#i was gripping the seat for a LITTLE BEE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

urhoneycombwitch · 4 months

Text

I know what they call you.

🍯 honey flavour: You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you.

🐝 the bees: Eddie x shy!Reader, best friends Steve + Robin

wc: 11k

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous.

Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

___

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after.

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music.

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm.

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways.

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask.

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him.

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return.

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me.

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm.

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot.

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house.

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids.

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of.

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again.

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty.

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair.

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke.

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code.

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter.

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive.

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily.

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending. “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out.

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them.

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in.

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it.

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom.

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth.

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits.

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring.

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence.

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music.

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around.

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows.

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic.

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms.

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate.

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart.

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down.

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement.

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?”

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard.

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs.

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands.

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel.

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves.

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own.

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours.

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp.

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch.

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

��Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights.

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown.

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you.

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him.

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation.

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam.

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie.

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders.

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh.

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,”

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips.

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x shy! reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #robin buckley #steve harrington #mdni

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chosopie · 22 days

Text

DEALER - RYOMEN SUKUNA

cw: mentions of drugs

“It’s twenty thousand yen now,” you puff a ring of smoke to his scrunched up face.

“What the fuck? It was only ten thousand last time. Are you trying to fuck with me?” Sukuna clicked his tongue and looked away, trying his best to contain his frustration.

“Supply is getting expensive and I’ve got bills to pay,” you sighed.

“I don’t got enough on me right now,” he dug his hands into his pockets. “Can’t you give me a discount, doll? I’m a loyal customer.”

Doll. Did he really think he could sweet-talk his way out of this?

“No.”

“Come on,” Sukuna moved closer, placing his hand on the side of your arm and running them up and down. “Ten thousand and a little something else.”

You laughed. “What could that possibly be?”

Despite your desire for money, there were other things you desperately wanted. You were searching for a different kind of high no other drug could give you.

Sukuna’s face was now buried between your thighs while you were seated on the back seat of his car. His tongue aggressively swiped your folds, licking every droplet of your sweet juice. He was attached to your the same way a bee would be attached to a flower, drinking up the nectar until it was full; except, he was never full. He knew no limits.

If there was one thing Sukuna was known for, it was his appetite. He wasn’t just a foodie, he was also a munch. He ate you out like a starved man. He would nip and suck on your aching clit, leaving you shaking and breathless. Your hands gripped his messy pink hair and tugged on them while his name dripped out of your mouth along with some breathy moans.

You were so overwhelmed with pleasure, you felt your legs grow weak. You tried to close them, but Sukuna would force them open again. Every time you’d move, he’d stop and bite on the plump flesh of your thigh, leaving red teeth marks on them.

“So close to cumming,” you panted, drool running down your lip.

Sukuna smirked and wiped the spit off the corner of your lip. “Guess you didn’t need the other ten thousand after all.”

“Shut up. I’m charging you more next time.”

“Sure you will,” he rolled his eyes and chuckled.

His pace had quickened, and he put more pressure onto your poor clit. He kept licking and sucking, your juice smeared all over the bottom half of his face. His hands were firmly planted on your thighs, gripping them so tight his nails started digging into your skin. Your eyes were shut as you felt your climax coming, a warm and tight feeling swirled around your stomach and you couldn’t stop your legs from shaking. Sukuna groaned against your core, his tongue quickly working its way around your pussy.

“Fuck, ‘Kuna. Can’t hold it anymore.”

“Just cum on my face, pretty girl.”

Sukuna pushed his face deeper, his nose slightly nudging you while he continued to drag his tongue across your pussy. You moaned and squirmed as you reached your high, making a mess on Sukuna’s pretty face, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m looking forward to our next deal,” Sukuna winked at you and slipped another roll of cash into your pocket.

tags: @torureadz

#rev.writes #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #jjk x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk sukuna

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notroosterbradshaw · 5 months

Text

about: just some smut to fend off jetlag. i love sleepy Bradley, I make no excuses that I feel he does his best work in the early hours of the day. This was supposed to be a drabble… it’s not anymore. Sorry.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

masterlist.

The morning after the night before when Bradley met your family for the first time, you'd flown across the world to surprise your dad for his birthday and really, it luckily coincided with Bradley's time off. When you mentioned heading home for your old man's special day that usually kicked off your family's holiday season, you almost fell out of your seat when he said maybe it was time he met the fam face-to-face, not just making small talk over FaceTime. It almost didn’t seem fair that he was subjected to meeting everyone this way, but alas… here you were the next morning, jet lag kicking in while wrapped protectively in Bradley’s strong, golden arms and washed in the relief your family fucking loved him. You weren't overly surprised.

Bradley's quiet, unassuming charm was just who your mum wanted you to end up with, he was into golf and surfing, so your dad and brothers thought he was the bee's knees. Your sister on the other hand...

You had to fend her off more than you would have liked. You were confident in your relationship with Bradley, knowing he'd never allow anything to happen. "You're coming across a little desperate," you hissed after one or two drinks, which mortified her, and she apologised, admitting she was just happy to finally get to meet the guy who'd swept you off your feet. "Yes, my feet," you reminded her. When she pointed out how possessive you sounded, you didn't deny it. But she got it and gave you space for the rest of the evening.

Ahh, sisters.

Bradley felt your body writhe in the gentlest of movements against his and he sighed. Sleep hadn’t come easy for either of you and compounded with the food and booze you’d indulged in the day before, neither of you slept much. “You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered at God-knows-what-o’clock.

“What time is it?” You asked softly.

“I dunno, baby. Sun is barely rising,” he admitted. “Can’t hear a peep in the house.”

Which was nice because yesterday was intense. Everyone was so excited to meet your new American boyfriend (fairly, it’d been about eight months, give or take with a few deployments), the incredibly handsome navy pilot whom you’d met one evening at a naval bar while travelling. You’d caught his eyes behind his sunglasses while he played the piano, the crowd around him as swept away with him as you were. The first half-smile in your direction, as he sang, had done you over in a way not one single person on the planet had before.

He'd charmed you instantly. He still charmed you constantly.

“Did you get any sleep?” you asked, biting back a yawn.

“Not really,” he peppered tender kisses into your shoulder blade and smiled into your skin as you pressed back into him, the oh-so-quiet moan made for his ears only waking him from his dreaded fog as well. “I’ll try and get a kip somewhere today. That fuckin’ flight murdered me.”

“You were happy to fly economy,” you muttered. “I know you’re used to tight quarters, but fuck Bradley. It was 15 hours."

“I know, I know I fucked up. I was looking at upgrades overnight. I’ll use my discount and stuff; we can do it flying home.”

“You sure?”

“Sue me for wanting to save a buck,” he sighed, with a tired, deep chuckle. “Flight was so full; people may as well have been sitting on the wings.”

“It’s Christmas. People travel.”

“You don't say,” he affectionately gripped your waist, rolling you to him and kissed you. “Good morning, I think," he nuzzled your nose against his and asked if you wanted some water or anything.

You shook your head, rolling back and snuggling into him as he adjusted his arms around you again, his nose buried in your hair. "I think Dad is gonna expect you for at least nine holes today."

"I think so, yeah. Grill me and make sure I'm good enough for his little girl.” He murmured and if he was honest, he was the teeniest bit nervous. He’d never really been in relationships long enough to meet families… and who would he introduce anyone to, except for Mav?

"I think you'll be fine."

"He probably wouldn't be if he knew what a deviant I've turned his smart, beautiful baby girl into.”

You giggled quietly as you could feel the soft ends of his moustache curve into a smirk against the nape of your neck. "He'd send you back on the first flight to LA."

"I would believe that," he said softly.

"I think yesterday went really well, Bradley," you confided quietly to him.

"You think? I was on my very best behaviour," he teased you.

"Yes, you were," you admitted. Not that he ever wasn't. Bradley was instilled with a remarkable set of manners. He was chivalrous and courteous to a fault, incredibly sweet and at times, pensive, even shy. Almost make believe that you were lucky enough to share his time. You wriggled back against him, and you could feel the hard-on straining through his boxer briefs. "Down, boy."

"Can't help it," he sighed. "You know what you do to me with that ass. I know what you want. You're not that transparent."

You bit back your pleased smile as his wandering hands travelled down your side, fingertips toying with the hem of his old Navy tee that was now your bed shirt. At home, you were nude sleepers. At your parents' home during the holidays? You showed decorum and respect and you both hated it, preferring skin-on-skin of the other but alas, anyone could walk in at any time.

“Have a thought about how we might be able to fuck this jetlag off…”

“Oh, yeah?” at this point, you’d do anything and with Bradley’s travel for work, you hoped maybe he might have some insight. You had planned to just power through and try not to be the world’s most exhausted asshole.

"You just move your thigh a little this way..." he murmured, his palm cupping your hamstring and you pressed back into him, grinning softly. “And I just slide up in here – ”

“Confident of you, don’t you think?”

“You’re always wet for me,” he whispered against your skin. “Unless you deny it.”

“Never…” you told him, reaching back to wrap an arm around his strong neck. “I just can't keep it down with you. Why didn’t you convince me to get the AirBnb?”

He loved how vocal you were during sex. Your moans, the hisses, the way you'd bite your lip when you were so close. That groan as you came, or the little squeal when you were too sensitive was burned into his brain as his favourite sounds in the world.

"Just lemme hold you then, it's okay, sweetheart," he grumbled. “I’ll live if you can.”

“Asshole,” you muttered as he chuckled.

“Do you want a blowjob?” You nervously offered, turning back to him and he looped your thigh over his hip and perched you above him with such little effort on his behalf - you loved how strong he was but you knew what was waiting for you, Bradley made no secret he was turned on and you loved that you were able to have him on a knife-edge at all times.

The one per cent, he’s told you once before.

You’re so sweet to him as you slowly dragged your hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs, revealing more and more skin, cock springing free, slapping against his toned, tanned Adonis belt. Long, thick and dripping with precum already and he almost blushed at how eager he was.

“I’ll never say no,” he replied, “And I know you might be uncomfortable here. Your dad is right across the hall, baby."

“But my daddy is right here…” you immediately corrected him, and he smiled darkly to himself. You didn't use that term lightly, you couldn’t nfi fed to him he had the ability to bring out your innermost feral when you least expected it and he would do his utmost to encourage it (if you were comfortable).

“Jesus,” his head was swirling, trying to keep calm and not blow his load the second you bared your tongue to him but there was absolutely nothing sweet about it. He was a preening mess when you went down on him. The night you'd told him you weren't overly experienced in blow jobs was the greatest night of his life, coaching you through what he liked and watching you perfect your generous technique time and time again.

These days, you loved giving Bradley head. He gave you confidence, he made you feel sexy and not like it was only about him on the receiving end. He’s whispered and encouraged, and when it all got too much, he told you he was close. He was neither here nor there on the whole spit or swallow thing… until you and your preference but he was never left empty-handed.

"Shh," you hissed. "Not a sound."

That one thing you did for him that absolutely made him come undone. And he'd bury his face in your pussy all day if you allowed him to show you how fucking grateful, he was for all the pleasure you presented him. Your sweet, tight wetness that he would eagerly drown himself in if you’d let him.

Your honeyed tongue delicately tasted the flawless head of his cock, lapping up the precum as Bradley's eyes rolled back into his head and his big hands reached to knot into your hair as you went to work, swirling your tongue and looking up with your big, scheming eyes, knowing you had him at his most precarious.

He was a weapon in his training, his mind and body were always primed to do what was asked of him, but you were the exception and it scared and excited him.

He could feel himself getting so close to painting the back of that beautiful mouth, and while it pained him to say it, the way your eyes softened told him he’d made the right choice. “Come on, baby, I want you.”

You gently pulled away and asked, “You don’t want me to finish?”

“No, I wanna fuck, baby. Watch you lose control.”

“Okay,” you said, your soft hand trading with your warm mouth to tenderly pump and tease him.

“Gimme a sec. I don't have condoms close,” he whispered. “They're in my luggage.”

"Just pull out, sweetheart," you enticed him, wanting to feel all of him. It was so infrequent you fucked without protection, and of course, you both preferred it that way but after a pregnancy scare (or not, neither of you was really sure) a few months back, you'd both decided to stop tempting fate and ensuring there was a stash of condoms at his place, your place... the goddamn Bronco – Bradley understood that it was your body and you didn’t want to be on the pill. A condom was the least he could do, and he knew it.

Bradley helped you move up his body and rest you above him. "Are you sure?" he kissed you, your gleaming teeth lightly stinging into his bottom lip with an affectionate nip.

“I trust you,” you told him. "Cum where you need...”

Truth be told, he wanted to cum deep, but he licked back a wet smile and he moved to his knees to pull his navy tee over your head, bearing your beautiful breasts to him, full, round, nipples begging for attention. “On your back, baby,” he urged, guiding you under him, anticipating how wet you were for him, legs splaying open unashamed. He rested the head of his cock on your weeping cunt, his fingers spreading your bare lips and sweeping your slick across your clit, fascinated by that little peep of desperation from you. Your head fell back against the pillows, bliss sweeping through you as he sweetly pressed one finger into you. “Drippin’,” he reported, pressing in another finger and his thumb rubbing tenderly against your throbbing clit. “Gonna gush for me?”

You probably would, Bradley’s ability to drag absolutely everything out of you blew your mind each time. “Need your cock. Fill me up, Bradley.”

Pushing in, one delicious inch by delicious inch, licking his full lips as your back curved to take him as deeply as possible. He buried his face in your breasts, holding one in his calloused palm, eyes fluttering closed as he traced, left wet, open-mouthed kissed and tenderly bit the other, and the groan you let you made him clamp his palm over your mouth. “You’re so wet, baby,” he stared deeply into your eyes as he evened his breath with the first few rolls of his slender hips. "But you're gonna wake your parents if you don’t control yourself."

"Let them fuckin' hear," you muttered behind your hand (you’d die if they heard you though) as he chuckled and began his ruthless assault on your senses, one thrust at a time.

"You're too good to me," Bradley reminded you in disbelief.

"All for you," you confided, as you watched the beads of sweat break across his brow as you dug your nails into his well-worked traps, willingly knowing it would leave a mark courtesy of your fresh manicure. You raised your hips to meet his deep, plunging thrusts, fucking into you strong and deep. He felt incredible, you don't think anyone had loved on you as Bradley Bradshaw could. So thorough, and never one to leave you hanging.

Too long, too sore? He'd pause and tenderly withdraw to hold you, reassuring you that it was fine, and your comfort was paramount. Too sensitive after coming too hard, he'd give you time to recover, finding other ways to bring you pleasure.

It was nice to be considered in your relationship, in your sex life especially. In the past, you'd been made to feel like a machine, if you didn't cum, partners still could, and you'd just deal with it. For a long time, that stuck with you and having someone consider you like Bradley would almost seem too good to be true at the start.

But that consideration never lapsed. He was make-believe and you fucking hoped if this man and everything he brought to you was a dream that you’d never, ever wake up.

Desperate to keep himself controlled, Bradley reached for the headboard of your old bed, gripping it for dear life as he tried so damn hard to avoid coming. He loved fucking you raw, and since birth control was completely your choice, you two had to stop playing this dangerous game. Because one day? It would beat you both.

"I need to cum, Bradley," you whined to him as he nodded, chewing his lower lip, and putting your delicate fingers in your mouth, not losing his rhythm. He knew. He knew how close you were.

"Lemme see you touch yourself, baby. Get those fingers - " he gasped as you clenched around him. "Get 'em nice and wet and play with that sweet, tight pussy. Lemme see you fall apart.”

Before, language like that would embarrass you, but with Bradley, it only spurred you on. It was incredible the ways he’d helped you grow and mature as a friend, partner and lover. As instructed, and in the low early morning light, Bradley’s breath hitched, watching you touch yourself and you couldn’t help it, the beat of his cock against your g-spot, your fingers pressing rough circles into your clit and you started to come.

“Yes, baby. Yes,” he urged, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering his sweet encouragement. “You feel so good, just a little mo – ” he forced his mouth against yours, kissing your pleasure to him, to keep the noise down. He wrapped his hand under your hip, lifting your waist to push harder into you as you trembled below him, your pussy clutching his cock, spasming as he shuddered against your lips. “Yes, baby.”

“Jesus, Bradley, fuck me,” you begged as his hips speed up like a piston, thrusting hard into your swollen, sensitive pussy, his hand clutching yours away from your strained clit and pressing intensely in your place, hoping to drag your orgasm out and as you fell, lifeless, back against the squishy pillows, pussy pulsating, Bradley grunted low he was coming and after his final few thrusts, he quickly withdrew and unloaded, stroking himself until he was spent, pearly ribbons of cum decorating your belly and breasts.

He collapsed beside you, taking your cheeks in his face and kissing you wildly. “I love you. I love you, baby,” he kissed you again, and though you were spent, you returned his affections, because truly… you loved Bradley Bradshaw with your entire being. It was going to take a lot to change that. “Are you okay?” he asked, chest still heaving as he breathed, his pointer finger tracing through the mess he made on you.

“I’m good, sweetheart,” you assured him as he gave you one last, final kiss.

“Think that helped with your jetlag?” he teased.

“Makes me want another round,” you admitted as he chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

“Of course you do,” he pressed a kiss into your pulse and lifted his lips back to yours, holding you close and just like horny teenagers, enjoying making out for a few moments in the afterglow. “Where’s that shirt gone?” he asked, peering over the side of the bed, and cleaning you up. “Jackson Pollack painting here.”

“Be less proud,” you told him as he snorted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Perfect, but let me go pee,” you whispered as Bradley kissed you long and deep, he nodded into the kiss but was not quite ready to leave you leave him.

“Go, clean up, baby,” he helped you up from the bed, your legs precarious and meandering like Bambi. “Careful,” he sighed, wistfully. But he knew it already, you were thoroughly fucked, just how he liked it.

A few hours later and thankfully, a few more hours of sleep, your alarm woke you, the sun much higher in the sky and the heat of the day starting to rise. You’d showered and told him to come down when he was ready, you’d help your Mum with some brekky.

“You want eggs?”

“Anything,” Bradley admitted. “Famished.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” you cupped his face in your palms and kissed him lightly. “Don’t rush.”

“Okay,” he gave a small grin but didn’t much feel like lingering. After a quick shower, he dressed, annoyed he didn't pack any golf gear, at minimum the shoes that you gave him grief for every time he wore them, but maybe he'd treat himself and buy some at the course today. He rifled through his bag, clutching the velvet box in his palm tightly, convinced more than ever that this was real, this was happening and soon, he'd hope to have you wearing his mother's engagement ring too.

Slapping on his CVN-71 cap, he knew you went a bit feral when he perched it backward. May as well leave you with good thoughts while he was out and about, asking your old man for your hand on the golf course. And if it went badly, it was also something to identify him when the authorities found him if your dad said no.

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

I am mind blown at how good your writing is! Absolutely mind blown! Your portrayal of Aemond in every single piece is just 👌🥹

I do have a teency little request if you’re still taking them and that’s Aemond all frustrated with you, seeing as you’ve been teasing him constantly throughout a feast, which is when he demands/drags you away into a dark corner which he then proceeds to absolutely annihilate you from behind, I’m talking slapping your ass, literally pounding you that hard you’ll have fingerprint bruises all over your hips and thighs, wrapping his hands around your neck and making sure you realise that you BELONG to him. No one else… Please excuse me as I go and fan myself 🥵🔥

Hi!

I hope this is what you were thinking of!

Pure filth

I held off tagging anyone because I won't do that for nsfw fics

Word count: 1233

Aemond x f!reader | smut | lots of smut | possessive Aemond

You were dreadfully bored.

The dinner was dragging on longer than you had the patience for. Hours seemed to have passed since you’d finished eating. The droning conversation around the long table sounding much like the buzzing of lazy bees.

You glanced at your husband out of the corner of your eye, mischief twisting in your pleasantly full stomach. He certainly looked polished, poised, and ever so handsome. His long silver hair falling over his shoulders, glimmering in the candlelight. His violet eye, surveying the chattering crowd with mild disinterest; the other side of his face covered by a leather eyepatch, giving him a roguish appearance. You wished to run your fingers along his sharp jawline, gripping his strong chin with your fingers and…ah he’d caught you staring.

Aemond’s eye had alighted upon your face, seeming to sense the intensity of your gaze. His curved lips quirked slightly in a debonair smirk.

He could see right through you.

By the dilation of his pupil, he was feeling much the same upon surveying your own alluring features.

Under the pretense of raising your goblet of wine to your mouth, you reached with your free hand under the table, caressing Aemond’s knee. He shot you a warning glance, but did not move away, enabling you to continue tracing a wandering path higher up his leg.

You felt his long fingers grip your playful hand as you reached toward the inside of his upper thigh, stilling your progress. You pouted at him over the rim of your glass.

His eye smoldered violet fire, grip tightening.

You moved your foot then, gently rubbing it up and down his calf. Aemond looked briefly up to the ceiling, as if searching for strength amongst the vaulted beams there, before moving just out of reach of your exploratory foot, his hand still restraining your own.

Servants approached, bringing with them desserts which they placed on the table before you. You returned your hands to where decorum dictated, helping yourself to a portion of chocolate pudding.

You caught Aemond’s gaze as you raised a spoonful to your lips, making sure not to break eye contact as you slowly sucked the delectable mousse into your mouth.

His lips parted, the prince was barely able to conceal the desire and aggravation warring across his face. His hands, resting now beside his plate, clenched into fists.

Abruptly, he stood.

You glanced down but his tunic was long enough to conceal any evidence of your hard work from prying eyes.

Aemond extended a hand to you. “May I have a word, dear wife?”

“Of course, loving husband.” You took his proffered hand, his fingers instantly vicelike upon yours.

With barely restrained haste, Aemond practically dragged you from your seat and out the door into the cooler air of the empty corridor.

It was a large, long hallway, framed on either side by stone columns, behind one of which your husband pulled you. The breath left your lungs in a rush as he pushed you roughly back against the cool surface, his lips hot upon your own. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, tasting the dessert you had sampled.

You returned his embrace with fervor, tangling your fingers into his long hair, pulling him harder against you.

Aemond broke away to look at your face, his hands gripping your waist. “You think you can torment me, and suffer no consequences?”

“I was actually hoping there’d be some repercussions.” You breathed out, gasping as Aemond spun you around, your hands rising to support your weight upon the red stone pillar.

You felt his body curve against your back, greedy hands pulling up your skirts as you bent over instinctually, rubbing your backside against his obvious arousal.

“So wanton and needy.” Aemond purred in your ear, his breath stirring the strands of hair coming loose about your flushed face.

“Speak for yourself.” You moaned as his dexterous fingers found the heat of your wet core, dipping in between your slick folds.

You bucked against him, eliciting a sharp hiss from the man. Aemond wrapped an arm around your torso, his fingers making lewd noises as they worked inside you. “How long have you been so wet for me, hmm, my love?” He bit gently at the exposed flesh of your shoulder. “We could have left sooner, had I known you desired to be the main course.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, stifling your cries of pleasure as Aemond’s slippery fingers massaged your clit. You rode his hand, your hips desperately rocking as you sought your release.

“I would love to drink you down, my head buried between your thighs.” Aemond nibbled at your ear, causing you to shudder, a fresh wave of warm arousal dripping from your cunt as he whispered more filth to you. “Hidden underneath your skirts, I wonder if you could remain standing as I lapped up your sweet nectar, until you came undone just by my tongue.”

“Aemond…” You tilted your head back, turning into him as he captured your lips in a searing kiss.

“Alas, we don’t have that kind of time.” He murmured into your mouth.

You spread your legs wider, bending lower as you felt the tip of Aemond’s leaking cock brush against your center.

You reached back, gripping his thigh as he slowly slid into you. Aemond gasped against your neck as he drove deep within your heat, his hand coming to cover your open mouth as you moaned.

The fingers of his free hand gripped your hip with bruising intensity, pulling you back against him as his thrusts became faster. The sound of the crackling torches upon the wall barely concealed the slapping of flesh as Aemond pushed you further down, bending over you and driving into your cunt with long, hard strokes.

“You belong to me, Y/N.” His voice was velvet, you could smell spiced mead upon his breath. He sucked marks onto the soft skin of your throat, causing you to whine into his hand.

The feeling of his cock moving with reckless abandon inside of you, his body pressing hot against your back, your skirts bunched around your waist, the electric feeling that came with knowing you could be caught in the act at any moment, all combined into such a heady feeling of lust you felt your climax swiftly approaching.

Aemond’s thrusts became more erratic, his breathing heavy against your neck. Your fingernails scraped against the column as you came undone around him. You pressed the top of your head against the cold stone, your clenching walls milking his seed deeper as Aemond came with you. He rested atop you for a moment, still moving his hips lazily against you, relishing the feeling as your cunt spasmed with the aftershocks as you came down from the high of your orgasm.

He squeezed your neck gently before relinquishing his hold on you, allowing you to straighten. You smoothed out your skirts the best you could, feeling Aemond’s hot cum running down your leg.

“Now.” Your husband tilted your chin up to him with a forefinger. “We will return to dinner and finish the evening without further insolence.”

“Aemond, I’m a mess!” You protested, keenly aware of the sticky state you were in beneath your heavy skirts.

“Hmm, I intend to help you with that later. For now, we are expected in the dining hall.” He grasped your hand, leading you firmly back toward the feast.

He leaned into you, kissing your temple lightly, tugging the collar of your dress down a bit to show the bruises he’d left with his mouth. “Next time, don’t start something you know I will finish.”

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munivrse · 6 months

Note

omg hiii moon 🤭

soooo uhh Bada x reader at the club hc 👀

so funny that you ask! i just so happen to have a full hc of this prepared!

you convince bada to go to the club with you and your friends… not sure how you did but you managed to

bada is kind of down. she loves to dance. she loves to watch you dance. where could this go wrong?

well she’ll tell you the first sign that you two needed to stay home was when you walked out of your closet in a dress bada had never seen before, sauntering out like everything was fine

when you come out and see bada’s reaction, you accidentally let out a little laugh but quickly suck it back up when you sit down to start your makeup

bada’s eyes just follow your figure… she has no words. she feels set up.

you notice her cheeks are a little red when you look at her through the mirror,

“bada”

the eyes that were previously staring at your ass dart up to meet yours.

“are you okay?”

“mhm”

“you sure?”

“yep.”

“okay…”

so you finish getting ready per usual. you didnt wear alot of makeup given the fact you planned on shaking ass at the club so you’d sweat it off anyway

bada got dressed while you’d finished getting ready

she looked…

“why do you look like that?”

bada whipped her head around,

“like what??”

you just

“like you wanna impress other women.”

bada’s eyes widen… the audacity of you saying that to her when

“you’re dressed the same way!”

you cross your arms over your chest. she wasn’t completely wrong.

and with that you two are off!

bada of course has one hand on the wheel, her other hand gripping your thigh, curving her hand around the inside of it every once in a while.

once you reach your destination, bada gets out to open the door for you. she takes your hand as you step out in your heels. at this point, you were almost as tall as her which she was just enamored with

as you reach the door, bada leans down to whisper in your ear,

“do not act up in here.”

you give her your most angelic smile and nod at her words that go in one ear and out the other.

as soon as you see your friends, you grab bada’s hand and tug her towards the seated group.

bada slides into a chair, grabbing your hips and sitting you on top of her thigh.

you guys make light conversation, but a certain song grabs you and your friends attention and you turn around with pleading eyes

bada just smiles,

“go have fun”

you make to hop off of her leg but an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you against her chest.

she ducks her head down to your ear,

“be good.”

she lets go of you and when you stand up and whip your head behind you to look at her, she’s smiling innocently like she didn’t just seduce your ears.

phew

uhm

where were we

while you’re out on the dance floor letting loose with your friends, bada gets a few drinks in and mingles with the friends that stayed behind

her eyes flit over to you every once in a while

she just thinks you’re so cute jumping around with your friends

you’ve got this big grin on your face and she wants to pick you up and put you in her pocket

sometimes she catches you looking back at her, she throws a wink your way and you have the nerve to blush and whip your head around

she tunes back into her conversation for a couple minutes

when she looks back at you, she can’t see you anymore.

she starts to panic a bit, sitting up so she can see the floor a little clearer.

thats when she does spot you and the rest of your friend group-

you seem to be arguing with someone?

she keeps her eyes on your form

she knows you can handle yourself so she tries to stay out of it

that is, until your eyes lock and you nod your head, motioning for bada to come over

one thing about bada is that she’s always down for some confrontation when it comes to protecting her own

so she stands up, tells the rest of the group where she’s going, and confidently bee lines for you.

as she gets closer, she can hear both you and the man across from you shouting at each other

she her brain short circuits when she sees the man step closer to you

(her heart swells when she sees you also take a step closer. you were so cute.)

she reaches you before anything can escalate.

she steps in front of you and she realizes this little man is not only stupid, but also short.

bada puts her hands in her pockets and leans down to peer at him

“you good?”

he angrily responds “no, she threw her fucking drink on me.”

you come around to bada’s side, holding out an accusatory pointer finger

“he kept hitting on me and tried to grab at my ass so i threw my drink at him.”

bada’s eyes narrow,

the man tries to explain but bada stands her ground

“try that shit again and a drink wont be the only thing thrown at you.”

bada grabs your hand and turns around, trying to walk away but she hears this sorry excuse for a man yell out the following,

“fucking cunt!”

and she decides then and there that she loves you fr because she turns back around with the intent to beat that man until she’s fucking tired

she quickly lets go of your hand, taking long strides until she reaches the man.

her hands grasp at his collar, lifting him up to his tippy toes,

“the fuck did you just say?”

you and your friends are hot behind bada

as much as you love to see bada riled up, you really didn’t want to see her get in trouble

“bada-”

“say it again.”

the man is silent.

“bada lets go-”

bada lets out a dangerous chuckle,

“can’t even say that shit to my face.”

she lets go of the man and he lets out a breathe he’d been holding,

she turns around and reaches for your hand. she pulls you through the club and out of the exit and as soon as you both reach the outside, she pulls you into a tight hug

“i’m sorry.”

you take a deep breath, taking in her scent and presence.

“it’s okay. i’m fine. let’s go home please.”

she lets go of you, running her hands down your arms and grabbing your hands,

“i’m proud of you for throwing your drink in his face.” bada has a goofy grin on her face.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

bada brings one of your hands up to her mouth and presses her lips against it. she drops it down again,

“i dont know. I think i’m in love with you.”

you’re taken aback by this. you two hadn’t said those words to each other yet.

“you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted to let you know where i stand.”

she smiles softly at you.

“let’s go home.”

a/n: yes. this was going to be very cute and fun but then i got carried away with jealous bada. my bad. i will make a real hc with fun couple at the club I PROMISE

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #smut #bada lee smut #bada x reader #swf 2 x reader #swf 2

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mariacrow · 10 months

Note

How about a (bayverse)transformers x reader that is from our universe? Like we somehow got into the movies which means we know everything, who dies,when they die, who to trust ect. so that would mean that we can save bots that are going to get killed yk?(jazz my baby🥺🥺) okay so if you have no clue how to write it, you dont have to!!!

I totally get you! It’s like an AU I have myself :) My brain simply CANNOT comprehend that they’re dead. What if, to add a little more spice, we’re actually a Witwicky or better yet Sam’s sibling! I’ll leave that to your imagination ;) and I know exactly how to write this piece ;)

AU where Jazz, Ironhide and Ratchet are saved by Y/N!

2nd person

female reader

takes place in Transformers (2007)

takes place in Transformers: Dark of the Moon (2011)

takes place in Transformers: Age of Extinction (2014)

battle, injuries, reassurance, swearing, flirting…

JAZZ lives!

“YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME!? YOU WANT A PIECE!?” blasting Megatron’s legs, Jazz was angrily shouting while you were watching, standing on top the same building Megatron was on along with Jazz in his claws.

“No! I want two!” Megatron yelled angrily.

“Hey! Hey big guy! Megs!” you yelled as loudly as you could so Megatron could hear you. Your plan was to distract him. “Megatron!!!”

Just when he was about to rip Jazz in two pieces, he turned around because he heard you. Jazz took that opportunity immediately and blasted him in the face. Megatron groaned in pain and irritation as his grip on Jazz went loose.

“You ain’t that smart after all, you pile of rust!” Jazz mocked him as he got out of his grasp and jumped towards you.

Megatron quickly turned around and aimed at you both while groaning in indescribable anger. Jazz grabbed you and jumped off the building while Megatron was trying to blast you both.

“Hold on tight, baby girl!” not the best time for flirting.

Jazz transformed into his BMW and secured you in the driver’s seat with a seatbelt, driving down the building, vertically.

“WOOOAH! JAZZ WATCH OOOUT!”

Inching from the ground, he partially transformed to safely push himself onto the ground. He did scratch his bumper though.

“Aw man! Not the bumper!”

He was speeding through the streets, drifting and sliding like the pro he is. You could barely comprehend what just happened.

“Quite of a bumpy ride, huh~?” he said kinda seductively.

“Jazz, you’re insane.” you said, chuckling.

“You saved my life out there, kid, you know that?”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

“Yeah.” he chuckled, “ “Friends~” “

🩶

IRONHIDE lives!

“For the sake of our survival, a deal had to be made… With Megatron.” Sentinel said as he repeated his gun.

Your eyes widened. Your heart skipped a beat as a heavy wave of adrenaline struck your body. The gun you were holding felt heavier than ever.

“IRONHIDE, WATCH OUT!!!” you shouted and started shooting at Sentinel’s face, aiming for his optics. You made him groan as his aim on Ironhide became wonky.

Ironhide turned around in time and got his weapons out. Sentinel managed to blast his arm off. It made Ironhide groan and lose balance, falling onto his knee as he was trying to shoot Sentinel with his other arm but the pain was keeping him away from being precise.

“NOOO!” you panicked because of Ironhide, seeing he’s badly injured.

“TRAITOROUS PUNK!” Ironhide cussed.

“GET BACK!!!” Lennox yelled.

Bumblebee reacted quickly, the fight was on. Sentinel managed to blast the base, sparkles and heat were all over the place, you could barely see anything. The sharp pieces of metal were flying everywhere which got you injured. Your arm was badly hurt which made you drop your gun and yelp.

Suddenly you could feel a huge, strong metal hand grab you and pull you back. Clinking of Ironhide’s transformation surrounded you and you soon found yourself inside of the black RAM.

He floored it along with Bee. You could hear him groan. His turning was wonky, he was barely driving.

“We need to find Ratchet, ASAP!”

“I don’t need no medic!” you could hear pain in his voice.

“Ironhide, it is not the time for your stubbornness! Please! That grandpa blasted your whole arm off!”

He angrily drifted into an alley and transformed back. You flew out and hit the ground as he slid down the wall, sitting down, holding his leaking shoulder.

You bravely got up and climbed on his leg, taking a better look at him.

“Ironhide, please…” you looked at him with pleading eyes, “This is serious and I don’t know how to fix it…”

Seeing you almost cry because of him made his spark ache. The fact you worry so much about him made it even harder for him to suppress his feelings…

“Fine… Call Ratchet…” he huffed, his ego kinda hurting.

And so you did. He was on his way. You were praying he arrives safely.

Ironhide picked you up and placed you on his other shoulder, gently keeping his servo around you. You smiled and leaned against his helm, giving him a hug. Funny how you both got your left arms injured. Twins!!!

“It’s gonna be alright… I promise…”

“Well I ain’t dying yet.” he chuckled through the pain, “I didn’t even get to take you out.”

He made you chuckle, “Well then. What are you doing tomorrow?”

You both had a good laugh as Ratchet’s sirens were approaching.

Ironhide was saved.

🩶

RATCHET lives!

Ratchet and you were hiding on that abandoned boat for a long time. It was quite difficult for survival but you had him and he had you. He has great survival skills, he taught you a lot.

The night they went hunting for you both almost meant the end. Thankfully you were there with him to react on time. You weren’t sleeping, you were guarding the hiding spot.

It was a peaceful night with a clear sky. You furrowed you eyebrows once the silence was ruined by helicopters in the distance. They were getting closer, you saw them as well as bunch of cars on the dirt road. Your eyes widened as you ran to Ratchet.

“Ratchet! Ratchet, wake up! We need to go, now! They’re coming for us!!”

“Are you sure, Y/N?”

“Yes! I saw them in the distance! Come on, hurry!” you said while quickly packing everything you had, picking up your bag and running out with him. He had a bad feeling about this but he trusted you nonetheless.

The boat got blasted from far away, you didn’t even see who did it. All you knew is that it made you jump off the boat. Ratchet grabbed you mid air and transformed into the ambulance vehicle. You found yourself tumbling inside as he got onto the ground and floored it.

Someone kept blasting you from far away. It was Lockdown tracking you but you had no clue.

“Someone is tracking us! We need to lose them!”

“I know where to go. I suggest you hold on tight! Safety first!” he’s so wholesome.

Suddenly, Ratchet’s tire got blasted. Both of you almost went flying.

“Primus!” Ratchet exclaimed and groaned.

“WOAH!” you bounced inside, securing yourself with a seatbelt, “Your tire is gone!”

Nevertheless, he kept driving with no back tire. You kept being chased by enormously strong blasts until you lost whoever was trying to kill you.

“Whatever was trying to kill us… it isn’t human. I don’t think we have such artillery… and it wasn’t coming from the sky for sure.”

“Humans have made an alliance with the Deceptacons. They won’t stop until they butcher us all!” he said with emotional pain in his voice while driving deep into the countryside, going for an abandoned junkyard.

You sat there, resting. Ratchet seemed hopeless until he spoke.

“Optimus will come back. I know he will. All of this isn’t for nothing…”

You looked up at him and smiled, standing up.

“I’ll go find a spare tire.”

You made him smile, “Thank you. You’re a sweetheart…”

That night you saved the medic’s life without even knowing how butchered he could’ve been by Savoy, Lockdown and KSI…

Dividers belong to @saradika 🩶

#transformers #autobots #deceptacons #transformers bayverse #ironhide #ratchet #jazz #transformers ratchet #transformers jazz #transformers ironhide #bayverse ratchet #bayverse ironhide #transformers x reader #x reader #ironhide x reader #ratchet x reader #alternative universe #transformers fanfiction #x y/n

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visforvengeance · 1 month

Text

Downright Iconic

Requested by: No One :)

Notes: helllllo! ok so i lovelovelove rafe and i've been seeing you guys do like a southern gothic type thing so I wanted to try as a southern (Georgia and texas) woman myself. so let me just say I am an atheist that grew up with a highly Christian family. I became an atheist when I was like 14 so idk too many bible verses and I'm sorry if anything is in accurate. I'm just sacrilegious af, like this story oh man. ok this is very much xblack reader based so idk read it or don't. this is heavily HEAVILY ethel cain coded, specifically gibson girl and western nights. i hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!

Pairing: rafe cameron x black!southern reader

Warnings: oh man there's so many warnings omg ok. dacryphilia. hinted somnophilia, sexual religious themes, unprotected sex, graphic graphic graphic, degradation (slut, whore, etc), actual slut shaming, I was high while writing most of this and it went berserk. um it's 4k words of porn without plot. i didn't proofread. I don't remember all of the warnings so please read at your own risk!

You sat in the front row of your church, along with your family and others who were important to society. There was your family, the Pastor’s family, the Camerons (Ward Cameron is the mayor of your quaint little town). The Thorntons and the Carreras. Your father’s voice boomed throughout the small church as he recited Proverbs 3:5-6. Kiara’s father had asked him to speak on keeping up your faith after he learned of his daughter’s betrayal.

She was caught dillydallying with that little blonde boy from the more southern parts of town. Her reputation took quite a hit when everyone found out. It nearly cost her family their business, if it weren’t for the closeness they shared with the Camerons, they’d have faced total ruin.

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably as you looked over at your friend. She kept her head down and her hands in her lap while the grip her father held on her wrist visibly tightened. You wanted to go and comfort her, but you knew your mother would disapprove. When she found out about the news, she banned you from ever even looking at Kiara again. Which was hard because she was your greatest friend. Despite your mother’s wishes, you still hung around her. You were her rock whenever she needed a shoulder to cry on, you defended her from those who called her foul names and turned on her.

Your eyes trailed over to the Cameron family. They all sat in their crisp and brightly colored Sunday’s best. Your eyes looked over the eldest child in the family, Rafe. He was a wild child, a true force to be reckoned with. Star athlete at your university, the town’s sweetheart. The boy your mama would be proud to call her son-in-law. The golden child. There was no better American teen than Rafe Cameron. Until the sun goes down and he’s the devil that lurks in the streets.

Rafe was a notorious party animal. He’s single-handedly why your town has a curfew in the first place. Despite his daddy being the mayor and constantly under public scrutiny, everyone under the age of 27 knew what Rafe Cameron got into. The parties, the drugs and alcohol, premarital sex, he did all of it.

The two eldest Cameron children were very sneaky. Sarah, who was more like her brother than she’d like to admit, was just as wild. For starters, she was dating one of those pogues. There’s nothing worse than dating a pogue around these parts. She claimed that they were in love and planned on leaving when they got the chance. You’d just nod and pet her hair, bless her heart. You weren’t a fan of slutshaming but if you looked up the very definition of a slut, there’d be a picture of Sarah sitting prettily. You didn’t know how the purity necklace Ward had gotten her hadn’t broken and melted to the ground from her sinful ways. But, you loved her nonetheless.

Since you were 13 and could no longer control the urges that came with being a growing girl, there had always been something about Rafe. You had a crush on the older boy for years. You didn’t partake in things like masturbation, but on days where you nearly gave in, thoughts of Rafe ran across your mind. His toned body hovered above yours while his breath fanned over your features. He was between your legs, grinding against you so slowly that you felt everything he had to offer.

Mama and daddy hadn’t taught you about sex yet. They always said that it was something you’d learn about when the time came. So, you didn’t know how vaginas and penises worked and how babies were made or why sometimes when you were alone, if you thought for too long then your breathing would become heavier and there’s this feeling in your stomach. And, you can’t keep your legs from rubbing together and you’re so hot, god (you’ll repent later), you could die. This unknown feeling gets so intense, but you’re so scared. So, you stop. You say your prayers and go to bed. You don’t tell anyone about these moments of little death.

Rafe was always indifferent towards you until you turned 16 and your body developed more. And, you were no longer just his annoying little sister’s best friend. Fuck, you were so much more. Your tits practically burst out of your sports bra when he sees you practicing for cheerleading. 17 and your ass was looking too good in your jeans. 18 and the sway of your hips had him on his knees.

He fucked countless girls dreaming that they were you instead. He just knows your virgin pussy would have him going crazy. He knew about your crush on him from one of the times you were talking to Kie while Sarah was out. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wish you were in his arms too. But, something in him was holding him back. He never knew what and didn’t bother to try and figure it out. He wasn’t going to for a good long while.

When you looked over at Rafe to discover he was already looking at you, your eyes widened and you immediately looked back at your father. Rafe felt his smirk grow. He spent his days in church daydreaming about bending you over and fucking you right in front of everyone and Jesus Christ himself. He laughed when he thought about the times he didn’t burst into flames.

He tuned out the preaching as he imagined what your tits would like while he drenched your top in the holy water before him. He imagined it was you saying those prayers while you’re stupid crying on his cock, a girl like you should be praying to the correct god. Rafe wanted you so badly. He decided that he was done wasting time. He’d marry you and make you his pretty little housewife if he had to. He had to stop before the very thought of you being pregnant and swollen with his baby made him cum in his pants.

After church, your father allowed you to hang out with Sarah at Tannyhill. The two of you lounged around by the pool while Rafe and his friends did the same on the opposite side. While you lay around, floating in the pool, you watched as Rafe watched you in the pool. The sunglasses helped tremendously at hiding your line of vision and allowed you to watch him without shame. His eyes trailed all over your body like he was in a trance and couldn’t choose where to look first.

You sat yourself up on your elbows, tilting your sunglasses down to look at him. When he realized that you were looking at him, he gave you a small smile and a wink. He watched your doe eyes stare back up at him, your bottom lip being pulled in between your teeth while your eyes trailed down his torso. The heat combined with the brightness of the sun cast a light sheen on Rafe’s body. It was making you clench so deliciously around nothing and had you panting like a bitch in heat.

Rafe chuckled as he inspected your behavior around him, but Sarah’s voice hid it well enough to go unnoticed. “Rafe, let’s have a party,” Sarah suggested. Rafe hardly ever said no to a party. Their parents left a lot so they had parties pretty often. But, you never attended them. Parties weren’t exactly your thing. You’d very much rather stay at home and watch a movie. Or the most adventurous you’d get is trespassing on public park grounds after hours.

“I’m down. You spread the word and I’ll get the goods.” Sarah nodded as she began to gather her things, you began to make your way out of the water. Rafe eyed your backside while water cascaded down the smooth brown skin. He stood mesmerized with his tongue in his cheek as your ass jiggled behind you. His eyes never left your body while you walked inside the house. He couldn’t wait until he got his hands on you.

After you and Sarah had settled inside, the two of you chilled inside her room for a bit. “You should come to the party.” Her and Kie always tried to get you to attend one but you always declined their advances. But, Sarah was being very persistent. “Why do you want me to come to your stupid party so bad? I’d feel so out of place. I don’t even have anything to wear.” You tried every excuse you had but Sarah wasn’t budging. “Look. We’re grown-ups now and you can’t just live your life like some virgin loser. You ain’t even had your first kiss yet, darling,” she says as she grabs your face so you’re looking at her.

She was right. You’ve never been more intimate than holding hands. Your parents put the fear of god in you and it’s buried so far down inside of you, that the only way to purify yourself of it is to die. It’s not like boys hadn’t tried, but you’d push them away faster than they could say ‘hallelujah’. You didn’t know what had gotten into you. These kinds of things never worried you before but this crippling fear of missing out has invaded your brain.

You stared up at the pale, peachy-colored ceiling and took a deep breath. “Fine, I’ll go,” you mumbled. Sarah began jumping around in excitement, “I still don’t have anything to wear, though. My clothes aren’t very party-like.” You frowned as you thought about your clothing options. They didn’t hug your body or show what you were working with. “Fuck it, we’re going shopping,” Sarah declares as she drags you out of bed.

She convinced you to get this spicy little number that showed off the parts of your body you adored the most. The two of you rushed back to her house so you could get ready. Rafe had already started setting everything up. You were beyond nervous as you’d never done something like this before, definitely never wore anything like this either. Sarah helped you do your makeup, an hour she spent straddling your waist as she focused. You looked like a different person, you didn't even recognize yourself. It was strange. And, your parents would have a stroke if they saw you now.

The house was filled before you knew it. Various stood all over with cups in their hands or they’re making out against the wall, to be honest, you were scared. You’d never seen so much vulgarity. You couldn’t believe you let Sarah talk you into this. Never again would you let it happen. She had the audacity to leave you alone and suck faces with John B. and you were pissed. You stood near the island of the kitchen with a solo cup in your hand. You were drinking the alcohol and it left you with an unrecognizable feeling. But it was a good one. The music calmed you, as did the LED lighting surrounding the place. You welcomed its embrace easier than you thought you would.

You watched over the crowd, continuously drinking as you sat on the counter. It’s been an hour and Sarah still hasn't returned. You feared you looked like a drunken loser. And, you did. Meanwhile, Rafe stood on the other side of the house, directly across from you. His height and your sitting on the counter allowed him to watch you as the hour passed. He battled with whether he should approach you or not. The alcohol in his system lowered his inhibitions and lessened his worries.

He pushed past the intoxicated groups of bodies and reached you. He stood in between your legs while his hands rested on either side of your thighs. Just like in your dream, you could feel the warmth of his breaths against your skin, you basked in it. He invaded your senses. His scent made you woozier along with the alcohol you consumed, he smelled of hints of beer and Bleu de Chanel. His body heat radiated off of him and onto you, engulfing you like a glove. His blue eyes were all that you could see as his half-lidded eyes looked down at you. If you were sober then you’d be questioning how he was able to tempt you like this. You’d do whatever he wanted of you if he asked. And, he liked it that way.

“Hey, baby.” Baby? Did he know who he was talking to? “Hi, Rafe.” He fucking loved the way you said his name, he could feel his cock starting to stir in his pants. “My sister ditch you for that little bitch, John B. huh?” He was sweaty and breathing so heavily. It made you wonder what had him like this. But, you nodded and continued to look into his eyes. “You want me to take you upstairs to keep you company?” His fingers were caressing your thigh at this point. His touch burned you but you liked it. That didn’t sound like such a bad idea. “Yeah,” you whispered to him. He helped you off of the counter and held your hand, pulling you upstairs to his bedroom. He absolutely had no intentions of talking, unless it was to talk you right out of this little dress you were wearing that made his dick jump in his shorts.

Once you were in the quietness of his bedroom, he locked the door behind him. He sat closely next to you on his bed. He eyed your body, focusing on the plushness of your tits that spilled out of your dress. And, your thighs that looked so soft, it made him want to mark them up. Fuck, he had to have you. It made you nervous being under his gaze for this long and this closely. He usually never paid you any attention and now, suddenly, it was all on you. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he started. He stared at you intently, practically moving you on top of him. You were hot all over. “Thank you,” you sounded more confused than pleased but Rafe could sense your nervousness and it was turning him on more than he thought was possible.

His fingers played with your inner thighs, softly drawing circles on them. “You know it’s funny. Sarah would be so pissed if she saw us right now.” You were breathless. And drunk. And so fucking close to him. And, there’s a little voice in the back of your head that’s begging you to get ahold of yourself and go home! But, you had to see this out. Maybe, you’d been praying and pleading with God to allow something like this to happen. Maybe, you’d let Rafe do whatever he wanted to you tonight. Maybe, you were willing to be Eve and let Rafe be the serpent that tempts you.

“Why?” He chuckled and shook his head. You were just a dumb little girl after all. He couldn’t wait until you were his. He’d teach you. And, mold you into his perfect woman. His pretty, pliant princess. “Because she wouldn’t want her brother and her best friend fucking each other. Not if it’s me and not if it’s you.” Everyone and their mother knew you were too good for anyone, especially Rafe. He may have been everyone’s favorite boy but they knew he had a temper on him.

“You wanna fuck me?” Were you in heaven? Like actually? You knew what ‘fucking’ meant but not exactly how to do it. But, that didn’t mean it wasn’t making you incredibly wet to know that it was what he wanted to do with you. You looked at him with wide eyes. He nodded before pressing his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking at your pulse point. “I can’t stop thinking about how that pussy would feel wrapped around my cock, mama.” His fingers were now grazing the poor excuse for underwear that you were wearing. Sarah made you buy some thongs because something about panty lines not being attractive or whatever.

You opened your legs wider for him, which made him groan into your neck. He pulled your panties to the side and was immediately met with your wetness. He softly rubbed your clit, your slick making it easy for his fingers to glide across it, quickly bringing you to orgasm. It happened too quickly for you to provide a proper warning but Rafe wasn’t complaining as he watched you come undone in his lap. Your thighs still shook around his wrist while you came down from your high.

“That was so hot, baby.” He pecked your lips once, then twice. “I’ve never done that before,” you mumbled. You were beyond embarrassed to admit that. But, Rafe managed to calm you down by stroking your arm. “Not even on your own?” You shook your head. You heard Sarah and Kie talk about cumming and how it felt but you could only imagine. You almost did try pleasuring yourself once, but you were already so scared. Your parents were supposed to be out and all was good until you heard your mom calling for you and you never tried again.

Rafe was having such a hard time trying not to rip your clothes off and fuck you beyond repair. So pretty and so untouched. He didn’t care if it was obsessive or predatory, you were going to be his. He was going to make sure of it. “Do you wanna do it again, babe?” After you gave him a yes, he wasted no time in getting both of your clothes off. Rafe couldn’t believe you were letting him do this. He didn’t believe in God and all of that shit but he was silently thanking whoever there was for this moment that he could only dream of. He thought with you being the pastor’s daughter, that you’d at least make him wait. But, you were just as wanting as he was. Or, you were proper drunk. But, that’s not what matters.

Rafe paused before reattaching himself to your body, his eyes looked over it. Admiring it. Was he in love with you? He could picture his life with you. You’d give him a handsome son and a beautiful daughter. And, even after you’ve aged and had kids, you’d still be his beautiful, loyal fucking housewife. Oh, shit. He had to be in love with you. He hadn’t even stuck his dick in you yet and he’s daydreaming about giving you his kids, what the fuck. He’d never felt this fucking giddy about a girl until you. You made him feel like a little schoolgirl with a crush or some shit. It was unnerving. But, right now he was going to make you see God on his cock, and feelings will come later.

He leaned over, scattering kisses around your body. “You’re so beautiful, baby. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen.” And he meant it this time. As his lips enclosed themselves around your nipple, teeth grazing them, he moaned. “So fucking beautiful, princess.” He was moaning like a slut above you and you were still a virgin in his bed. He was screwed. However, he didn’t see the effect all of this had on you. Your hips were twitching uncontrollably because of the proximity and of him and his words and his actions. You were begging for something, you didn’t know what. But, you were so fucking desperate for Rafe, you couldn’t bear it. You felt tears sliding down the sides of your face, Rafe noticed in his daze which made him stutter a bit. Were you crying?

“Are you…fucking crying? Baby?” His hands caressed your cheeks but his tone was mocking you. And, you liked it. You nodded shyly. He scoffed and smirked, kissing your head. “Why are you crying, hm?” You were too afraid to say that it was because you were inexperienced. And, your inability to do what you wanted was making you frustrated. Rafe looked at you expectantly, even nudging your cheek a bit. You sighed, “I can’t say what I want you to do to me because I can’t articulate it well enough. Rafe, I don’t know what any of this is or how I’m feeling and I need you to-” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t say it. Your one piece of dignity wouldn’t allow you to. “You need me to teach you, baby? You want Daddy to show you how to make yourself feel good when he can’t help you?” It felt like the fucking wind had been knocked out of you as he spoke.

“W-what?” Your eyes were wide. No one had ever spoken to you this way. And, you think you’d be quite disgusted if it were anyone else. But, Rafe was making you leave a puddle on his damn sheets. He situated himself between your legs so that his cock lay flat against your clit. He pushed his hips into you, which caused you to shiver. “I said, do you need me to show you what it feels like to lose your mind?” His hips never stopped moving. And, you never stopped moaning. What the hell was happening? You didn’t know, but you didn’t want it to stop. You were begging God to not let it stop, you didn’t care about any of it at this moment. Not what your family would think if they knew what a little whore you were being for this white boy. And, you didn’t care if you were going to hell, because as long as you had Rafe with you, no place would be as bad. As Rafe humped you into a senseless, babbling mess, your last comprehensive thought was that you now belonged to Rafe Cameron. He was yours as you were his and nothing would be able to change that. You didn’t know what voodoo magic Rafe had coursing through him but you knew you’d never be separated, till death do you part.

His hips stopped when he realized he hadn’t gotten a response. “I can’t hear you, pretty girl. You listening?” You whined at the loss of friction but answered. “Yes, baby. I need you to teach me. Please just fuckin teach me, Rafe.” You didn’t know that you just signed your deal with the devil. When Rafe said teach you, he really meant teach you.

~Now, dearest reader, I beg you let your imagination run wild with that last one.~

That was enough of a confirmation for Rafe as his hips resumed their movement. You were feeling the same things as you did when you were alone but more intense. Your tummy twisted with pleasure as your legs clasped tightly around Rafe's slutty, little waist. Your nails raked across his back harshly, but he didn’t mind. Your legs began to shake and you were panting now. You couldn’t describe this feeling, but you trusted Rafe. If he felt nothing was wrong then you allowed yourself to truly embrace it. He looked down at you, kissing you all over your face. “Come on, baby, you can do it. Give me what I want, can you do that? You gonna make a mess of me?”

You were blinded by white, hot pleasure. Rafe watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he could feel the wet spawning of your pussy against him. You were fucking majestic. He wanted to watch you cum over and over again, that was his goal tonight. You felt yourself grow tired as you came down from your high. Rafe planted kisses all over your face again, “you did so good, baby.” You hummed in acknowledgment, beginning to fall asleep. But, Rafe tapped your cheek rather harshly. “What are ya doing, huh? You thought we were done?” You whined. Your half-lidded eyes stared up at Rafe. “But, Rafey, I’m so tired.” He manhandled you onto your back again, hiking your leg around his waist as he began to line himself up with your entrance.

“That’s not my problem, baby. I didn’t get to cum and you did twice. That’s not fair, princess. Don’t you want Daddy to feel good too?” You nodded, sleepily. “Good girl. Just let me fuck you, and then you can go to sleep, alright?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he pushed himself into you, bottoming out. He didn’t bother checking up on you as he was fucking for his pleasure now. He moaned at the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing his cock, already trying to milk him for everything he’s got.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby.” He hadn’t felt anyone as tight as you since he first fucked a girl. He began thrusting inside of you, causing the both of you to moan. You were half asleep while he pounded your shit. The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping, and wet pussy, and heavy groans and soft moans. It was purely pornographic. If only God could see you now. If only your father and mother could see you now.

The brutal fucking Rafe was giving you was fast and hard, but he was hitting that sweet spot so deliciously. You were clenching uncontrollably around him as you began squirting around him. When Rafe realized, he cursed under his breath. His hips stuttered as he watched the sight below him. When Rafe saw the tears streaming down your face again, it had him spilling inside of you. Mixtures of curses and groans left him as he came.

His head was in the crop of your neck while you played with his hair. You began to fall asleep again, feeling content just like this. Despite the mess you were laying in. But, Rafe began to move his hips again. Slowly this time. “Rafe, you said-“ “sh shh, baby, just go to sleep. Don’t worry about this.”

#x black reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut

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vinetae · 1 year

Text

Classified Nights - M

“Tell me what you want.” His chocolate eyes pleaded, but nothing escaped his breath. His lips flatten to a straight line, quivering outwards to give you some sort of hint to what he’d been playing at.

“Ji-woo, tell me what you want to do. We’ve only got a little while before daddy gets home.” His arms across his chest, huffing in the way all three year olds do. When he doesn’t answer, you let out a deep sigh, lowering the set of choo-choo pajamas you’d originally planned for your son to sleep in. Once he was set on watching the rest of his Paw Patrol, you’d given up. Settling down into the comfort of your creme stained sofa, plopping down onto the soft material. Your son had almost calmed down, cuddling with the soft of his little teddy bear before the beep of your apartment’s door sounds, stirring the young child in his half sleep state.

“Daddy!” He squeals, climbing off the front of the couch. Little onesie protected feet hit the floor, as Jungkook drops the tons of his light weight items to the floor, scooping the little child into his grip.

“Ah, have you gotten bigger since this morning, Woo Woo?” A bright smile replaces the once dragging expression. Jungkook attacks the boy with cute little pecks all across the plains of his small face, sending Ji-woo into a fit of giggles.

“I’m big!” He squeaks out, shimming his way out of his father’s embrace. Ji-woo’s arms come up to flex towards his dad, showing off his imaginary muscles. Jungkook’s lips roll out a cute little chuckle before gently holding out his fists in a fighting position on his knees.

“Oh really? Come on, fight me!” The two let out their pent up energy between fake throws of fists and dramatic blows. Jungkook’s body plops to the floor, pulling his son into a bear hug, ending their cute little interaction. You let a sigh roll from your lips, pacing back over to take a seat on the couch’s edge, watching the two have their special moment.

“Alright alright! You win!” Ji-woo had sat upon his father’s chest, throwing pouches left and right towards his old man. The young boy posed a beaming smile in victory, throwing his arms up.

“I told you I’d win!” The two let out a few fits of giggles before Jungkook scoops him from the floor before Bam can lick his face for too long. “Ah, Bam, leave it. Down.” His hand extends down, patting his fourth family member in good behavior.

Jungkook makes a bee-line towards you, holsting his son in one arm as he pulls you in with his other. A smile cracks your tired features, chuckling at his cute gesture. Twirling you around, as if it had been a ballroom dance rehearsal.

“How’s my beautiful girl, hmm?” He teases, pulling the small of your body flush against his chest. The family group hug felt more than euphoric. Your son had been squished in the middle, giggling from all of the sudden affection. It’s not like you hadn’t given him any attention all day. Your whole life was your son. He was your pride and joy. You’d happily lay down your life for this little bundle of sunshine.

“Feeling quite good, my dear.” You quirk back, raising on the front of your soles to press a kiss to his cheek. Ji-woo watches, smiling before doing the same.

“Ah- Hey man. She was mine before yours.” Jungkook growls playfully, eskimo kissing the tip of your son’s nose. Ji-woo crosses his arms at the defense.

“My mommy.” He reaches out towards you, latching onto your body in a second. His koala-like grip made a chuckle erupt from your chest, as you swayed in the imaginary music’s pattern while stroking the crown of his head.

“Yes, baby. Your mommy~” Jungkook eyes the two of you huffing. He pulls your body closer, spinning you both around before landing in a tight back hug.

“My mommy.” He kisses sweet pecks to the skin of your neck, nibbling on the lobe of your ear. You giggle, pulling away from his embrace.

“Time for bed. Both of my boys.”

You both let out a long breath, plopping down onto the sofa. Jungkook groans, rolling the joint of his ankle around as he unties the laces of his shoes. Your head cranes to the side, watching his motions, while reaching for the remote. Once he’s got both shoes off, he kicks back, enjoying the peace and quiet of your apartment.

“How was he today?” He questions, snatching the remote from your grip to pick a movie himself. You chuckle, snuggling your head into the comfort of his shoulder. His tattooed forearm lifts, pulling you closer to the side of his chest as you both lay exhausted, sprawled out on the comfort of your sofa.

“Well, we’ve been working on motor skills lately. He’s gotten the whole alphabet down so far.” He hums, clicking the remote before a cheesy rom-com flashes against the TV’s screen. The dimmed light illuminates a soft glow onto the both of you, making a little effort on pushing the atmosphere to be sprinkled with a hint of romance.

“Korean or English?”

“Both. We’re going to do flash cards tomorrow.” You comment, fidgeting in his arms before finding a less constricting position. One in which had your head resting on the dips of his shoulder, as his arm swoops around to hug you close. His chest rises and falls with a gentle rhythm. Soft glows from the city’s bright shines light up his face, as his eyes train on the little couple who’d been forced into getting married to keep both of their parents happy. It had been a classic trope as always. Jungkook had always been a sucker for these kinds of flicks. When you had been dating, he’d always turn up on movie night with the girls, holding either a romance or comedy, and some sheet masks in hand. All of your female friends loved him, but not as much as he had loved you. The last few days before college ended, he’d taken you to your favorite park in all of Incheon, got down on one knee, and popped the question faster than you could say ‘Chicken pot pie’.

His lips part slightly, as the tips of his finger drag across your exposed skin, teasing the little hemmed shorts you’d decided to throw on before investing yourselves into some much needed quiet time.

It was meant as an innocent act of love. As if sending flowers to your lover’s dorm room up until the next anniversary. (Yes, he’d done that as well. Junior year of grad school. You’ve got pictures to prove it.)

However, this had stirred a fire in the pit of your stomach that had been burning since you two last had a ‘different’ kind of alone time. Not as alone, and certainly not as quiet.

In no time, you’d been able to swing the rest of your body over his, straddling his lap within mere seconds. The scene quickly changed from cute to sexy in the blink of an eye. (Much like his duality, you must admit.)

His hands almost instantly come to rest on the dips of your sides, bodies already in tune to what the both of you needed. What you craved.

“So, tell me about your day.” You quirk, lowering your body down onto the floor. His thighs instantly widening the distance so that your small frame could easily fit.

“Some old stuff. We had a huge meeting this morning, talking about how the new project for our upcoming lin- oh fuck..” He groans, head falling back against the couch’s neck, as his lips part from the intense pleasure. Your hands had easily found themselves busy while unbuckling the lock of his trousers, slipping the thin material off in one go. His hips were to automatically lift, as his mouth kept babbling on. Well, that is until your lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Hand coiled around the base, as your head starts to motion in up and down patterns.

You pop off with a certain sound, tongue swirling around his squishy tip. “Mmm, tell me more.” You tease, applying kitten-like licks to his length, watching as his chest stutters in motion before whining out a little answer.

“Then Jimin and I went to sign some documents over for the company’s mar- Jesus fuck, Y/n..” His eyes flutter, straining to keep his thoughts in tact while you go down on him. This wasn’t usually how it was. However, the whole ‘mommy’ thing has given you an idea.

His hand reaches outwards to grip at your roots, but you’re quick to swat it away. His head lifts in confusion, as a smirk presses your cheeks.

“Did I say you could touch me?” His eyebrow raises, smirk curling his cornered lips at your sweet voice.

“Is that really how you wanna play it tonight, babygirl?” Fuck. He knew all your weak spots.

Of course he knew all your weak spots, Y/n. He’s your fucking husband.

Your throat dries at his tone. You could’ve sworn the whole world just paused for a second. The chocolate swirls of his irises he’d passed down to your son had butterflies springing in the pit of your stomach. Even with your entire fucking body wrapped around his cock, he would be in control.

And that turned you on more than you’d like to admit.

The length of his index rubs against his bottom lip. A now calmed and situated expression and posture replaces his once confused and soft side. Your thighs clench at the sight, lips parting in awe at his sudden change in demeanor.

Him and his fucking duality.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?” He leans forward, tilting his head. His greasy smirk teases your sights, as a playful expression brushes his features. “All fun and games ‘til someone puts you in your fucking place, isn’t it?” His eyes flick down, noticing how your grip on his hardened cock falters. His grin spreads wider, as do his thighs to give you more than enough workspace.

“Did I tell you to stop, baby girl?” You shake your head. His lips roll off a slight chuckle before his hand grips the point of your chin, forcing your eyes to lock with his.

“Put this mouth to work or I’ll do it for you.” You’re quick to wrap the plush of your lips around his tip, earning a low groan from his end of this war. Tattooed digits come to grip at your roots, enough to where he knows you like it. He’d always been very careful when it came to sex. Although, careful doesn’t mean gentle.

“That’s right, baby. Fuck- your mouth feels amazing. I never fucking last when you do shit like this, Y/n-” Your hand clasps around the length of his cock -what you couldn’t fit into your mouth anyways- bobbing your head at a ridiculous speed before his tip hits the back of your throat. You lift off slightly, cursing silently for forgetting how to give some good head. This had been so easy in your younger days. Now? Your ran out of breath more than you’d like to admit. However, Jungkook still had the stamina of a 17 year old boy.

“Damn baby, you’re getting old.” He chuckles, leaning forwards to press a kiss to your lips. He sits up, pulling your body quickly onto his a one swift motion. He’s already on the challenge of removing your -his- White tee, slipping from your body.

“Shut the hell up. I’m not fucking old.” You groan, pulling the stretch of your black panties to the side. That had been the good thing about being married. You didn’t really have to dress up all cute and shit for him. He knew how busy you’d been with your son, and he loved you for it. Actually, the last time -you quote- he said 'I don’t care if you wear grandma underwear. I’m still gonna tap that.'

His words. Ah, romance.

He giggles, lining the tip of his cock at your soaked hole. Your pause, resting your hands onto the broad of his chest.

“Uh, condom much?” In one move, he forces your hips flush down against his, making a whine escape past your lips.

“Nah. I don’t feel like getting up.” His hips rise to meet yours, slow thrusts up into your core had the tingling feeling in your stomach satisfied. Well, not quite.

“And I don’t feel like getting pregnant. One’s already enough, Kook.” His hips stutter against yours, cursed and mumbles groans escape his lips that had been busy pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck as a gesture of telling you to shut the fuck up.

Eh, you never listen anyways.

“Just- fuck..” His teeth graze the skin along your neck, sucking purplish bruises into the thin flesh. “I’ll stop by and pick up your pills tomorrow..” His hands rest on your side hips, moving your body in unison against his to pull you off this topic.

Your wrap around his neck, nails digging into the flesh of his back from pleasure. One, coming up to grip at his naturally coal-charged roots, earning yourself an unexpected growl.

“I can’t go on the pills. They fucked up my appetite, remember?”

He groans, flipping the two of your over so that you’re propped against the couch’s back. Ass up and proud of his taking. You weren’t really worried about getting pregnant. You just loved seeing him angry. When he is pissed, he’s always at his most dominant.

“Baby, I love you but please- If you don’t shut the fuck up I’m seriously gonna tie you to our dining table.” A chuckle rolls from your lips, as you twist around, pulling yourself from his grip. He gruffs, watching as you lay on your back under his large frame.

Your arms reach out, pulling his body onto yours as he lines himself up with your core. His biceps trap your frail self underneath the shadows of his protectant figure, as you press your body flush against his, lifting your leg up to allow himself the privilege of bottoming out.

His lips curve into a smirk at your cheeky grin. A hand smacks against your thigh, as he yells quietly at your little teases.

“You little brat!” Your head lulls back playfully, exatrerated moans lift from your chest.

“Oh, I’ve been so bad, sir!” His chuckle falters to a pushed groan, hips rutting against your core as his balls smack flush against your ass.

“D-damn right- Fucking.. Oh my God, baby.” His knees plant to both sides of your body, as his hands cup the rounds of your breasts. Fingers pinching and pulling at the erect of your nipples, before his lips exchange sloppy kisses against yours.

After a few moments of hushed groans and tight moans -for your son’s sake- he’d reached lower, circling fast motions against your throbbing clit.

Your body lunges forward, mouth gaping at the sudden gesture. "OH fuck!-" Jungkook chuckles, using the palm of his warm hand to clasp over your lips, shutting you up in an instant. He lowers the weight of his body, head resting closer against your neck as soft whispers dance along your heated skin of your collarbone.

"See baby? See how much better I am? More than that little peice of s-shit you call your v.. fucking-"

Your back rises off from the couch, heavy moans and pants slip out a few giggles in between their big performance. Your voice teases back with as much playfulness as his had previous. "What's the matter, baby? Cat got your- fuck!" His movements are quick to chop your words off as he lifts up the weight of your legs, folding them into your chest to plunge his cock deeper past your velvety walls.

"N-no baby, seems like the cat's got your tongue." His weight full umber dripped, uncut bangs fall heavily onto your face, tickling the tip of your nose as his hips snap against yours. Your hands trail up the plains of his back, before reaching out to lock onto the damp toussels, gripping harshly. His lips part, a deep-whiney moan rolling from the depths of his heaving chest.

"F-fuck you're s-such a brat." His voice is raspy and weak, barely being able to slip a few words into his sinful melodic register. A frail smile curves the edges of your lips at his confession.

"You know you like it~" He groans out a soft chuckle, pressing soft, butterfly-like kisses to your jugular.

You take quick notice in how his demeanor has switched. From controlled and in charge to whiney and sporadic. His irises flicker with need, silently pleading for his release. Thighs trembling for how long he's held this position, cock throbbing as his hips start to receed from his once fastening pace. The tip of his finger circling faster motions than he's ever done before. Your body practically lifts off the couch. His free arm lowers, unbeding your leg from its trapped position, stretching the limb past his body. Your thigh shaking at an uncontrollable level. Any kind of snarky or sassy comment that you were planning to make went out the window. Your nails grip along his back, feeling a few drops of blood drip onto your fingers.

"Sh-shit baby- I ain't your fucking scratching post." He chesty laugh only aids in twisting the coil that had been burning in your stomach for the past five minutes.

"N-no- oh fuck, Koo- I- oh fuck!" Your words had no coherence. As if you'd been reaching into a jar full of hyrogliphics and trying to pronounce them.

Beads of sweat roll down the sides of his neck, as he takes mental notes of reminding you to trim your nails later on cause holy fuck does it hurt.

"You gonna cum baby? Look at you. So needy for my cock, huh? What's the magic word?~" You had no idea what you'd been agreeing to. As if all logic had gone out the window, and only chants of 'please' took over your thoughts.

"F-fuck you and your magic word!" You groan out, breaths puffing out like you're running a 6k.

Right before the coil in your stomach snaps, all pleasure receeds from your body. His finger against your clit stills, as well as his thrusts.

His eyes, glassy and fogged with lust. Voice sounding in control, but he felt anything other. However, this had always been his favorite part. Rileing you up so much that you'd do anything for him.

"I said fucking please!"

"That's not it, baby and you know it."

His greasy smirk boils anger in your body. Yet. You'd been too clouded from your edged orgasm to even care at this point. Your arms grip onto his biceps, yanking his hovering frame to press flush against your body completely.

"Fuck me or I'll throw away all of your shitty action figures."

His eyes blow wide, gasping at your threat. "Not Iron Man! Babe!" His voice, now whiney and drat. "You wouldn't dare."

Smirking you raise your head up, grazing the lobe of his ear with your incisors.

"Wanna bet?"

He takes a moment in consideration before resuming his motions. Your legs immidiently are sent back into quivers, as you feel the quick recur of your orgasm. In a matter of seconds, the hot spurts of cum paint your walls as your own release practically makes your body go completely limp. His large frame weighs ontop of you. The two of you quick in trying to catch your breaths.

After a few moments, Jungkook sits up, taking a look around the room.

"Smells like sex in here."

You chuckle, toying at his soft-defined abs with the tip of your toes. He flinched, pushing your feet away.

"Ew! Gross, babe. I don't want your nasty feet on me!"

"Well I didn't want your nasty sweat on me either!" You sit up. Meeting his height by judt a few inches. Arms folding across your chest in annoyance. He coos, placing the warmth of his palm onto your reddened cheeks.

"It's a joke, babe."

You huff, relaxing a bit into his embrace. He pulls your naked body onto his lap, trapping you in a warmth of cuddles. Chests rising and falling at slowed paces, as the room ticks still. The grandfather clock against the wall had been clocking by for the past few moments of silence. Hands, coming to play with the greasy strands of your hair, as his lips press soft kisses onto your exposed shoulder. You giggle.

"So, about the action figures-"

"You try touching my babies and I'll cut both of your hands off." You chuckle, nuzzling your nose into his side neck.

"It was a joke, babe." You tease, grazing your worn out lips over his cooling skin. His chest heaves out a chuckle, plopping you onto the couch to pin your wrists above your head.

"Good. You'd have to fight me for it anyways." His nose brushes along your cheek, making a familiar sensation bubble back up in the pit of your stomach. You glance down, seeing the prominent hardness of his cock poking at your core once again.

"Round two?" He questions, tilting his head to the side. An innocent yet sexy expression paints his features. Your voice lowers, mimicking the seriousness of a video game announcers.

"Ready? Fight!"

THE END.

________________

A/n: Ahhhhh I wasn't planning on posting this so early but holy crap it just came to me and uhhh- I'm a sucker for DILF anybody. Like- guys it's an issue...

#jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #dilf au #established relationship #bts smuts

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bemyawakening · 1 year

Note

Omg yesss please more Alejandro! There isn't enough stories about him.

Task force 141 meeting Alejandro Vargas wife for first time.

I imagine her being a badass soldier and medic at same time. After they reclaim the base and gather up wounded she arrives and heals people and commands everybody and price or somebody asks if she is Alejandros 3rd in command or something and Alejandro is like no she is above me and introduces her as his wife and she meets the whole task force after she is done and thanks them for helping Alejandro and she scolds Alejandro because he made her worry but he only smiles and hugs her.

ALEJANDRO VARGAS X f!READER

Thank you so much for your request agh! I absolutely love Alejandro and I was definitely not licking my screen whenever he showed up on it. Somehow, I think a bad-ass wife would suit him so well, so here you go! if it’s horrible— I’m so sorry

pairing: Alejandro Vargas x f!reader (medic and soldier reader)

word count: 1994

Your bouncing leg was driving not only you but the two medics sitting in the same room insane. Where the fuck were they? Checking your wristwatch, you were sure you were going to have a heart attack in approximately five seconds, but you had to calm yourself – he always came back.

The roaring vehicle from the outside alerted you and you sprang from your seat faster than lightning. You kept swearing to yourself that you’ll never ever let him get into another mission again and you’ll write him off any mission coming his way. You had the authority to do that.

However, the distant yells fogged up her mind, letting her know that someone was badly injured—fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… Two soldiers appeared, helping a wounded British soldier get inside of the medical room. You knew that the Special Forces from England united with the Mexican Special Forces for this mission and you did the right thing by coming to the base, in case help would be needed.

The man was young and you immediately pointed at a free bed beside the door, watching the way the guys placed him down on the mattress. Walking closer, you pushed a little table with wheels closer to the bed, where the most important stuff was placed – you were prepared, and took a pair of fresh gloves: “Tell me.”

Only then did you realise that one of the men standing beside you had a hairstyle of a Mohawk and it oddly suited him, but you couldn’t put attention on him for too long, since the man on the bed was clearly suffering.

“Bullet wound. Lower thigh. Put on the tourniquet about-“ he looked at his watch, nodding, “one and a half hour ago.”

Nodding, you cut the material of the man’s pants, not even bothered by the amount of dark blood that has drenched them. You had to deal with amputating limbs. This look like a bee sting. “Good news, soldier. You’ll live and you’ll walk.”

“There’s nothing I want more,” the young man replied through his gritted teeth.

Taking a needle, you took a little vial, sucking in the liquid through the needle, and flicking it to get rid of the air bubbles. While working, you informed, your voice collected and professional: “Get other wounded in here. The other medics will take care of them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man with the Scottish accent and the Mohawk replied and he disappeared into the chaos, the other soldier following him.

You’d be lying if your eyes didn’t drop on the door every five seconds. Where the fuck was he? Did something happen to him? No, you gripped yourself together. You had to tend to this soldier right now and then bring wrath once you see his face.

“Local anaesthesia,” you informed. “Going to stop the bleeding, take the bullet out and stitch it all up.”

The man nodded, placing his head down and embracing himself for pain. The local anaesthesia helped a lot to bring down the pain, but the discomfort of taking out the bullet was more sickening than painful.

And you worked like a clock. The tourniquet has stopped the bleeding pretty well, meaning no major artery has been breached. Your eyes kept darting to the door, watching a few more soldiers getting taken in—no sign of him. It took some time to take out the bullet which was split into three parts—one of them nastily small. But the man was taking the pain like a champ and soon enough, you left him to rest with a set of stitches and a cold compress against his forehead.

Taking off the bloody gloves, you sighed. The stress was making you feel tenser as you looked through the room, the other medics taking care of the other, not-so-badly wounded soldiers. A few soldiers of your own walked inside of the room and you invited them to come closer.

“What the hell happened?”

“They were ambushed—they successfully cleared out the base, but there were a few others hiding and it almost turned into a bloodbath,” a male, your sergeant, replied and you chewed on your bottom lip.

“¡Buen trabajo!” You slightly tapped his shoulder, excusing him as you walked towards the main part of the base where some of them should be gathered.

And then you saw him. With blood on his face. Fuck, he was hurt, he was hurt, he was hurt… The worry was making you feel rage. You completely ignored the other guys that were looking at you as if you were crazy, but you just made your way to him, watching the way his face lit up as he saw you.

He knew he was in trouble. He knew how worried you always got when he didn’t come back right on time. And, he already knew what you were going to say—you were going to make him retire. But, God, did you look beautiful walking to him with that worried arch between your eyebrows? There was a bit of blood on your shirt, he knows you tended to someone and he didn’t want to bother you.

God, he missed you so much.

“Colonel,” your voice snapped him out of his trance, making him realise that he was in big trouble. You only called him by his rank when he was in the deep.

“Mi amor,” he tried to soothe you down, knowing damn well what his voice and his words did to you. However this time it didn’t seem to be working.

The worried sparkle in your eyes was making him feel guilty—he never intends to make you worry. He never intends to make you feel as if he would not come back. He’d always make his way back to you. Always.

“¿Qué sucedió?” Your tone was rough and he deserved it, but he knew you weren’t actually mad. You were terrified for him.

Instead of you pulling him into a hug as he has hoped for, you grasped his vest, took it off him and dropped it on the floor. You were inspecting him, seeing if there were any ripped or bloody parts in his attire, before your eyes raised to his head, at the top of his forehead, a bit to the right - there was a nasty wound that has already dried up.

Your lips trembled.

“You’re retiring! You better write your fucking resigning letter right now or I swear to fucking God, Alejandro, I will kick you out of the Special Forces myself!” Your voice raised and you meant every single word that has come out of your mouth. You were hitting his chest, not too hard, letting him know how much he has put you through misery.

Alejandro couldn’t help but smile. He always found your worry sincere and heart-warming. He admired the way you didn’t care about making a scene and he knew well that you were about to drag his ass out of this base and not let him get in here anymore. You had the authority.

“Tranquila, mi amor, tranquila,” his voice was soothing and he could see the welling tears in your eyes. He grabbed your hands that were having a brawl with his chest and softly squeezed them, pulling you closer. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You loathed the soft tone of his voice. You loathed how quickly it calmed you down. And you especially loathed the way you became a lump of jelly once his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

Letting yourself breathe out with more ease, you closed your eyes, giving in to his warmth. His heartbeat was slightly faster, but it announced to you that he was alive. He was here. Your Alejandro was here, with you.

Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, he inhaled your scent—home. He was home. He could feel the way your body was slowly relaxing and he realised that he would actually let you drop him out of the Special Forces. The thought about waking up every morning with you by his side, without the need to worry if both of you will make it back home… Little kids running around your home, cooking together… That was his dream. You were his dream.

Pulling away, you placed your hands on his cheeks, the worried expression on your face not fading away. You inspected the wound—perhaps a few stitches will be necessary. He couldn’t help but admire you. There was something so soothing when you looked at him with that concerned look. He knew he was in good hands. Every touch of yours was so gentle and he cherished them all.

“Didn’t think I’d see Alejandro getting his ass threatened,” the familiar Scottish accent made you both pull away from one another, but not too far. Alejandro couldn’t keep his hands off you.

“Hermanos, this is my wife. Responsible for my early retirement,” Alejandro slightly pointed at you with his hand as you looked at the several men standing there.

“It’s a pleasure,” the Scottish guy replied.

“I was told that Captain Price will be also joining this mission,” you spoke, wondering which one of them you will have to cooperate with doing the paperwork.

“It’s me, ma’am,” one of the guys took off his cap, showing his face as he was a bit older than everyone in the room with a beard.

“Pleasure,” you nodded, diverting your attention to Rodolfo. “The same goes for you Rodolfo—say goodbye to this base.”

“Teniente coronel,” Rodolfo winced.

“Hold on!” The Scottish guy gasped, extending his arms in a dramatic motion. “Lieutenant Colonel? Your wife has a higher rank than you?”

Alejandro nodded – he never had issues with you being with a high rank. On the contrary, he found it very pleasing that calling you formally would get you melting like a piece of chocolate on a sunny day.

“Yes,” you nodded. It was normal for you to get this kind of reaction—there weren’t many women with your rank or higher. And you were still quite young, but ambitious to get this far. “Now, I’ll get back to all of you in quite some time before I solve some issues with my Colonel.”

Grasping his arm, you were making your way back into the medical room. Alejandro was following you like a lost puppy, watching you the way you tried to stay angry.

“Señora,” he stopped you as soon as both of you were in a bit more hidden corridor, sneaking his hands up your waist. “I know I made you worry-”

“Alejandro,” you warned him with your rough tone. You had to stay strong. How many times have you melted into his touch without giving him a proper scolding?

“Mi amor,” he whispered, that innocent, but a slightly cheeky smile on his face—damn it. “I will make it up to you.”

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest, but that didn’t stop him from pulling you as close as he could against him. “I’ll take that resignation letter as making up.”

Chuckling, he placed his hands on your cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating from them. How much he loved when you looked at him with slightly flustered eyes—the things you were doing to him. Kissing his palm, you slightly shook your head: “I’m serious, Alejandro. You’re retiring on your own wish or I’ll kick you out myself. It was silly for me to keep you going on those missions. I want you in our house. I want you in the mornings. I want you beside me every night.”

Feeling the seriousness of this situation, he was taken aback because he has wished the same things for both of you. He wanted to protect his people and he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave his job completely, but he’d try to be home more. For you.

Pressing his lips to your forehead, he hummed against your skin, nudging his head down for his forehead to meet yours. “Fine,” he whispered. “Anything for you.”

#sunnywrites!#alejandro vargas imagine #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x you #call of duty imagine #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare

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ikkosu · 29 days

Text

PUNISHMENT

nsfw!! I think I have a thing for robo-abdomens (is there a kink for that) don't mind me woo hee 🙉 horknee drabble (or not) because I'm losing my MINDm I am so down bad for this man you don't understand. I want him rooked to a ceiling as I do unethical things to that cop

mouse-verse THIS wasn't what he was expecting when you said you'd go down on him. Even before the insinuation had clocked in — during the confines of the debrief, his spike had already pressurized at the sight of your unusually short skirt.

Of course, everyone else just had to be normal about it : Perceptor beside you as usual, clicking on the points, droning off about the new advances on the forcefield perimeter; Ratchet's gruff demeanor still trying to outwit Ironhide's; Smokescreen being a brat and throwing paper ball at sideswipe, who chucks a whole energon cube at the kid.

He's the only one shifting constantly in his seat, digits gripping the table it's denting under the pressure and dentas grinding he's legitimately this close to hurling Bee out of the window.

"Stuck in a hard place, pal?" He nagged.

Ha. Ha. Very funny. Someone give the bug a Nobel prize.

He's the only one tortured by the visage and it's certainly not helping that you're in front of him, whirling around to scribble equations on the board. Equations he should be jotting down for later inquiry, regarding it's advances.

But the skirt swirls in tandem of your movements, and when he gets a glimpse of the lacy pink, his spike conched the hood of the panel.

Of course you just had to drop that pencil. You just had to fraggin' bend over like that where he gets a full view of your ass; lacy pink that curved over the deliciously plush mound.

When he's locked in at the sight, you grabbed the pencil and straighten up — not before catching his glare and throwing him a wink.

He keels over his desk with a vent.

"Prowl, you're uh looking a little pale there." Arcee smiles primly and hands over some rust sticks. "Famished?"

He raises his head lethargically, glaring at her. "Does it look like I'm okay?"

You're turning him into some lowly degenerate and he hates it. It's like you exist simply to humiliate him.

Arcee bristles then returns the scowl, retracting her offer back, close to her chassis "Alright, then. Starve."

He'll take starving over this anytime.

"When I get you, mouse....just see when I get you."

—

YOU'RE between his legs.

And he's on the berth, flat on his back with his helm thrown against the headrest. He lets out a unrestrained, shuddered groan.

Chassis heaving with shallow breath, his slick member drags back and forth against your clothed chest as you peppered kisses along his abdomen, unsheathed of his metal platings.

He feels your lips suckling the soft protoform, teeth grazing the flesh he winced at the pleasure — but also pain, an oxymoron, because you're not giving enough attention to his throbbing spike.

Prowl hissed. " If I didnt know any better you're deliberately doing this to piss me off."

You hummed and nuzzled your cheek against his abdomen. "Your spike isnt only the main course, you know."

Even when he's got you all to himself after a day's worth of torture, he's still being punished in the confines of his habsuite. Primus forbid anyone walk in now. He could just flip you over, push aside the lacy pink and rut you from behind.

"Don't push me." It was almost a growl.

A grin cracked between your teeth; you dive in for another kiss at his abdominal protoform. You liked it when he's pathetic. When he's grovelling at your mercy for such a touch-repulsed officer as he. His thighs tenses up and his helm is thrown back.

"Please." This time, it was a whine.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #transformers idw #idw prowl #prowl x reader #idw prowl x reader #valveplug

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ghostchems · 1 year

Note

Hear me out, hear me out...

Soft possessive Terzo with a virgin S/O.. I recently just went on YouTube and watched a thousand Terzo 'The birds and the bees' vids and in one of them he said something among the lines of ''It's the inexperience that makes me tremble.'' and that drove me wild, so I am in desperate need of more smut<3

so. sooo. uh, yeah.

You shuffle your feet outside of Papa’s quarters. Your chest feels tight, nervousness coursing through you. You know you should feel honored but it’s impossible for you not to be a little bit afraid.

What started as some friendly teasing among the other sisters of sin ended up exposing the fact that you were a virgin. Before the actual teasing had begun but after the idea was floated around to set you up with a ghoul, Papa had swooped in and offered to do the honors. The rest of the sisters quieted down and you knew that they had to be at least a tiny bit jealous.

Terzo had smiled and told you that inexperience made him tremble. He gently kissed the back of your hand and gave it a pat, telling you to meet him at his quarters that night.

And now, you are here. You decided to wear a short, flowing dress with nothing underneath. It made you feel a bit sexy and scandalous and you hope he thought so too. You knock softly on the door and Papa opens it at once, already in a loose silk robe and nothing else. Your eyes drift down to between his legs and see the outline of his dick.

“I’ve been thinking of you, cara.” Terzo winks and takes you by the hand. Your cheeks flush as he guides you inside the Papal Suite and you can hardly take in how truly luxurious it all looks. Instead your eyes are focused on Papa while you start to feel heat pooling between your legs.

“Please, sit.” He motions to the bed and you do as you're told, crossing your legs and settling your hands in your lap. “Are you nervous, dolce?” Terzo takes a seat beside you, his knee pressing into yours and his legs spread wide so that you can almost fully see his cock and balls.

“A little bit, yeah.” You muster, managing a sheepish smile. He leans in close to you and your breath catches in your throat. You’ve never been this close to Papa before.

“Cara, this is about you. We do what you are comfortable with, si? We don’t even have to fuck if you don’t want to.” His fingers toy with the spaghetti straps of your dress. “If you like something, tell me. If something makes you uncomfortable, per favore, tell your Papa. Capisce?” Terzo leans in even further, his nose brushing against yours. “Understand, sorella?”

“Y-yes, Papa.” You whisper as your eyes fall to his lips. They quirk into a grin and heat rushes to your face. Terzo pushes the straps off of your shoulders, his fingertips dancing along your skin and moving to your neck. His lips brush against yours and you draw in a sharp breath, his fingers trailing your jaw as he presses his lips firmly to you.

It’s so warm and welcoming. You melt into the kiss, your eyes falling shut as you reach for his chest. It rumbles with your touch. His own hands fall to your breasts, massaging them through your dress. He pinches at your nipples and you gasp into his mouth, pressing even closer into him. Terzo’s tongue pushes into your mouth and you moan at the taste of him. You press your thighs together, feeling yourself growing more aroused by his touches.

He tugs your dress down, exposing your breasts. His thumbs swipe over your nipples before pinching at them again. You whine as he pulls away from this kiss. You’re able to take in how smudged the paint on his lips are before he dips down and mouths at your collarbone. Terzo’s strong hands move to grip at your waist and pushes you back onto the bed, lowering you to your back.

His knee settles between your legs as his lips find one of your breasts, flicking his tongue against the nipple before taking it into his mouth. Your hips snap, grinding against his knee in search of any kind of friction. Terzo lifts his head up to look at you, his pupils blown wide with lust. He spreads your legs and settles between them, his hard cock pressing against your core as he pushes your dress up.

“Are you ready, cara? We are going to go nice and slow, okie dokie?” He whispers huskily as he lines himself up. You reach for his shoulders and nod enthusiastically. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. Terzo slips off his robe and you get to see him in his full glory. He truly is so handsome. All of your fear is gone and is replaced with lust for him.

Still, the thought of the first time hurting popped up into your brain but you are expecting it, at least. Terzo pushes in slowly, sucking in a breath as he inches into you. You’re surprised to find that it doesn’t hurt at all but you feel some pressure as you stretch around him. He bottoms out and hisses, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

“H-how are you feeling, dolce? Good, yes?” He sighs into your neck.

“Good, yes.” You whisper and bring your hips up to meet his. Terzo gives a soft groan.

“S-so tight. I’m going to… start now, okay?” He picks his head up and starts to slowly roll his hips. An involuntary moan spills from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut and your mouth dropping open. You can feel his cock twitch inside you while he keeps a steady pace. You start to grow a bit more confident and wrap your legs around his waist, which allows for him to push in even deeper.

“O-oh.” You whine and arch you back. Terzo grips onto your hips and his thrusts grow a bit quicker. You start to feel the band in your stomach tighten even more, the muscles in your legs tensing.

“You like this, cara? You like the f-feeling of my cock in your t-tight cunt?” He growls, his hips snapping roughly.

“Yes, P-papa!” You cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders. “M-more, please.”

Terzo obliges, his thrusts growing more erratic and he moans deeply against your ear. A couple more snaps of his hips and you feel it, the rush of pleasure coursing through you, a whimpering sob falling from your lips as it overtakes you. He is close behind you, a growl ripping from his throat while he fills you up with shallow thrusts.

You feel lighter but your eyes are wide, staring at the ceiling while zoning out. He is panting on top of you, his strong hands tugging you to his side as he rolls off. Your eyes meet his sleepy ones and you take in his face. His paint is now completely smudged and this may be the closest you’ll ever get to see him without it.

“How was that, cara?” Terzo hums, pulling you up against him and then reaching for the covers. You’re in a daze but you’re able to smile dreamily. You tuck your head against his chest.

“Very good.”

“I usually last longer but… eh, you were just so tight.” He chuckles and nuzzles his nose against your forehead. “You enjoyed it, though? Perhaps next time we can experiment a bit more, si?”

“Next time?” You pick your head up and look at him with big eyes.

“If you’ll have me again, dolce.” He winks.

#HORNT ON THIS THURSDAY MORNING #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iii #terzo #mdni #smut #terzo request

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

Note

I just read Playboy and... Oh boy. Damn. Bashful Joel is *the best.* Also, I'm so curious if they woke up Ellie lmao that would be horribly, deliciously awkward

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡

pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

word count: 819

warnings: awkward. Very subtle references to smut. Not proof read.

note: I loved this ask so much that I had to write it just for funsies. I think I try really hard (too hard) sometimes to be a serious writer when sometimes I’m in need of a little bit of fun! See the fic that inspired this ask here. PLEASE NOTE: at the end of this there are two dashes ( - - ) there is a glitch removing the last paragraph of my fic so this is the only way I can curb it!

Fuchsia blurs across Ellie’s cheekbones, encroaching on the skin of her throat and exposing her obvious discomfort in the silvery reflection of the wing mirror. You chew on the inside of your cheek raw as you watch her for hours, her eyes staring into the obscure image of the passing evergreen outside the window as though she was experiencing shell shock.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet, Kid,” Joel speaks up through the silence, his eyes drifting up to the wing mirror glass and assessing the image of Ellie’s reflected mortification. Outwardly cringing, she glances forward at Joel and shrugs awkwardly.

“Yeah, well, you were ‘uncharacteristically’ loud last night,” she mumbles under her breath, and you swear you feel your insides curdle. Joel’s eyebrow arches slightly in question, but you know exactly what she’s touching on, swallowing back your urge to explain and apologise.

“Gotta speak up, Kiddo. Can’t hear you on that side,” Joel reminds Ellie of his deaf ear, and you find yourself closing your eyes in mortification at his insistence to find out what was bugging the poor, tortured girl.

Ellie clears her throat with a shake of her head, sprawling out across the back seat in a dramatic flop.

“It’s not important.”

Joel, frustrated now, aims his scrutiny at you. His bronze eyes study your discomfort; his eyebrows pinched together when you form your lips around the words ‘she knows.’

The result is almost instantaneous—Joel’s grip on the leather steering wheel creaks, his knuckles white. You can practically see his stomach drop, and he lets out an awkward chuckle that lacks humour. Resting your elbow against the curve of the door, you hide your eyes behind your fingers.

“… Ellie,” Joel speaks tentatively, and you swear you can feel the almost nauseous discomfort radiating off the teenage girl in waves, “… Uh… When-“

“‘A man and a woman love each other very much’? Are you fuckin’ serious, Joel? Are you about to give me the birds and bees talk?!” Ellie scoffs, shaking her head, “You really are shoddy at this.”

“I didn’t-… I ain’t had to talk about this before,” Joel grumbles, teeth gritting as he rubs at the back of his neck to wipe the nervous sweat away.

“You don’t have to. You were both so noisy I got a pretty clear picture!” She pointed out viciously, and you swear you wished a Bloater would just run at the truck and flip it over, knocking you out and putting you out of your misery. You’re cringing so hard you swear you’ve tied your intestines in a knot.

“Shit-… ‘M sorry, Ellie. You shouldn’ta heard that…” Joel mumbles, and it’s like he’s getting his knuckles rapped with a ruler by his maths teacher. You’d never heard the gruff, unapologetic man sound so meek.

There’s a long stretch of silence, and it almost tempts you to peek through your digits and see what is happening. So quiet and tense is the atmosphere that the running engine of the ageing vehicle sounds like a mountain avalanche, rumbling within the contents of the van’s metal shell. You suppose a huge rock hitting you head on would be more optimal than this utterly humiliating conversation.

Joel damn near stalls the truck when Ellie speaks up, catching you both off guard with what she chooses to say next.

“… So… *Is* he smaller than the average American dick length?”

“Ellie!” You and Joel yell out in shock, and Ellie almost falls off the seat in her intense laughter, clutching at her stomach at the evident shame that decorates Joel’s expression.

“I’m just fuckin’ with ya! I don’t wanna know that shit!” She giggles, wiping tears from her waterline with her knuckles.

“Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, shaking your head and leaning it back against the headrest.

“No thanks, that’s what Joel is for.”

“Ellie, I swear I am gonna kick you out of this truck and make you walk to Wyoming,” you insist, pointing towards the door handle beside you with zeal.

“Got it, got it,” she chuckles, sitting up again, “But don’t think I’m lettin’ you off that easy. I hear anything nasty? I’m screaming so a runner comes and kills us all. It’s less painful than listening to what I heard last ni-…”

When you dare to look, poor Joel is staring vacantly ahead of him as he drives, looking as though he’s really wondering just why the *fuck* he decided to take this job from Marlene and whether or not Ellie would be able to find her own way to Wyoming if he dropped her off on the roadside and abandoned her. Surely scrappy little Ellie could deliver herself with a map and a single cereal bar for protection?

#answering asks #joel x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #tlou hbo #tlou #ask imagines

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seung-mong · 1 year

Text

binsung - dealines pt. 2

includes: dom! changbin x fem reader x switch! jisung, semi public sex, power play to the MAX, changbin's kinda possesive, humiliation, dacryphilia, breeding kink, face fucking, oral (m and f receiving), cum play (kinda nastee), changbin is mean, slight voyeurism. hint of polyamorous relationship at the end?? lots of bullshit about history so if uk the actual answers pls ignore what i typed down i was just talking shit tee bee eich. ALSO this is my first time writing a threesome ERM lmk what u think NOT PROOFREAD I WAS TOO EXCITED HEHE

wc: 6.1k of pure filth literally porn with little plot wtf is wrong w/ me?? blame changbin <3

you cant even reach for the doorknob, seemingly frozen in place. you're early for mr. seo's class, but there's already people seated in the lecture hall, eyes glued to their phones or heads dropped down to their desk.

you can see his frame leaning against the table, dark slacks perfectly hugging his thighs, his white button down tucked in. he looks annoyed, flipping through the papers on his desk with a disappointed sigh. he looks fucking delicious, and you can't help the way you clench your thighs, a familiar pulsing between your legs so strong you have to catch your breath. you're not sure why you don't have the strength to walk in yet, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as you slowly lift your hand to reach for the handle.

"are you gonna go in? or..." a soft voice asks from behind you, dark charcoal eyes hiding behind a sweep of dirty blonde hair, eyes that dart towards you then quickly to the floor, a red hue spreading across his cheeks.

"oh! jisung." you yelp in surprise, half mortified half amused at the thought that he had been waiting for you to go in the whole time, watching as you fought with yourself in your head. he looks so cute, baggy grey sweatpants that hang on his hips nicely, a large oversized hoodie that seems to swallow him whole, and the white beanie he always wears when its cold enough outside.

"hi, y/n." he mumbles bashfully, still refusing to look you in the eye. instead, his gaze fixes on your pretty shoes, white and clean, untainted. unlike you. you watch as his stare travels upwards, eyes suddenly fixated on the cute little skirt you decided to wear today. (changbin begged you.) "you look nice today." he hums, fingers reaching forward to pinch the fabric in between his fingers.

"oh. thanks, ji." you mumble, suddenly shy.

he smiles sweetly at you, politely moving past you to grab the door handle, opening it for you. you swoon at the gesture, ducking your head under his arm before stepping into the classroom. no one makes a move to look over at whoever just entered the classroom, not even when jisung loudly closes the door behind him. this gets your professor's attention, frown immediately disappearing when he sees your blushing figure staring dumbly back at him.

he smirks at you, eyeing you hungrily as you make your way to the front of the class. changbin clears his throat, catching both your and han's attention.

"would you both mind coming up here for a moment?" changbin's voice is gruff, an eyebrow raised at the pair of you.

with shaky knees, you grip onto your tote bag tighter, praying that you wont collapse as you make your way to his desk. jisung trails after you, hesitant and unsure but obedient all the same.

"you look beautiful today, y/n." changbin whispers lowly enough for just you and jisung to hear, and you blush.

"thank you sir."

"mr. han." changbin acknowledges the poor boy next to you, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"sir?" he squeaks, eyes not daring to leave the floor.

"would you mind sitting in the front with miss y/n this morning? there's something i'd like for you to do." changbin says nonchalantly, but han tilts his head in confusion.

changbin smirks at his reaction, and then turns to look at you. "why don't you go sit in front baby? where i can keep an eye on you, yea?"

you nod at him, thankful that he made you sit at the very front so you don't have to carry yourself any further. you take the seat right in the middle, directly in front of your teacher's desk. you notice changbin place on han's shoulder, who buckles slightly under the weight. changbin pulls him close, bringing his face close to the younger's ear as he starts to explain something animatedly.

han's brows are furrowed in confusion, but then he suddenly goes serious, before a small smirk tugs in the corner of his mouth. your breath hitches in your throat almost comically when they both look your way, changbin's gaze cocky and confident. jisung's somewhat harder to read, wicked glint in his eyes yet he cant seem to hold eye contact with you for more than three seconds.

changbin pats jisung firmly on the back, gesturing him towards the seat next to you. he stumbles over to you, intentionally ignoring your fixed stare on him.

"what'd he say?" you ask, curious. jisung shrugs beside you, setting his backpack on the floor and settling comfortably into his chair, back slightly slumped and his legs spread, his right knee bumping against your left.

"just asked me to help him with something later." jisung whispers, arm coming up to rest on your backrest, his fingers mindlessly playing with the lace on your top. you feel his knuckles brush against your bare shoulder, and you cant help the shiver that runs through you, a shiver that jisung doesnt miss, unfortunately.

"you cold? here." before you can protest, jisung's removing his hoodie, his plain white shirt riding up a bit with the fabric of the jacket, allowing you to see a glimpse of jisung's abs, as well as the top of his underwear that hides under his pants. he lays his hoodie on top of your legs, letting the fabric cover both of your thighs.

"oh. thanks, ji." you whisper shyly. "wont you be cold though?" you ask, pouting.

jisung giggles at you, finger coming up to playfully pinch your jutted out lower lip. "oh, i'll be warm in just a minute babe." he whispers, leaning nearer towards you. you dont get a chance to process his words, his hand resting on your knee.

"right." changbin clears his throat in front of the class, pinching the bridge of his nose before he readjusts his glasses. "good morning, everyone."

a low murmur of 'good morning' resonates through the room, half of the class already asleep. you can't even blame them, not really. not when the cold of the classroom is just soooo comfy and lulling you to sleep, along with the comforting way jisung's fingers trace patterns against your inner thigh.

hang on. how did his hand get there?

"i have to say, i'm very disappointed with the results of the latest exam." changbin's voice demands respect, his deep voice rumbling in your ears. you see a couple of students sit up straighter, those who had been sleeping lifting their head up groggily at your teacher's tone.

"who here wants to graduate?" changbin asks, nonchalant.

you look around the room to see your classmates raise their hand with confused faces, and you turn to the front, your own hand raised.

changbin looks around the room, bored. "half of you wont."

the room suddenly goes quiet, a somber look on everyone's faces.

"seriously what the fuck are these scores? 10 over 50, 12 over 50, 8 over 50? has no one been paying attention in class?" changbin sighs, walking over to the front of his desk and sitting on the edge of the table, a spot you're familiar with.

"it reached the point i thought i was the problem, but if i were, then why are some people acing the test? this isn't a reflection of my teaching, i dont think. not when i have given the material, taught the material thoroughly, and have even gone as far as to spoonfeed some of you hopeless cases." changbin ends his rant with a sigh, shaking his head.

you cant help the feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach. fear? respect? then why were your thighs clenching at how angry your teacher was? and why the fuck is han jisung's hand in between your thighs?

"ji," you warn him, gently wrapping your fingers around his wrist, trying to pry his hand away.

"trust me." the boy beside you whispers, leaning closer to you, mouth right next to your ear as he presses a sneaky kiss just below your jaw. you exhale shakily, instantly relaxing when you feel jisung's knuckles brush against your clit over your panties.

"mr. kim." changbin suddenly calls.

your classmate stands, messy hair spilling out from underneath his cap, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. seungmin, you think his name was. he was top of your class, and super cute.

"sir?" he asks, almost unsure.

"throughout history, powerful elites have dominated. can you tell me how the relatively less powerful and the truly disenfranchised fit into history?" changbin challenges.

you see seungmin gulp.

everyone's eyes are fixed on the exchange, despite how hard it is to watch. jisung isnt having trouble looking away though, it seems.

"jisung, what are you doing?" you hiss, feeling his skilled fingers roll your stocking down, middle finger catching the side of your underwear and pulling it to the side, allowing him access to your cunt.

"just following instructions, y/n." jisung whispers against your ear. you suddenly feel changbin's gaze on you, hard eyes staring right into yours as you feel a fire grow in the pit of your stomach. changbin smirks lazily at you, sending you a quick wink before he attends to the stuttering student who tries to answer his question.

you let out a gasp when jisung dips his finger into your entrance, collecting your slick and bringing it back up to rub on your clit. you hold on tightly onto his wrist as he gently rubs you, fingers circling your clit in a precise, practiced manner.

"ji," you whine, trying your hardest not to moan out when he lightly pinches your clit in between his pointer and his thumb. "why? are you.."

"sir said you needed to be thoroughly prepped."

your eyes roll back at the thought, and it doesnt help that jisung chooses that exact moment to sink two fingers into your wet heat.

"a-and as sad- er unfortunate as it sounds, there is a need for that clear difference in power, it is vital in balance, n-no matter how ideal a perfect world sounds, there are just too many factors affecting the dynamics. and- and"

"thats enough," changbin raises his hand, giving the student a tight lipped smile, offering him a break. "thank you, mr. kim. you aced the test, by the way."

seungmin sighs in relief, dropping back into his seat as his seatmate, hyunjin, pats him on the back.

"mr han." changbin suddenly calls, and you freeze.

jisung doesnt, fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. "yes sir?"

changbin smirks. "in discussing nationalism, historians are divided over whether or not people had any sort of national identity prior to the nineteenth century. what are your thoughts?"

jisung curls his fingers upwards, hitting your spot. you have to choke back a moan, now that everyone's eyes were fixed on the back of the boy's head. jisung starts to answer, but you honestly cant even understand what he's saying, not when he keeps his fingers in you, opting instead to rub insistently against your g-spot. you have to bite the back of your hand, leegs slightly shaking when he doesnt give you a break, fingers really digging into you harshly, his thumb resting comfortably on your clit and giving it a tap every now and then.

"so while there is evidence that points to people developing awareness to national identity in the nineteenth century, i believe that people have always had a sense of national identity, whether or not they knew what it was. id like to argue that its instilled in us somehow the moment we are born and declared as a citizen of our nation." jisung finishes smoothly, feeling you start to clench around his fingers.

"interesting take, mr. han. miss... y/n?" changbin calls out your name and you want to scream.

"s-sir?" you ask, breathless. changbin scoffs at the needy tone of your voice, making his way to stand directly in front of the table you share with jisung. his eyes flicker to the way jisung's arms subtly moves against the table, that if anyone were to look under, they'd see your pretty pussy being split open by your classmate's fingers underneath his hoodie.

your eyes are tearing up from how good jisung is making you feel, thumb now circling your clit.

god you feel like you could cum any moment.

"are you alright, miss y/n? you're looking... flushed. do you have a fever?" changbin asks with a subtle smirk, leaning down to press his hand against your forehead. his fingers gently push back the strands of hair that stick to your forehead due the thin sheet of sweat that formed there.

"i-im doing just.... fine! i-im.. i'm fine, sir!" you squeak, praying to any god up there to help you hold it in, to not cum in front of your whole class as they watch you with concern.

"oh but you're burning up." changbin coos with fake sympathy. he crouches next to you, hand coming down to harshly grip your thigh as he leans forward, whispering into your ear.

"cum now and you're not getting any cock later. understood?" changbin hisses, and you start to feel tears pool in your eyes.

"b-but sir." you whimper, fingers wrapped tightly around jisung's wrist in an attempt to stop him.

"don't fucking stop." changbin warns lowly at the boy beside you, who obeys. "baby," changbin coos, pretending to explain something to you so as not to arouse any suspicion from the rest of the class. "none of that attitude, understood? obey and i promise to fuck you real good later."

you want to throw up, trying so hard not to fall part, but jisung's fingers are like fucking magic, never missing your spot and filling you up nicely. you feel like you're about to pee, fear running through you at the thought of possibly squirting right here, in front of everybody.

"any questions?" changbin suddenly straightens up, addressing the rest of the class.

he's met with silence and a couple of students who can't seem to meet his gaze.

"good. now get the fuck outta my class." changbin sighs, walking over to his desk and pretending to arrange papers. you stay as still as possible watching as other students hurriedly stuff their books into their bags, slinging it over their shoulder, eager to escape the tension.

the last student closes the door behind her with a gentle snap, the sound travelling straight to your pussy at the prospect of what was about to come.

"she cum yet, jisung?" changbin asks, not even looking at either of you, gaze fixed on the papers on his desk.

"not yet, sir. she's holding it in like a fucking champ." jisung coos, pulling his fingers out of your dripping core. you feel like your clit is on fire, thighs shaking at the loss of jisung's touch. he brings his fingers straight up to his mouth, tongue flicking in between his digits to lap at your juices.

"did i say you could have a taste?" changbin's voice is stern as he slams his palm on the table, making you both jump.

"n-no, sir." jisung whimpers, wiping his hand onto his pants.

"you'll need to learn your manners, yes? quickly." changbin addresses him, to which the younger male nods sheepishly.

you still feel like you're about to cry, pussy painfully clenching around nothing as sobs threaten to break through. changbin coos at your state, walking over to place a hand on your head.

"you've been such a good girl for me." he praises, kissing the side of your face. you cant do anything but whimper, hands reaching out to clutch onto your teacher's shirt.

"sir, please. wanna cum so fucking bad." you sob, delirious with the delicious pain of neglect, your cunt throbbing with want.

changbin hums at you, gentle hands wrapping around your body, lifting you out of the seat with ease. "jisung, lock the door."

jisung obeys instantly, scrambling out of his seat to lock the door and cover the tiny window with a piece of paper.

you cling onto changbin, arms wrapped around his shoulder, legs trapping his waist against you. he walks you over to his desk as if you weigh nothing, setting you down on the corner of the table and gently prying your arms away from his neck.

"shh, baby. promise ill give my good girl what she wants." changbin soothes you, and you dont even realize you're crying. the sight makes changbin's cock twitch in his pants, fingers reaching up to your face, thumb swiping over your tear before bringing it to his mouth. he moans at the salty taste, making you freeze.

"look so pretty when you cry, baby. almost wanna make you cry some more." changbin confesses, leaning closer to finally place his lips on yours. the kiss is sweet, almost as if he's comforting you and apologizing for putting you through the sweet torture. his tongue darts out and licks along your lower lip, teeth gently sinking into you. you wince as he pulls away, bottom lip still in between his teeth.

he only smirks at you, hand moving to your nape, making it easier for him to hold you against his face. "jisung." he suddenly calls out to the younger male who watches from the side of the desk, cock painfully hard in his sweats as he watches you two make out.

"sir?' his voice is croaky, throat dry from watching you subtly try to roll your hips against changbin.

"come over here and take y/n's top off." he directs jisung, who rushes over to you, placing himself behind you.

it's an interesting and almost sinful feeling, having changbin's rougher hands grip onto your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the table so he slot himself in between your legs, bulge in his slacks rubbing against your dripping cunt. then there's jisung, gentle fingers trailing down your shoulder, reaching over to your front to unbutton your shirt painfully slow, taking his sweet time as he leans closer, pressing a soft kiss to your exposed skin.

you don't know where to put your hands, settling to place it behind you so you can lean back, making it easier for both men to grope you, changbin roughly gripping onto your ass and jisung hesitantly slipping his hands underneath your top to rest on top of your breasts. jisung pauses, as if remembering something.

"s-sir?' jisung asks, shifting his weight onto his other foot in fear.

"hmm?" changbin hums, too occupied with playing with the hem of your stocking, halfway rolled down your thigh thanks to jisung's earlier ministrations. he can feel the slick cover your thigh, sticky and warm. he rolls your stocking down impatiently, letting it fall to the floor before flipping up your skirt and grabbing onto your panties as well.

"can i- can i touch her? sir?" jisung asks for permission, biting his lip. he's usually always the one who takes control when it comes to sex, so the thought of asking someone else for permission is new to him. after all, he's never had sex with someone who so naturally demands dominance the way changbin does.

"yes, you may. good boy, asking for permission." changbin coos.

oh. jisung definetely liked that.

"sir," you whine, desperate for his attention. changbin chuckles condescendgly at you, once again pocketing your underwear and stuffing it into his back pocket.

"yes, baby?"

"want your cock, please?" you ask politely, knowing you'd be rewarded for your good behaviour.

"youve been such a good girl for me today, hmm?" he coos, finally undoing the button of his slacks and dragging down his zipper, pulling his cock out and letting it slap against his clothed abdomen.

your mouth waters at the sight, hands grabbing for changbin's hips, desperate to be stuffed. jisung moans from behind you, nipping and kissing at your neck. he's a little more shameless now, hands fully groping your tits over your bra, ripping your top off of you and letting it fall to the floor.

"cum anytime you want for me, hm?" changbin rasps, chuckling when you impatiently grab at his cock, aligning it with your entrance and pulling him closer. he fills you up with one thrust, hips hitting the back of your thighs. his thumb finds your swollen clit and you can't help but gush around him immediately, blaming how worked up you were from jisung's fingers, finding sweet relief from the tightly wounded knot in your lower stomach. you cum right then and there, silent scream escaping your mouth dropped in an 'o'.

"no fucking way." jisung gasps from behind you, hands stilling.

"oh, my poor baby." changbin scoffs in disbelief, grip tight on your hips as he helps you ride out your high.

you're too relieved to feel embarrassed, hand flying to grip onto changbin's shirt. he continues to thrust into you, fingers digging painfully into your hips. you let him do whatever he wants to you, taking whatever he's generous enough to give you. jisung is having a harder time being content, though. it feels its a little unfair on his part, only getting to massage your tits over your bra, kissing your neck. he feels left out, wants your attention.

"y/n, baby." jisung whispers in your ear, followed by a soft kiss to your jaw.

"y-yea, sung?" you moan, hand reaching out to lace your fingers with his.

"wanna kiss you." jisung whines lowly against your neck, eyes fixed on the way changbin's cock repeatedly sinks into you before he pulls out to the tip, just to slam all the way back in. for a fleeting moment, he wonders how it feels.

"awh sungie feels left out," changbin mocks, picking up the nickname you use for him. "how about you turn over so you can kiss him, hmm sweetheart?"

jisung's breath hitches at the thought, and he watches with hooded eyes as changbin pulls out of you, much to your dismay. changbin roughly flips you over by the hips, pushing you against his desk so the edge bites against your skin. changbin's hand comes down harshly on your left ass cheek, making you jolt forward with a yelp. he chuckles, gently rubbing the now red skin.

"show sungie some love, baby." changbin mumbles, easing into you once more, making the both of you groan at the contact.

but its so hard to think when changbin rocks into you so fucking good, dick hitting spots you didnt even know existed.

"baby, come on." jisung whines, reaching behind you to finally unclasp your bra, letting it fall forward and freeing your tits. he whines at the sight, tits bouncing with changbin's every thrust.

you can't think straight, you feel bad for leaving jisung out but you cant fucking help it when changbin's just fucking you so good. you muster your strength to rest on your palms, arching your back even more for changbin, looking up sweetly at jisung.

"kiss me, sungie. please?" you beg with wide eyes, and jisung thinks he could cum at the spot. he always thought you were so pretty, always smiling so sweetly at him whenever you'd pass him by in the hallways, always so kind and speaking to him in a voice so sweet. he mentally wants to punch himself, here you are in the lewdest position he could think of, getting fucked from behind with your tits spilling out and drool pooling at the corner of your mouth, yet all he can think about is kissing you so good he hopes to take your breath away.

so he leans forward, hand cupping the side of your face, palm gentle against your cheek. his lips are soft and full against yours, tongue poking out shyly to taste your bottom lip, making you whimper into his mouth.

"wait, wait, im gonna cum again." you whine against jisung's lips, making him groan.

"beg for it." changbin grunts, grip on your hips so tight it almost hurts.

"please sir, need to cum so fucking bad. wanna cum on your cock, please?" you pull away from jisung to look back at your professor, pout so pretty on your lips he couldnt deny you if he tried.

"cum for me then, cum real good on my cock." changbin commands, fucking you harder, faster, to help you reach your high. your thighs are shaking from trying to keep you up for so long, and you would have collapsed face first onto the table if it werent for jisung, who harshly crashes his lips against yours to swallow your sweet moans.

"fuck, gonna cum in you. you'll take it like a good girl, wont you?" changbin grunts, ignoring your sobs of sensitivity as he thrusts even harder up into you, anchoring your hips against his as he ruts desperately into you, grinding into you.

"mhm ill take it," you whimper, hands locking with jisung's as he plants open mouthed kisses on your skin. "'m gonna take everything you give me."

"such a good fucking girl for me. just a toy for me to use, right?" he hisses, thighs clenching ss he tries to hold his orgasm off, wanting to feel your tight walls around him for just a little while longer.

"yes, sir."

changbin cums with a low groan, hips stuttering harshly against you, fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh of your hips. you feel warmth shoot deep inside you, sighing contently when changbin softens inside you, slowly pulling out. jisung's eyes light up at the thought of having you next, but those eyes widen when changbin suddenly drops to his knees, spreading your ass cheeks apart and latching his mouth onto your hot cunt.

"bin, wait 'm sensitive," you whine, heat spreading across your cheeks when you hear him slurp, head spinning at how fucking dirty he is. his tongue dips into you, scooping his cum out and placing the hot, sticky liquid into his mouth. he makes sure to get every drop, really pressing his whole face into the space between your thighs, shaking his head side to side so his nose hits your clit.

he quickly stands up when he's done fishing for his cum, flipping you around and attaching his lips to yours in a beat. you moan at how nasty he is, pushing his cum into your mouth with his tongue. he makes sure to swirl his tongue around yours after, biting harshly onto your bottom lip before he pulls away.

"hold that in your fucking mouth." he growls, fingers weaving into your hair. "jisung get the fuck over here." he booms, voice demanding respect. the younger boy almost jumps over the table to obey, standing in between the two of you.

"y/n, get on your knees." changbin tells you, but he didn't really have to, not when hes gently pushing you to the ground by your head. you're face to face with jisung's crotch, his bulge so prominent against his sweats, the head poking out, a small stain near his hip.

"take his cock out, baby. i think it's time you show jisung just how much you like him. thank him for prepping you so well." changbin lets go of your hair, thumb sweetly caressing the side of your cheek. he steps back, settling down on the chair, hardening dick still out.

jisung's head is spinning at the sight of you. eyes looking up at him so sweetly, mouth open and swirling changbin's cum. he's so painfully hard, wants to shove his dick down your throat with no respect for your comfort. but he wants to be gentle, take his time with you.

you tease him, nimble fingers playing with the drawstring of his sweats, slowly undoing the tie. your eyes never leave his, rolling his sweats down, taking his cock out of his boxers where it springs into the cold air. he hisses at the temperature, knuckles turning white by his side unsure if he can touch you. you lean forward, pursing your lips and pressing a soft gentle kiss to his tip. your tongue darts out to lick at his slit, letting changbins cum trail down jisung's cock.

"fuck." jisung whimpers, the visual a little too much for him. white liquid dribbles down his shaft in thick globs, pooling at the base of his dick as you lean down to lick him clean. you finally take him fully into your mouth, mixed beads of precum from jisung's tip, changbin's cum, and your saliva mixing and trailing slowly down your throat. you swallow around jisung's dick, and he hisses, hands flying up to rest on your head. he quickly takes it back, but you whine, grabbing his wrists and placing it back.

"this... this is okay?" jisung asks, making sure you're okay with it. you nod up at him, mouth tight around his tip, sucking harshly and making his knees buckle, fingers gripping tightly onto your hair.

you're so hyperfixated on jisung you miss the show changbin's giving, stroking his hard cock as he watches you struggle to fit jisung down your throat. he could get used to this, he thinks, watching your tiny fingers wrap around jisung's base. and then there's jisung, who changbin can't deny is attractive, head thrown back to show his adam's apple, chest heaving at how well you take his dick.

"y/n." jisung whimpers, pulling his dick out of your mouth. "i-i'm so close, can i fuck your mouth? please?"

"do it." changbin grunts from the corner of the room, catching your attention. he has a cocky grin on his face, fingers wrapped tight around his cock. "fuck her throat real good, sungie. she's our toy to use. aren't you baby?"

you nod shyly at changbin before you look up at jisung, who still looks hesitant. "it's okay, sungie. wan you to use my throat." you reassure him, hands coming up to rest on his thighs, nails lightly scratching him.

"fuck, okay okay. 'm gonna hold your head okay?" jisung says, and you nod. he's always wanted to try this, always cum so fucking hard when he watches shit like this on porn. but his senses are heightened because it's you, sweet little you who he's gonna do this with, your throat he's going to be ruining.

you open your mouth, letting your jaw go slack and taking a deep breath to relax yourself before jisung shoves his dick in your mouth, hands placed firmly on your head to keep you still. jisung moves forward slowly, experimentally rolling his hips until his tip hits the back of your throat.

"oh shit shit shit," jisung mutters, eyes rolling back at the feeling of your throat contracting around his sensitive tip. he pulls back just a little before he thrusts into your mouth again, a little harsher this time and making you gag.

"sorry." he whimpers, but he isn't, not really. in fact, he wants you to gag again. wants to make you choke on his cock. he pulls back again, thrusting into your throat so forcefully his tip goes all the way down. he lets out his loudest whimper yet, setting a pace that has him going insane. his gaze is fixed on you, eyes wet with tears and drool trailing down the side of your mouth. but he can't stop. he wants to cum down your throat, wants you to choke on his cum. god, he was sick.

you try your best to breathe normally, humming lightly whenever you feel jisung hit the back of your throat. it helps you refrain from gagging, and it adds extra vibration for jisung. but then he's cradling the back of your head, pushing you so far down his cock your nose almost touches his abdomen. you try to push him away by his thighs, but jisung doesnt let up.

"please, please, stay. please, need to cum down your throat. please i'm so close y/n. fuck please please please." he whines, thighs shaking from how close he is. his whines are so pretty you can't help but listen, eyes squeezing shut as you feel his tip painfully hit the back of your throat. just when you feel like you're about to pass out, jisung lets out a high-pitched whimper, his hot cum shooting stright down your throat. you almost forget to swallow, choking a little before swallowing around him.

"oh fuck fuck fuck." jisung pants, letting go of your head and pulling his sensitive cock out of your mouth. you have to catch your breath, letting out a dry sob after finally getting air into your lungs. jisung kneels down in front of you, tilting your head up to meet his lips. he kisses you sweetly as an apology, moaning when he tastes him and changbin on your tongue. you kiss him back just as roughly, fingers winding around his soft hair and pulling tightly, making him whine. you're the one who pulls away to catch your breath, but jisung just continues down your neck, pulling you flush against his chest before he decides to sit down, bringing you to sit down on top of him. you're too busy making out with him that you don't even remember changbin's in the room with you until you hear him hiss, pulling away from jisung to catch the way changbin cums against his stomach, pearly white cum shooting from the tip.

jisung whines against you, asking you to kiss him again. you comply, softly placing your lips against his. he kisses you gently now, breathing heavily against you.

"thank you," jisung says shyly, forehead resting against yours.

"for what?" you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck as he looks up at you, eyes shining.

"for letting me cum down your throat?" he jokes, and you playfully punch him on the shoulder.

you peck him on the lips, a sweet act that makes jisung's cheeks go red.

"both of you did so good." changbin coos from his seat, cleaning himself up with a tissue and stuffing his cock back in his pants. he walks over to you, planting a soft kiss on top of your head.

you melt against him, cheek resting against his thigh as he cups your head against him. jisung, not one to be left out, leans forward and rests his head against your bare chest. you bask in the silence for a while, until you hear a stomach growl.

you're not sure whose it was.

you giggle, hand coming up to comb gently through jisung's messy hair. "maybe we should get some food." you suggest, and jisung looks up at you, hopeful.

"maybe we should clean up first." changbin huffs, offering you and jisung a hand to help you up. "my apartment is just a few blocks from here. you guys can clean up there if you'd like." changbin shrugs, walking away from you to his desk, gathering his things up and organizing them into his briefcase.

you look over at jisung, who bites his bottom lip thoughtfully. "i do feel kinda icky, what do you think?"

"yea, i could use a shower. i smell like cum." you joke, and jisung cringes.

"and then when we're all done. we can get some dinner. my treat." changbin smiles gently, and you swoon.

"sounds like a good plan to me," jisung shrugs. he suddenly remembers you're still bare naked, tits out in the open. he walks back to where you were both seated just an hour ago, picking his hoodie up and slipping it over your frame.

"you look nice in my clothes." he hums shyly, and you peck him on the cheek.

"your clothes smell good." you say, letting jisung lace his fingers with yours.

changbin picks your bra and top up from the floor, folding it neatly. he walks over to you, kissing the top of your head before handing your clothes to jisung, who shoves them into his backpack. changbin then throws his arm over you, hugging you to his side. "lets clean you both up, yea?"

"dibs on the shower." you say, as you all walk out, jisung squeezing your hand as he groans.

"we can always shower together." jisung suggests, wiggling his eyebrows up and down and making you giggle.

"i dont care who showers first or how you shower. just dont use up all my water." changbin sighs, turning all the lights off and locking the door of his classroom behind him.

#skz smut #changbin x reader #changbin smut #jisung x reader #jisung smut #binsung x reader #binsung smut #mean!prof changbin is literally the best trope ever dont @ me #perv! jisung is so cute #seung-mong!#feral for changbin FOREVER!#literally obsessed with changbin im gonna hurl

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