the nugget is born, he or she is going to take one look at you and realize they have the most perfect Mommy. I've already written about it in my Nugget Notebook."

He nodded his chin toward the pink and blue notebook on his nightstand, and you asked, "What else did you write about?"

He hummed and pressed his lips to your rooster tattoo, earning a little squirm from you. "I wrote a little about Grandma Carole and Grampy Goose. I talked about how you and I met, and how I fell in love with you. I told the nugget I never really thought about having kids before I met their mommy."

"Roo," you sighed softly as he brushed his mustache along your soft skin, his cheek coming to rest on your hip.

Your stomach rumbled softly as he asked, "Want me to make you some peanut butter toast and some hot tea for breakfast?"

Slowly yet intentionally, you started to slide your legs apart along the fitted sheet where Bradley was laying halfway on top of them. He propped himself up and met your gaze as you said, "In a couple minutes."

He kissed your tattoo again as he tried not to grin. "Hmm. Anything you think you might want before that, Sweetheart?"

You bit your lip and turned your head to the side as he placed his palm on the top of your thigh. Bradley listened to the deep intake of your breath before you let it out slowly and asked, "Will you go down on me?"

He had his lips pressed to your pussy before you finished the sentence, both hands on the backs of your thighs as he spread your legs wide enough to accommodate his broad shoulders. "Gorgeous," he whispered, his mustache feather light against your slick slit as you squirmed and whimpered his name, pressing yourself up for more.

With a smile, Bradley parted you with his tongue, taking the time to remind you just how much he missed you. "Thought about you all week long, Baby Girl," he said after pulling your clit briefly between his lips. He plucked you a few more times as you moaned. "You're perfect," he promised, teasing your opening with his fingertip. "I missed you."

Then he took the time to taste every bit of you, his tongue swiping down to your ass as you begged him for more. He spread your wetness all over and when he made his way back up to focus on your clit, your fingers were in his hair. "I missed you, too," you managed before your voice broke softly as he sucked on you. "I was so horny all week, but nothing is as good as you."

Bradley smirked and sucked a little harder, leading you directly to your orgasm, showing you just how much better he was than your toys or your own hands. Reminding you that you'd never have it this good anywhere else. When you started to thrust against his face, he let his hands slide up to your waist.

He waited until you were coming on his tongue and crying out before rubbing his nose along your clit and grunting, "I wanna fuck you."

You yanked so hard on his hair, he saw stars for a second, but he took your lead and kissed your mouth as he pushed his cock inside you. You were so wet and tight, he knew he'd only last a few thrusts, especially with the way you were squeezing him as your orgasm started to taper off. And then he was right there with you as you licked his mouth clean of your decadent taste and let your fingers snag in his messy hair.

"Fuck," he grunted, driving into you with a few final thrusts before he filled you up with his cum. You looked so perfectly sated beneath him as you licked your own lips and gazed up at him.

When he stopped moving, his hips finally settling against yours, you looked a little bashful as you said, "I think I needed you before I needed breakfast." Your stomach was growling a little louder now, and Bradley knew he needed to get some toast in your belly to keep the baby happy.

"Well," he rasped, "this was my breakfast, and I'll have it again for lunch and dinner if you let me." He slid away from you and stood next to your side of the bed, his head still a little fuzzy as he glanced down at his soft, glistening cock. With your legs still spread wide, he could see his cum working its way out of your tight pussy as you chewed on your lip dreamily. "Come on, Baby Girl," he crooned, reaching for you and guiding both of you into the kitchen. "I'll take care of all of your appetites."

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

You were practically shaking with happiness as you nibbled on a crunchy piece of toast slathered with a thick layer of peanut butter and sprinkled with chocolate chips. Your entire kitchen was decorated with the yellow flowers that Bradley got, and you noticed the refrigerator was randomly filled with steaks.

"What's this for?" you asked him as he made himself some coffee. "It looks like you spend two hundred bucks on steaks?"

"I did," he confirmed, still completely naked from your activities a little while ago. "You really seemed to enjoy that dinner you had in Annapolis. I just thought you might want to try to replicate it here," he said a bit bashfully. "I mean, I could try to help you cook them if you want." You smiled, knowing full well he was more hesitant to admit he spent too much money on food that you'd have to cook for yourself than he was to parade around with nothing on.

"You're the best," you told him, tucking yourself against his chest and admiring the flowers on the island as he sipped his coffee. Then your gaze caught on a thin strip of drywall that was propped up next to the stairs. "Where did that come from?"

"Hmm?" Bradley hummed casually, his lips pressed to the top of your head.

"Is that drywall?"

"Oh. Uh... yes. I must have missed that piece when I was throwing all of it away."

You looked up at him, concern written on your face. "What do you mean by all of it?"

He kissed your nose a few times and said, "Now don't get upset, okay? It's not good for the nugget."

"Bradley."

He swallowed and said, "I got a little bored and anxious while the two of you were gone, and I kind of dismantled the attic."

"What?" You took off toward the stairs. When Bradley bought the Craftsman, you'd been with him every step of the way. You both looked at the house together, and you were there when he closed on it. He had his arm draped over your shoulders the first time he walked inside once he owned the place. You and he both knew the attic would eventually need an overhaul to grow from a sad little workspace into a usable bedroom or two. But now you were afraid to see what he did in your absence.

"Sweetheart, wait," he called out, wrapping his arms around you from behind before you could even put your foot on the first step. He kissed your cheek and said, "There could be a nail or something sharp on the floor that I missed when I cleaned up. Please, put some shoes on first."

You jammed your feet into your combat boots which were next to the front door, and Bradley did the same with his. Then he followed you upstairs, still in all of his naked glory, and watched you look around at the complete demolition job he did to the space. There was no flooring, no drywall, nothing.

"There used to be a half wall right here," you said, waving your arms. "I thought we were going to call a contractor."

"I did," he confirmed, standing there with his hands on his hips, kind of shrugging. "After I took everything down to the studs. But maybe they'll cut out some of the cost for the demolition since I already did it?" he muttered as his cheeks grew a little pink. "I just got excited about the idea of your parents having their own space when they visit, you know? And maybe one day, the nugget can have their bedroom up here. After they grow out of the nursery downstairs."

"Roo," you moaned, launching yourself into his arms. He welcomed you there as you whispered, "I'm sorry you were anxious enough while I was gone that you had the urge to completely dismantle the space up here." His sparse chest hair felt coarse against your face, but it was soothing to you anyway. "But I'm excited about this space. And I'm happy you called a contractor. And also, you look sinfully sexy in nothing but your boots, and I'm really horny again already."

"Oh," he rasped, and you could feel him reacting to you almost immediately. "Well, what do you know... so am I."

Then you and your husband had sex in the attic for the first time.

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

After a lovely steak dinner on Saturday night, which Bradley dutifully helped you make, you took a bath in your luxurious tub. He made sure the water wasn't too hot for the nugget, and then you lured him into the bath with you. All of the candles you'd noticed yesterday were now glowing, and a cluster of them had found their way to the bathroom counter.

"I liked tonight's dinner a lot better than the one I had with Commander Patterson," you whispered as Bradley ran his soapy hands along your shoulders and kissed your ear.

"Trust me, Sweetheart, if I ever run into Derek, he's getting what he has coming to him."

You gasped. "How do you know his name is Derek?"

"I have my ways," he murmured, letting his fingers trail down along your body beneath the water. After you remained silent, wondering how on earth he had that information, he added, "You let it slip over the phone."

"Did I?" you asked. But you shouldn't have been too surprised. You kept forgetting little things here and there. Your hormones were hitting you hard in a variety of ways, and you'd just about had enough of it.

"Mmhmm. If he ever comes to Top Gun, it's on."

You knew he was at least partially serious, so you didn't bring it up again. Instead, you let Bradley pull you out of the tub when you started to shiver, and he helped you get ready for bed. "I didn't throw up once today," you said with a smile as you curled up with your cheek on his chest. "The nugget always behaves when you're around."

Bradley kissed the top of your head and cradled your body against his. "If the nugget doesn't start to shape up, I'll have a little discussion with him or her."

Just as he reached for the lamp on his nightstand, you asked him softly, "Will you read a little bit to me from the Nugget Notebook?"

You weren't sure if his musings were even really meant for you, but he agreed and picked up the pink and blue notebook from next to the bed, leaving the light on in the process. Bradley cleared his throat and started to read. His written words were enough to make you melt, and the deep rasp of his voice comforted you like nothing else could.

"I hate to break it to you, little nugget, but you're related to some of the coolest people I ever met in my life. Sounds great, doesn't it? I suppose it is. The only downside is the fact that you won't get to meet them for yourself. But that's where I come in, so don't worry about it too much.

Let's start with your Grandma Carole. Now she had a real talent for always knowing how to cheer people up. Even when she was having a hard day herself, she still saved a smile and a kiss just for me. She was one of the sweetest people around. She was smart, funny and honest, too. But I think if there's one thing of hers that I'd like to pass down to you, it would be Carole's sweetness.

Next we have your Grampy Goose. Don't worry, his name wasn't really Goose. It was Nick. Now this is going to be a little harder for me to write about, simply because I didn't get very much time with him myself, but I know for a fact that Goose could bring a smile to even the most serious faces."

You dozed off, dreaming about a world in which you got to meet your husband's parents. Where you could take your child to spend time with them. Get to know them without visiting the cemetery in Virginia.

When you woke up, it was to the sound of your alarm while Bradley had you wrapped up with his long arms and his legs. "Roo," you muttered, but he held on.

"Don't want you to go to brunch," he whispered. "Stay in bed."

Goosebumps rose along your arms as you thought about spending the entire day snuggled up with him like this. "I need to go see Cam and Maria," you mumbled. Your stomach growled so you added, "And eat avocado toast."

Bradley groaned and rolled away from you. "At least you're hungry. Go have fun with your friends."

"Do you want me to bring anything back for you?"

He snorted as you climbed out of bed. "Yeah. You and the nugget. ASAP."

You pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. "God, you're sweet. Just like Carole. The nugget will inherit that trait, too."

You watched your husband blush as he snuggled under the blanket and tracked you with his eyes as you got ready to go out. Your stomach was feeling pretty good, but you knew you were tempting fate if you decided to wait to eat something at the restaurant. You made yourself a piece of toast and finished it before you climbed into your red Bronco and headed out to your usual spot while Bradley lounged in bed.

After you parked, you saw some texts from Jake asking how you were feeling and also asking if you and Bradley could watch Jeremiah one night. That sounded like a good sign that things had worked out okay between him and Uncle Bernie. When you saw Cat at work tomorrow, that would be the first thing you asked her, but for now you typed back to Jake. You didn't think Bradley would mind if you agreed to watch Jer. Frankly, the two of you could use the practice.

"Hey!" Cam called out as soon as you walked inside. "Hurry up, I'm starving."

You rolled your eyes as you made your way over to the table and scooted into the seat next to him. "You're always hungry," you mumbled as he handed you a menu even though you both knew exactly what you'd be ordering. "Where's Maria?"

"Late," Cam grumbled. "If she brings Bob with her again, I'll be so annoyed. I need a hot aviator in my life."

And that's when you saw her through the side window. You smacked Cam's bicep and silently pointed to where Maria was standing out on the sidewalk, snaking her arm up around Bob's neck. They were talking. They were just talking. Until they weren't. Bob leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. Then it was over, and you were kind of shocked as Maria made her way inside the restaurant.

"They're fucking," Cam whispered harshly, smacking your thigh repeatedly under the table as she made her way over like absoltuely nothing just happened out on the sidewalk.

"I can't believe they are hooking up," you hissed, grabbing his hand and shoving it back to his lap just as Maria strolled over to the table.

"Morning," she practically sang. "How was Annapolis?"

"I went to Waffle House," you blurted out like a weirdo. "And a cemetery."

She laughed and picked up her menu. "I was more interested in how your presentation went, but I do love a good Waffle House breakfast."

You and Cam were both silent for a few beats before he quickly and loudly asked, "How long have you been fucking Bob?"

She was looking back and forth between the two of you with her mouth hanging open. "Well... listen... it's not my fault he's so funny and sweet and smells so good!"

That was proof enough for you, but she was practically gushing with details, and you couldn't wait to get home and tell Bradley.

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

"Maria and Bob are sleeping together! In the same bed! And having sex!" you announced as soon as you walked in the front door. "Oh, and Cam and Maria say hi."

Bradley looked up from the notebook where he was sitting on the couch and said, "Yeah, I forgot to tell you about that."

"How did you know?"

As you settled on the couch with your head resting on his thigh, Bradley let his hand come up to your belly. "I ran into Bob one morning last week, and it couldn't have been more obvious, Baby Girl."

You yawned and snuggled in. "You should have told me," you scolded softly. "I saw them kissing. It was the sweetest thing in the world."

Bradley stroked your soft skin as you started to doze. "Nah. You're the sweetest thing in the world." A smile curled along your lips as he juggled the Nugget Notebook to his other thigh and continued to write, this time about how much he loved you.

He let you sleep until you woke on your own and suggested the two of you take a beach walk with Tramp. You were gorgeous, practically glowing in the August sunlight, and that's when Bradley realized it was two years ago almost to the day since the first time he saw you. Since he met the woman who changed his life. You were currently talking about work as you held his hand and smiled as you pulled him along the sand, but he dug his heels in until you came to a stop.

"Roo?" you asked, looking up at him as Tramp pulled on the leash in his other hand.

Two years. He'd spent over a dozen years before that going through the same routine every day but essentially gaining nothing in the process. Work and women and hitting the bar. Shit. Then you had him tearing his life down to the studs just like the attic the first time he laid eyes on you. All he wanted to do was make himself good enough so you'd keep looking at him and smiling at him just like you were right now.

"What's wrong?" you asked, reaching up to touch the scars on his cheek. Your hand was gentle and soft, and he covered it with his own so you'd keep it right where it was. He had a family again. Something he'd given up on until he met you, but then you made impossible things seem possible again. You loved him in spite of himself, or maybe because of himself. You took the loneliness away.

"Nothing's wrong, Sweetheart," he promised, mesmerized by the sunlight on your face. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for you. Of course that's when you pulled your hand free from his cheek, made a miserable face and ran for the trash can at the beach path entrance. Bradley rubbed your back as you threw up and moaned about how much the nugget didn't like avocados.

Then he took you home and attempted to replicate the steak dinner again after you took another nap. He thought he did a pretty decent job with minimal help. The two of you shared a plate, and you sat on his lap while Tramp begged for some scraps. "You ready to go back to work tomorrow?" he asked as you ate some garlic mashed potatoes that weren't quite as creamy as when you made them.

"No," you groaned. "I just want to sleep. But I'm sure Bickel will want to meet so we can fill him in on everything from Annapolis."

He kissed your cheek and whispered, "Maybe we can drive in together tomorrow? Just to spend a little extra time together in the morning?"

You dropped your fork and wrapped your arms around his neck. "You're so sweet, Roo. I can't handle it right now when I'm this horny!"

His eyes went wide as you reached for the front of his shorts. "Holy hell," he groaned, setting his own fork down as you touched him. "I might have to visit you at lunchtime tomorrow, yeah?"

"Please," you whined, your voice just making him harder.

Bradley would never get enough of you. The fact that you demanded a quickie during dinner before returning to your food made his head spin. The fact that you sat on the piano bench with him when you were both done eating while he played a few songs for the nugget made him smile. The fact that you and he were going to be parents left him breathless.

The ride to work in the red Bronco the next morning consisted of some serious hand holding while you drank a can of ginger ale while he drove. "I can't wait for the next appointment with Dr. Morris," he whispered as he kissed your knuckles. "I want some more ultrasound photos."

You laughed as you looked up at both visors which were practically covered with the little baby pictures. "You didn't get enough last time?"

"We need more," he said firmly. "We can tell your parents pretty soon, and then we can tell everyone else. I want to hand the photos out like cigars."

You were still laughing as he parked in the garage on base, and you walked into the building holding hands. He had fifteen minutes until his work hours technically started, and he didn't really care who saw. Bradley kissed you next to the elevators with everything he had, letting you taste his mouth while he worshipped yours. "Go wow Bickel, Baby Girl. I'll come find you at lunchtime, okay?"

You nodded, and Bradley patted your ass as you finally got in the elevator to take you up to your lab. On the way to the locker room, he ran into Jake and Cat who appeared to be doing what you and he had been doing by the elevators. Bradley tried to sneak quietly past, but Cat saw him and pulled away from Jake who whined in response.

"Morning," Cat said to Bradley as she walked away from Jake with a satisfied little smile.

"Wow," Jake drawled as he watched her disappear around the corner. "Thanks for ruining the best part of my day, Bradshaw."

He chuckled as Jake followed him into the locker room. "It's not like you won't see her later."

"I won't," Jake whined. "Not alone anyway. She and I are taking Jeremiah to the movies with Hondo."

Bradley pulled a clean flight suit from this locker and started to get undressed. "So things went well between you and Uncle Bernie last week?"

Jake hummed as he yanked his own shirt off. "You could say that. We've come to a bit of an understanding. I understand that he's protective of Cat, and he understands that I'm not fucking going anywhere."

Bradley thought back to just a few months ago when Hondo was running Jake ragged with countless push ups and sprints. "Next thing I know, you'll be asking her and Jeremiah to move in with you."

"Oh, I already did that," Jake replied easily as he zipped his flight suit over his undershirt. "Yesterday."

Bradley stood there in his compression shorts and tank top. "And?" he asked, gesturing for more information. He loved being on the cutting edge of these things ahead of you, and he knew for a fact that Cat was like a steel trap in comparison to loose-lipped Jake.

Jake shrugged with some annoyance on his face. "She said it's too soon. Then she told me how much she loves me. Then she gave me a blowjob. And now this morning she's making out with me like she can't stand to be apart. So... I don't really know what's up. But I've got plenty of space for both of them at my place, unlike at Hondo's."

When Jake slammed his locker door, Bradley felt apologetic for putting a damper on his good mood. "You haven't been together for very long," he said cautiously.

Jake rolled his eyes as he sat to put his boots on. "Longer than you and Angel were together before you bought her a house."

Oof. He was actually right about that one. "Yeah, but there's a kid involved, you know?"

Jake stood and smirked. "You've got one of those now, too."

Bradley looked around with wide eyes. "Keep it fucking quiet," he hissed, but Jake just laughed.

"The only person with razor sharp hearing is Nat, and if she can hear me all the way from the ladies' room, then good for her," he replied. "See you in the hangar."

Bradley stood there for a few extra seconds in silence before finally pulling on his flight suit. Then he dug around in his locker until he found the ultrasound picture he'd tucked away and gave it a little kiss. The last thing he did before locking everything away was send you a text.

I already miss you. We should have just stayed in bed.

And then he was off to start another week up in the air. He got to the hangar before he ran into anyone else, and he already had his helmet in his hands when Maverick found him and gave him an envelope. Bradley took one look at the raised seal, and his heart plummeted to his feet.

"No," he rasped, his dark eyes meeting those of his dad's best friend who just nodded at him before apologizing and walking away. "Fuck!" Bradley practically shouted before dropping his helmet to the ground and raking his fingers through his hair. He vaguely made out Nat's voice as he started to rip into the envelope with a level of fury he never felt before, because he never had both a wife and a baby on the way before.

He skimmed the page before crumpling the paper in his fist and stared at the ground. His breaths were coming quick and shallow. His skin was crawling. He picked his helmet up and made his way toward his Super Hornet without a glance back toward the buildings.

When he eventually found you in your office at lunchtime, he had to watch your smile slowly fade away only to be replaced by sobs and tear filled eyes.

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

That's a wrap on this series!! Omg, what a ride these two went on! I have a feeling the next one will be even wilder. Please stay tuned for some one-shots featuring Roo, Baby Girl, and the nugget. Then we will pick up later in her pregnancy with a brand new series!!!!! Thanks for all the love, reblogs and comments. They brighten my day and keep me motivated. Big thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

Read the next one-shot! Check my masterlist for more!

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kneelingshadowsalome · 3 months

Note

Hi!! I'm sososo obsessed with Satyr König oml you're a genius (also I've binge read your whole yandere könig tag it's so perfect). Okay so sorry in advance for my English, but:

I can't stop thinking about a shy (and kinda pervert lmao) nymph reader who sees him, sees how big and strong he is and how well he secretly protects all her sisters (and how irresistible his big, thick cock is) and really falls in love and is wildly attracted to him, BUT she's very shy and the idea of telling him her feelings is too mortifying, so when he's out in the woods she sneaks in his den, tidies the place up, brings him some flowers as gifts (yeah im inverting the usual roles lol), snuggles in his bed of furs (maybe touches herself fantasizing about him-) and König, well, notices the changes in his house and is VERY perplexed, so one day he returns earlier than usual and sees this cute, soft and unaware nymph moaning and whimpering in his den, her face against his furs, all wet and willing and ready to mate while she quietly moans his name, eyes closed and face red- he'd go FERAL

The idea of desperately horny satyr König with a more than willing needy nymph makes my brain melt oml

(And btw, do you think you'll ever write Satyr König again, in general?)

Satyr!König goes absolutely feral, yes.

He noticed the lingering sweet scent at the mouth of his den already, a sugary, floral scent that he knows so very well. He knows it to his core, because his nose wants to follow that scent whenever he catches it.

Only nymphs smell this sweet, like flower meadows and moonlight, like spring water and honeycombs. The distinct scent of a kore is eerie, and only gets stronger when he walks further into his lair, but what’s more is that he recognizes who this particular scent belongs to… He has memorized her in his loneliness, and every time he catches a whiff of her in the air outside, he can’t help but grow hard.

He barely even notices the absence of his usual mess, that someone has washed all his cups and put his wine pots in order. His den has seen a lot of brooming, and there are fresh flowers placed on his oaken table, thoughtful bouquets hanged from the roots of his oak. But before he gets to inspect those odd little things further – he’s used to trampling flowers out in the wild, he never even thought of using them as decoration, but they do look kind of nice, don’t they? – he hears a soft whimper from the back of the den.

From where he sleeps, and isn’t it peculiar how he can now smell something else, now, too… Something irresistibly heady, something that demands action at once, making his cock stir and swell to the point where it’s almost painful. There’s another soft moan, calling to him like an enchanted flute: his whole den has changed from a dark dungeon into a soft, scented temple, echoing with the sounds of a maiden in heat.

He finds her spread over his thick, musky furs, furs that have seen countless lonely nights, and have to be changed every turn of the moon because they’re so grimy. She doesn’t seem to have any trouble with laying down in his filth, the rough furs that smell of seed and satyr sweat, of old musk and maybe a few tears. Satyrs cannot cry, they say, but that’s only because no one ever sees them do so. He’s spilled more than his fill of salt on that makeshift bed, and not all of it was ropes of hot seed…

“P–please…”

She sees him, sees how surprised he is catching her here, in the place all nymphs always try to evade. She sees how hard he is while watching her bare and panting there, all over his furs, lips swollen from lust. Both up and down, her lips are wet and quivering; she’s completely ready to be taken, and only the tiniest sliver of respect prevents him from fucking her senseless right here and right now.

“Please, I beg of you…”

But when she begs for it like that…?

He doesn’t hesitate a moment longer. He simply cannot.

And why waste time on thinking how she got here (or more importantly, why she got here?) Why mull on the hot question of why isn’t the loveliest creature on earth trying to get away from him?

“No need to beg,” he grunts as he lays himself upon her, cock hot and already leaking as it finds her entrance.

The smell of ambrosia envelops him as he glides inside, the whimper from his nymph a song of paradise. She smiles softly at such immediate lust, or is it the sun that comes out of the clouds, somehow reaching under the branches of this oak?

She welcomes him with open arms, a tear falling down her temple and into her hair as he tries to be gentle with her. But it’s not really his size or his lust that makes her cry. Her hands trail up and down his sides, they try to desperately wrap around his wide torso. She looks into his eyes while he starts to rut her, amazed to have been granted such a blessing at all.

“I’m in love with you,” she sighs into the air between them, her eyes glimmering with worship in the dim, earthy dusk of his den.

He messes up with his thrusts, breathing out his shock while hovering over her. She’s so delicate and frail, and so desperate for a nymph who’s supposed to be frolicking in the open fields… She should be climbing in the tall trees and giggling at centaurs from there, she should be admiring the full moon and the stars, she should be playing in the freshwater with her sisters.

He always thought this one feared him the most, slinking into the shadows beneath the trees whenever she saw him. Casting her eyes down as if she didn’t want him to notice her at all, never mocking or teasing him like the others did. That’s why he left her alone: because he didn’t want to break her. She was far too pure for someone like him.

But now she’s here, with flowers and a hot, wet body, trying to grab him so hopelessly in her fragile embrace…

“You can’t say things like that, little one,” he warns, feeling something akin to fear for the first time in his life.

“Why not…? It’s true,” she chimes there beneath him, a few more tears of joy rolling down her cheeks.

His chest is burning, but the only sound that comes out of him is a low growl. A warning and a plea.

“You shouldn’t tease an old faun.”

“And you shouldn’t stop what you only just started...”

He blinks at her answer, at her soft smile.

Then, he shoots down to kiss her neck.

She moans from love when he opens his mouth, careful not to puncture her delicate flesh with his teeth: he only devours his nymph with soft hunger, licking and sucking her soft skin. Her giggles and sighs drive him to the sweetest madness as he starts to make love to her under the earth.

His home has never heard such cries of joy, felt or seen such displays of devotion… He returns her confessions thousandfold, in every way he can. These silly little creatures always fear a satyr’s love is only about lust, and therefore escape such hollow adoration, but he’s not here to just ease the pain in his sacks.

He’s now forever bound to her, whether she knows it or not…

#satyr!könig #nymph!reader #tw: lovemaking #könig x reader #purple prose

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eiightysixbaby · 9 months

Note

Wait! Rockstar!Eddie. Straddling Eddie before his show helping him put his eyeliner on, your so close to his face as you concentrate on not poking his big brown eyes. His grip on your waist is hard. He can feel you trembling and can see your hands shaking. He moves his hips on purpose making you gasp. Your wearing a skirt on purpose and he knows you don’t have anything else on underneath 😫

don’t do this to me. don’t. do. this. to me. rockstar!eddie is my weakness.

you love any excuse to help him get ready for shows, so it’s a no brainer when he asks if you’ll do his eyeliner for him. the sheer thought of him in smudged black eyeliner gets you worked up, and you don’t do a good job at hiding it. you straddle his lap where he sits on the couch in his dressing room, his big hands immediately coming to hold your waist, rings cold against your scorching skin. your hands fumble with the eyeliner pencil as you take the cap off, almost dropping it on the cushions beneath you.

Eddie almost makes you nervous when you’re so close to him like this, he’s simply too pretty to handle. you don’t know how to control yourself, getting all giddy and shy. his breathing is measured as your gentle hand comes up to draw the waxy black substance along his eyelid. you hold his face still with your other hand, trying so hard not to flinch and poke his eye out when his thumbs rub small circles on your lower back. his eyes are half-lidded when you pull the pencil away momentarily, lashes fluttering as he blinks at you expectantly. he’s so hot like this, dressed in his stage garb, confidence radiating off of him. you smudge the liner with the pads of your fingers just a little bit, perfecting the rockstar look.

you tremble as you move to the other eye, your brain using all of its power to focus on doing Eddie’s makeup rather than the feeling of his hands inching closer to your ass every second. he senses how worked up you are, rolling his hips up into you once you’ve pulled your hand away from his eye for a moment. you gasp, biting your lip between your teeth. the skimpy little skirt you’re wearing is only helping you, the fabric riding so far up your thighs and giving Eddie such easy access if he wants it. he smirks, tilting his chin up to kiss your jawline, nibbling just a little bit. you whine softly, desperately trying to finish the makeup on his other eye.

“what’s got you so worked up, sweetheart? it can’t be little old me, hm?” he purrs, rolling his hips against you once more, as if to punctuate his sentence.

“y-you’re teasing me,” you pout, putting the cap back on the eyeliner and setting it down on the table.

“oh? am I?” he taunts, craning his neck towards you again to kiss your earlobe. he sucks the delicate bit of flesh into his mouth. “I would’ve guessed this is what you wanted… considering that sorry excuse for a skirt you’re wearing,” he continues, his hot breath tickling your ear and giving you goosebumps. “…and considering you’re wearing nothing underneath, I think I would be correct,” his voice is a low rumble, fingers brushing against your bare cunt for only a moment before he draws them away.

you moan, this time grinding yourself against him. you can feel how hard he is, and you grind yourself down once more, letting the outline of his cock create perfect friction where you need it most. he just watches you with a smug smirk plastered on his lips, letting you get yourself off on him. he’s guiding your movements with strong arms and steady hands, groaning when you whimper his name. you know he has to go on stage any minute now, but you don’t really care. let him be late, let him walk on stage with your juices soaking his jeans, hickeys on his neck. he knows you’re close when your cries of his name become repetitive, just Eddie Eddie Eddie over and over, your head thrown back as your clit catches on the fabric of his jeans. eager fans waiting for the band to come onstage shout Eddie Eddie Eddie just the same, and it spurs you on to know that you’re the one that gets to have him.

you completely soak him when you cum, but it doesn’t phase him. he’s sick, and he loves it. he plays his show with soaked black denim clinging to his legs, winking at you when he spots you in the crowd. all he can think about is how good he’s gonna fuck you once the show’s over.

#leah’s got mail 💌#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson smut

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heeliopheelia · 7 months

Text

"was that your first kiss?" (heeseung x reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.7k requested by nonnie ♡

a/n: last heeseung drabble for this event!! i had so much fun writing this, i'll probably expand this idea a little more in the future!! im so tired im falling on my face rn so i'll do a grammar check tomorrow!! 🤍

masterlist

It's hilarious, really, how your campus' it boy Lee Heeseung seems to be absolutely smitten with you.

With the mentioned above man hot on your heels like a shadow, you try your best not to get distracted and keep putting the pile of books back on their rightful place on old shelves. Paying no attention to his stubborn tailing you, you bite back a smile at his soft grunt when he stumbles into another table corner for the nth time this hour.

Without no words needed anymore, you hand him one of the books and he automatically slides it onto the top shelf where you can't reach.

This has been going on for about two months now – you spending your afternoons helping the elderly campus librarian putting back the returned books, and Heeseung entertaining you with his presence as he relentlessly tries to work for this date with you that he's been yearning for for such a long time.

"Are you free this Friday?" He asks suddenly and you send him a glance. He leans one shoulder against the tall bookshelf and beams at you. "We have a game at 6, you have to come. I won't be able to make it into the hoop without seeing your pretty little face cheering on me from the stands."

"Sounds to me like you're not that good of a player if you won't," you bite back playfully but don't say no to his offer. The both of you know well that you'll come just as you did the last five times.

Heeseung's smile broadens as he closes the distance between the two of you a little more. "Every athlete needs a lil something to get them going. In my case it's you, my muse."

You can't help but scoff at his blatant flirtation and with a shake of your head you take a step back in an attempt to get a hold of your hammering heart again.

And with a yelp, you trip over the bag that you've carelessly tossed to the floor some hours before, and stumble forward – straight into Heeseung's chest. Not wasting any second more and risking the chance of you backing away, he takes the opportunity of having you this close to him and cups your chin with his long fingers, only to lean down and plant a kiss right on your lips. You freeze in your place, stunned with the sudden new feeling as you heart nearly beats out of your chest.

He pulls away to check up on you, hoping he didn't cross any of your boundaries, but when he sees your sparkly eyes looking at him with such astonishment, face flushed so fucking adorably, he can't help but mold your lips back together again. He nibbles at the plush of your lip gently, thumb sliding to your chin to tug it down slightly and allowing him to deepen the kiss a little more.

There are no thoughts present on your mind other than Heeseung and his stupidly charming smirk and his stupidly confident attitude and his stupidly handsome face that never seems to leave your mind for even a second.

When he pulls away, he's met with your stunned face, eyes fluttering open and gaping right into his. He bites back a laugh as you remain speechless, a fat blush arising on your cheeks.

"Was that your first kiss?" He ends up asking, hand reaching up to brush the stray strand of hair out of your eyes. When all you do is nod your head sheepishly, eyes desperately avoiding his, he lets a wide grin spread on his lips. "Yeah? I was your first?"

You smack his arm gently and feel your ears burning when he catches your hand and intertwines it with his one.

"Shut up." You say and the quiet mutter squeezes at Heeseung's heart mercilessly.

And, god, he's so pathetic. So in love with you that if his teammates caught him in such state, he probably wouldn't hear the end of it until the day of his graduation.

"So you'll come? Right?"

With a roll of your eyes you close the distance parting your faces and mumble into his lips, "Yes, you idiot."

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01zfan · 4 months

Text

delusional | j. sc

ex-bf!sungchan x fem!reader | 5k words

this was originally a request but i lost my mind somewhere along the way. i hope this is to your liking

contains: weed smoking, consensual high sex, unprotected sex, cheating, sungchan is lowkey toxic till he meets his match. basically you and ur ex are in the middle of an idgaf war.

“i can’t believe she hangs out with him now.” sungchan points from his lunch tray to you and the man you’re walking with.

sungchan would’ve never taken you for the type to date someone after him. sungchan had that thought with all of his girlfriends. eventually the girls would move on and each time sungchan would be flabbergasted. how could any of his exes ever find someone that would put up with their attitude, pay for everything, and fuck them like he did? sungchan would always be the one to end things, making girls crawl back to ask him to be on their roster. he would always oblige of course, all of his exes were gorgeous and amazing in bed. but he just was never ready for commitment.

you were different from them. when sungchan gave you the same rehearsed lines he told the girls before you, all you did was shrug your shoulders. you didn’t beg him to stay, or ask what you did wrong. you didn’t try to bargain, which is what the girls usually did first. instead you just left his dorm and never came back. sungchan waited by his phone for your desperate late night text or a sobbing voicemail. it never came. he even embarrassingly waited after one of your classes to see you disheveled, not caring about your appearance after going through such a hard breakup. but you were shining and smiling, dressed well. sungchan ignored the pang he felt in his chest when he saw how happy you looked. that pang, however was quickly replaced with anger when he saw your new boy toy trailing behind you.

“she’s always been friends with haechan.” eunseok doesn’t even have to look behind him to know who sungchan is talking about. you and your lab partner have been the topic of every conversation since he saw you two together last week. without even meaning to, sungchan found a way to incorporate you and your new boyfriend into every conversation.

“they were always in the same group, there’s a difference. now he follows her like a fucking lost puppy everywhere on campus.” sungchan sets his food to the side.

“he’s lost his appetite.” shotaro laughs and eunseok has to hide his smile behind another bite of food.

“i’m full.” sungchan said, dropping his fork on his plate. his two friends are no help in consoling him. he sees them try and hold their composure, to take him seriously. sungchan has of course brought girls over to their shared apartment. shotaro and eunseok bared witness to the steady stream of women sungchan surrounded himself with. when they’d bring them up in conversation, sungchan always had to be reminded of which girl they were talking about.

“oh the girl from biology? yeah she was crazy.” sungchan said nonchalantly, clicking through shows on netflix.

shotaro and eunseok have told sungchan multiple times that he was the problem. they even made a rule where sungchan could no longer bring over girls. the pair were confused when you started popping around the apartment in the daytime. usually sungchan had his sexcapades at night, trying to sneak his girls out in the morning before his roommates woke up. but suddenly you were there and sungchan would bring you up, not needing any reminders on who you were.

eunseok covers his mouth with his hand trying to hide his laugh.

“oh it’s real serious.” eunseok says.

shotaro joins in. sungchan looked at you and your new man. you two were coming towards his table. sungchan straightened his posture and cleared his throat. shotaro and eunseok looked behind them. when they saw you two coming towards the table they turned back to sungchan wide eyed and tight lipped, still holding back laughs.

sungchan shot them a look that said behave, but you walked by them like it was nothing. you barely spared a glance in his direction. you had a certain pride in your walk, or maybe it was a bounce brought on by not having to carry your books. haechan trailed behind you, holding your things underneath his tray. sungchan wanted to scoff at haechan–to laugh at him for becoming your errand boy. until sungchan remembers you having him the same way. he held everything of yours. sungchan would take them from your hands wordlessly, he hated seeing you carry things when his hands were free. but that was different from haechans’ situation. he did it in a chivalrous gentlemanly way. haechan did it in a pathetic and desperate way.

you sat with haechan at a table in the back corner. sungchan recognized your friends, but he couldn’t name them. maybe they were your other friends. why would you let haechan meet your friends so fast? it took you months before you let sungchan meet your friends.

“that’s tough dude.” shotaro said.

“real tough.” eunseok agreed.

although shotaro and eunseok were talking to him, sungchan wasn’t looking at them. he was too busy looking at how you were sitting next to haechan. whatever someone said made you laugh. nobody is more funny than him so why were you laughing so hard? you had your hand on haechan’s shoulder and pinched it. the same thing you used to do to him. sungchan wanted to get up and go over to your table. he was starting to feel like he didn’t even exist to you anymore. then you looked at him.

you leaned back in the chair and locked eyes with sungchan. he was expecting you to look away, the way girls would look away when he caught them staring. instead you held eye contact, your look was neutral. sungchan’s eyes widened and now he was the one compelled to look away. when you waved at him, it took less than a second for sungchan to wave back. sungchan half expected you to start crawling over to him, refusing to stand your ground any longer. but you just look at him and smirk, going back to your conversation.

“she’s got you good.” shotaro said.

“real good.” eunseok said.

sungchan gave his friends the most intense glare of his life. this had no effect on the two while they continued to eat their food. he didn’t even get to tell his friends the worst part of it all. you had made your instagram a private account and locked down your twitter. you were hiding yourself, locking your heaven away from your snooping ex. sungchan wanted the ability to still look at your face and see your thoughts, but it was no longer possible. eunseok and shotaro would just tell him he’s lucky you didn’t block him, but sungchan wondered if blocking would’ve been better for his peace of mind. soft blocking and removing him from everything was like putting you just out of reach from him. you being so close but so far away made sungchan the most desperate he’s ever felt. it was sick, but late at night he would wonder if the girls he broke up with felt the way he did.

after eunseok and shotaro were done eating, sungchan was finally able to leave. he couldn’t leave without his friends walking beside him. that would only make him look more like a loser. so now sungchan walked behind his friends, trying to seem as cool and mysterious and nonchalant as possible while he walked by your table. sungchan felt someone’s eyes on him and he hoped they were yours.

sungchan went on the rest of his day with you on his mind. he kept waiting for a follow request, a text, an email, anything. he just kept thinking about how annoying it was that you weren’t feining for his attention like all his girls before you. sungchan passed by your dormitory on his way home. he looked up the tall archaic building, staring at what he believed to be your window. he thought about the nights he would spend there when your roommate was gone.

sungchan remembered being cuddled up to you underneath your sheets. he liked when you made him be the little spoon. sungchan would always protest but he loved feeling you behind him and your arms around his large frame. he wondered if you made haechan be the little spoon too. he wondered if haechan was sleeping in your bed while you did your homework. he thought about you sleepily climbing up the ladder of your lofted bed to see him waiting for you. sungchan couldn’t stop thinking about your new man curled up next to you. he wondered if your hands drifted over haechan’s body while he felt you up. before sungchan could get a hold of his thoughts, he was opening the door to your building.

your RA didn’t even look up from her desk when sungchan came in. he went to the hallway your room was in and walked down the hallway.

sungchan used to be proud that he knew his way around this all girl dormitory. he thinks about the hushed whispers of girls sneaking him in, or reading directions off his phone. he couldn’t tell you were half those girls’ rooms were now, but he still remembered yours.

sungchan stood in front of your door. he couldn’t bring himself to knock. sungchan knew he stuck out like a sore thumb. anyone opening the door would question him, and he could get in big trouble if the RA found him wandering the halls of the all girls housing like a ghost. but sungchan didn’t care. he suddenly felt antsy, imagining you on the other side of the door. before he could knock, his phone started going off in his back pocket. maybe it was divine intervention. sungchan grabbed his phone and nearly dropped it when your photo and caller ID took up the whole screen.

he quickly looked around the dorm hallway, completely empty except for him. did he know you were here? did your RA let you know your crazy ex who is completely over you was waiting outside your door?

sungchan started tiptoeing down the hallway through a back entrance where he wouldn’t have to see the RA. he didn’t answer your ring until he was in the courtyard outside of your building.

“hello?” sungchan was out of breath. he pulled the bottom of his phone away from his mouth. he had to seem as unaffected as possible.

“were you working out or something?”

“why are you calling me?” sungchan mustered all of his strength to sound curt, but he was walking around in circles with a hand in his pocket. he kicked a rock around with a smile on his face as he heard you thinking on the other end of the line.

“i left my pipe at your place.”

“i gave it to eunseok.” sungchan says. which is partially true, he gave your glass pipe to his friend for safe keeping.

“can you bring it to me?”

sungchan wanted to tease you for reaching out to him first. he was no idiot, he knew that the pipe was just an excuse to call him.

“what’s in it for me?” sungchan asks.

“maybe i’ll let you inside my apartment so you don’t have to wait outside my door like a fucking stalker.”

sungchan hangs his phone up immediately. how’d you know he was outside your door? he thinks back to your RA, how she looked kind of familiar. realization hit sungchan like a freight train when he recognized the RA as one of your closest friends. despite his embarrassment, sungchan was ecstatic to get a semi invitation into your apartment again. so he ran the half mile to get to his apartment.

sungchan was grateful that neither of his roommates were home. he was in and out in a flash, stealing a joint from eunseok’s collection. he left a ten in the place of the joint, and a text for the pipe that he was going to run to his ex like an errand boy. this was so unlike him, to be at someone beck and call. but he couldn’t help it, not when he was thinking about being in the warmth of your apartment.

sungchan walked back into your dorm the same way he did prior, this time the RA was staring him down. he gave a wave, trying to save face. sungchan was sure they were laughing at him in whatever groupchat you had, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

when he knocked at your door, you left him waiting. when you finally opened it, your eyes went to the pipe and the joint first.

sungchan walked into your dorm. it felt like a century since he had seen your place.

“you can sit down. you look like you ran a mile.” you say, shutting and locking the door behind you.

sungchan obliges, he was tired from running around campus doing your bidding. when he sits at your desk he sees various weed paraphernalia, ranging from a vape to a bong. he sees a miniature pipe. before he can chide you for having too much stuff, you come to him with two cups of water.

“get on the bean bag instead.”

sungchan got up a little too quickly from your desk to sit on the bean bag. it was next to your seat but a lower. his long legs had to be bent so he could sit up right. he felt your shag rug underneath his feet. it was soft and he picked at it with his hand.

“is this new?” sungchan pointed at your shag while you packed the bowl.

“present.” you said simply. sungchan wanted to trace over the slight frown you had from concentration.

“it’s soft. i like it.” sungchan says.

you look up from packing the bowl and smirk.

“haechan picked out the color.”

sungchan tried his best to control his expression but he couldn’t help frustration that flashed across his face. you basked in him trying to show you he didn’t care. he was really too easy. you put the bowl into the bong and prepped yourself.

“your RA just let me walk in, you know. she should be fired.” sungchan laughed.

“you know she’s my roommate right? she saw you come in and texted me.” you say matter of factly. atleast sungchan was right thinking he knew her from somewhere.

“you ready?” sungchan held his lighter to the base of the bong, ready to ignite the bud sitting in the bowl. he wasn’t normally this chatty when smoking a girl out, but he found himself wanting to say as many words to you as possible.

with your lips to the mouthpiece you nodded, and sungchan lit the left side of the bowl. it was something random he remembered about you, how you always said the left side was the best side. you looked at sungchan and smiled. he could feel you looking at him and had to clear his throat to stop himself from smiling. he was too easy sungchan thought. maybe him and haechan weren’t so different after all.

you took the hit from the bong like a champ, breathing in the smoke till the pipe was clear. once you pulled away, you sucked in an extra puff of air, to really get it in your lungs.

“attagirl.” sungchan said softly as he watched your chest raise up, staying there for a moment. you let the air out, staring at sungchan as you did so. he looked a little different. was he wearing a different shirt than when you saw him in the dining hall?

eventually the hits started getting to you. you considered yourself lucky to be a lightweight when it came to weed. just from two bong hits and the joint you felt floaty. you looked at sungchan’s hooded and bleary eyes, wondering if yours looked the same.

“you still smoke?” you asked sungchan. he nodded, holding back a cough while he handed you the joint.

“taro and eunseok rubbed off on me. i don’t do it as much as i used too though.”

“eunseok rolls the best joints. thank him for me.” you cough after taking another hit. you were definitely high now.

“how do you know eunseok rolled this?” sungchan looked at the joint in his hand. he was pretty high already and he could tell you were too. his tolerance had been lowered since you two stopped seeing eachother. sungchan now only smoked when his two roommates did.

he held up the ashtray to you. you took in one last drag then knocked off the ash. it was half gone, but that’s more than enough for you to enjoy later. instead of answering sungchan’s question, you motioned for him to come in front of you. he obeyed you almost immediately, sitting in front of you. you bent over until your mouth was ghosting over his. focusing on his lips, you slowly pushed the smoke cloud into sungchan’s mouth. he took all of it while looking directly into your eyes. his eyes were open so wide you could see his sclera was red and bloodshot. when his hands reached up, you put your hands on his shoulders. it stopped him from reaching up to your face and pulling you in for a kiss, the thing he’d always do when you two smoked together. sungchan instead let his hands rest on your knees. when all the smoke was out of your mouth you pulled away like nothing happened.

“he put mullein in here. to help with the irritation and everything.” you handed the joint to sungchan for the final time. he put out the joint and placed it in a small plastic cylindrical container.

sungchan knew that you put your weed in the tiny wooden box that was next to him on the rug. he had seen you do it a million times before. but sungchan also knew he needed to feel you in his space while you leaned over him to get to the box. so he handed the container to you, and you entered his orbit smelling like vanilla and something else, maybe something new that you put in your hair. you linger there for a moment and he’s tempted to lean in and kiss your cheek, to pull you on top of him. sungchan has to close his eyes when you put your hand on his knee to push off of to get in a comfortable position back in your chair.

after you placed the joint in the desk, you leaned fully into your comfortable chair, feeling like you were going to become one with the cushion. you looked at sungchans’ hand, that had moved up from your knee to your thigh. thought about tracing the veins on his hand. you thought about putting your hand on his and dragging it further up your leg. you were definitely high now.

“that’s nice of him.” sungchan pretended like he remembered what the hell you guys were talking about. “should we open your window?”

“just stay right here.” you said, leaning even more into the chair. sungchan let his hand trace shapes on your thigh.

you try to think about how cruel it is of your ex to breakup with you and expect you to come crawling back. sungchan’s reputation preceded him, you had been warned about his behavior. you try to think about how he loved you and left you fast, trying to remember what you did wrong. instead all you can think about it why you stuck around for as long as you did. you try not to think about how nice it would feel to fuck him on your new shag rug.

“i’m guessing your roommate won’t be back for awhile?” sungchan has a look that sends shivers up your spine. you nod.

“haechan is coming over in like thirty minutes.” you add.

“you gonna cancel on him?” sungchan’s hand creeps higher and higher up your leg.

you get off the chair, pushing it out of the way and you sit in front of sungchan, looking him in the eye.

“no, i’m telling you that you have thirty minutes.”

almost instantly, sungchan pulls you closer to him. your hands find his chest, fisting the fabric of his tee that is keeping you from seeing his abs. you clumsily find the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up for him to get the hint.

sungchan pulls away from you to take his shirt off. it’s thrown somewhere in the room and he pushes back into you, lips finding yours quickly. usually when you guys had high sex it was different. it wouldn’t be any less intense than it was currently—with sungchan pulling your pants down and pushing your bra up to reveal your boobs—just slower. if sungchan wasn’t under a time constraint he would’ve loved to draw out your pleasure, making you cry out his name for your whole building to hear. he wanted to spend the day kissing you, leaving marks on all your body parts he hasn’t been able to see. to make you come crawling back to him, to beg him for more. but now he had to settle for a quickie before your new boyfriend came knocking at your door.

sungchan pushes you down to lay on the shag rug. your bottoms and shirt are gone, only leaving you in a sports bra that is pulled down. you see your ex do a once over of your body. you don’t know if it’s because of your high but it takes forever until sungchan touches you. it's just one finger and a light touch. he drags his finger from the valley of your breasts all the way down to your navel. you’re twitching just from this, brought on by a certain horniness only weed gives you. your gasp is depraved and desperate as sungchan spreads your legs by your thighs.

“you fucking haechan now?” sungchan asks. he looks up from you from between your legs. you want to push his head down, so he will shut up with his stupid jealousy and do what you called him here to do. you prop yourself up by your shoulders to look at him.

“if i am, it's none of your business.” you bend your knees, debating on closing your thighs around sungchan’s head.

“that’s a yes?” sungchan kisses the soft skin of your thighs. he looks you in your eyes as he sucks harshly on your skin. “there’s no way he is fucking you right.”

you let out a sigh and lean your head back.

“oh yeah?” you say, trying to egg him on. sungchan was always chatty during sex but the jealousy dripping from every sentence made you squirm.

“there’s no way he knows how you like it. or how to handle you” sungchan kisses your clit. you hate how affectionate he’s being with you, especially after breaking up with you. like he’s still your boyfriend or something. you move your hand to the back of his head and lightly push him into your heat.

“you’re wasting time.” you say lightly. sungchan looks at the digital clock next to your bed. he ducks his head into your heat, instantly getting to work. you let your body rest on the shag again. already you feel like you’re losing your mind. as much as you hated to admit it, you weren’t getting fucked the way you needed to. having sungchan in between your legs devouring you made you realize how depraved you really were. the weed in your system also made every sensation feel new and exciting. you were moaning, body lifting off the bed when sungchan started fucking you with his tongue. when he picked up your bottom half to bring even closer to him, you were done for. within five minutes, sungchan pulled from you with slick covering the bottom half of his mouth.

“such a good girl for me.” sungchan said to your lower half, leaving one final kiss. sungchan moved his body up yours. before he could give you a kiss, you flipped over, sticking your ass in the air. you decided he doesn’t get the privilege to kiss you in between moments of intimacy.

“so mean to me baby. after i just made you cum too.” sungchan fake pouted as he took off his pants. you said nothing back to him. when sungchan returned behind you, he roughly pulled you back so your ass was touching his dick. when he was high, sungchan’s intrusive thoughts always won. that’s why he started slapping your ass with his dick, fixated on how your ass jiggled with each hit.

“i haven’t fucked any girls since we broke up.” sungchan murmured. he was moving your ass around now. you were so pliant for him while simultaneously refusing to give him the validation of being your ex. he wanted you more than anything.

“you don’t have to wear a condom.”

“awww you won’t give haechan any pussy? still hung up on your ex or somethin’?” sungchan’s hands rested on your ass. he tried to sound indifferent as he teased you, but hearing that news made him undeniably happy. haechan wishes he could see you like this.

sungchan slowly spread you out one last time. he held his dick in his hand and summoned all the spit he had in his dry mouth. after a glob of spit landed on his length, he did a few quick pumps. when he slid into you, you both let out prolonged whimpers and moans. something about the way you were already clenching around him made him dig his teeth into his lip.

when he was fully inside of you, sungchan moved one hand to the small of your back to press you down. his other hand spread your thighs more so he could slot in between him. with each movement, you sucked in a little bit of air. you purposely clenched around him just to revel in the fact that he was inside of you completely. sungchan slowly pulled out just to go back in just as slow. you reached out a hand to him and he held your hand, pinning it against your back.

sungchan could barely control himself as he looked at you in your current state. your walls fluttering around his dick while you had a vice grip on your rug. he thought about how you had such a pretty backside while he ran his hand down your spine. sungchan wanted to say he missed this view, that he missed you. instead he gave your ass a light smack.

“still as big as you remember?” sungchan smirked. you clenched around him again. he was obsessed with teasing you in bed. you always would react to whatever he’d say and he loved the fact that you had a mouth on you too.

“i’ve had bigger.” you say, biting your lip to hold back a moan. sungchan gives you another slap.

“i think she disagrees.” he says while picking up his speed. “i can barely move she’s holding me so tight.”

sungchan looked at the clock again. he had about ten minutes. it was strange how time passed when he was having fun. he wanted to get lost in you, but he had to focus on making you feel as much as he could in the next ten minutes. he moved a hand down to your clit. he rubbed slow circles. he laughed because it was hard to multitask, the weed making his brain fuzzy.

“what’s so funny?” you moaned. you tried to sound rude but the spot that sungchan was hitting made you fold. before you knew it you were rocking your hips back into him, whimpers falling from your lips.

“just wanna make you feel good, baby. i can tell you haven’t done this in awhile.” sungchan said. he was starting to get lost in the feeling of you too.

“thank you.” you moaned. you had no control over what you were saying and thinking anymore. the slapping of skin and moans filled the room and the view of sungchan fucking you filled your mind.

“such a sweetheart.” sungchan intertwined your fingers with his.

he gripped your hand tightly, increasing his speed. you were at his mercy, other hand searching for something to stabilize your body. you tightened your grip on his hand. sungchan leaned over, pushing you down to a position that had him hitting deeper than before. you turned to jelly underneath him, moaning louder than before. he brought a hand over your mouth while he brought his lips to your ear.

“you hear that?” sungchan said, biting your earlobe. you didn’t have to listen hard to hear the squelching. the lewd wet sound filled your ears. “she’s saying she misses me.” sungchan smiled against your ear. him talking to you like that had you seeing stars, whole body on fire.

“i’m gonna cum.” you say, muffled behind his hand. sungchan understood you perfectly, cooing to you while he picked up the pace of his hips and fingers.

you came undone while sungchan sucked on your neck. he continued his ministration on your clit as you said his name in broken cries. sungchan came shortly after you clenched around him. his thrusts went from hard and slow, trying to give his all to you. he continued to thrust even after you were both done with your high, enjoying the overstimulation. when he was done he didn’t pull out, but instead collapsed on top of you.

you let him stay like that. it felt nice being surrounded by sungchan again. his body was sweaty and warm against yours, and his arms wrapped around you made you feel secure. even though you could feel yourself getting crushed, you reveled in it. this would be the last time in your life you’d ever see sungchan so you let him stay like that, even after hearing knocks on your door.

#requestz #01zfan: sungchan #sungchan smut #riize smut

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