#past consensual sex
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Honor Bound 6 - 28
Honor Bound 6 - 28 (Chronic Pain) @badthingshappenbingo
Red X for posted, white X for requested! Send in your requests! If you don’t see a prompt here that you already requested, please send it again!
This is a series. Start here, continued from here.
This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.
AO3
Masterlist
Contents: tattooing, chronic pain, old injury, blood, past consensual sex, negotiating boundaries
~
By the time Brandon had finished half of Zachariah’s tattoo, Sam was beginning to sweat through their shirt. Zachariah had long since sweat through his. Sweat was beading on his brow, running into his eyes, and Brandon had given him a rag to mop his face so he would be more comfortable.
“Just let me know if you need to stop, man, and we can stop,” Brandon had said a few times. Every time Zachariah would bite his lip and shake his head and say he was fine, really, and Brandon would keep going, at least until the next time he would ask. He was asking it every few minutes, now.
Still, Sam hoped no one would notice how much pain they were in. Sitting on this stool with nothing to support their arm, the old wound had long since begun to ache. Old, throbbing pain radiated up and down their arm. The palm of their right hand prickled where normally there was only unsettling numbness. They cradled their arm against their chest.
It had been so, so long since they’d had a bad pain day.
Still, thankfully, everyone seemed to be focusing on Zachariah. It was nice to find the luxury even to be in pain without drawing the worried and guilty glances of their family. Living under the watchful eyes of Isaac, Gavin, and Gray was – well, it was what Sam wanted, but it came at the price of knowing their pain hurt the ones they lived with and loved so dearly. It was nice to be able to exist, even in pain, and not have to so carefully mask it, even for a few hours. Masking it took more energy, which made the pain worse, which just made it harder to mask—
A hand fell on their shoulder. They flinched and sucked in a gasp. Fire jolted through their wound to their hand and they cried out.
Brandon pulled the tattoo machine away from Zachariah’s shoulder and all eyes turned to Sam. They shuddered and ducked their head at the awful, familiar guilt and worry in everyone’s eyes, the way everyone seemed to reach for them at once…
“I’m fine,” they bit out – an instinct. Their hand spasmed against their chest.
“Whoa,” Brandon mumbled as he set the tattoo machine to the side. “You all good?”
“I’m fine,” Sam said, more forcefully this time. “It’s just—”
“You’re really pale,” Isaac said weakly. It was his hand on their shoulder that had startled them.
Sam squeezed their own wrist tightly as they dragged in a shaky inhale, pushed out a hissing exhale. “Yeah,” they croaked.
“Do we need to take a second?” Brandon said. Sam raised their eyes to him. He looked as relaxed as if they were talking about their lunch plans, as if Sam wasn’t moments away from throwing up all over his floor.
“No,” Sam breathed, squeezing their eyes shut and forcing another deep breath. “No, you can keep going. This is just… this is just something that happens.”
Zachariah shifted in his chair. “Um… I think… I might need a minute.” His voice was shaking, sweat beading on his upper lip. He looked like he had just run ten miles.
“Sure,” Brandon said, nonchalant as could be. He set the tattoo machine and stained cloth down.
The fire was fading, but the crushing ache was not. Sam leaned their head against Isaac’s chest as he stood beside them. “G-getting better,” they murmured. “It’s just… I think it’s just sitting here. Making my arm hurt.”
“Fair enough,” Isaac said gently. He wound his arms around them and held them close. It felt nice to be held, even though Sam could feel his heart hammering against their cheek through his shirt. “Maybe I can take you home? Gavin can stay here with Zachariah?”
“Uh…” Zachariah sounded better than he had a minute ago, but not by much.
Sam lifted their head and glanced at Zachariah.
He stared at Brandon apologetically. “Could I actually… be done for today? I’m sorry, but… it’s more than I thought I could—”
Brandon lifted a gloved hand, stained with ink and blood. Zachariah fell silent. “No problem at all, dude. Like I said, we didn’t have to finish this today. Let me cover this, and you can just come in tomorrow and I’ll finish you up. Deal?”
“Deal,” Zachariah huffed, sagging with relief. Sam sagged with him. Isaac’s arm wound around their shoulders, and they nearly slumped off their stool and into his embrace. Gavin appeared at their other side. Their mouth twitched, and embarrassment prickled in their stomach, before they raised their eyes to look at him; he looked pale, too, and tired.
He probably needs rest more than any of us right now.
Still, Sam could tell by the hard set of his mouth that nothing could have pulled him away from watching the Stormbeck crest disappear from Zachariah’s shoulder.
“—'ll probably bleed a bit,” Brandon was telling Zachariah as Sam blinked against the pain fogging their thoughts. “And leak some ink. If there’s more blood than, like, just a little bit, come see me. But don’t worry about a little blood and ink. I mean. You’ve had a tattoo before.”
“Yeah,” Zachariah said weakly. He flinched as Brandon wrapped clear plastic over the half-finished tattoo.
“Yeah, so, tomorrow morning I have another job, but tomorrow afternoon I’m free. Come by then and I’ll finish you up. Everybody good to make it home?” Brandon looked around at everyone, his eyes staying on Zachariah longest. Sam nodded and leaned against Isaac.
“W-we’ll make it,” Gavin murmured through pale, thin lips. His arm slid around Sam’s waist, although he looked like if Sam leaned even slightly against him, he would collapse.
The sweat on Zachariah’s skin was already starting to dry. He raised his damp t shirt and mopped his brow, then looked at Sam. He offered them a tentative smile.
“Halfway there,” he said softly, and held out his hand to them. His palm was warm as they slid their hand into his.
Brandon tore the plastic wrap and tucked in the ends, smoothing down the last stray bits. “Okay, you’re all good,” he said, and rolled his little table of tattoo supplies against the wall. The tattoo machine clinked as he began to disassemble it.
Sam released Zachariah’s hand and pushed themself unsteadily to their feet. Zachariah rose beside them. Isaac and Gavin stayed on Sam’s either side, Isaac being especially careful not to jostle Sam’s arm. Sam breathed slowly through the pain, which had dulled now to a steady throb. The pain hadn’t been this bad in… in weeks. Still, it crawled into their muscles, digging into their very bone, and ate at them. When they passed through the door to Brandon’s shack and felt the cool breeze on their face, they heaved a sigh of relief.
“Home, then?” Isaac said gently. His eyes belied his worry, but… there wasn’t as much guilt there as Sam expected.
They leaned into him, but froze as they felt Gavin stumble at their other side. They chewed their lip and caught themself casting a worried glance of their own at Gavin. “Um…”
“Why don’t…” Zachariah stared at his feet as he spoke. Sam hoped that one day he wouldn’t look so frightened, all the time. “I mean, um… Sam, if it works for you… you could come over to my place, and, um… I’ll…”
I’ll take care of you.
Sam swallowed past the lump in their throat that formed at Zachariah’s unsaid words. They forced a smile.
“…I’ll make us dinner if you want. And we could just hang out… have a quiet night.”
Sam blinked.
“Sam?” Isaac said. “Does that sound okay?”
“Um.” Sam met Zachariah’s eyes, stomach fluttering with embarrassment. He had never been the one to coddle them, not when they had to wear the sling, not when they needed to sleep half the day because they were still healing, never. Still, if Zachariah were to take care of Sam… they couldn’t imagine him ever making them feel guilty for it. They nodded numbly. “Yeah,” they said. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
A shy smile played at Zachariah’s lips. “Great,” he breathed.
Sam squeezed Gavin with their intact arm and laid their head against Isaac’s shoulder. “See you back at the house later, then?”
“Only if you want to,” Isaac said, and kissed the crown of Sam’s head. “If it works better for you to stay the night at Zachariah’s, no worries there.”
“Sounds good,” Sam said, and stepped away. Isaac and Gavin waved at the two of them as they headed toward their house. Before they could disappear from sight, Gavin collapsed against Isaac’s side. Isaac’s arm wound around Gavin’s waist and they kept walking like that, Gavin leaning all his weight against Isaac, until they turned a corner and disappeared from Sam’s sight. Sam swallowed hard and looked up at Zachariah. This time, neither of them bothered to conceal the worry on their faces.
∴
Zachariah’s cooking was amazing. Now that Sam thought about it, they didn’t think they had ever had a dish that Zachariah had made himself. Cooking was so often a communal thing with the family, and so often something simple that could be thrown together quickly to serve six people, then seven, growing until they were a ten-person family; rice, some kind of vegetable, and some kind of meat with a delicious sauce was the usual fare. Besides, that made leftovers easy, too. For someone to cook something just for themselves was so rare that it almost never happened.
Still, Sam could scarcely believe that they had gone all this time – more than three months – without tasting Zachariah’s cooking. Even without the fancy spices that he was used to having in the city, he had made some kind of rice-and-tomatoes-and-chicken dish that had Sam going back for seconds, even still a little nauseated from the pain. Now they were stretched out on the couch, regretting the second helping but happy to be cuddling in Zachariah’s lap, a sack of microwaved dry rice propped under their sore arm. They heaved a sigh and rested their head against Zachariah’s broad chest.
“Good?” Zachariah murmured, and Sam detected the slightest hint of self-satisfaction in his voice. It made them smile.
“You know it was,” they groaned, burying their face in his shirt to hide their smile. “You… you tricked me into eating so much. You… coerced me, Zachariah Medina.” Pain twinged through their old wound. They sucked in a breath through their teeth and held their hand tightly to their chest.
Zachariah’s mouth made a firm line. “Still pretty bad, huh?” He shifted the bag of rice, pulling it higher into Sam’s armpit.
“No, it’s, ah…” Sam pushed out a slow, shaky breath. “Not as…” Their stomach lurched, and they clenched their teeth together to keep from being sick all over their own lap. Another slow breath in, another slow breath out. They glanced up and found Zachariah’s warm brown eyes staring into theirs.
His lips trembled – no, they weren’t trembling, they were just moving soundlessly like he was trying to choose which words to say. Sam closed their eyes. They couldn’t focus on both him and the pain at once. They couldn’t deal with—
“We… don’t have to hang out, if you don’t want to,” Zachariah said. Sam’s shoulders relaxed as they realized there wasn’t any disappointment in his voice at all. They opened their eyes again, their gaze unfocused. They wet their lips.
“I still want to… be around you,” they croaked. “I just… sorry, it’s just… hard to deal with… this. Right now.” Their left hand curled into a fist.
“I get that,” Zachariah said. “I do. So… how do you want to be around me? It’s up to you.”
Sam drew a deep breath in through their nose and blew it out through their lips. They glanced around the small living room. There wasn’t much to the space; there was a small table with a few chairs, some shelves set up that had been stocked with a few weeks’ worth of food, the kitchen leading off to the right. In the other direction led the hallway to the bathroom and bedroom. Sam’s eyes lingered on the hallway.
“Um…” Even without their meaning to, their mind strayed to the ways the both of them had spent their time together for the past month. While Gavin had been missing, Zachariah had been as much a prisoner in the farmhouse as if he had been chained there. He couldn’t go on walks with the others like he used to, or swim in the lake, or go into town. There had been so little to do but lie in bed together, clothed at first, then not, then…
Sam swallowed hard and returned their gaze to Zachariah’s. “I’d just really like to lie down,” they said woodenly.
And I don’t want to fuck you tonight. Please, please don’t ask me to fuck you tonight.
Zachariah nodded once. “Sounds good,” he said, and opened his arms.
Sam felt tired in their bones as they pushed away from his chest and stiffly got to their feet. The warm bag of rice slid onto the couch cushions, but Zachariah waved their hand away from it.
“Let me,” he said with a gentle smile.
Sam shuffled to the bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light before they crawled on top of Zachariah’s blanket. They lowered themself onto the left side and curled into a limp ball. The bed dipped as Zachariah joined them.
“I don’t want to have sex tonight,” Sam mumbled.
There was a slight huff as Zachariah tucked the warm compress under Sam’s arm and settled behind them, curling around their body and pulling them close. “I figured,” he said softly. “I don’t feel like it, either.” There was a smile in his voice.
“Yeah?” Sam shivered as he nuzzled into the back of their neck, pressing a small kiss into their curls – and then he settled, his breath fanning out over their hair.
“Yeah.” Zachariah’s thumb rubbed back and forth, back and forth on their left wrist. They were grateful for the touch, for his warmth, and for the fact that this was the extent of it. Isaac would be worried, and guilty, and sad, his hands reaching out to Sam, perhaps clutching at them so that he could remind himself that they were alive, and that he wasn’t about to lose them, but Zachariah… Zachariah just was.
“Hmmm,” Sam hummed. The heat was helping. As their muscles relaxed, the pain ebbed, just the slightest bit. Still, their palm kept tingling. They wondered if this pain would last, or if it would be gone when they woke.
Continued here
@womping-grounds , @free-2bmee , @quirkykayleetam , @walkingchemicalfire , @inpainandsuffering , @redwingedwhump , @burtlederp , @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments , @whumpywhumper , @stxck-fxck , @whumps-the-word , @justplainwhump , @finder-of-rings , @inky-whump , @orchidscript , @inkyinsanity , @this-mightaswell-happen , @newandfiguringitout , @whumpkitty , @pretty-face-breaker , @pebbledriscoll , @im-just-here-for-the-whump , @endless-whump , @grizzlie70 , @oops-its-whump , @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather , @butwhatifyouwrite , @carnagecardinal , @whumpifi , @squishablesunbeam
#honor bound 6#bad things happen bingo#chronic pain#whump#hurt/comfort#old injury#blood#past consensual sex#negotiating boundaries
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After reading some Astarion takes, I can say with full certainty, that I would not trust some of you to not slutshame or insult SA victims for having sex
#you think trauma healing is never moving past what happened and im sorry for whatever made you feel that way#sa victims are allowed to have kinky consensual sex as much as they want#sa#sa tw#tw sa#astarion#bg3#non con mention#trying to tag it all so no one gets triggered on accident
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NSFWhump Prompt 4
Whumpee suddenly experiences a traumatic flashback while having sex with their lover.
#whump#nsfwhump#flashback#consensual sex tw#past trauma#implied past noncon#implied past abuse#bonus if their lover doesn’t realize it for a few minutes#and then is horrified
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i tried but i cant even bullshit this assignment for the points right now my principles are too strong
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I’m probably deeply biased because he is played by Rahul Kohli but I’m on the 4th episode of The Fall of the House of Usher and I’m finding Leo Usher significantly more sympathetic than his siblings
#NO SPOILERS PAST EP 4 PLEASEEEEE#oh he cheats? and he does drugs? and he sucks as a person?#like yeah of course he does he’s a trust fund baby#and yes he killed that cat. but I feel like he wouldn’t have killed that cat if Verna wasn’t in control#like everyone else is Truly Horrible#they abuse their subordinates and sexually manipulate them#or they plan to blackmail people with cctv footage of consensual sex acts and drug use including their sister in law#or LET A WOMAN POSSIBLY DIE IN SURGERY WHEN THEY THINK SHE’S A POOR PERSON WITH A HEART DEFECT AND LIE TO HER ABOUT THE CHANCE OF DEATH#LIKE VICTORINE IS EVIL IM SORRY SHE MAY BE HOT BUT SHE’S EVIL#sorry leo you didn’t deserve to die like that you were a grade a asshole but I could see there was a heart and a kindness#buried under the drugs and your father’s influence and money. rehab and therapy and being cut off could have saved you#I’m not questioning Verna. but I’m saying hey honey maybe this one. this one could have been a better fix#YO VERNA GAY???? WIN#the fall of the house of usher#leo usher
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its like berserk is deeply flawed both in terms of its handling of certain characters and topics and its infamous gratuoitousness in regards to sexual violence (even if the author later apologized and regretted it it doesnt change its existance in the early story etc etc) and also its literally forever unfinished in its original authors vision but liiiikeeeeee………
it is and always will be a bit dear to me because no matter how flawed it ultimately IS still a story about surviving with a past full of horrific trauma and continual hardship in the present. like its hard and difficult but you can learn to live with that weight, especially with the help of the bonds you form with others. and when depicting those things, the trauma and the struggle, it doesnt sugarcoat any of its aftermath but still depicts the lasting impact they have on people with empathy. like yes this will change you and the pain of it can make you a worse person for a time, but you Can come back from that. like you understand why it would appeal to Permission To Suck Dick disorder havers.
and also even if that wasnt the nature of the story the waterfall scene would carry the entire series for me. like that alone made it worth reading LOL
#genuinely though. very very few stories have scenes like that that are executed with such compassion….. two assault survivors trying to have#consensual sex for the first time and then helping each other through the inevitable baggage that brings to the front. confronting past#trauma with a person you love and learning that sex and love can be good too….. its a very very very good scene :’)
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Describe how you like things with another person? Position, rp, kinks?
Hmm. This is kind of a broad question, but one example I can think of is I like the idea of being a cute little toy for someone, especially when I’m high, so I’m nice and and pliant and sweet for them. Just a pretty thing to sit on someone’s lap and get toyed with whenever they get bored and want to see me squirm. And if there’s an audience, then I guess I have to put on a good show for everyone, don’t I? It’ll be fun to see how long I can keep my composure while I’m being fingered with a hand gently wrapped around my throat.
Positions, on the other hand…
When I’m jacking off, I prefer to be on my tummy, since I have bad joints and it helps the bones in my wrist not get too sore. With someone else, I like being on my stomach too, but I also like being on all fours or a nice mating press. I’m a bit of a size queen, so both give a nice stretch.
As far as kinks go, just look through the blog, mon coeur. There are some more hardcore ones that I don’t post much about, but those aren’t much for anonymous conversation, hm?
#Hedon answers#hello lovely anon#I’m super into exhibitionism but ofc only the consensual kind#like it has to be in an agreed upon context#but the power dynamic here? chef’s kiss#especially if I’m a little high#drugs tw#most of the sex I’ve had has been with me intoxicated#likely because of past trauma and how it helps my nerves#the more extreme kinks I try to tag when they do happen to come up since they can be triggering#but I have been known to indulge in bloodplay or knives or the occasional dark cnc#I just try not to talk too much about it#then there are the breeding kinks. but we don’t talk about those in polite company
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scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!
hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!
beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol
pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader
wc: 9.1k
DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.
CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)
have fun ;)
-
This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.
“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”
“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.
“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”
“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.
“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”
“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”
You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”
“Fine!”
“Fine?”
“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”
He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.
You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.
You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.
It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.
Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.
When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”
“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.
You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”
“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”
You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”
If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.
As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”
“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.
“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.
“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.
“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.
Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.
“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”
“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.
“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”
You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–
“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.
“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”
“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.
“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”
You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.
“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.
The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.
“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.
“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”
The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.
“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.
“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.
Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.
“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”
One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”
Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”
Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”
Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.
“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”
“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.
Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.
You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.
“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.
“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”
“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”
“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”
Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”
“Sasha–”
“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”
“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”
“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.
You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.
Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.
You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?
He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.
“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.
“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.
His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–
Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.
The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.
“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.
“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.
Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.
“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.
“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”
“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.
Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.
“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”
“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.
A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”
“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”
Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”
“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”
“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.
“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”
“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.
A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.
Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.
“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”
“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”
“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.
He spits directly in Eren’s face.
Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.
“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.
“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.
“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”
You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.
“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.
“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.
He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.
Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.
Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.
“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”
“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.
“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”
No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”
You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.
“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.
Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.
“What the hell was that, Eren?”
He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.
“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”
“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.
“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”
“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.
Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”
“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.
Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”
“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”
Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”
“You’re my–”
“The other thing.”
“I needed you.”
“Again.”
“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”
He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”
“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.
“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”
Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.
“Do you still?”
“Still?”
“Need me.”
You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”
“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”
You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.
“I still need you. Now.”
Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.
“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”
A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.
His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”
You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”
Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.
Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.
Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.
“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.
“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.”
Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.
“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”
Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin.
“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”
“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.
“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”
A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.
“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”
“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.
“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”
Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.
He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.
Eren chuckles. “You need something?”
“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.
“You want me to stop fucking with you?”
“Please, Eren, I need you–”
“That’s all you had to say.”
And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.
Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.
“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.
“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.
“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.
“I need– fuck– I need more.”
“Magic word?”
“Please, Eren, fuck!”
“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”
Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.
“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it.
“Close?”
“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”
“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”
Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–
“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”
The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.
“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”
He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch.
“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”
Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”
You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”
You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”
Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.
Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.
“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”
“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”
You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.
“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”
“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.
“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”
You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.
And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.
“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”
You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.
“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”
“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”
“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.
Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.
You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.
“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”
You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.
Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.
You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.
“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”
“He’s not my-”
“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.
You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”
Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.
“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”
You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.
“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”
“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”
“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.
“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”
You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.
“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”
“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.
“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”
You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”
He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.
It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.
“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.
“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”
That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”
“Maybe he wants to apologize.”
Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”
“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.
Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.
“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”
There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.
“I just–”
“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”
You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”
“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”
Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”
“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.
“You might have me there.”
“Better than horseface?”
“Watch it.”
The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”
“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.
“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”
“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.
He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”
#aot x reader#eren x reader#eren jaeger x reader#eren yeager x reader#eren jaeger smut#eren x you#eren yaeger x you#eren yeager smut#aot fanfiction#eren jaeger fic#eren jaeger fanfiction
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oh you wanna play psycho killer? can i be the helpless victim...
｡･:*˚:✧｡ authors note — my first kinktober!! ahh go crazy. i will try my best to write good smut for you people. here's my master list so you can see what im cooking up for you guys. i might add some more but for now here it is... MDNI!!
OCTOBER 1ST...
THRILL(h)ER — satosugu x reader
when watching a scary movie with your two best friends, you cant help but hold onto them tight every time you get jumpscared. but as the night goes on and your fingers roam... wait, what movie were you watching again?
cw: threesome (duh), double penetration, blowjobs, spanking, praise & degredation
OCTOBER 7TH...
your 'ONLY FAN' — dilf neighbour!toji x cam girl!reader
when you're a top cam girl, your used to having thousands of people watching you every night. yet among the masses, theres one fan that stands out. he not only is a high tipper but is someone you happen to know all too well. and he's about to go to long lengths to prove to you that he's the only fan of yours that matters.
cw: toji breaks into your house and blows your back out. facefucking, slight choking, use of toys, consensual sex tape making, sight breeding.
OCTOBER 14TH...
when you fuck your older neighbour — nanami, toji, geto, gojo
on the way to a halloween party, you just couldn't help but put a little pep in your step as your strut past your older neighbours house. and he can't help notice how tight and tiny your outfit is — it can barely fit. not that it matters anyway... it'll be off of you before the clock strikes 11...
cw: age gap (duh), spanking, nipple play, face riding, dick riding, all types of riding
OCTOBER 21st...
a quiet place — nanami x babysitter!reader
after returning from trick or treating with his kids, your 'boss' can't help but beg you stay the night with him. hoping to give you a 'treat' of his own. but shhh... you can't get too loud, his kids are sleeping.
cw: breeding, raw sex, talks of pregnancy, a whole lotta cum
OCTOBER 31st...
"CULT?... i thought this was a bathroom." — geto x reader
on a drunken halloween night you thought you were stumbling your way into the bathroom of a club, but you end up stumbling into the lap of a cult leader. and he doesn't like people like you. instead of doing what he usual does to your 'kind' he decides to punish you a different way — in front of all of his followers.
cw: public sex, major degradation, dark content... (slay)
so what do you think. what do you think of the banner? I tried really hard to make this whole thing so hopefully you guys love the layout AND THE FIC IDEAS. which one are you most exited for lmk :) also don’t use my header pls and thanks THERE IS NO TAGLIST <;33
#stampedwithane★#jjk x reader#jjk smut#toji x reader#geto x reader#gojo x reader#nanami x reader#toji smut#geto smut#nanami smut#gojo smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk fic#toji fushiguro smut#geto suguru smut#gojo satoru smut#nanami kento smut
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wait so I was reading through the Coa tags (love it btw) and saw something about Quinn/Collins. Is Collins a bottom? Verse? Not care?
He's verse!
Consensual sex talk under the cut-
Collins had always topped before Quinn but mainly because that's what others wanted or expected from him and he was happy to oblige. He didn't have any objections to bottoming at all, he just never had the opportunity.
Quinn has gone both ways in the past but he definitely always preferred to bottom. It just takes a very long time for him to feel safe going there again. So, in the near future, they start seeking out ways to connect sexually and Quinn just opens up an entire new world for Collins 😍
Their dynamic in the bedroom becomes something neither of them really expect but feels very natural for them. Collins is so happy to let Quinn take the lead and regain some of the control that was stripped from him. And Collins gets to loosen his grip on his own control and hand it over to someone he loves and trusts. So they sort of switch dynamics.
That's not to say they will never get there-
Collins will 100% lift that man into his arms and fuck him against the wall... but that's for much later 😏
Until then, they will eventually explore quite a lot and that very much includes Quinn topping Collins and blowing his damn mind.
Also! Here's an ask about their sexualities that speaks a bit to your question if you're interested ☺️
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ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ! (𝒮𝒞𝒜𝑅𝒜𝑀𝒪𝒰𝒞𝐻𝐸)
scaramouche x f!reader . 18+ content. ⟆ nsfw + unprotected sex/raw sex. breaking in. scummy scaramouche.somnophilia. mentions of past non-con (this fic is consensual though !). breeding kink. dirty talk. mention of having children. creampie. ⟆ mdom + fsub ⟆ not proofread ! ૮꒰ྀི ៸៸៸៸ ก꒱ྀི১
finally writing for scara ! this fic took me soo much effort to write because i've been having major writers block aaah ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !
The shattered shards of glass on the ground scattered as his body made its way in, stepping through the window and landing gracefully. The moonlight shone on the floor of the bedroom he entered, the figure on the bed sleeping soundly as the breeze from the broken window blew their hair slightly. His gaze was fixated on you, the smile that was on his face nothing more than sinister. He approached the bed slowly, making his way around it until he stopped by your side, his eyes examining your form as you laid under the blanket.
The man bent down until his lips were at your ear, "Oh (Y/N)~" he cooed softly. "Wake up, sleepy head." He whispered, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. Your face scrunched up as his fingers brushed against your skin, your eyes fluttering open slightly before closing again. Scaramouche frowned at your lack of reaction, his hand going under the covers and sliding down to your hips. "Oh, (Y/N).. Thats no fun.." He pouted, his fingers hooking on the hem of your shorts. "Don't you wanna show me some love, baby? Didn't you miss me?" He asked as his fingers slipped into your shorts, his fingers rubbing on the thin fabric of your panties. A soft noise escaped you, your thighs moving together to push his hand away. "Hm.." Scaramouche thought for a moment, his fingers stopping their actions as he looked down at you. "Why are you always so mean to me, huh? Everytime i try to fuck you, you push me away or start screaming for help." He complained. "I just wanted to give you my love.. Is that too much to ask for?" He sighed, his fingers going back to stroking the front of your panties. "You can't even appreciate my affection, darling. That really hurts my feelings." Scaramouche puffed his cheeks slightly, his fingers slipping under your panties and touching the soft skin of your cunt.
"But that doesn't matter." He hummed, his fingers tracing along your slit and rubbing against your clit. You squirmed slightly, letting out a small whine. "You're gonna give me the attention I want, whether you like it or not." Scaramouche declared, his free hand ripping the blanket off of you and throwing it across the room. "So don't even try to get away from me." He hissed, his fingers teasing your entrance as he climbed on top of you. Your body flinched when his hands grabbed at your thighs, pushing them apart as he situated himself between them. He let out a low groan, his hips rutting against yours, "Shit, baby." He breathed, his clothed cock pressing against your pussy. You turned your head, your eyes slowly opening as his movements got rougher. "Scara..?" You called out tiredly, his movements stopping immediately as he looked down at you with wide eyes. "Ah, fuck." Scaramouche muttered.
His face scrunched up as he started thinking about what to do, his fingers still in your panties. His thoughts were interrupted by your sudden moan, his hips thrusting forward instinctively as you arched your back. "Scara.." You moaned out, your hand reaching down and grabbing his wrist. Scaramouche let out a shaky sigh, his eyes closing as his fingers rubbed your clit slowly. "Shit, I can't stop now." He groaned, his cock throbbing in his pants as he listened to you moaning his name. He pressed his fingers down on your clit, the pleasure causing your hips to buck against him. He watched you with half-lidded eyes, his hips rocking against you as his other hand pushed his pants down. "Don't scream, okay? Don't scream this time, don't call for help.." Scaramouche begged as his cock slid against your slick cunt. "I need it.. I really fucking need it." He grunted, his head dipping down and resting against your shoulder. "I'll be quick, I promise." He mumbled, his fingers pulling your panties aside and gripping his cock. "So please don't ruin this for me.." He breathed as the head of his cock slipped inside you, his hips slowly thrusting forward and letting you take him inch by inch. "Oh.. Oh shit.." He cursed, his cock bottoming out in your tight heat. He panted against your neck, his hand grabbing the front of your shirt and lifting it up. He leaned back, his eyes focused on the soft mounds of your chest as he pulled his hips back. "I-I can't hold back.." Scaramouche choked out, his hips thrusting forward and bottoming out once again. His eyes snapped shut, his cock twitching inside you as he let out a strained groan.
His thrusts were shallow and slow, the man above you shaking with need. He whimpered softly, his fingers pinching your nipple. "Oh fuck, (Y/N).." He whispered, his hips rocking against yours as he tried his best to keep himself composed. His hand trailed down your stomach, his fingers brushing against the slight bump on your lower stomach. "Look, baby.. Can you feel me here?" He panted, his cock throbbing as he pressed down on the bulge. You whined, your hips rocking against his in an attempt to take his cock deeper. "Shit.." Scaramouche gritted his teeth, his hips pulling back and slamming forward, your slick walls clinging to his cock and pulling him deeper. "Oh god, baby.." He moaned, his resolve breaking as he started to desperately rut into you. "I need it.. Oh fuck, I need it.." Scaramouche whined, his hands grabbing the front of your shirt as he slammed his cock into your heat. His moans filled the room, his mouth hanging open as he pounded into you. "F-fuck, I love you, baby." He stuttered, his fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt tightly, before tearing it down the middle. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, his mouth watering at the sight. "S-so beautiful.." Scaramouche whispered, his hands palming your breasts as his hips moved faster. "I-I love you.." He moaned out, his thrusts getting sloppy as he felt his climax nearing. "I love you, s-so let's have children, o-okay?" Scaramouche suggested, his thumb pressing down on your clit as he fucked into you. "A-and we can get married a-and.." He trailed off, his moans interrupting his train of thought. He leaned down, his hands grabbing your waist as his hips rocked against yours. "Just- Just marry me, okay?" He asked, his fingers digging into your soft skin.
The bed creaked underneath the two of you, his hips snapping forward harshly. Your moans rang through the air, the wet sounds of his cock sliding into your cunt adding to the obscene symphony. You gasped, your back arching off the bed. "Oh shit, shit, shit, shit..fuck!" Scaramouche babbled, his cock throbbing inside you. His movements became erratic, his hips sloppily rocking against yours. He leaned down, his arms wrapping around your waist and hugging you close to his chest. "Please, please, please.." He moaned, "Cumming inside.. cumming..i'm cumming..cum with me..oh, oh.." Scaramouche choked out, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep in your pussy. You let out a loud moan, your walls clenching around his cock as you reached your climax, his cum filling you up as he fucked you through your high. You panted heavily, your body twitching every few seconds. Scaramouche let out a strained groan, his hips grinding against yours slowly. He stayed still, his cock still twitching and throbbing as his cum leaked out of you.
Scaramouche lifted his head slightly, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours. His lips curled up into a lazy smile, his hand reaching up and caressing your cheek. He leaned forward, his lips connecting with yours in a slow kiss. "Mm.." He hummed, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, allowing him access to deepen the kiss. Scaramouche tilted his head, his tongue tangling with yours, the two of you letting out soft moans as his cock throbbed inside you. Scaramouche broke the kiss, his tongue licking along your bottom lip, before pulling away completely. "Did such a good job..took me so well.." Scaramouche purred, his cock slowly sliding out of you, before plunging back in. "Mm..love you." He mumbled, his hips moving in small circles. "I love you so much.."
#୧ ‧₊˚ ☆ athena's creations !#genshin x reader#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#scaramouche imagines#kabukimono imagines#wanderer imagines#kunikuzushi imagines#scaramouche x you#kabukimono x you#wanderer x you#kunikuzushi x you#scaramouche x reader#scara x reader#kabukimono x reader#kunikuzushi x reader#wanderer x reader#scaramouche smut#kabukimono smut#kunikuzushi smut#wanderer smut#scaramouche#scara#kunikuzushi#kabukimono#wanderer#scaramouche x y/n#kabukimono x y/n#kunikuzushi x y/n#genshin impact x reader
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MATTHEO RIDDLE ONESHOT- We Aren’t Over
VOTERS RESULT FROM MY POLL<3 XOXO ENJOY
Info: FWB gets jealous seeing you kiss another guy at a party after the two of you had called things off.
Word count: 4.5k
Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, PIV, FWB, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Begging, Teasing, Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Good Sex
"You look so fucking sexy..."
large hands belonging to an admittedly handsome Ravenclaw student that you failed to acquire the name of gripped your hips; firmly pulling you against his tall body as his lips grazed your ear, hot whiskey breath washing over you, intoxicating you even further than you already were.
One hand slid around to your ass, gripping a palmful of the plump flesh over the fabric of your Slytherin uniform skirt. Your breath hitched in your throat as he nipped your earlobe, teeth tugging gently on your emerald earring, his voice a low reverberation down your spine.
"I'd love to rip that awful fucking uniform off of you and get a taste of what you're hiding under there..."
Your cheeks burned, warmth flooding you as you chewed on your lip, bringing your mouth toward his own ear now as the two of you could hardly hear yourselves think amidst the blaring music coming from the speakers in the out-of-control Friday night Slytherin party, green flashing lights blurring your vision further than the alcohol was as you squinted to try and get a better glimpse of his face.
In your intoxicated state, you couldn't recognize this guy for the life of you. The only thing that gave away his Ravenclaw status was his uniform.
"I'd be careful with your next words there, little Raven," you purred, your unsteady fingers finding his shoulders. "I promise you, you'll regret coming into my house and disrespecting my emblem like that..."
Gods, you were fucking hammered, but since you and your friends-with-benefits had called things off last weekend; you'd been desperate to find someone new to hopefully satisfy you just as well as he did--but admittedly, your hopes were low.
Not many boys knew your body like the back of their hand, or knew exactly how to drive you sexually insane, the way Mattheo fucking Riddle did.
"Is that so?" His grip on your body tightened, a deep groan leaving his throat as he pressed his lips to your jaw. "I'm not quite sure a poor little serpent like you is any match for a big bad raven like me..."
"You'd be surprised," you retorted, slowly threading your fingers through his thick brown hair. "It's been proven that even the most intelligent birds couldn't elude the cunning serpent's snare..." you tilted your head, smirking. "But go on, underestimate me...that'll be fun."
His eyes widened, the darkness inside his pupils boring into you, drowning you in their endless voids. Your stomach twisted as your sight locked in with his, and you took a moment to analyze his features a little better. Gods, he looked so fucking much like Mattheo.
Why was it that you could never seem to get that fucking guy out of your head?
You were convinced that you were going to die one day with his gorgeous fucking face still haunting you--those dark penetrating eyes, that devilish, seductive smirk--that messy mop of chocolate curls that sat effortlessly adorable over his forehead. Fuck, you hated him.
You hated him for fucking you so good you couldn't stop fucking thinking about him; even after the endless bickering and arguing the two of you had been going through over the last few weeks, causing a consensual end to your hookups--you hated him for occupying your mind even while you were pressed up against an undeniably sexy new guy, who clearly had a deep interest in you, who clearly wanted to fuck you until your legs gave out.
You should be happy right now, you should be overly fucking ecstatic, practically brimming with relief as the Ravenclaw guy leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and capturing your mouth in a sloppy, intoxicated kiss; his tongue slipping past your teeth as his hands gripped your ass with enough force to bruise--you should be completely fucking overjoyed as your lids fluttered shut, your mouths working over the others with a little too much desperation as you stood in the middle of the crowded common room, fervent fingers gripping onto each other as though your lives depended on it.
You should be happy, but you're not.
When you broke the kiss, the Ravenclaws brows furrowed, but before he had a chance to ask you to his dorm, and in a hopeful attempt at subtly saving yourself, you brought your lips toward his ear, trying to sound as sexy and inconspicuous as possible. "Why don't you get us some drinks?"
When he smirked, nodding in agreement, he graced your ass with one last squeeze before he spun around, making his way across the room and heading toward the bar station. You watched him as he went, and as soon as he had disappeared within the sea of inebriated bodies; you let out a long, exasperated breath; spinning on your heel to quickly make your way to the bathroom and away from that spot before he returned.
Sure, you felt bad for ditching him like that, but he was just as drunk as you were. He'd forget you even existed by the morning.
As you shoved your way through the endless amounts of drunk, sweaty bodies, you'd almost successfully broke through the crowd when a strong, firm grip wrapped around your wrist; hot breath washing over your neck as a tall body pressed against your backside--a height so towering and presence so intoxicating you already knew, without hearing his voice or seeing his face, that it could only be one fucking man.
"Where you headed, princess?" Mattheo's deep, husky drawl rolled through your eardrums like honey; a slow, thick, and admittedly fucking seductive pitch. "You're not really going to ditch that poor bastard after getting him going like that, are you?"
You turned your head, trying to glimpse him over your shoulder, fighting to hide your smirk. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Riddle."
"Ouch...one week without my cock and we're already back to second name basis, huh?" His grip tightened, his body heat enveloping you, his plush lips pressed tight against your ear. "I'm just surprised...you looked like you were enjoying yourself."
"Stalking me, are you?" You scoffed, trying to pry your wrist from his hold but he tightened his grip even further, other hand snaking around to your hip. "Is the big heartless Riddle boy jealous?"
He chuckled, and you could almost see the smirk on his lips. The feeling of his chest rumbling against your back did inexplicable things to your cunt. Gods, you hated how you were already fucking melting for him and you haven't even taken one single look at his face.
"Were you thinking about me?" He purred, teeth nipping at your ear, the arrogance in his tone igniting flames in your veins. "When his tongue was halfway down your fucking throat, were you wishing it was mine?"
"Give me a break, Mattheo." Your head was spinning, oxygen evaporating; but you knew you needed to play it off. "Don't fucking flatter yourself."
"You know you love the things I fucking did to you..." by this point his voice was a low growl, his tone so deep and dark in your ear it sent shudders skittering down your spine. "You know you'll search for me in every single sad sack you try to distract yourself with."
Heat flashed your face, his fingers digging into your hip with enough force to bruise. "Jealous of a Ravenclaw...must be a tough pill to swallow for the Slytherin prince-"
When his teeth sunk into your earlobe with enough force to basically tell you to shut up without actually saying it, you yelped--eyes fluttering shut as he tugged you back against him with added force.
"Keep talking, princess, and I won't hesitate to walk over there and rearrange his fucking face..." he spat the words through barred teeth, your bones shaking with the deep vibration. "Do you even know his name? Huh? Do you even know who the fuck he is?"
Gods, you were cursing yourself. As if you were about to fold for this man after he'd basically told you to fuck off and leave him alone no less than a week ago. Your brain knew, above all else, that what you were about to do was completely fucking wrong--but your cunt paid no mind to your brains protests. Your cunt wanted Mattheo Riddle.
"No, Matty, I don't..." you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to you neck. "Lots of night left, though...I'm sure I'll be quite familiar with it when I'm screaming-"
He sunk his teeth into your neck now, forcing a sharp squeal from your lips--another commanding gesture to silently warn you that if you kept talking, he was going to fucking lose it. Part of you hoped he would.
"What have I told you about saying my fucking name like that, princess..." he growled, licking a flat strip up the side of your throat. Fuck, you loved that tongue. That skilled, tentative fucking tongue. "And if you keep talking like that, the only thing you'll be screaming is for me to stop when I'm beating his fucking face into the floor..."
His words made you fucking shudder, a full body tremor against his built chest, entirely unable to control yourself now. The need between your thighs was becoming more insistent by the second, and at this point--you were at a complete loss for words; your lips involuntarily uttering the one word you knew you'd never forget how to say, regardless of how speechless you were.
His name. "Mattheo..."
"There she is..." he murmured, the praise in his tone making your breath hitch in your lungs. "Aren't you glad you met me? I know you got me stuck inside your memory..."
Long fingers slipped under the fabric of your shirt, grazing over your stomach. Bodies were everywhere, drunk students around you paying absolutely no mind to the intoxicated sins the two of you were about to commit.
"No," you uttered, so quiet you weren't even sure if he'd heard it. "I want you out of my fucking head..."
He purred in satisfaction, revelling in the fact you'd finally admitted to missing him. "Should've listened to me, princess...told you I was bad for you..."
More heat swarmed you, your thighs screaming; begging in need. "We can't keep doing this...it's so wrong, Matty..."
"But it feels so right, doesn't it?" His hand around your wrist snuck down to your hip, his other pressed against your stomach; pulling you tighter against his crotch--your breath evaporated when you felt his aggressive bulge against your ass. "Feel that, princess? That's what you fucking do to me..."
He pressed his lips to your pulse, teeth softly grazing over it, and you mewled; head falling back against his shoulder, body melting into his own--surrendering yourself to his intoxicating dominance just as you've done time and time before.
"I hate myself for letting you do this to me..." you breathed, head rolling to the side as his teeth worked purple possession marks into your skin. "I'm so stupid for you..."
"That's it, admit it, baby...admit that you missed this..." his grip tightened, tone thickened with lust. "You're my little devil, you know I'd sin for you..."
At his words, your entire body ignited into pure fucking flame, magma replacing the blood that flowed through your veins; threatening to melt your uniform and leaving you in nothing more than a pile of ash at his feet. You were done talking, you needed his fucking cock.
"Are we gonna quit the talking and do something about it then, hm?" You purred, tilting your head back to meet his eyes for the first time; your head spinning as you drowned in the dark hurricane of their desire. "Show me how you'd sin for me, Matty..."
"I'll show you, baby, I'll fucking show you..." he said, wetting his lips as he held your stare. "Your dorm or mine?"
Music to your fucking ears. "Yours."
Without another word, Mattheo gripped your wrist, his hold like a snake, slithering around you gently at first; slowly increasing its pressure until he'd cut the blood flow, threatening suffocation of your lungs and leaving you with only hungry, primal desire--eradicating all thoughts of just how horrible of an idea you knew this was. He dragged you out of the common room and toward his dorm, not sparing you a single glance as he ripped open the door and pulled you inside; slamming your back up against it as it closed, one hand snaking toward the lock and clicking it tight into place.
When he paused, two hands finding residence against the wood on either side of your head; not moving, only staring, it was as though the rest of the world faded away--and all that was left was the cunning, messy brown haired boy in front of you. His presence filled the room, suffocating you, stopping your heart mid-beat. He loomed over you, toes centimeters from your own, chest so close that you both would touch with a deep enough breath.
You scanned his body, heart pounding, palms sweating from the impending reality of your desire, and he smirked, leaning closer.
"I don't think I can allow another man to lay a fucking finger on you ever again..." he whispered. "I don't think that perfect fucking pussy can belong to anyone fucking else."
"Since when did it belong to you, Matty?" You shuddered, deciding to test him a bit. "I thought we were just casual-"
"You think anyone else could fuck you stupid like I do?" You could practically feel his fingernails digging into the wood beside your head, the anger building in his eyes. "How about your exes? How'd they fuck you, huh?"
Your throat tightened. "Mattheo-"
"Say it." He growled, leaning closer--so close your noses brushed. "You want me to make you fucking cum, princess? Say that little pussy is mine."
Gods, curse your fucking insatiable need to get fucked. At this point, you were fully cognizant of the fact that this man could make you say damned-near anything if it meant he'd get inside you. Swallowing your ego, you met his stare--as intense as it had ever felt--and licked your lips.
"It's yours, Matty..." you murmured. "It's all yours."
Mattheo Riddle smirked. "That's fucking right."
Unable to decide between indignant and patronized, you eschewed both, and instead opted to hook your fingers into his belt, pulling yourself into him while you boosted yourself on your tiptoes to meet his lips with your own. Your kiss was hungry and demanding as you sought to memorize his mouth with your tongue. Mattheo's large hands cupped your face, fingers delving into your hair while he pressed into you, forcing you back tighter against the door.
You groaned against his lips, writhing underneath him while you slid your tongue along his teeth, seeking to know every part of him, needing him to want you--to fucking need you like you needed him. Mattheo drew in a breath through his nose and pushed deeper, like he wanted to fuse you with the door, and your hands shot into his hair, a shiver running through you as you felt how soft, how luxurious it was between your fingers.
Another soft groan rumbled in your chest, and--having distant, fuzzy deja vu of the countless encounters prior--you wrapped the curly tendrils of his hair around your fingers and yanked it.
At that, a deep moan left his throat, and he pulled back, waves of harsh breath crashing over him. His blackened eyes darted across your face, switching between your lips and eyes. "Fucking naughty little thing..." he huffed, smirking.
"For you, always," you murmured, and he groaned, wetting his lips as he leaned closer.
"Fuck-that's right...I love it when you're bad...you only act this way for me, huh?" His voice was a low purr, warm breath crashing your face. "That why you didn't fuck him? That why you ran?"
Chewing your lip, you nodded, and tugged his hair again, bringing him to your mouth once more.
He smirked against you and his hands fell to your hips, roaming the swell of your curves before gripping the underside of your thighs and hiking you onto the door. Immediately, the aching length in his pants ground into your center while his tongue fought its way into your mouth. Without you having to think, your legs circled him, and your hips were grinding back, pursuing any friction and heat you could find.
You peeled away to catch a breath, hands resting in his hair, and his lips went to work on your neck, suckling and nibbling the skin there.
"Matty...please..." you murmured, already begging for something, anything. "I need you."
Snuffing a groan, Mattheos grip bruised your hips as he bucked into you, grinding you against the door.
"You want me to fuck you, slut?" he said, breath hot on your neck. "Didn't get enough of my cock last time?"
"No-fuck-I didn't," you mewled, a slight embarrassment washing over you. "It's never enough."
Mattheo growled, his grip hardening to iron, and he licked a warm, wet line along your pulse. "That's right...that's what I like to hear..."
Sinking his teeth into your neck, he pushed off the door, walking over toward his bed as he held you against his chest. You watched the door get further and further away, lust building and growing in your chest as he nipped your jawline before grazing his lips over yours again, softly and briefly as he reached the edge of his mattress and laid you back against it.
When you hit the bed, he kept his mouth on yours while his hands left your waist; fervent fingers finding the fabric of your button up blouse and untucking it from your skirt, cold hands slipping underneath and groping your tits through your bra--a deep groan leaving his chest as you bucked your hips up against his crotch; wanting him closer, needing him closer.
His hands slid back down, finding the hem of your skirt and flipping it up your stomach, wasting zero fucking time before he hooked his thumbs around the band of your thong and peeled them down your thighs. The minute you were exposed, you heard the clatter of his belt buckle hitting the floor, and your pussy throbbed.
"Matty..."
Mattheo chuckled, the weight of his stare resting on your naked pussy; wallowing in your clear desperation for him.
"Look at you," he murmured. "So fucking wet." He released a long breath--he was testing his own patience, now. "This perfect body can't help but to crave me..."
You groaned as he teased your inner thigh with one hand, the other working to peel his shirt off his torso in one swift movement--exposing his hard, firm fucking abs and leaving him looming before you in just black briefs--looking as delicious and sexy as you've ever goddamn seen him.
As his long fingers ghosted over your folds, you arched, groaning when he brushed past it toward the inside of your other thigh; squirming in slight frustration, admittedly the teasing was absolutely getting to you now.
"Mattheo, I swear to-"
A firm, sharp smack to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh stopped the words in your throat; your stomach twisted as you watched Mattheo's eyes darken and lips curl sadistically.
"Is that how I taught you to ask for what you want?" He sneered, wetting his lips as he met your pleading eyes. "You know what I want to hear, princess."
You winced, swallowing your pride furthermore, until it was eroding in your stomach acid. "Please, Matty...please make me cum..."
His lips parted. "Good girl.”
His hum of approval was followed by the warm kiss of his fingertips along the sensitive lips of your pussy, feathersoft at first, and then one thick finger slipped between your folds, gliding between them, slicking itself with your wetness and grazing the swollen nub of your clit. That did it--blinded with relief, you cracked, moaning deep in your chest. Blood flushed your face, tingling your cheeks.
"You like that?" He brushed the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. "You like the way I touch you? The way that pretty pussy responds to me?"
"Yes...Gods, yes..." you replied, the sentence coming without thought.
"That's right..." his free hand wrapped around the back of your thigh, tugging you closer to the edge of the bed, fingers swirling around your clit in tight circles, and you gasped, your mouth dropping in bliss, your rapid panting filling the steamy air.
"Fuck you're so sexy, my dirty little whore in her short little uniform skirt..." a stifled groan cut through his throat, and you shot a glance at him; one hand rubbing his strained erection through his boxers. "It took everything I had not to bend you over the fucking desk in class all week...fuck you know how to test me..."
You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Matty, fuck-please..."
"Please what?" He growled.
Gods, curse him--curse him to bloody hell. You couldn't fucking handle this anymore. You knew he was punishing you, making you fucking beg and shatter and cry for it after what you'd done; and the way his fingers stroked your clit had you spasming, jerking--so close to cumming, you just wanted him inside you.
"Please." You banished all pride and ego and fucking common sense to the perimeter of your mind. Asylum. Just this once. "Please, fuck me...please."
"Tell me I'm the only one." He hissed, slipping a finger inside your wet, throbbing core; your back arching off the mattress as his thumb increased its pace on your clit. "Tell me you'll never let another man put his fucking hands on what's mine."
A cyclone was roaring in your brain, tearing apart coherent trains of thought with primitive, physical clamoring. Your response was pieced together by the efforts of your need for release alone.
"Fuck-no, never, Matty...I'm yours...all fucking yours..."
He was staring at you, face blank, surveying you while you twitched and jerked underneath his ministrations. His focus switched between your pussy--desperately throbbing and melting against his touch--and your red, sweating face, jaw slack from your haze of pleasure. You chewed your lip--it was bruised by now, certainly--clenching hard, and he groaned, pulling his boxers down to let his thick, needy cock spring free.
"Cum for me, slut." He ordered. "Cum for me right fucking now."
As if controlled by a remote in his hands, a tidal wave of euphoria slammed into you, walls pulsing, body wracked with the convulsions of an aggressively pent up orgasm, vision whiting out as you threw your head back, a loud string of unintelligible curses flying from you. Mattheo hummed, hand working you to the end of your orgasm as his free one slowly stroked his cock, watching every tiny ministration of your face with an exasperated expression until he was certain you were past it.
And when he was, he wasted no fucking time before he gripped your ankles in his hands, staring down at you as he began to rock his hips; his hard, throbbing dick sliding between your slit.
"Tell me you want it," he purred. "Beg for it."
You groaned. "Please, I want it Matty…I want you so fucking bad."
With a goddamn suffocatingly arrogant and devilish grin, he braced himself as he sunk into your pussy; your wet walls swallowing his cock with ease as you let loose a long, satisfied moan--Mattheo sucked a breath in through his bared teeth as sheathed himself all the way inside your cunt, pausing there to feel you clench and adjust around him.
"So fuckin' tight..." he groaned, head bowing. "Fuck you feel so good around me."
Your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers finding Mattheo's hands until he gathered both of your wrists and pinned them above your head with just one of his, leaning over you to fuck you deep and hard as his free hand snuck down to your clit. Throttled cries of pleasure were leaking from you, your conscious slipping from reality as he pummelled your pussy like you deserved the pain.
"Fuck, yes," you practically screamed. "You fuck me so good Matty...so deep, fuck-"
A deep snarl roared from Mattheo's chest, his grip on your wrists tightening while he fucked you deeper, harder, your body rocking from the power of his thrusts. You could feel his ragged breath on your face, knew without seeing him that he was above you, lips parted, pupils blown.
"Look at me," he growled. "Let me see those eyes as you fucking cum for me."
Groaning, you obeyed, lids fluttering open to meet his gaze. Mattheo was possessed, looking past you, through you, panting with every snap of his hips. You lost yourself in his stare, the rest of the room falling away, and his fingers moved faster over your clit, bringing you to that precipice once more. Little choked moans left you while your jaw hung slack, his cock pounding into you--then his fingers hit just the right spot, and the massive, asphyxiating pressure inside of you imploded. Mattheo watched you, not even blinking once.
You thought you kept your eyes open, but you weren't sure, because you whited out, spasming and convulsing as your orgasm wracked your every cell, your every nerve, taking you to a height you'd never been to, never thought existed. Distantly, you were aware of your cunt drawing out Mattheo's climax as he cursed and dug his teeth into your shoulder, fucking you harder as he spilled himself deep inside of you.
You hadn't realized what had happened until your spirit returned to your body and you felt the burn of hot, wet tears streaming down your cheeks--evidence of your relief--followed by Mattheo collapsing on top of you, cock buried still inside your pussy, and both of you drank in lungfuls of air, starved for it, your brains fuzzy with the static of euphoria. You both laid there for a moment, rapt in the descent back to reality, until he pushed himself up and pulled out, holding you firmly in his stare again.
As he began to piece his clothes back together, you gathered your composure, pulling yourself up and off his bed, fixing yourself back to some form of decency. As you swallowed, watching Mattheo latch up his belt, he met your eyes again; the dark lust slowly fading, being replaced by an unspoken emotion you couldn't attempt to name.
"This isn't over." He breathed, moving back toward you. "We aren't over."
When your lungs hitched, you nodded, admitting to yourself that you already fucking knew you couldn't live without that. Without him.
"No," you whispered. "We aren't."
#smut#fanfic#harry potter#mattheo x you#mattheo riddle smut#mattheoxreader#mattheo riddle#mattheoriddlesmut#riddle smut#theo riddle#mattheo x y/n#theoriddle#Theo smut#mattheo smut#mattheo riddle x y/n#mattheo riddle x you#mattheoriddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo#mattheo fluff#matt riddle#mattriddlesmut
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louis was like "this is the love of my life...... the vampire armand....."
and I was like "girl...... you're both bottoms...... traumatized bottoms with daddy issues....... where are ur shitty boyfriends??????"
louis and armand out here having the world's most boring pathetic sex, they're like "we're so healthy, we have grown past our shitty-boyfriend-having phase, now we're always Safe Sane And Consensual 😌 we don't have unhinged sex anymore 😌😌😌" they are going insane. this is why louis is having a mental breakdown. he's been having intensely hinged sex for 77 years, like 100% slow lovemaking with clear communication and so much lube and always "one finger, two finger, three finger, cock" and the traffic-light consent system in place even though they don't practice any kinks that would involve words like "stop" and "hang on a sec" meaning anything but literally that. no one in this house has been rimmed in 77 years. Every night they have a very polite Discussion (it's not an argument, it's not) about whose turn it is to top because nobody here wants to. louis is not built to handle this psychologically. lestat's going to text him "hey mon cher miss u sooooo much i can't live without you, haha i got your number by killing some people at your phone company, actually several phone companies because i didn't know which network you're on, anyway come over and sit on my face WINK WINK i'll do that thing you like so much, you know the one!! the one where you're always like 'ew lestat you're so gross' but then it makes you come so hard you pass out [eggplant emoji, eggplant emoji, water drops emoji, blood drop emoji]" louis is going to see these texts and go into a fugue state and be OUT! THAT! DOOR! in nanoseconds. NANOSECONDS!!!! meanwhile lestat is double- and triple- and quadruple-texting about how he's always wanted to try roadhead and blithely using words like "pussy" in reference to louis' anatomy without asking if that's cool and also sending seven unsolicited dick pics clearly taken in an airplane bathroom
armand has never sent a dick pic in his life, even a solicited one, because it's "crass" and there are "privacy concerns" and he's "unsatisfied with the current standard of end-to-end encryption technology". lestat doesn't even know what end-to-end encryption is, and if he did he wouldn't care about it because "if a hacker is going to all that trouble to look at my nude photographs, louis, i think they've earned them :))) even though they could just follow me on instagram and tiktok or sign up for my onlyfans" this is why armand about to get dumped at terminal velocity. he doesn't even have instagram.
#interview with the vampire#look into my eyeballs#you know lestat has an onlyfans#you know he does#and the man was born to be an instagram influencer#LOOK INTO MY EYEBALLS AND TELL ME I'M WRONG#man posts thirst traps 90 times a day#NINETY SEPARATE TIMES#selfies were invented specifically for lestat de lioncourt#iwtv#iwtv spoilers
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Sleepless Nights
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid
Description: Spencer is awake late at night while you're peacefully asleep. That's when he's reminded about a few little agreements you've had.
Content/Warnings: Course language, brief masturbation (m), consensual somnophilia, fingering (f rec), unprotected sex, creampie.
Word Count: 1.3K
Kinktober Day Seventeen: Somnophilia
Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3
Spencer spent his time at work more often than not, which you understood how important his job was to him. You’d known the inside and out of the job and all the darkness hidden within it, so you always gave an overwhelming amount of love and support. There was a lot of patience and trust placed within one another, your husband knowing that you were always going to be there for him and that he should show he would always be there for you as well. You never expected anything big out of him after cases, just willing to hold him and let him cry into your shoulder if the cases were overwhelming for him.
It had been three days since Spencer was home from one of his cases, the both of you laying in bed alongside one another as the both of you were looking forward to a good night's sleep. Spencer wasn’t getting much of it though, his head against his pillow while your soft breaths from peaceful sleep filled the room. With an arm behind his head, the male sighed in frustration. Insomnia hit him hard on nights like this one, when you fell asleep first and couldn’t exactly hold him due to you being dead to the world.
He had contemplated reading, however he knew the light would wake you up and irritate you. He definitely didn’t need a cranky version of you being angry at him for the remainder of the night and even the next day. So, he reverted back to his usual ways of making himself tired. His hands were slowly pulling his half-hard cock out of his boxers as he let his eyes flutter shut. Thankfully for eidetic memory, he could practically watch any past sexual encounter with you in his head like a dirty movie. Right now, he had a specific night in mind.
You’d been desperate and he was asleep, due to a previous talk of boundaries and consent for certain actions, you decided to try something new. He could remember his eyes slowly blinking open and being met with your face twisted with ecstasy, hands resting against his chest as your desperate and leaking cunt was embracing his cock while your hips were feverishly rutting against his. It showed how much you needed him, even getting to the point where you fucked him as he slept just to not disturb his sleep.
Just the mere thought of your tits in clear view of his gaze had Spencer letting out a low groan. He was fully erect now, his hand fisting at his cock as he let his mind continue replaying the same moments that so graciously flooded his brain. He’d continued with his movements before glancing over at you, the moonlight seeping in from the drapes shining against your sleeping silhouette. It gave him an idea, one that sent another rush of blood to his cock as he was slowing his movements with his hand. Gently tugging the duvet and sheets back, he was looking over your body.
You were wearing a silk lilac nightgown, one of his favorites. It was like you did this on purpose, as if you knew your husband would have an insomnia spell. With his hand coming up to his mouth, he was popping two of his fingers into his mouth as he was scooting towards you more. His free hand was sliding under the tempting nightgown, his hand slowly tugging down your panties as he kept his gaze on you. He wanted to see how long he could drag this out without waking you. After getting the cloth barrier out of his way, Spencer was using one of the slick fingers to slowly push into your cunt. The touch had your sleeping form let out a breath, the long digit being welcomed as your walls were squeezing around it.
He slowly thrusted his finger, a soft groan leaving his lips as you were responding well, probably having your dream taking a sharp turn as he was fucking you with his pointer finger. Your arousal was starting to coat his finger, the male smirking as he gently pushed in a second finger, a moan now falling out of your lips as you were shifting in place. The way your sleeping face twisted in ecstasy had your husband grinning as he pressed a few kisses along your shoulder. As his fingertips were brushing against the spongy button deep inside of you,your body was reacting accordingly as your thighs clenched around his hand, still assuming this was a dream as you were rocking your hips against his fingers.
“Poor desperate girl..” Spencer whispered while continuing to prod your needy cunt with the two long digits. Whenever he’d had enough waiting though, he’d carefully pulled his fingers out of your hole before bringing them up to his lips to clean your essence off of them.
There were desperate whines escaping your lips at the feeling of emptiness, your hips attempting to rock back. “Shh, I know.” Spencer murmured in your ear, one hand gently lifting one of your legs, his free hand helping adjust his cock at your leaking hole that was clenching around nothing. As the thick tip of his throbbing cock was slowly pushing into your warmth, you were letting out a breathy moan in your sleeping state, hand instinctively reaching back to grip at the back of your husband’s head as you were both still in the spooning position.
As your pussy swallowed his cock whole, he was letting his lips press a few kisses against your neck as he was slowly letting his hips rut into yours. Now it only took a few good strokes before you were blinking awake, hand lightly pulling at the curls that you had a handful of. “Good morning to you too.” You whispered, drowsiness in your voice as you were moving to rock your hips back against his.
“Couldn’t sleep.” He murmured against your skin, hand moving to squeeze your hip. “Was jerking off and then i remembered that your sweet pussy would be waiting for me.” He lightly bit down on the flesh of your neck that made a moan fall from your parted lips. “Mm, I’m not complaining. I love being stuffed with your cock.” The filthy words leaving your lips had your husband groaning, head lifting. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” He spoke through pants and whines, his thrusts speeding up as his hand was wrapping around your body, large hand taking one of your tits into his hand before giving a rough squeeze.
As the rhythmic sound of your skin smacking against one another filled the room along with your combined sounds of pleasure, it hadn’t been long until you could feel Spencer’s hand trail between your legs, finger finding your clit with ease as he massaged the desperate bud. He was close and you were too.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You spoke through moans, his hips thrusting snapping harder into yours as he nodded. “M-me too.” He’d stated the obvious, working to bring you to orgasm first. The feeling of your walls tightly clenching around him was enough to make his cock twitch inside of you before painting your inner walls with ribbons of his cum, hips slowly coming to a stop.
After he was pulling out of you, he couldn’t help but lift the sheets to look at your cunt, which had been stuffed with his cum to the point where it was leaking down your thighs. “We should get you cleaned up. Plus you have to pee.” He panted, moving to rub your hip while tugging back the sheets for you to get up. “I’m going to take a shower, care to join me?” You’d asked, legs wobbling slightly as you stood from your shared bed.
You didn’t have to ask him twice, the male sliding out of bed before he was heading over to pick you up with a smile. “Not too long though,” He began, a yawn now falling from his lips.
“I’m ready to pass out.”
#spencer reid#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fandom#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds smut#doctor spencer reid#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid imagine#strawbeerossi kinktober 2023
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Stay quiet for me
masterlist ko-fi ao3
Summary: Bucky fucks you while your parents sleep in the next room
Words count: 1.6k
Warnings: modern setting, established relationship, smut, kinda somnophillia?, everything is consensual, quiet sex, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming.
Author’s note: thanks for everyone’s support. enjoy❤️🔥
Your parents had been staying at yours and Bucky's apartment for four days, and even though he loved them, he was kind of missing having you only for him.
Bucky wasn’t the type of person who would show too much affection and feelings in front of other people, but when you were alone, he always had his hands on you. Causally slapping your ass, kissing your neck, or just bending you over the closet flat surface was his favorite thing to do, and, unfortunately, he couldn't do it while your mom or dad were sitting in the same room.
He didn’t want to be dramatic, but it was torture. Obviously, you two didn’t have sex during these days because you were too afraid that your parents might hear, and at first Bucky understood, but with every cute little outfit, every smile towards him, and every innocent touch of your hand, he was losing it.
And now he had been lying wide awake for the past thirty minutes while you were peacefully sleeping next to him. Your back was pressing firmly against Bucky’s chest; his left hand was under your pillow, and the right one was on your waist. He was just enjoying whatever he could get, inhaling your sweet perfume and rubbing the soft skin of your stomach with his thumb. That was until you, still fully asleep, moved your ass right towards his crotch.
The reaction was instant. Bucky’s body tensed near you; his eyes got closed, and his cock became painfully hard. The only layers that were between you were his boxers and your cotton panties, because you liked to sleep only in one of Bucky’s t-shirts. And the fact that you continued to move in your sleep didn’t help at all.
“Baby…” Bucky whispered into your neck, trying to stop your hips, but it didn't help. “Doll, stop—” That was it; he couldn’t even think straight with your ass firmly pressed against him.
Fuck it, you can be quiet, right?
Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, but then his right hand slipped from your belly right into your underwear. Two fingers ran across your folds, pressing on your clit.
“Bucky…” You would’ve moaned out loud if Bucky hadn’t covered your mouth with his free hand.
“Sh-h, baby.” He started slowly moving his fingers in circular motions, and you unconsciously moved your legs wider to give your boyfriend better access.
“We can’t do that right now.” You mumbled against the palm of his hand. “My parents are sleeping in the nest ro—” You didn’t finish your sentence because two fingers suddenly slipped inside of you.
You were already wet enough for Bucky to easily move his hand, brushing your G-spot with every thrust. The rational part of your brain wanted to stop him, but your body was too weak; it was already addicted to Bucky’s touch, and you both knew that.
“Stay quiet for me, baby, ‘kay?” The hot breath on your neck sent goosebumps all over your body, and you couldn’t help but silently nod.
It felt too good. Maybe you tried being cool about it, but you missed sex with Bucky as much as he did. Yes, it was just four days, but after living together for two years, you already got used to the fact that Bucky was kind of obsessed with you and couldn’t live without touching you at every possible moment.
So right now, when Bucky’s fingers were slowly moving in and out of you while the palm of his hand was so perfectly brushing against your clit, and his hips were moving with the same pace against your ass, you forgot about everything else except the two of you.
Your orgasm was creeping in slowly but heavily. The knot in your stomach was already almost painful; you were so close to your release, pulsing on his fingers. You needed just a few moments, and...
And Bucky completely pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine in despair. His left hand covered your mouth again because it was a little bit too loud for the dead silence in the house. But still, you felt disappointment as the last signs of your building orgasm slipped out of your body, and you were lying there wet, hot, and a little bit mad that your boyfriend didn’t let you finish.
“I told you to shut up, baby. I’m gonna take care of ‘ya. Just wanna feel your tight little pussy cumming on my cock, ‘kay?” You nodded again when Bucky started to kiss the back of your neck and shoulders, at the same time sliding your underwear down your legs. “Lift your leg a little bit, doll.”
You did as he told you, even though it was hard because your whole body was trembling from excitement and fear of getting caught. It felt like you were just teenagers who were trying to fuck without anyone knowing, and this thought made you even wetter. There were, in fact, chances that everything you did could be heard in the other rooms.
You were distracted from your thoughts when Bucky took his cock out of the boxers, gave himself a few pumps, and then rubbed it against you to cover himself in your slick. The tip pressed into your entrance, slipping inside easily, until his full length was buried deep into your dripping cunt.
Your eyes rolled back into your head, and you didn’t even notice that you bit the palm of Bucky’s hand in order not to scream out loud. He buried his face in your neck, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down a little bit.
“Feelin’ so good, sweetheart. Can’t imagine how much I’ve missed this pussy.” His right hand slipped under your thigh and moved your leg higher above your bed. The soft cover completely fell off your body, leaving your hot body exposed to the cold air of the room. It seems like he slipped even deeper, stretching and filling you up so well.
Bucky started to move slowly in and out of you, trying to make as few noises as possible and thrusting into you in a steady rhythm. You felt so fucking good wrapped around him that it was hard to behave well and not fuck you right into the mattress as he always liked to do. If you two were alone, he would've probably already put you ass up on the bed with your face in the pillows, making you scream his name and moan non-stop.
“M-m-m.” You couldn’t do anything but silently whine into his hand at every movement of his thick cock sliding inside of you. You didn’t know what to do with your hands or what to grab to distract yourself from the hot pleasure that was filling your whole body.
“Don’t– Don’t say a fucking word, baby. You don’t want your parents to find out that you’re just a slut for my cock, right?” Bucky’s deep whisper in your ear made you squeeze around him even harder. “So tight, so wet for me. I swear, you won’t be able to walk for a few days when we finally are alone, you hear me? Already so dumb for my cock, and it’s been almost for days.” His teeth playfully bit your earlobe, before moving lower to suck on the soft skin of your neck.
Your orgasm started to build again, with every movement bringing you closer and closer to the finish line. You wanted to cry or scream—you didn’t even know—but the tears blurred your vision when the hand under your leg moved further and Bucky pressed his fingers on your swollen clit. Your body twitched from the overstimulation, but your boyfriend just pressed harder, so you had no other choice but to let yourself fall into the abyss of pleasure.
“Cum for me, doll. I got ‘ya. Cum on my cock, I feel how you’re squeezing me.” Your head fell backwards, and your back arched as your orgasm filled every corner of your body.
The white noise in your ears and dots behind your closed eyes completely distracted you from the things that Bucky mumbled in your neck while he was trying to reach his own high. With a few last, not-so-steady movements, he grabbed your thigh and bit your neck while his body was trembling, emptying his hot seed deep inside of you.
“Good girl.” Bucky didn’t stop, gently thrusting into you to prolong your orgasms a little bit. “Good fuckin’ girl, take it all.” You whined when your overstimulated body started trembling under his touch, until Bucky finally stopped moving, still buried in you with his load dripping around his cock. “You did so good, doll.”
“W-what if they heard us?” You whispered into the darkness of your room, which was filled with the musky smell of sex, and you couldn’t deny that the adrenaline in your body felt so good.
“They’re sleeping, and we should too.” Bucky brought your warm body closer to himself, wrapping his hand over you and not making any movement to pull out. “Wanna stay inside of you for tonight, ‘kay? Love you so much, baby.”
“Love you too, Buck.” You relaxed under his touch and closed your eyes, drifting back to sleep, finally feeling so full and satisfied.
You didn’t know if it was true or if your overthinking brain was just playing some bad jokes with you, but it seemed to you that your mom gave you a weird smile when you came down to the kitchen the next morning.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky fanfic#bucky x reader#bucky x you#james bucky barnes#marvel
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MIDNIGHT INK | JJK
pairings. soft dom!jungkook x fem!reader genres. smut [s] fluff [f]
summary. a faded tattoo marks your heartbreak. desperate for a fresh start, you visit Jungkook, a trusted tattoo artist and secret confidant you secretly love.
warnings. past relationships, heartbreak, and emotional healing, swearing, unprotected sex, lots of kissing, oral sex, missionary position, and implied consensual rough sex.
( marvy ) hellooooo, first post & writting on here. enjoy, lemme know your thoughts :) ... be nice !
Sitting on your bed, you watched your reflection in the mirror, your fingers tracing the outline of the faded tattoo on your lower back. Once a symbol of love, it had become a haunting reminder of heartbreak. You needed to rid yourself of it, something to signify a fresh start.
Finally, you picked up your phone from the desk and called the one person you trusted implicitly.
"Hello?"
"Hey, before you leave, can I get a quick one done on my lower back?" you asked hesitantly. "Trying to get a cover-up."
"Yeah, sure, be here by eleven-thirty, okay?"
"Alright, cool, thanks." You stayed silent for a minute, hoping he'd say more, but the call ended abruptly.
Glancing at the clock, your eyes widened. It was 11:20. With a groan, you grabbed your keys and rushed out. The tattoo shop was only five minutes from your home, but October's chill and early darkness made the journey feel longer.
Despite the recent breakup with your boyfriend, you always found yourself returning to him—Jungkook. He was the man you confided in, sharing all your problems, including tales of your toxic relationship. Though he listened, sometimes distant, you sensed he disliked hearing about your ex. Yet, he was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on; truth be told, he was the reason you frequented the tattoo shop.
Upon arrival, the sign's lights flickered at the entrance. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open. Jungkook looked up from his station, his sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattoo-covered arms. His dark, intense gaze swept over you, making your heart flutter.
"Hey," he greeted, a slow smile spreading. "Ready?"
You nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "Yeah, thanks for staying late."
"No problem," he replied, his voice low and soothing. He gestured to the tattoo chair. "Take a seat. Let's see what we're working with."
As you settled into the chair, a mix of nerves and excitement coursed through you. Jungkook moved with practised ease, gathering his tools and preparing the area.
"Alright, let's take a look," he said calmly, lifting the back of your hoodie. His fingers brushed against your skin, lingering longer than necessary, sending a shiver down your spine.
Jungkook's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of desire in his eyes before he focused back on your skin. "15th of... December... 2023," he murmured, staring at your tattoo.
Embarrassed, you leaned your head against the seat. "Yeah, that's when we started dating."
He hummed in response, studying the faded tattoo. "This will be a great cover-up. Do you have a design in mind, or want me to freestyle something?"
"I trust you," you whispered. "Just something that represents a new beginning."
Jungkook nodded, his expression serious and thoughtful. "Got it. I'll sketch something out quickly."
You watched as he worked, his hands moving swiftly and confidently. The room was filled with the soft hum of the neon sign outside and the quiet scratch of his pencil on paper. After a few minutes, he held up the sketch for you to see.
"How about this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for approval.
The design was beautiful—delicate yet bold, perfectly capturing what you wanted. "It's perfect," you grinned.
"Glad you like it. Let's get started," he smiled.
He carefully transferred the design onto your skin, his touch sending another shiver through you. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent heat pooling in your stomach.
You nodded, unable to find your voice. The first touch of the needle was sharp but bearable. The pain quickly faded into the background, overshadowed by the sensation of Jungkook's hands on your skin. Each touch, each brush of his fingers, felt amplified in the intimate quiet of the shop.
Jungkook worked with steady precision, his eyes never leaving your skin. "You're doing great," he murmured, his breath warm against your back. "Just a little longer."
You tried to focus on the rhythm of his work, but your mind kept drifting to the closeness of his body and his hands' warmth. The tension between you was palpable, each minute passing in a haze of anticipation and desire. His fingers occasionally brushed against your skin in a way that felt more intentional than accidental, sending waves of heat coursing through you.
As the tattoo session continued, you found yourself mesmerized by the sensation of his touch. The combination of the late hour, the dim lighting, and the intimate nature of the session made every moment feel charged with electricity. You could feel the heat of his body close to yours, the soft brush of his breath on your skin.
"How does it feel?" he asked softly, his voice a soothing balm with a dark, underlying current.
"It's... it's good," you managed to reply, your voice shaking slightly. "Thank you, Jungkook."
He smiled, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Almost done. Just hang in there."
The final strokes of the tattoo machine were almost a relief, though you couldn't deny the pang of disappointment at the thought of his touch ending. When he finally finished, Jungkook leaned back to admire his work, his expression of satisfaction mixed with something deeper.
"All done," he said softly. "Take a look."
You stood up and walked to the mirror, turning to see the new tattoo on your lower back. It was beautiful, a perfect cover-up that transformed an old regret into something new and meaningful.
"Wow," you said, your voice filled with genuine awe. "I love it."
He stepped closer, his gaze intense and dark with unspoken desire. "I'm glad you like it," he said.
For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, standing in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with unspoken feelings and charged with undeniable tension.
"Thank you," you whispered, your eyes locking with his.
Jungkook's hand brushed against your cheek, and your heart skipped a beat. His touch was gentle yet firm, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath catch. "You're welcome," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "Anytime."
As you stared into each other's eyes, the air between you seemed to crackle with electricity, the line between professional and personal blurring beyond recognition. The tension was almost unbearable, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving more.
Jungkook's fingers trailed down your cheek to your neck, his touch igniting a fire within you. "You know," he said softly, his lips just inches from yours, "I've always been here for you. And I always will be."
His hand lingered on your neck, his thumb gently brushing your jawline as he stared into your eyes. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and the air between you crackled with unspoken desire. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing the growing tension in the room.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with longing.
Your breath hitched, and you leaned in closer without thinking, your lips just a breath away from his. The anticipation was almost unbearable, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, drawing you in.
Unable to resist any longer, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss. Jungkook responded immediately, his lips soft yet insistent against yours. The kiss deepened slowly, fueled by the weeks of suppressed desire and the intimate setting of the tattoo shop. His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further. The sensation was electric, sending waves of heat coursing through your body.
Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. The sensation of his heartbeat under your palm matched the frantic pace of your own. Every touch, every movement was charged, making your skin tingle with anticipation.
Jungkook broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he trailed kisses down your neck. "God, I've wanted this for so long," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming over your back, tracing the newly inked tattoo.
You let out a soft moan, arching into his touch. "Me too," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I've wanted you for so long."
He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and filled with desire as he looked at you. "Then let's not waste any more time," he said, his voice a low growl.
With a swift movement, he lifted you onto the tattoo chair, positioning himself between your legs. The cool leather against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat building between you. Jungkook's hands slid under your hoodie, pushing it up to reveal more of your skin. He kissed a trail down your collarbone, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp of your bra.
Your breath hitched as he pulled the bra away, his lips capturing one of your nipples in a hot, wet kiss. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished attention on your breasts, his hands kneading the soft flesh.
"Jungkook," you moaned, the sound of his name a desperate plea on your lips.
He responded by kissing his way back up to your mouth, his tongue parting your lips as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. The kiss was deep and fervent, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips when they parted. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
You could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, and the sensation only heightened your own desire. With a trembling hand, you reached down, palming him through his jeans. He let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through you and making you even wetter.
"Need you," you gasped against his lips, your voice breathless with need.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to tug off his shirt, revealing the expanse of tattoos that decorated his chest and arms. You couldn't help but run your hands over his skin, tracing the lines of ink with your fingers.
He made quick work of your clothes, stripping you bare before him. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but the look in Jungkook's eyes sent a new wave of warmth through you. He kissed you again, his hands exploring your body with a fervent intensity.
His fingers found their way between your legs, sliding through your wetness with practiced ease. You gasped, bucking into his hand as he teased your entrance.
"You're so wet for me," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. "I want to taste you."
Before you could respond, he knelt between your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste you. The sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, your hands gripping the edges of the tattoo chair as he licked and sucked at your most sensitive spots.
Jungkook's tongue moved with expert precision, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Just as you felt the first tremors of your orgasm, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal.
"I want you to come with me inside you," he said, his voice rough with desire.
You nodded, too breathless to speak, and he quickly shed the rest of his clothes. The sight of him, fully naked and aroused, made your mouth water. He positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locking with yours as he slowly pushed inside.
The sensation of him filling you was indescribable, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as he began to move. Each thrust was deliberate and powerful, driving you closer to the edge with each stroke.
Jungkook's hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he moved faster, his breath hot against your neck. "You're mine," he growled, his voice filled with possessive desire.
"Yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm yours."
The words seemed to spur him on, and he increased his pace, driving into you with an almost desperate intensity. Your orgasm built rapidly, a tight coil of pleasure that finally snapped, sending you over the edge with a cry of his name.
Jungkook followed you over the edge, his own release shuddering through him as he buried himself deep inside you. He collapsed against you, both of you breathing heavily as the aftershocks of your orgasms coursed through you.
For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
"That was..." you began, but trailed off, unable to find the words.
"Amazing," Jungkook finished for you, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.
You nodded, a matching smile spreading across your face. "Yeah. Amazing."
Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. "I told you," he murmured, his voice soft and tender. "I'll always be here for you."
You nestled closer to him, savouring the warmth of his body against yours. "And I'll always be here for you," you whispered back, feeling a profound sense of connection and contentment.
Jungkook pulled back slightly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "We should get cleaned up," he said, but made no move to let you go. Instead, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and affectionate.
You smiled, leaning into his touch. "Yeah, but maybe we can stay like this for just a little longer," you suggested, not ready to break the intimate cocoon that had enveloped you both.
He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I like the sound of that."
The two of you lay there for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms, the quiet of the tattoo shop providing a serene backdrop to your tender moment. The reality of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant compared to the warmth and closeness you shared.
Eventually, Jungkook sighed and pulled away, albeit reluctantly. "As much as I'd love to stay here with you forever, we should clean up and get you home."
You nodded, understanding the practicality of his words even though you wished the moment could last longer. "Okay."
Jungkook helped you off the tattoo chair, both of you moving slowly, savoring the lingering touches and stolen kisses as you gathered your clothes. He was gentle as he helped you dress, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made you want to pull him back into your embrace.
Once you were both dressed, Jungkook guided you to the small bathroom at the back of the shop. He wet a cloth and began to gently clean the areas of your body that still tingled from his touch. The intimacy of the moment, even in such a simple act, made your heart swell with affection.
"Thank you," you said softly, your voice filled with sincerity. "For everything."
He smiled, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made you feel cherished. "Anytime, Y/N."
With a final, lingering kiss, Jungkook finished cleaning up and walked you to the door. The cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth you felt inside, but you didn't mind. You knew that the bond you had forged tonight was something special, something that would stay with you long after you left the shop.
As you stepped outside, Jungkook held your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Call me when you get home, okay? I want to make sure you're safe."
You nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "I will."
He watched as you walked away, his figure a comforting presence behind you. As you made your way home, you felt a sense of peace and fulfilment that you hadn't felt in a long time. The night had been more than just a tattoo session—it had been a new beginning, a step towards a future filled with promise and love.
Later that night, as you settled into bed, your mind was filled with thoughts of Jungkook, completely forgetting he was waiting for your call.
The intimacy you shared, the way he looked at you, the feeling of his hands on your skin—it all replayed in your mind like a beautiful dream. Just as you were about to drift off to sleep, your phone rang, breaking the silence of the room. The screen displayed Jungkook's name, and your heart skipped a beat.
You answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady. "Hey,"
"Hey," he replied, his voice warm and soothing. "I just wanted to make sure you got home safely."
"I did," you said, feeling a rush of warmth at his concern. "Thank you for checking."
There was a brief silence, filled with the unspoken feelings hanging between you. Finally, Jungkook broke the silence. "I can't stop thinking about tonight, about you, Y/N."
"Me too," you admitted, your voice soft. "Thanks for the special treatment."
"It was special," Jungkook agreed. "I've wanted to tell you how I feel for so long, but I didn't know if you felt the same way."
"I do," you whispered, your heart pounding. "I feel the same way, Jungkook."
He let out a relieved sigh, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm glad to hear that. How about we make this official? Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"
Your face broke into a wide smile, your excitement bubbling over. "I'd love that."
"Great," Jungkook said, his voice filled with warmth. "I'll pick you up at seven. Sweet dreams, Y/N."
"Sweet dreams, Jungkook," you replied, ending the call with a smile.
The next day was a blur of anticipation and excitement. As the evening approached, you found yourself carefully selecting an outfit, wanting everything to be perfect. When the clock struck seven, a knock on your door made your heart race.
Jungkook stood on the other side, looking effortlessly handsome. He greeted you with a bouquet and a shy, endearing smile. "You look beautiful," he said, his eyes filled with admiration.
"Thank you," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth. "You look great too."
The dinner was perfect. The two of you shared stories, laughter, and tender glances across the table. Every moment felt charged with electricity, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. After dinner, Jungkook took you for a walk in a nearby park. The night was clear, the stars twinkling above as you strolled hand in hand.
As you reached a quiet spot, Jungkook turned to face you, his expression serious yet tender. "Y/N, I meant what I said last night. I'll always be here for you. I want to be with you if you'll have me."
Your heart swelled with emotion, and you nodded, tears of happiness brimming in your eyes. "I want to be with you too, Jungkook. More than anything."
He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his lips finding yours in a soft, tender kiss. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in your perfect moment.
The weeks that followed were filled with joy and discovery. Jungkook became not only your lover but your confidant and best friend. Each moment spent together strengthened your bond, and your love grew stronger with each passing day.
You found yourself spending more and more time at Jungkook's apartment, where he would cook for you, and you would talk for hours about everything and nothing. The walls that once seemed to contain just his life now felt like a shared space where your love blossomed.
One evening, as you lay in bed together, Jungkook traced patterns on your skin, his touch sending shivers through you. "I've been thinking about something," he said, hesitating.
"What is it?" you asked, turning to face him.
"I want us to move in together," he confessed, his eyes searching yours. "I want you to be a part of my everyday life, not just the special moments. What do you think?"
Your heart swelled with joy, and you couldn't stop the smile on your face. "I think I'd love that. More than anything."
Moving in together felt like the most natural step in your relationship. You merged your lives seamlessly, finding comfort and joy in the little things—cooking together, late-night talks, and lazy Sunday mornings.
One evening, while unpacking the last of your things, you came across an old photo album. Sitting on the couch, you and Jungkook flipped through the pages, laughing at childhood photos and sharing stories from your pasts. It felt intimate and suitable, a testament to how deeply you trusted each other.
Jungkook pulled you close, his eyes filled with love and promise. "We've come a long way, haven't we?"
"We have," you agreed, resting your head on his shoulder. "And I wouldn't change a thing."
As the evening wore on, you found yourselves on the balcony, watching the sunset. Jungkook wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. "I can't wait to see what the future holds for us," he murmured.
"Me too," you replied, your heart full of love and excitement. "With you by my side, I know it will be amazing."
As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a deep sense of fulfilment and contentment. The journey began with a simple tattoo, which had transformed into a beautiful love story that would continue to unfold with each passing day.
Your past no longer held any power over you; you could embrace a future filled with love, promise, and endless possibilities. Together, you and Jungkook would face whatever came your way, knowing that your love was strong enough to withstand anything.
As you closed your eyes and leaned into his embrace, you knew this was just the beginning of your happily ever after.
(sorry omg i love this pic sm rn 😭😭😭)
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