#shaggy the bartender | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bonewreath · 2 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞! ** 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: modern au; ellie moves to a big city to escape the past. she goes to her first lesbian bar, where she meets you.

cw: porn with…a whisper of plot; alcohol use, fingering (e!receiving), strap-on sex, bottom!ellie, slightly sub!ellie, she’s whiny here

Ellie’s never been to a lesbian bar.

It’s surreal - banners of colorful pride flags are strung across the room, some of which she can’t even identify. Distressed and faded posters are plastered on the stone walls, advertising drag shows and queer punk bands with names like The Cranky Dykes and T-Girl Social. Nearly every patron is tatted or pierced, and there’s more platform boots and fishnet clothing than Ellie’s ever seen in one place before. Before she’d moved to the city, Ellie had lit up with excitement at the thought of visiting a lesbian bar. But now, in her worn Harley Davidson tee and a pair of jeans with unintentional rips at the knees, she feels very much out of her depth.

Steeling her nerves, she internally reminds herself that this is exactly why she’d moved in the first place - she needed new experiences. She needed unfamiliarity. What she’d left back in Texas was her normal, and she planned to build a new normal here. One that was the antithesis of everything she’d known before.

The bar isn’t completely packed, but she does need to push past dancing, sweaty bodies, girls sucking on each other’s faces, and chatting cliques to get to the edge of the bar, where more clusters of people are calling out drink orders and thrusting wads of cash tips at the bartenders. By some miracle, an empty barstool presents itself after a drunken patron with a mohawk stumbles out of it, and Ellie swoops in to snatch it before someone else does. She sits there for a good few minutes, trying to capture a bartender’s attention, until someone shuffles up beside her and sticks a hand out to wave one over. And, of course, they notice immediately, heading over with a towel slung over their shoulder. Ellie sinks lower into her seat, cheeks burning.

“I’ll have a spicy marg,” the woman beside Ellie says, voice projecting loud enough to hear over the clamor of music and chatter. The bartender nods, then goes to step away, but the woman next to Ellie stops her, speaking with that attention-commanding voice.

“What are you having?”

The bartender’s gaze shifts to Ellie, still hunched over and beet-red in the face. She flushes impossibly redder when she looks up at the woman who’d just ordered, realizing that the question had been directed at her.

“Oh,” she blurts, posture straightening. She glances at the woman, anxiety flaring, then back at the bartender. “Um, an old fashioned. Please. Thanks.”

Just as quickly as they’d come, the bartender disappears again, off to pour precisely-measured shots and mix cocktails in shiny silver shakers. Ellie’s hands are in her lap, fiddling restlessly, when she finally forces herself to look up at the woman who’d practically had to order for her.

You smile at her when she meets your gaze. Though she’s trying to be subtle about it, you can feel the way Ellie drinks in your every feature, eyes flickering over your face, then your body. It’s obvious that she likes what she sees, because she has a hard time looking you in the eye again.

“Thanks,” she says. “I’ve been trying to order for a while.”

“So I saw,” you respond, but not unkindly. You take a moment to look her over, although you’d already done plenty of that before you’d even approached her - you had seen her from across the bar, looking forlorn, her leg bouncing beneath the edge of the bar as she tried (and failed) to order herself a drink. Her lack of confidence is what piqued your interest; it was hard to believe that someone that gorgeous wasn’t oozing arrogance and self-importance. She’s all lean muscles and shaggy hair, her forearm decorated with a sprawling fern tattoo. You could already imagine yourself running your hands through that hair, kissing the length of her sharp jawline, pulling those narrow hips up against your own.

At a lesbian bar, a hot girl who couldn’t carry herself with confidence usually meant one of two things: she’s fresh out of a breakup, or she’d never been somewhere like this. You’re determined to find out which of the two applies to her.

“What’s your name? I haven’t seen you here before.” You angle your body to face Ellie, popping your hip out as subtly as you can.

Ellie, determined to keep her eyes on your face and not the curve of your hip or the delicious sliver of cleavage peeking out of your square-neck top, peers up at you from behind her bangs. “Uh, yeah, I’ve never been. I just moved here. I’m Ellie - what’s your name?”

You tell her your name and she repeats it slowly, like she’s tasting every syllable. “Pretty.”

Your drinks arrive before you can fumble for a response.

“Spicy marg, old fashioned,” the bartender lists as they slide your drinks over the smooth wood of the bar. Ellie murmurs her thanks and you nod at the bartender before they disappear, your hand curling around the glass.

“Cheers?” You tip your drink towards Ellie. She clinks her own glass against yours and the two of you take your first sips, the bitterness of the alcohol burning its way down your throat. You feel it settle in your stomach, warm and satisfying.

“So,” you begin, licking jalapeño and lime-tinged tequila from your lips. Ellie’s eyes follow the movement for a moment before she catches herself and looks away. “Where’d you move from?”

Ellie smiles shyly. You watch her index finger trace the rim of her glass. “Texas.”

“Oh?” One of your brows lifts. “And what made you want to move here, Texas?”

“For one, I’m gay.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious.”

She lets out a little laugh, and the sound makes you want to grin - you take a sip of your margarita instead.

“I just… Couldn’t be there anymore,” she elaborates. “It wasn’t right for me. I needed to start fresh.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, letting Ellie’s words sink in. Clearly, something severe enough had happened to make her want to shed her life in Texas like an old skin. And this lesbian bar, filled with every unique kind of queer this city had to offer, was part of this new version of Ellie - the version she’d chosen to build from the ground up. You’re struck by how brave Ellie must be for that. And yeah, maybe she’d struggled to order a drink for herself, but that didn’t take away from her bravery - not when she’d willfully chosen to uproot her life, a decision most people could never follow through with.

“I’m impressed,” you say honestly. “And I hope the city gives you what you’re looking for.”

The corners of Ellie’s lips twitch, and that pretty blush fights its way onto her cheeks again. You’re about to say something when you hear the first notes of one of your favorite songs thumping through the speakers, a few other bargoers cheering to express their own excitement.

“Dance with me,” you say to Ellie, reaching forward with your free hand to grab her forearm. She looks up at you like a deer in headlights.

“I can’t dance.”

“Doesn’t matter, just follow my lead. C’mon.”

“I don’t know if—”

“Didn’t you come here to try new things?” You curl your fingers around Ellie’s wrist, and she lets you pull her to her feet. You’ve made a good point, and she doesn’t argue again - just follows you to the dancefloor, where dozens of others are already moving to the beat of the music, hips rolling, heads nodding. The lights pulsate in the vibrant colors of the rainbow, the crowd painted shades of sunset orange, hot pink, deep indigo. You sip your drink and start to dance, turning to face Ellie; she’s gaping at you, unmoving.

“Come here,” you say, having to shout over the music. Ellie steps closer to you as you move to the rhythm, hips swishing. You’re wearing a pair of flared pants that makes your ass look incredible, and after Ellie finally starts to dance along with you, you turn around to bring your backside closer to her. As if by instinct, Ellie’s arm loops around your waist - she presses her palm into the front of your pelvis, rolls her hips against your ass. You grin, wide and self-satisfied, as you lift your drink to your lips again - only to realize it’s almost gone. You make a mental note to head back to the bar after this song, but for now, you enjoy the last few drops of your margarita, revelling in the feeling of Ellie’s hand, strong on your hip, as she presses ever-closer into you from behind.

Ellie’s in awe of you.

The way you’d strolled up beside her at the bar, posture proud, buying Ellie a drink and flirting with her like it was easy, natural. The way you’d let your eyes wander over her figure, not shy at all about the lust in your gaze. The way you’d dragged her to the dancefloor and ground your ass back against her, smelling like lime and tequila and something headier, something distinctly you.

Now, after two strong drinks and several songs-worth of dancing with you, Ellie’s so turned on she feels like a live wire, sparks erupting from her every nerve.

On the dancefloor, Ellie had looped her arm around your hips, leaning in so close she could smell the liquor on your breath. You’d needed to fight down every urge to kiss her first - you weren’t even sure if she’d ever kissed another woman before, and you’d already done enough to pull her out of her shell for the night. But Ellie had leaned her forehead against yours, noses brushing, eyes fluttering shut… And your mouths had crashed together in the sort of kiss you’re going to have a very hard time forgetting.

After making out in the crowd like that for god knows how long, you’d invited Ellie back to your apartment. Which brings you to your current predicament: Ellie’s backed up against the front door, your hand under her shirt, fingers dancing over every inch of her deliciously solid abdomen. If Ellie’s inexperienced, she’s doing a fabulous job of pretending she isn’t. But you’re not sure just how innocent she is now, as she moans unabashedly into your mouth, your hand squeezing her tits over her sports bra.

“Hey,” you breathe, pulling back from the heated kiss you’d been sharing.

“Mm?” Ellie blinks at you, dazed. You want to ruin her.

“Is this okay?” You peck at her lips, then her cheek. “We don’t have to… Do anything. Not if you don’t want to.”

Ellie’s bangs are gorgeously tousled, and she looks at you like a kicked puppy - all round eyes and furrowed brows, worried you’re taking something from her. “But I… I want to.”

“You sure?”

Ellie nods.

“Have you ever been with another woman before?” Your stomach twists at the directness of your own question, but you really want to know. Need to know. A bar hookup might not be the best way for her to pop her cherry - or, at least, her gay cherry.

Then again, it’s not exactly unheard of in the community.

“Yeah. I have,” Ellie says, her hand reaching out to grab your hip.

You find yourself wanting to pry, dig deeper for more information, but there’s no real reason for it. She’s not entirely new to this. She wants you. That’s all that really matters, right?

So you take her to your bedroom, let her undress you with shaky, calloused hands, kiss her slow and sweet while she unbuttons her jeans and kicks them aside. You help each other undress until you’re both naked, and then you’re stumbling into bed, your legs straddling Ellie’s hips as you kiss down her neck, stopping to suck pretty purple bruises into the sensitive skin. Ellie makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper, sending another white-hot jolt of arousal through you. Your cunt is spread over her pelvis, and you grind down against her like that, letting out a pleased sound of your own.

“God, you’re so hot,” Ellie mutters, watching you roll your hips as you kiss down to her chest. She reaches for your tits, squeezes them in her palms.

“Yeah?” You smile, sharp and wolfish, down at Ellie. She looks at you like she can’t believe this is happening - like she can’t believe you’re real. “Gonna let me fuck you, Ellie?”

She moans at the obscenity of the question, nodding quickly. “Yes, god, please fuck me.”

“Mm,” you hum, “need to get you ready first, baby.”

Ellie’s breathing is ragged, her hips lifting, seeking friction. You climb down her body until you’re settled between her legs, pulling her knees apart to give yourself access to her center. She’s fucking soaked - you bite your lip at the sight of her, clit swollen and puffy, labia shining with arousal.

You start with one finger, dipping into the wetness pooled at her entrance and spreading it up to her clit, drawing sharp breaths and staggering moans from Ellie’s kiss-bitten lips. Every sound she makes has you yearning to hear more, more. You slide your middle finger into her clenching hole and groan when you feel her walls open up smoothly around the digit. She pulses around you, hot and slick. When you begin pumping your finger in and out of that tight heat, Ellie’s noises become even more drawn-out, even more frantic - you look up at her and find her eyes already on you, dark with lust, a desperate, pleading expression etched onto her face.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” you coo at her, revelling in the way her pussy tightens at your words.

“I–nngh, fuck–I need…” She trails off, jaw clenching.

You fake-pout at her, puff out your lower lip in faux sympathy. “What is it? What do you need?”

“Need more,” Ellie pants out.

“I can give you more, sweetheart,” you reassure her, “all you had to do was ask.”

So, you give her more. You slip another finger inside of her, press the heel of your hand against the sensitive nub of her clit; your fingers curl upwards in the warmth of her cunt, finding that spongy, sensitive spot that’ll make her see stars. She whines - actually fucking whines, high-pitched and desperate, as if to say yes, right there.

“Shit, oh my god…” Ellie’s hands are clutching the sheets, knuckles blanched. “‘M so close.”

You don’t let up, and it only takes a few more moments of your careful ministrations before Ellie’s falling apart, a mess of jolting hips, strangled gasps, and a rush of wetness. You watch her come undone, wishing you could committ the sight to memory. After, you lick your fingers clean.

While Ellie’s spent and recovering from the height of her orgasm, you shuffle to the side of the bed to reach for your nightstand. You roll open the drawer, rummage around, and return to Ellie’s side with a tiny bottle of lube and your strap, the harness made of powder pink fabric. The brunette sighs contentedly when you lean over to kiss her, swiping her sweat-damp bangs away from her forehead.

“You taste so good, did you know that?” You press another kiss to the corner of Ellie’s lips, feeling the way they twitch into a smile.

“I really doubt it,” Ellie says.

You scoff. “Don’t doubt my taste.”

“Mm, okay. Fine. I believe you.”

Fighting your own smile, you move back to sit on your heels, cheeks heating when you notice Ellie’s eyes roaming over your naked body.

“Need something?”

Ellie nods, then sits up and pulls you in for another kiss, her hand on the back of your neck. “I want you to really fuck me now.”

“Oh yeah?” You grin at her, your hands making their way to her tits and smoothing over her pebbled nipples. “Think you should learn some manners, Ellie. How about please?”

Her expression goes soft - eyes rounding, mouth pursing.

“Please,” she says, and her voice is so sweet, it might rot your teeth. “Please fuck me.”

And who are you to deny her what she needs?

As it turns out, Ellie’s pussy was made to take strap. She’s leaned over, face down in one of your pillows, her ass propped up perfectly to give you access to her cunt. Still soaked from her last orgasm, she hardly needs any lube, the strap pushing into her all the way to the hilt without any resistance; she keens when you’re fully seated inside of her, a sound that makes your own pussy throb with need. Every noise she makes is pure heaven - you wish you could record them all, listen to them when you’re in bed at night with your hand between your thighs.

“Fuuuuck,” Ellie cries out when you hit that sweet spot with the tip of the strap, her head shifting to lean on one side, allowing you to see the look on her face - the roll of her eyes, the way her lips part to let out each of her gasps and moans.

“How’s that feel, princess?” You ask as you pound into her from behind; you admire the way her back arches deeper, like she’s encouraging you to fuck into her further and further.

“S-so good,” Ellie stutters weakly.

“Yeah? Doing so good for me, baby,” you pant. Every slam of your hips against Ellie’s ass makes her grunt, a pleased little sound, short and needy.

That tiny grunt turns into an impatient whine when you pull out of her entirely, a lewd, wet noise accompanying the motion.

“Why’d you stop?” Ellie asks, voice small. She cranes her neck to look back at you and the expression on her face is absolutely pathetic.

You give her ass a playful smack, admiring the way it recoils from the contact of your palm. “Want you to flip over. I need to see you come again, you looked so pretty the first time.”

She does as instructed - she’s already so good at following directions, you’ve learned. When Ellie’s on her back, her face, neck, and chest tinged red with equal parts arousal and exertion, you lean in and whisper praises to her, lining the strap up to her entrance and pushing into her again.

“Hold your legs up, sweetheart,” you instruct, pushing her thighs up until they’re folded against her body. She nods, panting, and lifts her hands up to hold her legs in place. You slip deeper into her like this; Ellie goes cross-eyed, lips pursed into a pretty “o” shape as you fuck her senseless. It doesn’t take much longer for her to get close again, and when her legs begin to shake with the effort of holding them up for you, you tell her to relax.

“Play with your clit, hm? I want you to come.”

Ellie nods. “Y-yeah, I can do that. For you.”

“Just for me?” You grin.

“Mm, just for you.”

Her hand shakes as she brings it between her legs, drawing sloppy circles over her clit with her fingers. You keep fucking her, hips snapping restlessly, every lewd squelch of her cunt making you gush wetter and wetter. But as desperate as you are to come, you’re more focused on Ellie - the way she bites her lip, her entire body tense with her impending orgasm. She warns you before she finally tips over the edge: an endless chant of right there, I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come, oh my god…

You’re not sure how long you lie there on top of Ellie, still buried inside her, before her breathing finally rights itself again. You spend that time kissing all over her face and running your hands through her auburn hair, untangling a few knotted locks in the process. You’re both covered in a thin layer of sweat, bodies glistening, but neither of you seems to mind. Content to lie there together, you rest until Ellie pulls you in for a kiss - one that turns needy and sloppy not long after.

“Can I taste you?” Ellie asks between kisses, her lips shiny with saliva. She says it with such hope, like she’s not sure what you’ll say. But you’re still drenched between your legs, inner thighs sticky with it.

“There’s nothing I want more right now,” you confess.

So Ellie finds a place between your legs, mouth latching to your clit like it’s muscle memory. You curl a fist into her hair and guide her every move, murmuring instructions, which she follows like the good girl she is. The night continues that way - all whispered pleas and tremoring orgasms, tangled limbs and slick-coated fingers, until the two of you finally doze off, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

And Ellie thinks she’s made a good decision, moving here. Trying something new.

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blkkizzat · 7 months

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summary: After a really shitty blind date you end up lashing out at a sexy stranger, sarcastically posing him a question he's more than willing to answer. a/n: Toji got me feral as fuck today y'all but I make zero apologies. Especially for this trifling ass gif because wtf else was I supposed to do after watching this scene, who isn't thinking this is the real question!?!? wc: 3.1k over 2.1k of it is literally just Toji being a munch

eta- put a cute frame over the gif ❤︎

You were sitting alone in a dive bar after a sorry ass excuse of a blind date. Drowning your sorrows you definitely needed something stronger than the seltzers in your fridge at home.

Things on your date were going well until the end of the night when the conversation turned frisky. You then whispered into your date’s ear that you wanted to ride his face.

That's when your date’s actual face turned to repulsion. Your blind date flat out said eating pussy was gross and refused.

You had dealt with previous boyfriends not wanting to go down on women so you weren't dealing with that shit again.

Nuh-uh. No way.

After not-so-politely telling him to kindly go and fuck himself you grabbed your purse and walked right the hell out of there.

And here you are now.

Alone.

At a sketchy ass dive bar that was mostly emptied.

Three shots of tequila in and a fourth setting on the table waiting for the room to stop spinning before you down it and go home.

Your head was resting on the cool bar countertop as you cursed the entire male species for their existence.

Selfish jerks. Every single one of them.

That would be the last date you would go on in a while. The only man you wanted to see was the bartender when he handed you another shot of tequila and then he could go fuck off too.

So when you felt a large hand on your lower back and a gruff but seductive 'Hey mamas' blowing hot air in your ear you fucking lost it and the full wrath of your scorn and sarcasm was directed at this man.

"LISTEN, I've just had a really shitty blind date. I just want to take this last shot of tequila, stuff my face with KFC and go home. So unless the answer is 'Yes' to the question 'Do you eat pussy?' Get the fuck out of my face, please and thank you!"

You didn’t care who heard your drunken tirade as you lifted your head to face the punching bag for all your current male frustrations.

Your jaw dropped.

The man who stood beside you looked like he walked straight out of Greek mythology. He was tall and muscular with tan skin and his black compression shirt stuck to him like a second skin giving you a detailed view.

Shit he must be a boxer, or a martial artist or something. There was really no other excuse for a man to be that ripped.

You chewed your lip as your eyes slowly trailed up his body, drinking in his statuesque form to finally arrive at his face framed with shaggy raven hair.

Fuck he is really hot too.

The man, although sexy, looked intimidating as hell as he towered over you.

You winced as you thought you were in for it with his response and you started to already form an apology in your head.

But instead of anger the man just looked down at you with amused knowing eyes as he allowed you to ogle him.

He also wore an insanely devious smirk, his scar pulling up at the corner of his mouth.

“Heh.”

From that point things were a bit of a blur as he snatched up and downed your shot of tequila, grabbed your arm and led you away to the back with you barely having time to grab your purse.

You only registered what was happening once your back hit the cold tile of the bathroom wall and saw this sexy mysterious man lower himself to his knees before you.

His large muscular hands trailed all over your body, never leaving you.

"W-What are you doing!?"

You didn't know what to think, this was all happening so fast.

Was this intimidating but sexy as fuck man that you just met, yelled at and didn't even know his name, about to eat you out!?

"Heh, I’m answering your question, mamas."

The man spread your legs at the ankles, not even bothering to lift up the skirt of your dress. Choosing instead to just stick his head right up in there, letting the fabric drape over him.

"Wait at least tell me your na–"

Your sentence was cut short as you gasped at the sensation of his nose pressing into your clit through your black laced panties.

The man wiggled his nose against your clit like he was giving it eskimo kisses. He then salaciously took a huge whiff of your scent through his nostrils and puffed out the large exhale of warm moist breath directly over your cunt sending tingles through your body.

"Fuck, who wouldn’t want to taste this sweet slutty cunt?"

He mumbled, making the comment more to himself than you but your legs still shook slightly from the vulgar compliments and vibrations of his voice in your pussy.

You were practically purring now. You could feel the surge of heat and need rushing over your body spreading out from your core.

Especially now as his tongue was dragging up the thin lace of your panties and stopped to suck at your clit through the textured material.

It felt absolutely wild.

“F-Fuck!”

You moaned loudly and quickly covered your mouth with your hand.

His hands slid up your dress to roughly dig into your hips and pull your pelvis more forward as he smashed his face into your cunt.

Your last bit of reason was telling you to stop him. You didn’t know him at all and what if someone walked in and saw you both?

However, once you feel the man’s mouth grab the hem of your panties and drag them down your legs to remove them by his teeth alone, your common sense was discarded as well.

You exhaled as you threw your head back in resignation, missing how he slyly pocketed your black lace panties once he finally had them off of you. He would be taking those with him.

You looked down at him as he rose up again, pulling up your dress. He placed a chaste kiss on the mound of your now completely exposed pussy as you squirmed in excitement under him.

“Y’er gonna be a good girl f’er me n’ do what I say, so I can eat this slutty pussy out the way she deserves, eh?”

The cocky smirk on his face never left and he reached both hands around to grasp both your plump ass cheeks, kneading them and enjoying the way your soft flesh squeezed through his fingers.

“Y-Yeah, uh-huh, I’ll be good. I p-promise.”

You breathed out those words too rapidly causing you to realize how needy and desperate you sounded. Your hips involuntarily bucked towards him and you became pliant in his hands.

God, you were nearly begging him with your entire body at this point.

But the fact was you would be begging him anyway if for some reason he found some good sense and decided this was all way too crazy to be happening right now.

Fortunately for you, you apparently stumbled on the fairy fucking godfather of pussy eating appearing seemingly out of nowhere and who clearly didn’t give a single fuck as to where he was.

His eyes looked crazed and his grin widened at your consent. He released your cheeks to roll up your dress further.

He gave it to you, but not for you to hold with your hands but with your mouth.

“Bite down on this f’er me, yeah? Heh, wouldn’t want to draw a crowd from your screams.”

Of course he is arrogant too.

You rolled your eyes but were obedient. You were too caught up in the thrill of what was happening to disobey him and have him stop.

You bit down on the bunched designer fabric.

“That’s a good little slut f’er me.”

He mockingly praised you and gave an abrupt slap to your ass.

You whimpered around the fabric.

You really didn’t understand why you just couldn’t use your hands though, but you soon found out as he threw both of your legs over his shoulders.

Your hands were needed to brace yourself, that much became obvious to you as they flew to the wall behind. You grasped for any kind of stability you could find on the slick tile so you wouldn’t topple over.

His strong wide hands wrapped around your thighs and brought your dripping core closer to his face.

A barely audible ‘Itadakimasu’ was all the warning you got before you felt his flat heavy tongue dig into your cunt.

“S-Shiiiiiiiiit!”

Exploring your pussy like uncharted territory he took his time to lap, slurp and swirl his way through, roaming in the intoxicating folds of your cunt. A fast learner, he noted what made your body twitch, your leg shake or an extra hitch in the deep moans that escaped you through the fabric in your mouth.

Wanting to hear you scream, he swiped his canine over your clit before he traced his tongue over the bud and sucked hard.

Mission accomplished as your muffled scream came through the fabric of your dress and a hand of yours left the wall to find purchase in his hair, pulling on it hard.

He growls into your pussy with approval when he feels the harsh tug on his black strands and continues working you over, pulling all sorts of vulgar noises from you as he slobbers and spits into your cunt.

The man was fucking nasty the way he devoured you like it was his last meal on death row.

“S-so, close-ahh!”

Your muffled voice told him but the man could already tell by the way your thighs had enclosed around his head, twitching against him while suffocating him deeper into your core.

The tension that wound itself into a coil in your stomach reached his limits and it finally broke when you felt his canine swipe against your clit a second time.

Your cries choked out as they clumsily made their way out of your mouth still stuffed with your drool soaked dress.

You quivered and gushed into his mouth, eyes rolling back and your other hand found its way into his hair. Wrenching his locks in between your manicured fingers as if you intended to scalp him from how hard you were twisting.

That only served to encourage his efforts however as he slurped up your juices more fiercely. You clawed at him to release you but you might as well had steel around your body as neither his bulky muscular arms nor thick head budged.

Fuck its too much!

Finally pulling black with a pop he smacked his lips and exhaled an ‘ahhh’ as if he was taking a pause from stuffing himself with a delicious meal.

“This cunt is so fucking creamy, need some more of ‘er.”

You shook your head as tears welled in your eyes at the sight of him salivating over your puffy pussy lips glistening with the combined fluids of your cum and his spit.

“Mm, you want me to stop? But she doesn’t want me to.”

His thick tongue flattened to take painfully slow licks over your slit, the man’s fierce green eyes never leaving yours as they flared with primal urges.

You never had someone aggressively eat you out like this, not to mention actually enjoy it this much.

This man was fucking insane.

“Let’s ask this slutty pussy what she want’s, eh?”

The man tilted your pelvis up, lifting your lower back off the wall so he could move close to your hole that was fluttering, shamelessly clenching around nothing.

“See that, ma? She’s winking at me, inviting me in. How can I say no?”

He sounded absolutely unhinged as he slowly extended his tongue to push up into you.

Your muffled sobs were drowned out by the erotic squelching sounds of your cunt echoing off the tile walls.

He accelerates you to the point of overstimulation with such vigor that you easily cum on his tongue again for a second time.

This time your legs trembled more violently and your heels dug into his back causing him to grunt deeper into your pussy. The sharp digging of your heels into his back did nothing to discourage him as his tongue fucked further into your hole without mercy.

All you could do was wither in his clutches as he rolled his tongue inside you throughout the high of your second orgasm.

You were panting and your jaw became slack as you slowly lost the ability to hold your dress in your mouth any longer. Releasing it along with a well of drool that once freed, overflowed down the corners of your mouth to drip down your neck and chest along with your tears.

“One more mama, I know this slutty pussy can give me that at least... Tch, and take off that dress if ya ain’t gonna hold it, ya? Let’s see those pretty tiddies, eh?”

The man’s distasteful and outright crass words should have turned you off.

But his filthy tongue not only drains you of your juices but also any kind of restraint or decency you had left. His brash words only make you all the more aroused.

Obeying him once more, you rid yourself of the dress pulling it up and over your head, not caring where it landed.

You would rather it off than in your mouth anyway. Opting to not wear a bra with this dress you were now naked save for your heels.

“Nice tits.”

You rolled your eyes as his crass compliment but wore a small grin yourself as you playfully shook your shoulders allowing them to jiggle down at his face.

He chuckled at your display but his voice quickly turned devious again.

“Make sure y’er holding on tight this time, eh?”

You strengthen your grip on his raven locks but you still weren’t prepared for when he rose up off the ground entirely to stand, completely shouldering your weight.

“ACK!!”

The altitude change wasn’t something you expected. He held you up off the wall like you weighed nothing to him and although you felt secure around the lower half of your body, an arm still flailed around for balance.

Thankfully, you discovered you could hold on to the pipes that hung from the low ceiling yet it creaked as you held on.

Shit, you hoped it would hold.

Seeing you secure yourself the man wasted no time enveloping your cunt with his hot mouth. The gravity of your weight pushing down your core on his mouth had him more needy for air and you felt the pulses that rocked through you from his rough exhales with fervor.

“Fuckfuckfuck!”

It proved to be much more difficult to keep your cries of pleasure contained. But you bit your lip to try to suppress yourself into a whine instead of a scream.

Although that all went to shit once you saw the reflection of the two of you in the dirty floor to ceiling bathroom mirror.

You could still clearly see your forms and the way you looked. Your face completely blissed out, sweating and panting as the mad man did everything but rest while he was between your legs, circling and suckling as if he personally challenged himself to drain all the fluids from your body.

You tighten your hold on the pipe and experimentally roll your hips forward and your other hand, threaded behind his head through his thick hair pulls him closer as well.

“G-God-f-fuck-shiiiiit!”

You didn’t care who the fuck heard you this time, as you watched yourself in the mirror thrust your hips forward to fuck deeper into his face, building up a rhythm.

Your tits bounced up higher with your back arched as your mouth hung open spilling out curses, cries and moans alike. The scene was better than a porno, so hot, so feral, you half wished someone was recording this.

Absolutely loving the thought of you losing yourself to his depravity and you taking on a more aggressive role, the man growled with approval once more into your cunt as his tongue continued to unravel you.

Your movements became more frantic as you could feel your third and most intense orgasm yet approaching. He eagerly relinquishes more control to you as he allows you to grind his face farther into your pussy.

You shuddered as you felt a shock of electricity wreck your entire being, assaulting all of your senses with the feeling of pure ecstacy. Your toes ached from the intensity of their curling in your heels and your mind only filled with the sounds of the sloppy gurgling noises from the man below you literally being smothered by your cunt as you rut into him.

It wasn’t just the cheap fluorescent lights of the bathroom eye-level with you when white filled your vision and you felt yourself release to convulse and squirt all over the man’s face.

If you weren’t holding onto the pipe above for dear life, you’re sure you would have fallen.

After a few moments the man easily shifted his hold to your waist and brought your feet back to touch the ground. However, you were still more than a bit shaky and a few steps backwards had you bumping into the wall and sliding down to the floor.

Your fluids leak out into a small puddle on the ground between your sticky thighs.

The man whose name you still didn’t know slicked his hair back into place as he glanced down at you, disheveled and heaving on the floor.

“Gochisosama, mama.”

He smirked even with his face completely drenched with your nectar. He brazenly circled his tongue around his lips and corners of his mouth to greedily lap up any of you remaining that he could before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Name’s Fushiguro. Toji. Heh, and yeah ma as ya now know, I do eat pussy.”

You gave a weak chuckle at that but your eyes were glossed over and you were fading a bit. You can’t recall the last time you came that hard at all, let alone from just getting your pussy ate.

“Now, I gotta question, ma.”

Your body, still vibrating with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm has left you non-verbal so you simply nodded your head for Toji to continue.

Toji crouches down to your level which reveals his monstrous and fully bricked cock straining through his sweats.

Your eyes widen when you see it and you knew then everything about this man named Toji Fushiguro was fucking ridiculous, in both size and demeanor.

Lifting your chin so you could look him directly in his eyes, Toji slid his thumb over on your bottom lip.

The appendage bullied its way past your lips and pressed down on your tongue. Your mouth opened wide and he inspected you like he was a doctor examining the back of your throat.

Pleased with what he saw, Toji gave you a shit eating grin.

“You swallow kids?”

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

a/n: Istg I'm working on part 2 of Werewolf!Toji but theres no pussy eating in that and he needed to eat some pussy today. I deserve that and y'all deserve that too.

So here. Come and let our feral hunger feast together as Toji feasts on us.

11/4: a quick afterthought of what happened next.

Reblog to spread the depravity as everyone needs to have this crazy ass header pop-up on their timeline lmfao. But likes and comments are appreciated all the same!

tags of depravity please don't send me away for this one: @callm3senpaii @ryomens-vixen

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bimbobaggins69 · 3 months

Text

˗ˏˋ𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 ˎˊ˗

bar-back e.m. x fem reader

blurb request: barback!eddie who let’s you try his newest concoctions on the house🤭 by @bcyhoods

authors note: thank you for participating in my little celebration and sending in your request(s), love. This was such a fun one to write and totally got away from me. Anyway, hope you like! <3

✷ ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+

A fog of smoke greets you as you walk through the double doors of the hideout, some run down dive bar in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, surrounded by cows and cornfields. You can’t help but grimace as each step you take is met with sticky resistance under the soles of your brand new loafers.

You take a seat at the bar, running your fingers over the skirt of your dress while you wait for the bartender to notice you and while you do, you take in every inch of him; in his black leather jacket, long brown waves and rings galore. He’s not like anything you’d ever seen outside of an MTV music video.

You’d spent your whole life around preppy assholes who thought polos and boat shoes were cool. They’d never be caught dead in that bad boy attire or much less in a sketchy place like this. That thought made your heart race with excitement, you set your sights on him and prayed your sweet charm and flirty banter would work in your favor.

“Uh, what can I get ya, sweetheart?” The smoothness of his voice instantly makes you want to clench your thighs, but you decide against it as your eyes meet his.

“Mmm, got anything sweet?” You ask with a flirty smile, you don’t want to lay it on thick too soon, just little by little for now.

“Sure, I can whip somethin’ up for you.” He says proudly, bending down to grab a whisky glass and a bottle of some fruity liquor. “Sorry, we don’t have anythin’ more fancy, we really only get beer and whisky orders here, if you can believe it.” He says sarcastically as he looks around the smoke filled bar, met with older working men and bikers who were, to no surprise holding an aforementioned beer or whisky.

“It’s fine.” You say, waving off his apology with a small swat to the smoky air. “So… aren’t you a little young to be bartending?” You ask curiously, also as an attempt to keep the conversation flowing.

“Ah, well you’d be right. I’m not quite a bartender yet, more of a bartenders assistant if you will. But…” he looks around with dramatic flare, making you giggle. “She’s not around at the moment, so looks like you’re stuck with me, princess.” The pet name sends a thrilling swoop straight to your stomach.

“Maybe I wanna be stuck with you.” The words are out of your mouth before you have a chance to fully process them and you immediately want nothing more than to swallow them back down. Your face heats up with humiliation when he raises an eyebrow that gets lost somewhere underneath his shaggy bangs.

He doesn’t even acknowledge your little slip up, instead he shakes his head as a smirk forms on his pretty lips, all the while pouring some red liquor and pineapple juice concoction into your glass. You both let the awkward silence flow around you, although the bar is anything but silent.

“So, tell me what ya’ think?” He beams, scooting the half filled glass closer towards you. The silver of his rings glint off of the yellow lighting and you can’t help but want to do some very shameful things to those fingers while he’s wearing those rings.

After the third concoction of his amazing fruity cocktails, you begin feeling that familiar burn in your chest. You’re nowhere near drunk just feeling loose, which was never good for the people around you.

“So, why haven’t I ever seen you around?” The metalhead asks as he takes a seat next to you at the bar, the bartender had since come back and told him he was off the hook for the rest of the night.

“Well, I was on my way to Loch Nora to visit family…but, well I got a flat and pulled into the parking lot and thought why the hell not? I could use a drink before I go see my uptight aunt and asshole cousin.” You ramble, before stopping yourself with another sip of your coconut cocktail.

“Uptight and asshole seems to be the theme in this shit town.” Eddie chuckles as he watches you between sips of his cheap beer.

“Uptight and asshole also seems to be the theme in my family.” You quip back with a small smile.

“Well I don’t know about uptight but asshole is definitely the theme in mine.” He smirks as he playfully pushes into you with his leather clad shoulder.

“Yeah, well you haven’t met assholes until you met the Harringtons.” You say back with a playful push of your own.

“Harrington? As in S-Steve Harrington?” He stammers, turning towards you in his bar stool as his eyes bore into yours, awaiting your answer.

“Oh, so you’re acquainted with king asshole?” A smile radiates across your face that makes Eddie noticeably gulp.

“Y-yeah, I guess you could say that. But, yeesh I think you might have me beat, sweetheart.” His laugh is boisterous and loud over whatever metal song is playing through the old speakers.

“Tell ya what, how bout I call you a tow truck and cab…and uh, these drinks are on the house since you were nice enough to be my taste tester.” The look on his face tells you he’s anything but ready to see you go. So of course, in your loose as a goose but extremely coherent state, you say something you never would’ve just an hour ago.

“Well, since you gave me something to taste, it’s only right if I do the same, no?” You throw in a flirty wink in a desperate plea to stick the landing of your intended innuendo.

What you didn’t realize was that he was in the midst of taking a sip of his beer and once those words slipped past your lips he immediately went into a violent coughing attack, his eyes wide as if in complete and utter disbelief while you swat at his back, trying to help him catch his breath.

Once his coughing died down, his eyes met yours again and the apples of cheeks bloomed a pretty pink, embarrassment clearly overtaking him.

“W-were you serious?” He asks, as if he was contemplating your proposal and that had the thrilling swoop vehemently returning to your stomach but now it traveled down towards your core as you clenched around nothing.

“Very.” Is all you say, but your eyebrow lifts in question before you begin to stand from your barstool.

Your hips sway seductively as you make your way to the dingy bathrooms, a smile overtaking your futures when you hear sneakers squeak behind you. You push the door open and are immediately met with graffiti riddled walls; it’s filthy, disgusting and so fucking thrilling!

You hear the door shut and lock behind you, and when you slowly turn you’re met with those warm brown eyes that you’ve been fawning over all night.

You don’t say another word, instead you take a few calculated steps over towards him before pushing him up against the graffitied door and smashing your lips into his, in an intense and desperate kiss. He moans into your mouth when your tongue sloppily glides against his, the kiss is all consuming and has you weak in the knees.

His lips pull away and you chase them with a whimper that has him smirking down at you with a cock sure grin.

“Up on the counter, princess. I want that taste you promised me.”

✷ LIKES, COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE SO APPRECIATED, LIKE YOU’D SERIOUSLY MAKE MY DAY (:

#— 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader

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be-with-me-so-happily · 10 months

Text

il gran finale

ONE SHOT

Summary: As photography apprentice to Lloyd Wakefield, you have been around Harry quite a lot on tour, capturing all the mesmerizing moments on stage. But at the after party of the final show in Reggio Emilia, he seems to be the one zoned in on you.

AN: I don't know if this is any good. I haven't written smut in so long, but with Love On Tour coming to an end, I needed to do something!

Warnings: Some explicit language, alcohol consumption, mild exhibitionism kink, fingering, public unprotected intercourse (wrap it before you tap it people)

You've always known Harry Styles is a gentleman. Even before you took on the role of apprentice photographer to Lloyd Wakefield, you only ever heard positive comments about the man, about how kind and caring he is. No one ever has a bad thing to say, and touring with him has only proven those things to be true. He is a sweet guy, just as everyone claims him to be.

That's his reputation. His public reputation.

But the way his enchanting and lustful green eyes have locked in on you for the past several minutes has made you think of nothing but the other reputation he has. The dream that you and thousands of his fans indulge in. The fantasy of him taking control of every single part of you, of using you, of pleasing you. Of giving you everything he has while you are under him, and on top of him, and in front of him, and…

You reset yourself as nearby laughter pulls you out of those delicious yet indelicate thoughts, ones you may need to draw upon later in the privacy of your hotel room.

It's bad enough that he has a flirtatious side. The subtle winks, the cheeky smiles, the wiggles of his eyebrows when a mildly indecent comment has been made. Usually by him. Both on and off stage, each of those gestures can easily get you flustered.

And it definitely doesn't make your job any easier, especially considering it's your assignment to watch him, to photograph him, to view him in a variety of different angles, none of which could be considered unflattering. He always looks good.

The outfit tonight, the shaggy silver get-up, showcasing his glistening pecs and chiseled abs, only added to the assortment of desires you only dwell upon alone at night. You're usually very composed, for the most part. You know how to play it cool.

But right now, as his stare exhibits something primal, you feel as if your entire body is on fire, and you can't help but be engulfed by the flames.

Clinking of the ice in your glass as you bring it to your lips alerts you to the fact that your drink has been fully consumed, and you decide to head to the bar for a refill. If not just for another drink, then for the moment of solidarity to gather yourself and bring some air back into your lungs. Because you are sure it's not the alcohol that's causing you to feel so dizzy.

"Hi, could I please hav-"

"Another margarita?" You hear in a deep, sultry, British voice sounding out from behind you. Right behind you.

"Yes please." You utter, almost inaudibly, to the bartender, the heat from before intensifying with each breath of Harry's that you feel on your neck.

"And I'll have two shots of Tequila, please sir." He states, so casually, as you stand frozen in place.

A cold breeze hits your skin as you see him move around and position himself to your left, leaving you to miss the warmth he was just providing.

"You look like you're having a good time." He states, as he brings his glass to his lips. You watch as the rim rests on them. You watch as the liquid slides between them. And you watch as a smirk pulls in the mischievous dimple that he is so well known for, unintentionally licking your own lips in the process.

"Sorry… what were you saying?" You ask, attention moving back to his gaze and finding those glistening green irises already locking in on your eyes.

"Enjoying yourself?" He chuckles in response to your question, leaving your heart pounding with embarrassment.

"I am!" You exclaim, quicker than anticipated, clearly not playing it cool like you believe you usually do.

"Good." He replies simply.

"Are you?"

"I am." He nods, his eyes quickly flickering down your body, before switching their focus back to the bar, creating a warmth between your legs, and you try desperately not to squirm.

"Good." You reply, with a giggle, finally taking the sip of margarita that has unknowingly been sitting in front of you for a few minutes. "So we're both enjoying ourselves."

He chuckles along with you, shaking his head as he throws back his second shot. He swallows it harshly, drawing your eye to the way his Adam's apple bobs with the consumption of the liquor. You notice his body begin to turn towards you, and as you glaze up his neck to his gorgeous face, a lustful expression falls over it. His brows narrow, and deviancy sparks in his eyes, turning them to a deep, enticing emerald.

"Want to enjoy each other now?"

"Sure, that-" You begin to respond, but your eyes begin to travel down to his lips, noticing how his teeth dig into the bottom one. His look of determination makes you wonder if there's a more devious meaning behind it, and that thought alone causes an extreme yearning between your legs. "Wait… what do you mean?"

He leans against the bar, his tattoo-covered forearm resting on top, as the palm of his right hand gently slides over your hip and draws you closer with the mildest press of his fingertips against your dress.

"YN, I just had one of the best nights of my fucking life! I want to celebrate. Really celebrate."

"And… how-... umm… how do you want to really celebrate?" You chuckle nervously, every hair on your body standing straight, every nerve on high alert.

"I can show you. If you want me to." He utters, almost a whisper, barely audible in the jumble of conversations surrounding you, but loud enough that it sends the coldest shiver down your spine. He leans closer, his body following along until you are only inches apart. "And considering how tightly your thighs are clenched together right now… I think you do."

Your mouth instantly drops open, and if he wasn't actually correct, and those contracted muscles weren't holding you upright, your legs would have buckled beneath you.

"C'mon." He whispers, softly running two fingers down your arm and grabbing your hand, pulling your body to follow him.

"Harry, wait." You manage to get out, surprisingly, considering the daze he's just put you in. "This… is your party..."

"Yeah." He states, shrugging so casually as he turns back to look at you. "So?"

"We can't just leave!"

Harry stops his trek, along with your heart. He swivels around, the most salacious smirk wide across his face, and to your surprise, you manage to clench your core even tighter.

He leans down to your ear, his lip barely grazing the bottom, his breath steady but thick.

"Who said anything about leaving?"

An exhale releases all the air held in your lungs, leaving you unsure whether it is the margaritas or his suggestive statement that's making your head spin.

He turns back and maneuvers through the crowd of people that have come to congratulate and party with him. But he seems to be a man on a mission.

Through the dim lights and the loud thumps of the music filling the room, you somehow find yourself looking at a staircase leading up the the second floor of the venue.

"Just us?" You hear Harry ask the security staff member guarding the way.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." He responds with a quick nod.

Without hesitation, Harry leads you up, each step building the anxious anticipation inside of you. It's not even clear what may be waiting for you at the top, but if Harry's apparent determination is any indication, it won't be boring.

As you reach the landing, you do a quick scan of your surroundings, seeing a couple of purple velvet sofas pushed against the wall. He takes you further in, letting go of your hand and placing both of his large palms on the thick, black railing in front of him. You stand at his side, copying his stature, though feeling the sweat of your hands being transferred to the metal within them.

The neon flashing of lights is the only thing brightening the venue, as the music sounds and provides a rhythm for the rest of the attendees to move their bodies to. You feel Harry's closest arm glide its way across your back, settling itself on your opposite hip, and squeezing with enough firmness to tell you he wants to be gentle with you, but also wants not to be.

The rest of his figure moves along behind you, pulling you closer to him, as if your bodies had an unretractable magnetic connection. The warmth of his lips suddenly hits right below your ear, causing every muscle you have to practically melt under that simple touch.

"Harry…" You utter, unsure if you've been heard over the sound of the new song beginning to play. "People could see us…"

"Doubtful." He mumbles, his breath tickling down your neck. "No one's looking anyway."

Another kiss moistens your skin, and your head falls backwards to him, resting against his broad, strong shoulder, encouraging him to continue his tantalizing exploration.

He grazes your hips with his palms, running them up and down the tops of your thighs, letting out a heavy exhale when he stops at the hem of your dress. His fingertips tease the edge, sliding around to the front. One hand lifts up to your waist, while the other glides around to your inner thigh, and you could swear your panties are already soaked.

"Do you like this?" He whispers in your ear, and with the state of daze he currently has you in, all you can manage is a subtle nod. "Tell me. Do you like this?"

"Y-yes." You breathe out.

"Do you want more?" He asks in the lowest tone he's ever spoken in, barely needing to convince you that he'll give you whatever you want.

"Yes." You reply, anticipation thick in your stomach.

His fingers run up and under your dress, and you thank yourself for picking the shorter of your two options when you were getting ready for the party.

You attempt to push him back a few paces to the closest velvet sofa for some privacy, but he stands solid in place and you stretch your neck to get as good of a look at him as you can.

"Stay." He states simply, not a demand that you couldn't reject, but the way his tone hit your soul, you can't even imagine refusing him of almost anything he wanted.

Suddenly your body jumps, as you feel mild pressure slowly moving up the center of your panties.

"Soaked." Harry whispers. "Didn't realize I got you this wet, this fast."

His teeth begin to nibble on your earlobe, as his fingers snap the fabric of your underwear, causing you to let out the most pathetic and needy whimper.

"Harry… please." You whine, desperate for something, anything, that he is willing to give you.

"What do you want, YN?"

"Touch me." You reply, your legs already weak at the thought.

He listens, running his index along your center, feeling how slick he's made you. Suddenly, he dips it inside of you, and you worry he could make you cum right here and now. But god you want to feel so much more. You want him to give you so much more.

Slowly, his finger pulls out, but immediately glides back in, accompanied by another, pumping them both in unison, and sending your head into a spin.

"Do you want more?" He asks into your ear.

"Yes." You barely reply, hoping with all you have that he heard your response.

He adds one more finger, and the trio pick up their pace as his thumb puts the perfect amount of pressure on your clit.

"Oh my god." You whine, feeling a sensation ripple through your body. Nothing you've done to yourself, alone with just your thoughts of him, could ever compare to the feeling of what he's doing to you now.

In and out, his fingers pump, and you're sure if the music suddenly stopped, the noise of his motions would echo from wall to wall.

"You're so tight." He utters. "Don't know if you'd be able to handle my cock."

Just the mention of that word has you moaning, so you reach your arm up to grab onto the back of his neck, and you tilt your head towards him.

"I want that."

"You want what?" He asks, quickening his pace, and halting your words until you swallow the lump that's caught in your throat.

You look down, scanning the crowd for any prying eyes, only to find everyone distracted by their own activities below. Although, at this moment, you aren't sure if that matters to you. If that would stop you.

"I want your cock." You admit, using your free hand to push in between your two bodies and palm over his hard bulge, the feeling of his thick girth creating an even deeper yearning for it.

"Fuck." He growls, his cock twitching under the fabric of his pants.

The emptiness created as his fingers leave your body almost has you wishing you hadn't made any other request, but as you feel his waistband tug down, and the bare skin of his cock as it springs out from its confines and back into your hand, you get wetter than you've been in any moment before.

A strong thigh parts your legs, the back of your dress inches up, and as you feel his long, thick cock glide between them and coat itself in your wetness, Harry lets out a deep, rumbling growl. He runs one hand up your spine and pushes slightly on your back, getting you to bend over a bit and prop yourself up with your hands gripping the railing.

There's never been a desperation so intense as now, as you feel Harry's tip tease your entrance. You've never wanted anything more than the sensation of him pushing into you, stretching you out, giving you everything you've ever fantasized about.

"Think you can fit me inside there?" He asks, the smugness more enticing than you could have imagined possible. But his words, his touch, his everything is overwhelming and rendering you speechless. Then you hear Harry hum, as if knowing your inability to reply, and answering it for himself. "I think you can."

And just like that, he slips in. Slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size each time he pushes in a little further. Filling you completely with every inch he goes deeper, until all you feel is him. Until all you know is him.

"Oh my god." You moan out, unaware if it has been drowned out by the music and chatter of everyone else.

He quickens his pace slightly, and your hold on the railing tightens, not only to steady yourself, but also to possibly disguise your actual activities as simply enjoying the rhythm of the song.

"All these people… and no one knows what we're doing up here." Harry grunts as he thrusts into you, drawing out another, yet much heavier, moan from your chest. It's followed by a pleased groan from behind you, the sound almost as good as any song he's ever sung. "But I wouldn't care if they did… if they saw how well you're taking me… and if they heard much you love it."

"Harry…" You whine, as an extreme sensation builds in your core, feeling every nerve peek, alerting you to the fact that at any moment now, you'll be completely taken over by the intense amount of pleasure he's giving you. "I need to-"

"No." He states sternly.

"Please!" You beg, all dignity being tossed aside.

"Not yet." He replies, and all of a sudden, you feel hollow. Something is missing, and as you feel yourself clear out from the heightened state of a daze you've been in since you reached that second level of the venue, you realize his glorious cock is no longer inside of you.

"What-" You begin, stepping back and turning around to face him, finding his teeth digging hard into his bottom lip, creating an even stronger desire to have him fill the gap again.

"I need to fuck you harder, and faster." He explains grabbing both hips as he backs up and lowers down to take a seat on the sofa. "And I need to watch you when you cum all over my cock."

A shallow breath makes its way out between your lips at his statement, and you slowly lower yourself to straddle his lap, feeling a throb inside yourself as you feel another underneath you.

Your hips begin to grind on him, hoping to create an impatience in him as strong as the one in you. You cup his cheeks within your palms and bring your lips to his, smiling against them as they part and release a deep moan. You move to kiss his jaw, letting the stubble tickle your skin and you make your way down his neck. His hands begin to roam your body, exploring more than they had been able to when standing at the railing. They grip your back, your waist, and settle at your hips, gripping just tight enough to guide them back and forth.

"All I've thought about tonight… is having you like this." You hear him utter, the words hitting deep into the pit of your stomach. "Hell, all I think about most nights is… fuck… is having you like this!"

You pull back, your eyes immediately locking in on his, as if your bodies are confessing their deepest desires to each other in a secret, seductive language. Without a word, you push up on your knees, hovering over and inviting him back inside of you, where you want him the most. One of his hands holds his cock steady as the other remains on you, helping you to lower back down onto him. In this position, you can feel him ever more, much to your surprise considering he filled you so well just moments ago.

"Then fuck me how you've been wanting to." You state, your focus still fully on him.

As soon as he's given that permission, both palms squeeze tighter to your body, pulling you down on his cock as if to meld your bodies together.

"Oh god." He exclaims, throwing his head backwards to rest on the sofa, dropping his mouth open as you begin to bounce.

Almost instantly, with the new depth he's hitting, you feel your body reignited and a release drawing near.

"Harry, this is…" You mumble, the pleasure hindering a complete coherent sentence. "It's… how…"

"Tell me, baby." He replies, holding you down as he starts to thrust up into you, leaving you unable to feel anything other than him.

"This is how… oh my-… I've been wanting you… to fuck me, too…"

"F-... fucks sake!" He exclaims, no longer holding back his vigor as he goes as fast and gets as deep as he possibly can, causing moans to burst out from both of you.

"Harr-... I'm gon-..." You whine, trying to plead with him to get you over the edge and fall into a pool of ecstasy. The sight of his hair becoming messy with sweat, the feel of his hands holding you down, the taste of his skin on your lips, the smell of his cologne exuding off his chest, the sound of his breathy moans in your ear. He has completely taken over all of your senses, and you know this is the best experience you've ever had.

"Say it, YN. Look at me and say it." He growls, and as your eyes find his, the amount of lust in his begins to push you off the ledge.

"I'm gonna cum."

"Where?"

"On your cock!" You blurt, the level of volume coinciding with the intensity of your desperation. "I'm gonna cum on your cock."

"Do it." He commands, and with his permission, you immediately let go, completely melting into him as that desired ecstasy rips through your entire body.

Your face falls into the crook of his neck, only leaving enough room to draw in some shallow, labored breaths. You can feel Harry squirm beneath you, his stride becoming less rhythmic with each stroke into you, his chest rising and falling in the same, unsteady way.

"YN… if I can't cum inside you, tell me now, 'cause I'm… fuck, I'm so close."

Your head lifts and pulls away, looking into his gorgeous green eyes, pupils blown and a glaze covering them. You lean down to his ear, letting your breath puff gently over his skin.

"Cum inside of me, Harry." You whisper, placing a kiss right below his ear.

"Y-yeah? You want my cum?" He fumbles, his breathing becoming more random with every sloppy thrust. "I'll give you… f-fucking all of it!"

Harry grips tighter, bouncing you on himself with a determination you aren't sure if you've ever seen before. He lets out a moan so gritty you know it originated deep in his chest. The sound alone could have you orgasming again if it drew out a few seconds longer. It's accompanied by one last thrust of his hips and a powerful, pleased throbbing of his cock, as his cum coats your walls.

If the dj wasn't blasting anything through the speakers, the sound of your synchronized, labored breaths would be enough to fill the room. You sit up straighter, still straddling Harry's lap, and you finally take in the mess of a man in front of you. His head still rests back on the sofa, his eyes now shut, and a blissful smile stretched across his face.

"That's one way to finish a tour." You chuckle, pushing your palms against the fabric of the shirt now sticking to the drizzle of sweat on his chest.

His palms shoot up to your face, holding it so gently, but with an untapped passion behind his eyes. They flicker to your lips and he dives in for a taste, running his tongue along to part them, and sighing as your own tongue dances along. A pop sounds out as you pull apart, with just enough room for an inhale of air, and he rests his forehead against yours.

"And cheers to the next one."

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deathbecomesthem · 6 months

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Eddie Munson x Best friend!reader | ~1K

Summary: It's the perfect solution. You need a place to stay, he needs someone to help with the rent.

*There be some male masturbation below.

A/N: I don't know. I was supposed to be writing something else. I just think they're neat. Will there be more? Who fucking knows, I certainly don't.

---

It was a stupid idea born out of necessity. All of the most memorable things in life begin that way. You needed somewhere cheap and immediately available and his roommate ran off with the bartender he met less than a month ago. These are the days to remember - early 20s when life can change at the flick of a zippo in a dark alleyway. That’s what got Gareth, the girl that lit his cigarette. He never stopped seeing her in the soft glow of that low flame, and it left Eddie without someone to pay the other half of the rent.

And there you were, broken hearted and bleeding in front of him. In need. And he could push away those thoughts that linger in his quiet and empty bedroom in the privacy of the night. He could make a space for you, he could help you. So he did. It all came together over the hashbrowns and pancakes seasoned by your tears. Your best friend, Eddie, made a proposal that would save the day and be perfect for both of you.

Eddie Munson - your hero with a spare room and the promise of an escape from that motherfucking dickhead that stained your sheets with that girl from his office.

—

It’s the first full day, and Eddie is standing in his own kitchen with his cock pressed painfully hard against his fly at the sight of you bending down to fish the griddle out from the low cupboard next to the oven. He bites the inside of his cheek until the taste of metal hits the tip of his tongue. He adjusts himself and clears his throat while he watches your hips jiggle. The blue and purple wings of the butterfly on the soft love handle above your left him seem to flap with the movement of your arms.

“Uh, when the fuck did you get that?” Eddie’s question startles you. Your head bangs against the shelf in the cupboard your elbow deep into. “Oh shit, are you ok?”

“Yeah,” you back out of the small space and stand with your hand on the top of your head, “I think I’ll make it.”

The first thing you notice when you look at Eddie is the red at the top of his ears. This is something you rarely get to see because of the way his shaggy curls hang around his face. This morning his hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck, and those hot ears are on full display. You think, I wonder what they would feel like against my tongue,

These are the kinds of thoughts that you’ve been having for Eddie for a long time. Months. Years maybe. These are the kinds of thoughts that make this entire arraignment the worst idea. These are the kinds of thoughts that keep you company in the dark when you chase after secret pleasure in the privacy of your own touch.

“So.” Eddie’s hands are gripping the back of the vinyl chair on the opposite side of the small kitchen table from where you're standing. “So, when did you get that tattoo?”

Your eyebrows pinch together in thought, but your hand travels back to touch the marked skin before your mind catches up. It feels hot at the thought of his gaze scanning across it. You can practically feel the inked skin dancing against your fingers.

“Oh! God, I forget it’s there.” You smile and can feel heat creep across your skin at not only the question, but also in the way his eyes look black. The way he shifts from foot to foot. You can’t help but let your own eyes scan across the inked skin of his arm while you think of how to answer. “I got it a few months ago. It’s stupid. A butterfly? It’s embarrassing.”

Eddie sighs and smiles. He turns his head a little. It’s a shy kind of gesture you’ve seen him do before, but without his hair to obscure his lips you can see that secret lift of his lips. It makes your knees feel weak to see it, and you think about running your fingers across his cheek. You think about his eyes fluttering at your soft touch.

“It suits you. You shouldn’t be embarrassed.” Eddie clears his throat again and turns his head to look out of the small window above the kitchen sink. He doesn’t know that this gives you the perfect view of his long neck. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“Oh, ok. I’m making some homefries,” at your words, Eddie meets your gaze again and it knocks the breath out of you for a beat. Your next words come out on an exhale, and you want to shrink to the size of a grain of salt so he’ll stop looking at you, “how do you like your eggs?”

“However you make them, Sweetheart. I’ll be back soon.” You watch Eddie spin on his heels and walk awkwardly down the hallway before returning to the task at hand. Coffee, homefries, and eggs as a thank you to Eddie for letting you move in so quickly. You laugh at the shake in your hands and think about how stupid you are for letting your imagination run wild like this. This is Eddie, your Eddie. These foolish fantasies need to chill out. You can’t live like this.

—

Eddie’s head is pressed against the tile in the shower, warm water flows down his body in rivulets. He thinks about the way the purples and blues danced on your skin. The way those pretty lined stretch marks bracket around it. He thinks about the way his fingers would feel pressed into that skin, and squeezes his aching cock the way he wants to squeeze you.

The water runs down his face. Warm water runs into and out of his open mouth while he imagines the way those purple and blue marks dance under him. The way his fingers feel holding your hips still as his cock reaches deeper and deeper inside of you.

This was the worst idea he’s ever had, but he can’t care right now.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb

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billysgun · 5 months

Text

bite

vampire!billy the kid x fem!reader |requested!|billy has been watching you for a while now. and one night at the saloon, you decide to meet your shadow|

he was always there. when you were in trouble, when you flirted, when you shopped, he was always somewhere lingering.

he was impossible to miss. bright blue eyes that almost glowed and shaggy brown hair that curled under the hat that would always dip whenever you were near.

goosebumps covered you as his eyes were glued to you, never anyone else's. not the guys bumping shoulders with him, the girls that fluttered their lashes, not even the bartender handing the drink..

he was intoxicating and it made you feel dizzy whenever around him.

you've only heard his voice once when he was beating the living shit out of a man that was bugging you all night. he was in a frenzy and the man only touched your waist.

other than that, you don't know Billy. just the wanted posters for superstitions...and the eyeing. but tonight, you will.

you came to the saloon earlier, hair up and the best blood-red dress tight on your body, you wanted to make yourself irresistible to him, force him to take action.

but he didn't. it was more sipping whiskey while his eyes traveled your body. you wanted to storm over and ask him what his problem was but his gaze made your legs shake

so you left.

the moonlight lit your path out of the saloon and to your home a few blocks away, but the shadows and footsteps of another rippled behind you..but when you looked it was nothing.

but it couldn't be nothing. you know it's him. he follows you home walks you home from the saloon nightly. it had to be him, how else did he protect you from that man?

usually, you'd pace home quickly and say "bye" out to the cold night, hoping he'd still be close enough to hear your goodbyes. but tonight you weren't having it. you turned sharply into an alleyway and you heard the quick footsteps stutter from your usual path

you leaned against a building with your arms crossed tightly, scowl all over your face as you waited for him to appear.

"mr. bonney?" you whispered, and suddenly the man that's been eyeing you for weeks stepped out, and your breathing stopped as he approached you

"you shouldn't be out this late." he says sternly, voice deep as you slyly squeeze your thighs together

"no, I shouldn't" you merely mumble as he takes a few more steps toward you

his eyes trailed over your exposed neck and chest, lip bitten as he leaned closer to you

he kissed you hard, and you yelped as he wrapped himself around you like a cloak and his lips began to cover your neck

he groaned as he inhaled your scent, mouth slowly falling agape as he bit down into your flesh

your heart pumped in your ear as your entire body felt hot, thick liquid ran down your collarbones as he groaned and lapped at your neck.

you felt dizzy as your eyes began to blur, he sucked and licked the pain away and peppers soft kisses at the mark. he wipes your blood off his lips as his sharp canines get licked clean

he picked you up and in a flash, you were back to your house, in your bedroom where billy would make you his.

an: AHHHH THANK YOU ALL FOR 1,000 FOLLOWERS! THIS IS INSANE! i hope you guys enjoy the 1k fic 😌 thank you for requesting! watched twilight to prepare 🫡 mwah! <3

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apt502-if · 1 year

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DEMO (SEP. 30. 2023) | INTROS

Apartment 502 is a 18+ slice-of-life romantic drama inspired by shows like New Girl and Friends.

Content warnings include: explicit language, sexual themes, substance use, violence.

Moving from your small home to New York City was supposed to be a dream. You were supposed to start your new life with your long-distance partner and dive headfirst into full-on adulthood. Everything was supposed to be perfect. How can you not love being in your mid-twenties in the Big Apple?

That is until your put-together, white collar partner dumps you the same day you arrive.

Fun.

Essentially homeless and determined to make the life you dreamed of, you take a last-minute offer to move into the spare bedroom in Apartment 502. Now, you're twenty-five and living with three other longtime best friends with their own drama and messy interpersonal relationships. Parties, late-night pizza runs, drama, fights, heartbreak, betrayals...maybe the life you want won't be as easy as you first thought.

Will you find romance in the city that never sleeps?

**Apartment 502 is a romance, angst, and drama-centered story **

design your mc from clothing style to appearance to pronouns, gender identity, name, looks, and more.

choose 1 of 5 jobs that grant you different scenes and different people: (artist/musician, news anchor, writer, teacher, bartender )

curate your MCs personality and how they react to all the hijinks Apt. 502 has to offer, especially the drama that ensues. Style your MC's room and their aesthetic style.

navigate angsty and dark dramas that weave your roommates in a a narrative that can either save their friendship, or break them apart.

engage in a romance with 1 of 6 characters: one of your roommates, your ex, your neighbor or work rival.

Ruin relationships or mend them. Center yourself around the roommates and become part of the core group.

Follow Apartment 502 throughtout MC's first year as a roommate: from holidays, to birthdays, to everything in-between.

Atlas/Athena [f/m] - 1 of 3 roommates. A is the elusive and isolated musician who makes a living writing songs for others and doing gigs down at the local bar. A is quiet, nonchalant, and prefers their isolation. After getting their heart broken by their high school sweetheart, A has swore off love and vowed to focus solely on their career. A has no room for love, and they make it clear.

Appearance: Olive, freckled skin. Atlas has shaggy brown hair that falls in front of their eyes in a wolf-cut with bleached white dyed pieces at the bottom. Athena's brown and white hair falls down her back with black, straight-cut blunt bangs. They usually wear all black and have a variety of piercings.

Callum/Calliope [f/m] - 1 of 3 roommates. Cal is the ultra nice, slightly uptight, easily flustered college professor who is currently dating their longtime partner...that everyone seems to hate. Cal seems very in love with them and is oblivious to their best friends' irritation, but is that all a ruse?

Appearance: Cal has golden blonde hair. Cal's hair is curly fluffy while Calliope's falls down in soft ringlets around her face. Pale skin and green eyes. C dresses down, wearing basic clothes like button-downs and plain dresses.

Levi/Lani [f/m] - 1 of 3 roommates. L is boisterous, arrogant, and the comedian of the group. L makes their money as an influencer and uses their abundance of free time to pick up all kinds of people. L doesn't believe anyone can get them to settle down, especially considering they've never been in love..nor believe it exists.

Note: you can only romance L by starting a purely physical relationship first.

Appearance: Russet brown skin and long black hair that falls down their back and tied in a messy bun. L usually wears a white, billowy button down tucked into black slacks with an abundance of rings.

Garrett/Gaia [f/m] - Your neighbor. G is friendly but distant, always looking down at their phone when they see you. They seem disinterested in the happenings of Apartment 502. You can't help but wonder more about them...and their young child.

Appearance: Brown skin and curly black hair. G usually has headphones on, and Garett's hair is cut into a curly undercut while Gaia's is primed in a slick bun. They're usually dressed in a pristine black turtle neck and matching black pants.

Rainn [f/m] - your perfect, financially-stable lawyer ex. You thought what you and Rainn had was special, until they abruptly dump you the same day you were set to move in. The worst part? They live in the same building.

Oddly enough, Rainn doesn't seem to be acting like someone who should be completely moved on...

Appearance: Rain either has a severe black bob or black slicked back hair and usually seen in a pantsuit or business-casual clothes. They have tan skin and bright blue eyes.

Mason/Mona [f/m]- your old academic rival...who is now your co-worker. What are the chances you two ended up in the same place? M seems to have a lot of fun making things harder for you at your new job, especially considering you guys are competing for the affection of your boss. Tch.

Appearance: Long or short dyed white hair and tan skin with bright brown eyes. (M's outfit is dependent on job of choice.)

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive game #interact-if #choice of games #cog #choice script #choose your own adventure #choose your own story #choices

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autumnshighlady · 4 months

Text

Run For Your Life (pt. 2)

Dark!Azriel x dark!reader

summary: you've been with Azriel for 6 months now, and you began to embrace your twisted side. Azriel finds out what happens with you're pissed off, and you decide to punish him.

special dedication to @febbrile for giving me this idea for part 2

warnings: DARK FIC! both Az and reader are unhinged psychos, sub!azriel, dom!reader, flirting, possessiveness, knife play, orgasm denial, masturbation, face sitting, gore and violence, terrible communication, there's one thing that's deliberately left unclear (send me an ask with what you think it is / what actually happened)

word count: 8.7k

see the playlist for this fic

read part 1 here

A/N: As you may know, i've had a very rough few days. I was going to take a break from writing but decided to finish this fic up first, so the last 500 ish words are rushed and i apologize for that but i hope you enjoy anyway

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

“I’m going to have so much fun with you.” He purred before his shadows encompassed him and he vanished, leaving you alone wondering what just happened.

SIX MONTHS LATER

You tapped your nails on the wooden bartop, scowling. The whiskey burned your throat, but you barely felt it. You were pretty sure a male from a few seats down from you was trying to get your attention, but his yappy voice faded into the background. The skin tight black dress you donned was constricting, making your skin sticky and sweaty. But you paid it no mind, for your attention was elsewhere.

Azriel was chatting with a pretty female over by the counter where you order food. She was tall and leggy, curly black hair swept into an elegant updo that showed off the open back of her dress. Her hand was brushing against Azriel’s arm, her head thrown back in a high pitched laugh at a joke that surely can’t have been that funny. Anger shot through your veins as Azriel’s white canines flashed in a charming smile, not even glancing your direction.

You couldn’t decide whose throat you wanted to slit more.

For the past six months, Azriel’s visits had become an everyday routine. At first, you had resisted, attempting to fight him off as you began to realise one night wasn’t enough to satisfy his obsession with you. He always emerged victorious, always getting what he wanted in the end, your traitorous body urging you to let him take care of you. It had taken you a few weeks to come to your senses, but you were glad. Azriel knew exactly how to take care of you, not just in the bedroom, but in everyday life. He chose your outfits for you, your meals, your nights out, everything. At first, you hated it. But now, it was freeing. You no longer had to worry about anything, knowing Azriel would take care of it.

Azriel took excellent care of things that belonged to him.

Every cell in your body needed him now. He was like oxygen, a constant requirement to keep your body going. Every second the shadowsinger spent away from you was pure torture, leaving you a whiny mess when he returned from work. To anyone else, it would seem pathetic, like you were a helpless wreck of a female. But they couldn’t be more wrong. It was the opposite – it made you powerful. Not only did you belong to Azriel, but Azriel belonged to you. You had the spymaster of the Night Court all to yourself, wrapped around your finger and ready to bend the world to your whim.

Except it didn’t feel that way right now, as the male you were now completely obsessed with was eyeing up the cleavage on another female. You scowled harder as he did nothing to deter the female as she stepped even closer to him, practically crawling into his lap. The bartender handed you another shot, and you angrily downed it, not even feeling the burn.

A male slid into the seat next to you, so close you could smell his cheap cologne. He was on the shorter side, blonde shaggy hair framing his boyish face. Large eyes drank in your figure hungrily, and he slid a hand up your back with the confidence of a much more attractive male. “Another drink for the lady over here.” He said to the bartender, flashing you what he must have thought was a charming smile. “So, what’s a pretty female like you doing–”

“Fuck off.” You grumbled, interrupting him. You reached behind and slapped his arm off your back, his skin like a wad of slime on your own.

“Oh, come on, baby,” The male persisted. “I just bought you a drink. The least you could do is entertain me.”

You groaned inwardly, sneaking a glance at Azriel. He had finally looked up at you, hazel eyes simmering with rage. The female leaning against him was too busy giggling to notice that his attention was no longer on her. His scarred hand was limp on her waist, his body frozen as he glared at you. It made you snort, how hypocritical he was being to only look at you when another male had your attention, despite him being the one with a female draping herself all over him.

So you ignored the shadowsinger. Let him have a hissy fit, as far as you were concerned he was going to fuck the pretty female anyway. If he can branch out, why can’t you. You quickly downed the drink the bartender sat in front of you, then turned toward the blonde male next to you, giving him your best sultry look. “I have a better idea,” You purred. “Why don’t I entertain you somewhere else?”

His eyes widened, a look of surprise and glee crossing his face as he fumbled to toss some money to the bartender for the drinks. You gathered your purse, turning around to meet Azriel’s stare once again. Rage came off him in waves, causing the few fae around him to scatter themselves elsewhere. Even the female that had been all over him had taken a step back in uncertainty, her eyes flickering between him and where his gaze was fixed – you. The spymaster’s body was frozen, a muscle in his neck twitching in anger. You half expected him to storm over and fling the male aside, grab you by the waist and drag you home to punish you. But he did no such thing. He only glared at you as you grabbed the male by the arm, leading him towards the exit.

You didn’t glance back at Azriel as the male followed you out of the bar and down the road towards the nearby motel.

**********************

Sunlight crept in through the small window next to the bed. The motel’s breakfast was dry and tasteless on your tongue, but you downed it anyway. The bed sheets were half on the floor, your dress from last night draped across the chair in the corner. You were wearing the male’s button-up shirt, the itchy fabric pungent with his scent mixed with yours, the bottom barely long enough to cover your ass. It was uncomfortable, but your dress got ruined last night anyway. You’d have to find somewhere to dispose of it properly.

You had a pounding headache, but the memories from last night couldn’t have been more clear. The images of Azriel’s angry glare, the male’s hands on your body, the pathetic noises he made for you after you left the bar, they were all crystal clear in your mind. You were still furious with Azriel, but satisfied that you got him back.

However, a part of you knew he was angrier than ever before. There had not been a trace of his presence all night, not even his shadows that seemed to always be around you, reporting your every movement back to him. Evidently, he hadn’t even tried to find out where you had gone last night. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous – either Azriel had abandoned you completely, or he was sitting at home, just waiting for you to return.

You shuddered, wondering what he was going to do to you. Maybe he truly would leave you for the other female, maybe that’s how mad he was.

No. You weren’t going to let him do that.

You downed the rest of the breakfast, gathering your things to get ready to check out. You sighed when you realised you had no pants, as the only thing the male had left behind was his undershirt. You stuffed your ruined dress in a paper bag, shut off the lights and left the motel room, not caring that your ass was nearly on display for the world to see.

First stop was to find some pants, and then you had business to take care of.

**********************

Luckily, it didn’t take you long to find a store to obtain some pants. Everyone had stared at your bare legs as you wandered in, but you didn’t care. In fact, it made you chuckle. If Azriel was here, he would have gone ballistic. He was the only one allowed to see you like this. If he knew that over a dozen people had seen your ass cheeks in the last hour, you couldn’t even imagine what he’d have done.

With a set of pants, you had returned to the bar, posing as a friend of the female Azriel was with last night and trying to find out more about her. The mother seemed to be on your side that day, as one of the bartenders was a close friend of hers. He blabbed easily, and within minutes you were able to find out her name, where she usually went on Saturday mornings like this one, and where she lived. Her name was Beatrice, and she always went to the farmer’s market every weekend to pick up fresh vegetables for the week. She lived in a house near the theatre, right in the heart of the city.

So you wandered towards the farmer’s market, hair down and hanging loosely around your face to hide it. The air was crisp and fresh, chatter from the market filling the air as you hovered in the corner, pretending to sift through a barrel of apples.

It wasn’t hard to spot Beatrice. Her curly black hair was trailing down her back, her cheeks flushed with evidence of a hangover. She wore a simple pair of black leggings and a yellow sweater, a cheerful smile on her face as she chatted with one of the vendors. It was almost annoying how she looked just as elegant as she had last night. You made sure to trail her from a distance, staying out of her sight. You wondered if Azriel would be proud, but shook off the thought as soon as it came.

Once you were sure Beatrice only had a few more things to pick up at the market, you slunk down one of the alleys and headed towards her house. You knew it was the fastest way, allowing you to get to her house before she did.

It was a modest home, sunflowers lining the windowsill and a small swing on the porch. The trim was a deep brown, the wooden accents giving it a charming feel. You crept towards one of the windows along the side of the house, sneaking a glance behind you to ensure nobody was watching. You knew breaking into a house in one of the busiest parts of the city was risky. But that was also the beauty of it – there was so much going on that nobody paid attention to you.

It wasn’t hard to take a small knife and pop open the window then crawl through. You gently closed it behind you, then scanned the interior. You were in the living room, and you couldn’t deny that it impressed you. An elegant piano was in the corner, a large couch next to it with a soft-looking blanket with butterflies on it draped over the top. Various trinkets were scattered across the room, ranging from ancient-looking candle holders to a small music box designed to look like a bird cage.

You couldn’t scent Azriel in the room, much to your surprise. But that surprise was replaced by anger – if he hadn’t taken her here, then he could have taken her to his home. The thought made you see red, but you took deep breaths and settled yourself on the sofa. Beatrice would be home any minute.

About ten minutes later, the sound of keys turning the lock at the door snapped your attention back to the present. The door opened, and Beatrice entered with a large bag of vegetables. She didn’t notice you at first, closing the door behind her and turning the lock shut.

“You know, you should really lock your windows too.” You spoke casually, and the female whirled around in fright, dropping her groceries. Her brown eyes widened in fear as they met yours, and you smirked.

“What… who the hell are you and why are you in my living room?” Beatrice stammered, backing herself up against the door.

You snorted, fiddling with the necklace you had picked up off the coffee table. It was the one she was wearing last night, you remembered – a gold chain with a small emerald. “Oh, come on,” You snorted. ‘You clearly didn’t have that much to drink last night, seeing as you were able to grocery shop this morning. Think harder.”

She frowned, and then her face went slack as the realisation appeared to hit. “You were at the bar last night. I saw you leave with that blonde male. Azriel was furious about it.”

Bingo. “Ah, so you know Azriel then.”

“Not really. We met last night and flirted. It was going well until he saw you with that male, then things got tense.”

Your voice was cold as ice as you spoke. “So Azriel flirted back, then?”

Beatrice shrugged. “Yes? I see no issue with that considering you left with another male, I assumed you weren’t together. Would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on so you can leave?”

“Come, sit.” You patted the space next to you. Beatrice stayed still for a moment, then carefully walked over to the couch. Her body was tense as she sat down, her breathing shallow.

“Look,” She said slowly. “I don’t know what the deal between you two is. I thought he was available, because he flirted back with me. He did not mention you, and I am sorry about that. But then he went quiet when he saw you with the male, and he was furious when you left with him. He tried to keep flirting with me after, tried to convince me to let him come home with me, but I turned him down. I wasn’t about to be caught up between some weird power struggle between what seems to be a fighting couple. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him use me as revenge. So I rejected his advances and went home alone. That’s all, I promise.”

You swallowed the bile in your throat. Azriel had started this by flirting with Beatrice, you had every reason to retaliate. You knew Azriel probably wanted to take her home, but hearing it out loud made it even worse.

Your face must have given it away, because Beatrice’s expression softened a bit. “I’m sorry, I really am. This must be hard to hear.” She said quietly. “But in his defence, you went home with another male–”

“Shut up!” You yelled, slamming a fist into the table in front of you and making it shake. “Don’t defend him, I wouldn’t have gone home with that male if Azriel hadn’t been flirting with you first.”

Beatrice flinched away from you, fear beginning to creep back into her expression once again as she stood up. “I’m sorry,” She said. “I’m not here to judge you. I don’t want any part of this. But I’ve explained my side to you, so I think it’s best you leave.”

Beatrice walked over to where her groceries lay all over the floor and began picking them up. You bit your lip so hard you nearly drew blood, fist trembling with anger. You knew you should feel relieved that Azriel hadn’t fucked Beatrice, but that wasn’t enough.

So you took deep breaths, relaxing your body and leaning back into the soft cushion. “I’m better, you know.” You said, voice dropping huskily.

The female froze, turning around to face you once again. “What?”

“I’m better than Azriel.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Your voice purred like a cat as you stood up, walking over to Beatrice. She didn’t move as you closed in on her space, your body less than a foot from hers. You could smell her sweet scent, honey and lavender, you noted. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and you leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Azriel is good in bed, but not as good as I am. Sure, he would have given you an enjoyable night, a great one even. And since Azriel is mine, and he failed to give you what you sought after, I feel I am obligated to fulfil your needs in his stead.”

Beatrice inhaled sharply, and you chuckled. You had always enjoyed bedding both males and females, and it had been so long with you submitting to Azriel that you had almost forgotten what it was like to seduce a beautiful female.

“I don’t want to get caught up in whatever this is between you two…” Beatrice’s voice was weak, the scent of her growing arousal betraying her lie.

“Oh, but this is just between you and me.” You said coolly, brushing a curly lock from her face. “Our little secret.”

When you cupped her cheek, she leaned into your touch. Satisfied, you smiled and stepped closer, pressing your body against hers. Your lips brushed hers as you spoke. “I need to hear you say it,” You murmured, caressing her waist with your free hand. “That you want me. Not him.”

“I…” Beatrice’s voice was barely above a whisper. She leaned forward in an attempt to connect her lips with your own, but you drew back.

“Be a good girl and say it.”

“I want you, not him.” She moaned as you squeezed her waist gently. “Please.”

You smiled, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the door at the back where you knew her bedroom was.

**********************

The sun was setting as you made your way back home, a small bag of vegetables in hand. The orange rays from the sunset reflected off the emerald necklace, the chain cold as ice around your neck. You knew Azriel would be waiting for you, and you were ready. You ignored the chill of the wind, still in the male’s shirt whose name you never bothered to learn. It offered you little protection against the cold, and you looked forward to the warmth of your home.

Stepping up to your door, the house looked empty. It was an illusion to anyone who walked by. You could sense Azriel’s presence in there, like an icy frost on the wood just waiting to bite you. But you didn’t care what Azriel’s wrath would bring. You had your own plan.

You swung open the door, locking it behind you and placing the bag of vegetables on your counter.

“Would you mind telling me where the fuck you’ve been?”

Having expected him to make a dramatic out-of-the-dark entrance, you didn’t flinch like you used to when he’d sneak up on you. You sighed in annoyance, knowing it’d infuriate him more. “Farmer’s market.” You said dryly.

Azriel’s towering form appeared from the shadows, coming across to face you on the other side of the counter. You knew he was glaring at you, but you didn’t spare him a glance. “From sunup to sundown?” He demanded.

You shrugged, laying out the vegetables. “It was a busy farmer’s market.”

A shadow found its way to your chin, yanking it up and forcing you to look at him. The sight of Azriel made you gulp. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen, the anger coming off of him in waves. If you were anyone else, you’d have cowered in fear. But you only raised an eyebrow. “Don’t lie to me.” He said icily. “You were with that male last night, were you with him today, too?”

“Why the fuck does it matter to you?” You spat. “You were too busy burying your dick inside that female to notice me. Not my fault someone else finished what you couldn’t.” The words were completely untrue, but you didn’t care. You just needed them to land their mark.

Azriel laughed heartlessly, but the anger in his eyes grew stronger. “Are you really that fucking pathetic that I’m not allowed to take my attention off of you for five minutes? Is that all it takes for you to go crawling to the nearest male ready to get fucked?”

“She was flirting with you, you absolute prick!” You screamed at him, ripping away from the shadow’s grip and storming towards the bedroom. “And you flirted back! Don’t act like you’re the victim here. You wanted to make me jealous, but what? You didn’t think I was capable of doing the same?”

Azriel followed you. “Don’t walk away from me.”

You tried to slam the door in his face, but his muscular arm caught it, easily prying it open. Azriel roughly grabbed you and slammed you into the wall. You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he didn’t budge. “You’re the one who fucked someone else, not me.” He growled.

You chuckled manically. “Is that what you think happened, Az?”

His grip tightened, bruising your arms. “Don’t play dumb, you stupid whore. I saw you leave with him.”

You kept chuckling, body singing with adrenaline. You saw Azriel’s gaze go down to your body, where an unmistakably male shirt clung to you. The look in his eyes was positively murderous. Wordlessly, he let go of you and you fell to the ground, continuing to laugh at him as he went towards the door.

“Where are you going?” You asked through giggles.

Azriel grabbed truth-teller from his waist, turning to face you. “You have one chance to tell me where that male is, or I will find him myself.”

You pushed yourself up, sighing and letting out another sick laugh. Excitement bubbled in you as you spoke. “I’m not sure there will be much left of him to find.”

For the first time since you’d met him, Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise. He went utterly still, hand frozen on the door handle. Nothing moved, except for you. You were practically buzzing, a new kind of high taking over you.

“What are you talking about?” Azriel’s voice was low.

**********************

The male’s hands were all over you as you walked towards the motel. You resisted the urge to squirm away at his teenager-like giddiness. You didn’t feel the cold night air, your body was hot with adrenaline.

“I can’t wait to fuck you, baby.” The male said breathlessly, squeezing your ass with one hand.

You let out a fake laugh, but lead him off the cobblestone road. The motel was a few feet away, but that wasn’t where you wanted to take him. Your heels sunk into the mud, dirtying your feet as you headed towards the dark trees in the distance. You felt the male slow behind you.

“Aren’t we going to the motel?” He asked with uncertainty.

“What fun would that be?” You grabbed his hand and pulled him harder. “Come on, trust me.”

The moron just shrugged and continued to follow you. It was another ten minutes before you found a clearing, having nearly tripped over giant roots to get there. This place would do nicely, you decided.

You turned around to face the male, but his shirt was already off and he was in the process of unbuttoning his pants. “Adventurous!” He said excitedly. “I am so fucking hard baby, if you don’t get on your knees and do something about it now I think I might die.”

“Yes,” You said, sliding the knife out of the holster on your thigh. “You will.”

The male barely had a chance to speak before you brought the dagger up and slashed it across his face. Blood spurted from the nasty gash as he fell down, sobbing and clutching his face. His pants were down at his knees, a truly pathetic sight.

“There’s only one male allowed to touch me,” You said calmly. “And if he found out you laid your hands on me, he would do much worse to you than what I’m going to do. So be grateful.”

The male sobbed, pleading and begging pathetically for you to spare his life. But you weren’t phased. After all, your words were true. Nothing you did to him could compare to what Azriel would have done. You were proud of yourself for granting him this mercy. You didn’t know this male at all, know if he’d done anything to deserve a more painful death. But truthfully, you didn’t care.

You leaned down over him, pressing your body into his. It made you want to vomit, but you needed as much of his scent on you as possible. “I want you to thank me.” You said sternly. “Thank me for being merciful. Without me, your death would be stretched over the span of months, if not years. So thank me.”

“Thank you!” The male shouted. “Please, let me go!” It seemed he would do anything you asked if he thought there was a chance at sparing his life. But there wasn’t.

You slashed the dagger across his throat, and hot blood spurted all over you, coating your dress. The male choked on his own blood, sick gurgling sounds echoing throughout the eerie quietness of the clearing. It didn’t take long for the light to fade from his eyes, and death finally claimed him.

Satisfied, you stood up and headed over to the creek to wash the blood off your skin and wipe down the dagger. The water was refreshing, soothing your warm cheeks. You grabbed the male’s discarded shirt and pulled your ruined dress off, rolling the fabric into a ball and stuffing it into your purse. Pulling the shirt over your head, you strode back in the direction of the motel, knowing the wolves will have gotten rid of the body for you by sunhigh.

**********************

You smirked as Azriel stared you down after you told him the story, dumbfounded. His lack of ability to comprehend that you killed the male was almost insulting, but you mostly found it funny. He looked adorable with his eyes wide and his jaw slack, shock written all over his pretty face. It made your blood sing.

“You killed him.” It was more of a statement than a question. No judgement laced Azriel’s deep voice, just awe. Almost as if he was impressed.

“I did.” You said proudly, crossing your arms over your chest. “You would have been proud of me, Az, if you were there. If you had actually paid attention to me instead of trying to fuck Beatrice.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, and you instantly realised your mistake. He took a step towards you, cocking his head. “I never told you her name.”

You cursed inwardly at your slip up. You had gotten so caught up in sticking it to Azriel that you mentioned Beatrice by name, something you weren’t supposed to do. Oh well, you’d just have to improvise. “No, you didn’t.” You purred, pointedly bringing your hand up to toy with the emerald necklace.

Azriel’s hazel eyes zoned in on the necklace, and his face went slack once again. “Did you kill her too?”

You giggled, the ice cold necklace a contrast against your warm fingers. “That doesn’t matter to you. Because you won’t get to fuck her, so it shouldn’t matter if she’s dead or alive.”

“She was innocent in this.” Azriel growled. “She didn’t know you were with me.”

“Innocent is hardly the word I’d use.” You snorted. “Besides, you don’t get to be a fucking hypocrite. So you can kill males who put their hands on me but I can’t do the same?”

“You shouldn’t have to!” Azriel hissed, towering over you with his wings flaring. “You are mine. It is my job to protect you, to keep your hands clean. You should not be involved in this shit”

You glared up at him. “I guess I’m just as twisted as you now.”

Something inside the spymaster shifted at your words, and his shoulders slumped. He reached his arms out and wrapped them around you, pulling you into his strong chest. You felt his chin rest against the top of your head, and he inhaled your scent. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” He murmured. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have ignored you, this is all my fault. Please forgive me, I cannot lose you. You are all I think about every breathing moment of my existence. There’s not a line in the world I wouldn’t cross for you. Please tell me how I can make it up to you.”

Part of you wanted to melt into Azriel’s arms, to let him shield you from the rest of the world. To lay you down and worship your body like a priest at the altar, making you feel good and see stars. He was so good at taking care of you, even when he was an ass about it he always knew exactly what you needed at that moment.

But for the first time, you didn’t give in, wanting to show that side of you that you had kept hidden from him. Until now. “You want to make it up to me, Az?” You cooed.

He nodded against your hair, squeezing tighter.

“Kneel.” You said firmly.

Azriel paused, pulling away but keeping his hands on your waist as he stared down at you in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, kneel.” Your voice was edged like steel, a husky but harsh tone to it, one you hadn’t used in a while. At first, you weren’t sure if it would work. Azriel was a dominant male and loved control, seeing if he would be willing to give it up for you was a huge gamble.

But while Azriel had never uttered the words ‘I love you’, he had always promised you that you were his world, that he would do anything for you. And this was his chance to prove it.

“You think you’re in charge?” Azriel’s tone was light, testing the waters to see if you were serious or not. “Come on, sweetheart. You know how good I can make you feel. Let me take over, so you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about a thing.”

You stood with your chin high, unflinching as you repeated yourself. “Kneel.”

Azriel swallowed, and for a moment you thought he was going to laugh and walk out. But the male simply bowed his head, dropping to his knees and placing his scarred hands in his lap. You stepped back, satisfied as you admired the view. The silver moonlight through the windows cast beautiful highlights across the Illyrian. His glorious wings were flared out slightly, the bottom part lightly trailing on the ground. Azriel’s dark hair cast shadows across his face, the only light coming from it being his curious hazel eyes looking up at you. He looked like a fallen angel, a once mighty god begging at your feet.

Satisfaction flooded through your body. The roles would be reversed tonight, you decided. Azriel would be the one begging you this time. You began unbuttoning your shirt, and the male’s hands instinctively reached up to help, so you slapped them away. “Did I say you could move?” You demanded.

“No.” Azriel said sullenly, moving his hands back into his lap obediently. His eyes were dark, a turmoil of emotions behind them. You could tell he was fighting his instincts to assume his usual role, grabbing you and pinning you to the bed to do with as he pleased. But he was fighting to obey you, to give you satisfaction in a different form.

“Then stay there,” You commanded sternly. “And watch.”

Azriel’s throat bobbed, seemingly swallowing his protests as he nodded. You shed your shirt and pants, striding confidently over to your bedside drawer, letting your hips sway as you went. You could feel Azriel’s intense gaze burning into you with curiosity, making you chuckle inwardly. He was about to get a taste of his own medicine.

For months, Azriel had controlled your pleasure. He decided when you could touch yourself, when you were allowed to cum, how many times you could be pushed over the edge. And you gladly gave yourself to him, willingly subjecting yourself to his torturous teasing whenever he was mad at you. Once, the spymaster had edged you for an entire night until you passed out. Tears had streamed down your face for hours, body aching the next day from being so tense. Azriel was a generous lover, but a cruel one as well. And now it was your time to turn the tables on him.

You opened the drawer, grabbing the blue vibrator he had gifted you all those months ago. It hadn’t been used much since – there were only a few times when Azriel’s shadows would hold the vibrator to your clit as he pounded into you, as he preferred to use his own hands. As good as the vibrator was, it couldn’t compare to the spymaster’s touch. Which is why you knew he was about to be driven to madness.

Sexual weapon in hand, you walked back over to the kneeling Illyrian. You stopped centimetres from his face, which was level with your thigh. He was breathing heavy, eyes dark as he inhaled your scent. But he had learned from his previous mistake it seemed, as he kept his hands to his sides.

“Take off my panties.” You said coldly. “And do not use your hands.”

Azriel stared up at you, the hazel in his eyes barely visible. He leaned forward, his teeth finding the edge of your blue lace panties. They grasped it, his lips brushing your skin as sharp canines tugged at the fabric. He visibly shuddered, his lips so close to where he wanted them to be, yet not allowed to touch. The scent of your arousal was thick in the air, forcing Azriel to ignore it. You sucked in a breath as his eyes met yours as he managed to slowly pull them down your thighs, not breaking eye contact as they fell to your feet.

You stepped out of the fabric, kicking them to the side and turning around to settle yourself on the bed. You sat on the end, facing Azriel and slowly spreading open your legs. The male’s eyes zeroed in on your glistening cunt, and you noticed his hands trembling with effort to keep them at his sides. You turned on the vibrator, placing the suctioning tip against your clit. The sensation made your legs twitch at the sudden contact, and you let out a loud moan, letting your free hand cup your breast.

Admittedly, the moan was a bit of an exaggeration to piss off Azriel. Evidently, it worked. The shadowsinger was glaring at you. “Oh please,” He scoffed. “We both know that won’t be enough to satisfy you.”

You let out another sigh, kicking the vibrator’s intensity up a notch. “It’s more than you gave me last night. I wore one of your favourite dresses, and you didn’t even try to touch me. I’ve had to go and find satisfaction elsewhere, since you wouldn’t give me any.”

The room was stifling, the scent of Azriel’s arousal mixed with your own, and the faintest traces of Beatrice’s honey and lavender perfume clinging to your skin. You rocked your hips against the toy, your cunt weeping mere feet from Azriel’s desperate face.

“Stop.” He growled sternly. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart. Come on, you know I can do better than that toy.”

You ignored him, your other hand trailing from your breast across your collarbones, caressing all over your skin as you felt that familiar pressure build up in your stomach. It was a slightly foreign sensation, a different feeling than how the buildup to your orgasm when Azriel ate you out felt, or the way your body neared climax with his cock buried inside you. You imagined it was Azriel’s fingers on your clit, expertly working you as you came closer to your orgasm.

“Ok, this little act is over.” Azriel tried to sound firm, but there was a weakness in his voice that dimmed his threat. “Let me touch you. You know the rule – you’re not allowed to cum without my permission. And I don’t give you permission.”

You chuckled at the falter in his tone. “No. You are going to sit there and watch me do what you failed to do the other night. Your rules don’t apply tonight, Az, so suck it up. If you want to touch me, you’ll have to beg.”

Your voice went high pitched as your legs began to shake. Azriel’s protests faded into background noise as you came, your lower body heated and electrified as your orgasm went through you. It wasn’t as intense as some you’d had before, but the unceasing buzzing against your clit as you writhed through your high made you oversensitive.

Once you had come down from your climax, you set the vibrator aside, staring at Azriel. The veins in his arms were prominent with his effort to keep himself from pouncing on you. Disbelief was written all over his face, as if he couldn’t believe you had actually obeyed him. And that he had let you.

“I told you, your rules don’t apply tonight.” You panted heavily. “Now remove your clothes and lay down on the bed.”

Azriel scrambled to his feet, glaring at you but obliging anyways. He smirked confidently as he peeled his shirt off, revealing those rock hard abs that you loved riding so much. You could never get enough of his body, no matter how many times he stripped in front of you. He was truly a work of art from head to toe.

The spymaster unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down to reveal his rock hard erection. Your mouth watered at the sight of his naked form, but you did not budge. You only stared at him coldly, rather than dropping to your knees and giving in like he had clearly expected. Letting out a huff of frustration, Azriel crawled onto his bed, flipping onto his back and settling in.

Shadows curled around his wrists, bringing his arms above his head and holding them prisoner there. Azriel’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and you giggled. It seems his shadows were on your side tonight.

You crawled over top of him, straddling his waist. His hard cock poked into your backside, making your core pulse against his muscled lower abs. You leaned over top of him, placing one hand beside his head and placing your face inches from his own. The spymaster was breathing heavily, staring up at you with awe.

“You weren’t good to me last night, Azriel.” Your voice dropped, a dangerous tone gleaming on the edge of it. “You flirted with another female when I had gotten all dressed up for you. Instead of even just looking at me, you tried to take her home and fuck her instead of me.”

“I didn’t f–” Azriel’s protest was cut off by a gasp, as you lifted your hips off of him and your free hand reached down and firmly gripped the base of his cock, just how he liked it. He choked on his words, eyes widening as you slowly moved your hand up and down.

“You think she’d be enough to satisfy you?” You teased, mocking his words to you earlier. “She satisfied me well enough. But she wouldn’t be able to give you what I can. She wouldn’t know how you like your cock stroked, but I do.”

To emphasise your point, you squeezed him tighter and twisted your wrist, letting your thumb graze the slit. Azriel let out a breathy moan, shutting his eyes.

“Look at me.” You snapped, forcing the male to open his eyes. He obliged, letting out little gasps as you continued to stroke him.

You leaned forward and let your lips graze his neck, your teeth skimming the skin ever so slightly as you picked up the pace of your strokes. Azriel whimpered underneath you – whimpered. The sound was pathetic and needy, and filled you with so much joy. His pretty face was scrunched up with effort, his hands writhing in his unrelenting shadows. You lightly sucked and bit all across his neck and collarbones, knowing that the feather light touches would drive him wild and send him towards his orgasm faster. You knew Azriel always lasted a long time, his god-like stamina making your body tremble as he relentlessly pounded you through orgasm after orgasm.

But you knew by the way his cock twitched in your hand that he wouldn’t last long like this. You let the tip of his cock graze your slit as you pumped, and the shadowsinger moaned loudly, his muscles flexing.

“You like that, pretty boy?” You cooed against his neck.

Azriel whimpered, bucking his hips into your hand.

“None of that now,” You chastised. “I asked you a question.”

He exhaled. “Yes.” Was all he could manage through his moans.

“I can feel how close you are, it’s pathetic. Normally you last longer. Is this something you’ve dreamed of, baby? Hm? Tell me, do you want to cum?”

Azriel’s eyelids fluttered as he fought to keep still underneath you, a thin sheen of sweat coating his tanned body. “Yes! Gods, yes. Please.”

You sank your teeth into his neck, biting down harshly and making him cry out. Your hand next to his arm shifted, letting your fingertips graze the edge of his wing. “Beg for it then.”

“Please,” The spymaster whimpered. “I’ll do anything you want. Please, just let me cum. Please.”

You hummed, pretending to consider it. Just as his abs tensed signifying his nearing release, you sat up and released his cock. Azriel let out a frustrated yet pathetic groan. “What the fuck?” He protested.

“Not so fun being on the receiving end of that one, is it?” You asked, sitting down on his abs and lazily grinding yourself into them. “I know you’d rather die than admit that you secretly fucking loved it. How pathetic is that? The mighty spymaster of the Night Court, crying underneath me because I wouldn’t let him finish.”

Azriel’s face was deep red, his jaw clenched. A few strands of black hair clung to his forehead. “Please,” He begged with droopy eyes. “I fucked up. Let me make it up to you. Please, let me touch you. Let me make you feel good. Please, I need to touch you. I need you. All I want is to make you feel good.”

You scraped your nail down his chest, eliciting a shiver from the body beneath you. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am.”

A wave of arousal had rushed through your veins at not just the title, but the ease at which he said it. It rolled off his tongue so naturally. Sure, you had been called many names in the bedroom before in both submissive and dominant roles, but this was new. And you fucking loved it.

You gripped his chin firmly, letting your nails dig into the skin as you brought your face closer to his. “Say that again.”

He gulped. “Yes ma’am. Please, let me make you feel good.”

You chuckled darkly, sitting up. The shadows repositioned his arms slightly, giving more room on either side of Azriel’s head for what you were about to do, as if they knew already. “I’m going to sit on your face and use you like my own personal toy. You are going to choke on my cunt just as I have choked on your cock, and you are going to be grateful for it and thank me after. You do not get to touch me with your hands, and you will take what I give you. Am I clear?”

Azriel nodded vigorously, eyes gleaming. Truthfully, you knew this was a reward for him. There was nothing in this world he loved more than eating you out. He had often even encouraged you to ride his face. But never before had he not been able to grab your hips and touch you.

You climbed up his body, seating one knee on either side of his head where the shadows had now cleared space for you. As you slowly lowered your cunt towards his face, the Illyrian strained his neck to lift his head as high as he could in a pathetic attempt to get closer to your core.

Briefly, you recalled all the times Azriel had lectured you about how you refused to fully sit on his face, afraid you’d suffocate him. He’d always end up growling in frustration and grabbing your hips, firmly pulling you down so you were seated on his face.

It was time you showed him you learned your lesson.

With no warning, you lowered your cunt onto his face, fully seating yourself on it and grabbing onto his hair with both hands. Azriel groaned in delight underneath you, the sound sending vibrations right into your core. You moaned in relief, rocking your hips against his face. Lewd noises filled the room as Azriel ate you out like a man who hadn’t had a meal in days, eagerly slurping up all your juices. You shamelessly ground into his face, wanting more.

You cried out as his tongue shoved its way inside you, your clit scraping his nose in a way that made your legs twitch. For a second you wondered how Azriel was managing to breathe, but his relentlessness reassured you that he was perfectly fine somehow.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” You moaned. “It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Eating my pussy? Pretty boy is just a desperate little whore, isn’t that right?”

The noise Azriel made was muffled, but akin to a pathetic whimper. Something you knew would ring in your ears like a new favourite song.

It only took a few more minutes before your orgasm built up, barrelling towards you at rapid speed. Your thighs tensed up, clenching around his face as you came, yanking harshly on his silky hair. Azriel groaned as you did so, your juices coating his face. Part of you had been tempted to not let him make you finish, but you couldn’t help it. His mouth felt too good on you, something you had missed over the last few days.

Finally, you lifted yourself off Azriel’s face, hearing him take in a gasping breath as you did so. His hazel eyes were closed in bliss, face shiny from your juices as he panted for air. “Thank you, ma’am.” He murmured. You crawled down his body, seating yourself back on his abs while you collected your composure.

“You did so good, Az.” You purred, reaching behind you and gently brushing your fingers against his hard cock. “You’re so good to me. Now, have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Azriel said breathlessly.

“What lesson would that be?”

“Don’t flirt with other females.”

“Exactly.” You pulled out Truth-Teller from its sheath and pressed the sharp blade against his throat, the shadows having discreetly brought it to you from the spymaster’s discarded belt. “You are mine, and mine only. Nobody else gets to have you but me. Nobody gets to touch you but me. If they do, I will remove their hands and feed their body to the beasts in the woods. And if you try to touch another female in a manner I would not deem fit, it will be your body that gets fed to the creatures. Understood?”

Azriel’s hazel eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of awe, horror, and lust. It made you chuckle inwardly, how he seemed surprised that this is who you had become. You weren’t sure why he would be – he had become your new life, every fibre of your being tied to his and his alone. Azriel was unhinged and possessive to begin with, even more so now that he had you.

He was bad, but you were worse.

“Yes ma’am.” Azriel croaked out, swallowing against the cold metal of the blade.

“Good. Now you’ve made me cum, I think it’s only fair if I let you do the same, right?”

“You may do as you see fit, ma’am.”

A smile bloomed across your face. You could tell it was hard for him to say – his cock was hard as a diamond, his body begging for a release. But he chose the right answer. “Correct. You may fuck me now, any position you see fit. But you are not to cum without my permission.”

The second the shadows binding Azriel’s wrists together slipped away, his scarred hands grabbed your waist and flipped you over, pinning you underneath him. His eyes were frantic as if he worried you’d change your mind. He roughly spread your legs and you let him, relishing in the feeling of him over top of you. He lined up his cock with your entrance and slammed in.

You gasped, the air leaving your body. Azriel’s size was something you would never quite get used to. It had taken you a long time to be able to take him with no preparation, and even then it still hurt like hell for the first bit. But you learned to relish in the pain, especially when he praised you for taking him so well.

But there was no praise coming from his lips this time. Azriel fucked you relentlessly, chasing the pleasure that you had denied him earlier. His movements were frantic, a change from his usual deliberate pace. The room was filled with slapping sounds and moans. Azriel was hitting so deep inside of you that you began to feel dizzy, your eyes rolling back in your head.

Azriel had fucked you harder than anyone ever had before, but this was completely different. It took less than five minutes for Azriel to tense up, signifying he was approaching his orgasm quickly.

“You’re going to cum, aren’t you?” You teased, voice shaky with the force of his thrusts.

Azriel leaned over you, his head next to yours with one arm cradled around your head. “Yes! Please, I need it! Please let me cum.” His voice was utterly broken and fragmented.

You were silent for ten seconds, just long enough to feel the panic coming from him, making him think you were going to say no. But you brought a hand up and stroked his wing in that one spot you knew drove him crazy. “Yes. Good boy. Cum for me, Azriel.”

The spymaster erupted into a powerful orgasm the second his name finished leaving your lips. Hot seed filled your insides, making you cry out. His hips jutted against you as he came, his head tilted back exposing his throat as he moaned loudly, a single tear running down his cheek.

Azriel’s thrusts slowed as he rode out his orgasm, pumping his cum back into you as it spilled out of your hole. He panted, wings twitching as he pulled out and slumped down into the spot beside you on the bed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

You hummed, satisfied with your work. If you had told yourself months ago that you would be the one to break Azriel one night, you’d have laughed at yourself. It filled you with pride, seeing the stone cold, dominating shadowsinger become a whimpering mess all because of you.

It made everything you had done worth it.

You reached for Truth-Teller, propping yourself up beside him and putting the cold blade onto his skin, causing him to flinch and look at you in surprise. You trailed the knife down his body, circling it around where his heart was. You angled the blade, pressing the tip of it into his skin, right above the beating muscle. A thin trail of blood ran down from the cut. “This heart is mine. And if you try to give it to anyone else, I will carve it out of you myself.”

The shadowsinger was holding his breath, unmoving against your touch. You knew that he would easily be able to disarm you if he needed to, but there was still a hint of fear in his eyes.

No, he was not scared of you cutting his heart from his chest. He was scared of you running away from him.

You smirked, satisfied at his reaction. You weren’t going anywhere. You were right here with Azriel, where you belonged.

#azriel #azriel x reader #sub!azriel #sub!azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #dark!azriel x reader #dark!azriel #acotar smut #a court of thorns and roses #dark fic #smut #dom!reader

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oneforthemunny · 1 year

Text

sinister play |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: how you and rockstar!eddie meet.

reader has the last name klein, just for the purposes of the story.

contains: language, alcohol, drug use, reader and eddie absolutely despise each other and are very mean to each other so prepare for that, degrading, pornography watching, humiliation, spanking, hair pulling, fingering fem receiving, p in v rough sex, choking (light), no aftercare minors dni 18+

Los Angeles, 1991

The bass from the speakers, loud and booming, shaking the club with every riff of the guitar. Whatever band on stage was shredding, desperate fans and wannabe's jumping and shrilling the lyrics to some angry, grunge song you couldn't even understand.

"You want a drink?" Farrah asked over the loud music, leaning in close with a wide, burgundy lipped smile, a little smudged around the corner from the boy she was dancing with earlier.

You nodded, letting her pull you through the crowds, back to the bar in VIP. You weren't even sure why you left your secluded section. You could hear the band just fine from the confined leather couches and private bar upstairs.

"What'll it be?" The bartender asked, lanky, with shaggy locks that he kept tossing or blowing up out of his eyes. He attempted to give you a flirty smile, which you half heartedly returned.

"I want a double shot of vodka, extra limes." You said, slapping the crisp, one hundred-dollar bill on the mahogany wood.

"I'll have another cosmo, please." Farrah giggled to the bartender, batting her eyes sweetly to him.

"Coming right up, ladies." The bartender grinned, pocketing the bill with a sultry wink your way.

"Oh my God," Farrah gasped, grabbing your arm before you could scoff. "Holy shit, ok, don't look, but look, but don't make it obvious, ok-"

"-what?" You huffed, craning your head over your shoulder.

"No! I said don't make it obvious." Farrah squealed, manicured hand pushing your face back towards her. "Do you know who just walked in?"

You frowned. "No, I couldn't see them."

"That's Corroded Coffin." Farrah whispered, eyes lighting up with excitement. "Oh my God, you know them. You know, they're that rock group? They're kinda nasty, but so fuckin' hot. They have that one song that's about the stripper and-and the cocaine?"

"Wow, that really narrows it down." You scoffed sarcastically, turning to look over your shoulder again.

They certainly looked the rock band part, that was for sure. Five guys, some with Mohawks, shags, all in some sort of black leather, heavily tatted and pierced. Two were even wearing sunglasses, inside the dark club.

You rolled your eyes hard. "Jesus, they look like they're playing fucking dress up." You muttered, nodding to the bartender when he slipped you your drink. "Whoever their stylist is should be fired for that. The most stereotypical garb I've ever seen."

Farrah smirked, thanking the bartender, sitting her pink drink giggly. "I think they look hot." She wiggled her brows at you playfully. "You don't wanna fuck a rockstar?"

You laughed. "I have fucked a rockstar." You gave her a pointed look. "A few, actually, or did you forget?" Farrah giggled. "And so have you Miss Von Abel."

"Yeah, but not a real, rock, rockstar, Miss Klein." Farrah smirked over the lip of her glass. Her eyes bulged, sputtering on her drink. "Holy shit, they're coming over here."

You grimaced. "Ew, no they're not."

"Yes, they are, holy shit, be nice." Farrah muttered, looking down at her glass, sultry and unsuspecting, posed.

You snorted into your drink, downing the rest of it before lifting your glass, motioning to the bartender that you wanted another.

"And I'll have what she's having," A voice from behind you purred. You didn't move. "Except make it a tequila. Patron or Casa, I'm not picky."

The chair beside you screeched against the floor, so loud you could hear it over the music. Leather and wild, dark curls clouded the vision in the corner of your eyes, a wolfish grin baring perfect, shiny white teeth.

"Hi, there." The man greeted, a low purr.

You looked over at him, eyeing him up fully. The ripped jeans, band tee, spiked jewelry, and worst of all- leather jacket. You scoffed, he really was a walking cliche.

"Hi," You snipped, bored and unimpressed. You turned to Farrah, watching as she giggled and leaned closer to the other boy, his spiked hair and ringed fingers drumming on the edge of her glass.

"I'm Eddie." The boy next to you said, tongue rolling on the inside of his mouth.

You nodded, sighing slowly. "I didn't ask." You replied coldly, stirring your empty drink with the slim black straw.

Eddie paused, blinking for a moment. He hadn't been ignored and rejected like this since high school, since before he left Hawkins. Treated and casted out like he was nothing, like he was nobody.

His fingers tapped on the bar, angry and furiously, buzzing from the embarrassment and the effects of the cocaine. He looked back over at you, squinting in the low light.

"I know you." Eddie said, pointing a finger at you.

"No, you don't." You huffed, rolling your eyes.

"No, I do." Eddie shook his head, feet tapping on the floor. "How do I know you? Fuck, you're not friends with Aria are you?"

"No." You snapped, irritated.

Eddie twisted his lips in thought, running a hand down his face. "Fuck, I know I know you." He huffed, leaning past you. "Gare, why do I know this chick?" He asked, hitching his thumb towards you.

You scoffed, nose snarling in disgust. Farrah grimaced, looking at you with a pleading look. Gareth looked at you, tilting his head to the side. "You're Victor Klein's daughter, right?"

"Yeah, that's her." Farrah grinned, wide eyed and giggly. "How did you know that?"

Eddie's ringed hand slapped down on the bar loudly, making you jump. He snapped his finger, and pointed at you. "That's fucking right. Your dad's that movie guy. Makes all those movies, holy shit." Eddie laughed, looking up at you with a dimpled grin. It made you flush slightly, but your face remained neutral, soured. "And your mom was that model for Playboy back in the day? That super hot one."

Eddie's eyes rolled over you, taking in your black, slip dress, short and low in all the right places, straight off the Versace runway. He licked his lips, eyes gleaming when he looked at you. "I can tell you two are related." He grinned, hand slipping on your thigh.

"Ugh," You groaned, shoving his hand off. You grabbed your drink just as the bartender sat it down, standing up from your high top seat. "Farrah, I'll be outside. I need a smoke."

Eddie tried not to falter, not letting his face fall at the rejection, at how you brushed him off and discarded him like he was nothing. He wasn't used to this, to women ignoring him rather than throwing themselves at him. He was Eddie fucking Munson, rockstar with a notable ten inch cock that anyone would be lucky to fuck.

"Shit, I could go for a smoke too, baby. Let me-"

"Look, I don't know if you're too coked out or just really fucking stupid, but I'm not interested in being seen with a C-list rockstar poser." You snapped, teeth bared and angry at him.

"C-List?" Eddie gawked, scoffing in offense. "Excuse me, sweetheart, do you know who the fuck I am?" Eddie growled, ringed hand shoved in his chest.

"No," You snarled smugly, eyes narrowed dangerously towards him. "But you certainly know who I am."

Eddie scoffed when you walked away, heels snapping and clacking across the floor all the way to the balcony outside. He grit his teeth, inked hand fisting the glass, throwing back the tequila in one gulp, grimacing gently at the burn in his throat and nose.

He turned to Farrah, lips pursed furiously. "Your friend always such a fucking bitch?" He growled.

Gareth threw his hands out, head nodding suggestively towards Farrah. She didn't seem to be phased, you'd certainly been called worse. "She's really nice, actually. One of the sweetest people you'll ever meet." She paused, lips twisting in thought. "If she likes you." Her eyes flashed to Eddie with a slight grimace. "She doesn't like you."

Eddie scoffed, shoving his chair back. "Yeah, well, fuck her too." He growled, stomping off to the bathroom, fishing in his pockets for the small baggie of coke.

***

You took a long drag of your cigarette, balancing your drink in the other hand, pressed up against the railing of the night club, chatting with Arnie Brandenburg, a long time friend. The two of you had grown up in Beverly Hills together, down the street. Your moms went to the same Jane Fonda fitness classes, always leaving you two in the country club nursery.

"I mean, Greenwich is nice for Connecticut, but it's just not the Hamptons, ya know?" Arnie grinned.

You laughed, nodding in agreement. "Honestly, you sound like my mother." You rolled your eyes. "Daddy talked about selling the Hamptons house once since it's on the East Coast, and she about died. Wouldn't talk to him for a week." You snickered, shaking your head.

"I would too!" Arnie threw his hands out dramatically. "I mean, if you're not going to the Hamptons in the summertime, then what are you doing? Imagine celebrating the Fourth of July anywhere else, it would be a crime-"

"Jesus fuckin' Christ." A voice over your shoulder groaned.

You turned, angrily and fierce, ready to lash at whoever dared to interrupt you. You were less than surprised to see it was Eddie. He shook his head, forearms leaning over the rail, smoking his own cigarette slowly.

"Excuse me?" You snapped, eyes narrowed in challenge.

Eddie looked up at you, unimpressed and unfazed. "The two of you sound so fuckin' shallow, holy shit." Eddie scoffed, shaking his head.

You gawked as Arnie blushed furiously, looking down at his drink in embarrassment. "We were having a private conversation-"

"-yeah? That why you're talkin' so loud?" Eddie shot back, teeth grit in challenge. "Private conversation, so you talk loud enough for everyone to hear you, right? Make sure they all know that you two are loaded, so much better than anyone else, right?"

You huffed, turning on your heel, jaw tight. You were flushing furiously, heat spreading from the fire in the pit of your belly up your chest and neck. "Don't pay attention to him, Arnie. He's pissed I wouldn't suck his dick at the bar." You snipped, loud enough for Eddie to hear.

Arnie hesitated, eyes flickering from you back to Eddie. Eddie laughed loudly, humorlessly. "Holy shit," He shook his head. "You know, it makes sense why you're such a bitch, honestly. Probably never been told no a day in your fucking life."

You whipped around, drink sloshing and spilling down your wrist from the sudden movement. "What the fuck did you just call me?"

Eddie pulled a mocking, pouting face your way. "Oh, you didn't like that, huh?" He taunted. "Sorry, Princess, didn't mean to upset you. I forgot, girls like you can't handle being told the truth."

"The truth?" You scoffed. "I can handle the truth, what I can't handle is losers like you trying to hit on me like you ever had a chance."

"Oh? Because I'm not from the Hills?" Eddie retaliated, defensively, insecurity seeping through his barred teeth.

"No, because you're such a fake." You laughed mockingly back at him, eyes rolling down his frame. It was a juvenile, mean tactic, but you didn't care. It worked, judging by the way he squirmed and moved to straighten his posture. "You dress like this pathetic cliche, hit on girls all the time, treat them like shit and do shit to keep you in the tabloids, and guess what? In a few years, you'll be irrelevant anyways. You'll peak, and you'll go back to Ohio or wherever the fuck you're from, and I'll still be here, watching the next you try to hit on me."

Eddie's face dropped, stunned and a little hurt. Arnie pulled your arm, saying your name softly to get you to step away, but you refused. Too angry and determined to get him away for good.

"Who the fuck do you think you are exactly?" Eddie snapped back. "I mean, you're only relevant because of who your daddy is." He scoffed, snarling back at you. "Seriously, Princess, you swear you're someone special, but you wouldn't be anything without that last name. I might be whatever you want to call me, but I'm me. I made my own fucking name, didn't get anything handed to me. I did it myself. Can you say the same?"

You blushed furiously, stammering under his intense glare. Eddie took a step closer, crowding you. "What happens when daddy goes away, huh? When you don't have anything to cling to because you're nothing on your own? What then? What happens to this high and mighty attitude when your one claim to fame is gone, and everyone forgets you."

"That-That won't-"

"-Won't happen?" Eddie laughed menacingly at you. "Sweetheart, you're in for a big surprise then. You don't do shit. You've never worked for a goddam thing in your life. Daddy made sure of that, didn't he?"

You blushed furiously, lips pressing together in anger. "You don't know anything about me."

"No?" Eddie's brows lifted in amusement. "But you certainly know a lot about me." He hissed, throwing your words from earlier right back in your face, making you shrink. "You must know more than you pretend to know about me. Or do you just say shit like that to anyone? Just mean for fun, huh? I'm a walking cliche? Baby, you couldn't get more predictable if you tried." Eddie sneered, leaning down so his face was inches away from yours.

The heat from the two of you was radiating, burning each other further and further with every sneer and venom filled word. Arnie pulled you away with a slight tug of your arm, ushering you away from your hate filled stare and back towards the club.

***

"Who the fuck does that guy think he is, huh?" You slurred, slamming your glass back onto the mahogany top of the bar. Your vision was swirling slightly, the alcohol in your system flooding over your senses easily.

You looked at Arnie, then back over at Farrah, who was sitting perched in Gareth's lap. "Hon, don't worry about it. He's a dick, don't you know that?" Arnie scoffed. "Honestly, did you see what he did to that poor girl? All of them really. He humiliates them for fun."

You had seen what he did to those girls. Fucking them on balconies, tatting their ass, paddling them with a wood paddle that left the band's logo on their red, inflamed cheeks, then letting them walk out so the paparazzi went wild. You had to admit, it was pretty good press. His stylist might have been shit, but his PR person you needed to meet.

The first time you'd seen them on the cover of a gossip column magazine, you couldn't help but stare. The sheer taboo nature of it all, filthy and wrong. It made your thighs twitch. You'd tried to convince your 'boyfriend' of the time to try something like that with you, but he'd called you weird, mocked you for wanting to try it. You'd blamed it on the coke, and never talked of it again.

Maybe he did intimidate you. Maybe he even intrigued you a little, but you refused to allow it, hatred and loathing consuming any feelings of curiosity towards the asshole that was Eddie Munson.

Eddie had a girl in his lap, in the booth on the other side of the bar. You could see it perfectly from your own seat, his lips on her neck, sucking in deep, dark bruises. His hand up her skirt, teasing her so she writhed and bucked all over his lap, sloppy and desperate. His eyes met yours, and you scoffed, slamming back another shot.

Farrah called your name, giggly and stumbling towards you, wrapping her arms around you. "I need a favor," She whispered into your ear.

"What?" You snapped, harder than you meant it to. It'd been a long night.

Farrah pressed her nose to yours, eyes crossing to focus on yours. You could smell the vodka on her breath, sharp and stinging. "I'm gonna go back to Gareth's place for a while. He said he'd give me a tour." She giggled, swaying slightly.

"Ok?" You asked, lifting a brow, her hands planted firmly on your cheeks.

"Come with me, please." Farrah whispered. "Just for a little while, then-then we can go back home, I promise."

You groaned, pulling apart. "I don't want to go to his place-"

"-please! It's just for a teeny, tiny, little bit." Farrah pressed her fingers together for show. "Just so he can... show me around."

You gave her an unimpressed look. "So you two can fuck?" You asked.

Farrah giggled wildly, tossing her head back. "Maybe..." She let out a nasally laugh, swaying back and forth. "Please? For me?"

You hesitated, looking at her then cutting behind her to see Eddie, still working the girl in his lap. "Fine. Let me get one more drink and close out." You grumbled.

Farrah hugged you tightly, strawberry glossed lips pressing a sticky, wet kiss to your cheek before scampering back to Gareth. You waved the bartender down for another, downing the vodka easily before handing him a wad of cash to cover your tab and a tip.

You hugged Arnie goodbye, waving to your other friends before following Farrah down the steps, towards the private exit of the VIP. She giggled and swung on Gareth's arm, flirty and sweet. You watched her carefully, arms crossing over your chest when you got outside, following him towards the large, black car waiting with the rest.

"After you, M'lady." Gareth bowed sillily, making Farrah cackled, a stumble curtsy given back in return. You nodded gently when you climbed past him, moving to the farthest seat on the rounded lounge area.

The door opened again, Eddie and another member of the band filing in. You scoffed. "Oh, fuck me," You groaned, rolling your head back.

"What?" Farrah asked, eyes blinking innocently towards you. "What's wrong?"

"Who the fuck invited her?" Eddie snapped, throwing an arm out towards you.

"I did, Ed." Gareth hissed, eyes cutting to Farrah next to him. "Shut the fuck up."

You smirked triumphantly when Eddie sank in the seat across from you, huffing and rolling his eyes. The car ride back to their place was painfully awkward. Gareth and Farrah were wrapped up in their own little world, giggling and whispering sweetly to each other.

Jeff, the other member in the car, had tried to speak to you. You tried not to let your irritation get the best of you, but alcohol mixed with the sour taste you had for Eddie weren't doing you any favors.

"Give it up, Jeff, I told you she was just gonna be an asshole." Eddie grumbled when you'd gave Jeff another short, choppy answer.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "I'm the asshole, huh?" You scoffed.

Jeff hesitated looking between the two of you. "It's cool, really." He said sweetly, giving you a small smile.

You felt your stomach twist in guilt, bile rising in your throat as your heart hammered. He really was a sweet guy, just trying to be nice. "So," You started awkwardly, looking over at him. "Where are you from?"

"Somewhere you've never heard of." Jeff smiled, shaking his head. "Hawkins, Indiana."

You smiled back. "You're right. Never heard of it."

Jeff laughed. "That's alright. No one has." He shrugged. "All three of us are from there actually. Met in high school."

You bit back the sharp comment on your tongue directed towards Eddie, swallowing it down bitterly. You didn't want to prove his point anymore than you already did tonight.

"Wow," You nodded, giving a forced, dazzling smile that only a Hollywood native could give. "Must be really different being here now. Big change?"

Jeff nodded. "Yeah, it was an adjustment. Traffic was the worst." He grinned when he hit Gareth's shoulder. "Gare, remember when we first came out here and Eddie got stuck on the 305?"

Both boys growled in laughter while Eddie rolled his eyes. "Christ, we almost missed our first record meeting. Almost got cut before we ever started."

Your eyes flashed to Eddie's, a sneer like grin on your lips. "Shocking." You bit sarcastically, raising your brows.

Eddie rolled his eyes, scoffing at you. "Yeah, well, I figured it out, didn't I?" Eddie gave a tight lipped smile to the boys. "You gotta figure stuff out on your own sometimes, ya know? Shit just can't be done for you or you never learn."

You scoffed loudly, throwing your hand up. "I mean, and I'm the asshole? You had the audacity to call me the asshole?"

"Alright, let's just- let's calm down." Farrah glared at you, lifting her hands between you and Eddie.

"Yeah, Ed, take it easy." Gareth grit, eyes narrowing towards him.

You both rolled your eyes, arms crossing and huffing before looking out the window.

The gates to the Hidden Hills mansion the boys had opened, large and elaborate. The car pulled to the front, Jeff tipping the driver and wishing him a good night as you all piled out.

Gareth droned on and on about the house, the special features it had to Farrah, who giggled and awed- like she didn't grow up in a house triple the size of this. You bit back that comment and followed, heels clacking against the floor, bored.

Eddie had disappeared a while ago, something about needing a joint. Gareth offered to show Farrah his room, and they were gone. Leaving you standing there, waiting.

"Uh, there's a movie room up the stairs if you wanna go in there." Jeff offered with a small smile. "You can wait there if you want. Or-Or you can stay here."

You shook your head. "I'll go wait upstairs. I think they'll be a while." You rolled your eyes.

Jeff laughed. "It's to the right, down the hall, first room on the left." He pointed up the staircase.

You climbed the spiraling stairs, taking in the odd decor of the house. There was a lot of paintings of dragons, very epic and mystical, not quite the decor you thought the metal band would have. You turned down the dark hallway, tiptoeing quietly past the rooms in case someone was sleeping.

You could hear the muffled sound of something playing in the movie room, muted against the heavy doors of the room, but you didn't hear any other signs of life as you pushed them open. The screen was large, illuminating the room and the rows of leather, recliner chairs in it. You closed the door quietly behind you, tip toeing towards the screen.

Your brows furrowed deep in confusion, swaying on your feet as you watched the film that was playing. A rather burly, muscular man grabbed the girl by her hair, pulling her close to him roughly. "I think bad girls like you need to be taught a lesson..." He growled. She moaned loud, pornographic and exaggerated.

Your eyes widened, eyes glued on the screen as he tossed her over his raised knee, hand slamming down on her up turned ass while sh yelped dramatically, mewling and whining. You bit your lip, squirming slightly, thighs pressing together at the scene.

"You enjoying yourself?" You jumped, heart thumping into your ears, screeching at the unexpected voice.

Wild curls, dark eyes, and a menacing smirk met your gaze when you turned. Eddie, sitting in the back row in the dark.

"What the fuck?" You grabbed at your heart. "What-What are you doing in here-"

"-It's my house." Eddie scoffed, arms extending wide on the back of the seats beside him.

You rolled your eyes. "Jeff told me I could wait in here. I-I didn't think you'd be in here."

"This is my favorite room." Eddie said slowly, jaw still set. "Where I come to relax."

"Well, I'll leave you to it." You scoffed, nodding towards the screen, turning towards the door.

"No, why don't you stay." You could hear his smirk through his tone. "Seemed like you were really enjoying it."

You blushed furiously, caught and embarrassed. You didn't face him. eyes cutting towards the screen, watching the man finger the girl as she was still over his knee, squirming and crying.

"Don't be gross." You bit, hoping you sounded more convincing. "Who watches this kind of stuff?"

"Me," Eddie snorted. "Seems like you do too."

"I do not." You snapped, whipping around to face him, his smug grin. God, you wanted to slap it off his face.

"What are you doing anyways? Researching new ways to hurt your groupies? Get the press talking some more?" You sneered.

Eddie's brow raised, amused. Your heart stuttered. "Oh? I thought you didn't know who I was, hm? To beneath you."

"Well, of course I know about that." You scoffed, rolling your eyes so you didn't have to meet his intense glare. You crossed your arms over your chest, securing yourself. You felt too vulnerable, too seen.

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, shifting so he was leaning towards you. "You know a lot about that, don't you, honey?" You stammered, blushing furiously at him. "How many times you wish that was you?" Eddie asked plainly.

Your throat constricted, tongue feeling stupid and big in your mouth. "W-With you?" You lifted a brow, hoping your menacing stare would distract him from the way your legs shook. "Never."

"Oh, I don't believe that." Eddie purred, standing slowly. A tiger to his prey, slow and calculated. "But fine, not with me. How many times have you thought about that?" He nodded towards the scene behind you, the man fucking the girl hard, hips snapping against her abused ass. You swallowed hard, eyes trained and glazed on the video.

You gasped, body lurching a little when you felt him behind you, looming presence casting over you, but never touching you. "How many times have you thought about someone putting you in your place like that?" Eddie growled, and you fought back a shiver, shoulder's tensing. "Is that why you're so mean all the time? Why you act out and want a reaction, hm? You're just begging for someone to put you in your place, aren't you? Screaming for attention."

His fingers trailed lightly over your hip down towards the hem of your dress. You shuddered, exhaling shakily as you watched his inked fingers toy with the edge of the black material. Your mind screamed to stop him, to shove him off and tell him to go fuck himself. But the throbbing between your legs superseded any protest you had, letting him ghost over you.

"That's why you wear these little dresses. You go out, and start fights with these guys hoping they'll actually fight back with you, don't you?" Eddie growled, fingers trailing over your bare thigh, inching dangerously close to your center.

You bit your lip, refusing to look at him, to answer. "You want attention?" Eddie asked, his breath hot on your ear. "I'll give you that attention you want so badly. All you gotta do is ask."

You whined, his fingers feather light, teasing over your slit. You knew he had to feel how wet you were, the growing wet patch on the front of your lace panties. You squirmed into his touch.

"Go on," Eddie grunted, fingers trailing up and down your clothed slit, you throbbed, ached for the touch. "Ask me to put you in your place."

You sighed, shaky and breathy. Your eyes were trained on the screen, refusing to meet his, watching the way the man pounded the girl from a new position. "You talk a big game for someone who will probably only last a few minutes." You shuddered, mean and bratty, a furious gleam back in your eye.

Eddie scoffed. He pulled his hand away entirely, leaving your gasping at the loss. "Guess you'll never find out." He whispered, lips tickling the shell of your ear.

You watched him walk towards the door, heart pounding in your chest when he reached for the door knob. "Wait!" You cried, biting down on your lip hard.

Eddie turned slightly, brow raised. You hesitated, squirming and eyes flicking from the screen back to him. "I-I want it." You admitted, cheeks burning red. Eddie could see it in the glow from the screen.

He lifted a brow, hand falling from the knob to cross over his chest. He stared hard at you, down the slop of his nose. "Want what?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. The bastard. "You gotta use your words. C'mon, baby, you had no problem using them earlier." He snapped.

You fidgeted, swaying on your feet. You couldn't look at him, too humiliated. "I-I want you to put me in my place." You whispered, speaking down the the dark, shag carpet of the room.

"Louder." Eddie commanded, snapping his fingers at you. "And look at me when you speak to me."

A cold shiver ran down your spine. Excitement and anticipation twisting in your tummy. You lifted your gaze slowly, fingers still wringing and twisting when you met his dark, brown eyes. "I-I want you to... to put me in my place."

Eddie exhaled slowly out of his nose, heavy steps coming towards you until the two of you were toe to toe. He towered over you, looking down at you with a hard, stoic expression. "This is what you really want?" Eddie asked. "Want me to teach you how to behave? I'll warn you now, I'm not nice. Not gonna go easy on you."

You nodded slowly, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. Eddie cocked his head to the side, signaling he wanted a verbal answer. "Y-Yes... It's what I want." You huffed, crossing your arms back over your chest.

Eddie smirked, a barely raised corner of his lip. "Fine." He grunted. "It'll be my pleasure, actually. I've never met someone who needed to be knocked down a few pegs more in my life." He grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the first recliner. He sat down with a heavy sigh, yanking you in between his spread thighs. "And if smacking you around a little will be you to be less of a little bitch," He sneered up at you, making you squirm. "Then, I guess I'll do the honors."

You rolled your eyes, with a small scoff before his large hand cracked down on your ass, making you gasp. Eddie gave you a hard glare. You squirmed, thighs rubbing together for some sort of friction. His hit stung, but it left you aching, slick coating your thighs.

"You want to stop, you say 'bats' and we stop." Eddie said, hands pulling at your dress.

"Bats? That's a fuckin' stupid-" Another resounding smack of his ringed hand to your ass had you yelping out, stopping and looking at him.

"Oh, this is gonna take a lot more than I thought." Eddie shook his curls, pulling the tie of the dress so it fell down your hips slowly, in a puddle by your feet. You stood in nothing but a bright red thong. "You're worse off than I thought. Might need multiple sessions to fix this bad attitude."

You snarled. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" You bit.

Eddie hummed, fingers hooking down your panties, pulling them down your thighs so they rested at your mid-thigh. He pressed his fingers into the soaked front of your cloth, smearing your sticky release down the crotch until it was coated on his finger. He brought it up to your face, eyes hard in challenge.

"Seems like you're not having a bad time either." Eddie snapped. You blushed hard, hands covering your neck so he couldn't see the flush. "Think you're enjoying this a little too much."

You snarled, but fought the urge to roll your eyes. Eddie pulled down the rest of your panties, letting you step out of them before they were puddled on the floor. He shifted forward, legs spreading before he nodded towards his lap.

You hesitated for a moment, arms reaching out slow and unsteady, awkward as you folded your body forward delicately. His rough, calloused hands pulled you forward, aching center rubbed against his knee, bottom high in the air. Your arms were forward, hanging over the recliner, back dipped between his legs.

"Hm," Eddie sighed heavily, ringed hand running over your cheeks, down your thigh and over your back. You shuddered, head spinning. For a moment, it almost felt gentle.

"I can tell that you and your mama are related." He grinned, squeezing the fat of your ass hard. "Good looking ass on both of ya."

You scoffed loudly. "You’re dis-" You gasped, the hard smack he delivered to the center of your ass sending you forward, breath leaving your lung. The unfamiliar sting burned through the hit, electrifying your senses. You clamped your lips together, rocking slightly against his knee for friction.

"You just never learn, do ya?" Eddie laughed, hand cracking down on your ass, one hit to each cheek that left you yelping out. "That's alright. Keep running that mouth. I can stay here all night."

His hand cracked down on your fleshy ass, hips jumping and body tensing with every hit. You could feel the burn, foreign and unfamiliar, building already. His rings added extra sting to his hits, cold metal digging into your hot skin. You tried to still your hips, keep yourself from grinding helplessly down onto his leg.

“I can tell no one’s ever done this to you before.” Eddie breathed, hand light, almost delicately trailing down your cheeks before he brought his hand down again, twice. Two quick smacks that had you squealing, lurching forward.

“I’ve never met a more spoiled little bitch.” Eddie growled, hand thundering onto your cheeks. You mewled loudly, lips pressed shut to try and stop yourself.

“No one’s ever put you in your place like this before have they?” Eddie hissed, squeezing your burning cheeks hard, enough to make you squirm. His hand cracked down, unforgiving and hard, right near your core. It had you screaming out, abdomen clenching at the sensation. “I asked you a fucking question.”

“No,” You whispered, jaw tight, slow steady breaths coming out of your nose, desperate to keep the tears down.

Eddie huffed, fingers snaking down to your core. You gasped when he slid them through your slick folds. “Hm,” he hummed, mocking. He head his fingers in front of you, ringed digits coated in your arousal, making you blush deep. “Suck.” Eddie barked.

You hesitated for a moment, stunned by his demand. Eddie’s free hand yanked your hair back, scalp screaming at the roughness of his grasp. “I said, suck.”

Your lips parted in a slow tremble, just wide enough to let him slip his fingers in. You hollowed your cheeks barely, letting your tongue slides slowly over his fingers, tasting your own tangy arousal. Eddie’s fingers probed further, pressing back to the back of your throat, scissoring so you’d gag at the intrusion.

You breathed deep, controlled through your nose. Only gagging for a moment, before you let his assault continue. Your eyes were on him, round and hopeful for praise. He lifted a brow. “I’m impressed,” he muttered, dark, dimpled grin on his face. “Though I guess I shouldn’t be. A little whore like you should know how to take a cock.”

Your cheeks blushed furiously, anger flaring back in your chest. You bit down on his fingers, hard enough to grind the bone and have him hissing, yanking his fingers back out. He glared at you before a ringed backhand cracked across your cheek, stinging and shocking you.

You gaped at him, wide eyed in shock. Eddie growled back. “You just can’t play nice, can you?” He shook his head, sighing loud and dramatic, mocking.

He shoved you back over his lap, your hands falling in front of you to stop you from face planting onto the ground. Eddie's hand's started back up, cracking down on your already flaming ass, quick and hard. No longer teasing and fun, but rather punishing and mean. Your head still reeled, throbbing between your legs.

You clenched hard, jaw tightening and fists balling. The pain on your ass was building hard, uncomfortable burn and heat radiating off your reddened skin. You could feel Eddie's erection against your hip, you hoped if you squirmed enough he would stop, but you had a feeling there was only one way he'd stop.

Eddie's rings were biting into your ass, making you jump with every hit. His ability to not let up, to keep the same rhythm was impressive if you were being honest. "For a brat you sure can take a beating." Eddie hissed. You thought he might stop, he didn't.

You whimpered, squirming your hips forward to get away from his assaulting hand. He just simply pulled you back, roughly into place, continuing again. "Eddie," You whined, hips wiggling. "Eddie, ok, stop. I learned my lesson, you can stop." You huffed.

Eddie laughed, humorlessly. "I don't think you have." He snapped, hand cracking down hard, leaving you jumping.

“I have!” You whined, a high pitched mewl that left his cock lurching, twitching at how desperate you sounded.

“Prove it.” Eddie growled, ringed hand grabbing your hair, yanking you up harshly again, back arching and dipping with the lift. You grunted at the burn in your scalp. “You said you learned your lesson, prove it.”

“How?” You huffed, teary eyed and desperate. Your cocky attitude be damned at this moment, you were determined to do anything to get him to stop and fuck you.

Eddie smirked. "You need me to tell you how to say sorry? You don't know how to apologize? God, you are such a fucking spoiled, shallow little brat aren't you." You howled in pain when his hand cracked back down, choking out a sob.

"Fuck, ok, ok! I'm sorry, ok?" You squealed, squirming against his leg again.

Eddie snorted, mocking and unimpressed. "You call that an apology?" He sighed heavily, pushing you back forward, hand groping and squeezing your aching cheeks. "We're gonna be here all night, aren't we?"

You cried, shaking your head. "No, no, please, I-I'll be good, ok?" You sniffled. "I'm sorry." You muttered, pathetic and small.

Eddie wrenched your hair back again, making you cry out in pain. You thought he might take mercy on you. Clearly you were wrong. "What was that?" He growled. "Speak up. Loud and clear."

You sniffled hard, pinching your eyes together. "I-I'm sorry, Eddie." You let out a hard shaky breath, voice wavering with the admission. "I'm sorry for being m-mean to you."

Eddie didn't budge, holding you in that position for a moment, teetering you on the edge of anticipation, getting you squirming and whining until he finally let go. You fell forward with a small huff, his hand rubbing over your ass.

"Look, you can learn, hm?" Eddie mocked. You bristled, gritting your teeth to hold back your snappy, mean comment. "You just need to be trained, don't you? Need someone to be mean and teach you?"

You nodded, a curt bob of your head, lips pressing together to keep your sob in. Eddie pinched your hot skin, hard enough to leave you yelping. He snickered, fingers trailing up your slick thighs, his fingers sunk into your sopping hole, pumping agonizingly slow. Your clit was swollen, aching, clenching against his fingers.

"Surprise, surprise, you liked this, didn't you?" Eddie mocked.

Your face heated, eyes pinching close, squirming against his lap. Eddie's hand cracked down on your ass. "Didn't you?" He gritted.

"Yes." You sobbed, falling limp over his lap.

Eddie smirked, satisfied. He felt like he finally had you broken and desperate, pathetic the way he wanted you. His fingers curled inside you, making you gasp. Your thighs trembled, your orgasm had been building from the moment you'd walked in the movie room, inching closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy with every hard, unforgiving spank he administered to your ass. His words cruel and venomous, they should have you sobbing, running away and cursing his name, yet you couldn't wait to hear more, throbbing with every hate filled word.

You clenched, small huff escaping the back of your throat, your walls tightening around his fingers, expected and working you open magnificently. You rubbed your clit, aching with desperation against his legs, so close to your own release your eyes were rolling back, pathetic little cried and whines filling the room. It made Eddie's head spin, grinning mean and dark down at you, relishing in the way you wiggled and bucked on his lap.

You were so close, he knew that, which is exactly why he stopped. He pulled his fingers out of you with a loud squelch of your walls trying to vacuum him back in. Your eyes snapped up, panting and desperate with the loss of his fingers.

"What-"

Eddie pushed you off his lap, letting your knees hit the ground hard, uncaring when you shot him a displeased pout. He ignored you, shoving his jeans to the ground, boxers following with one quick swoop.

You tried not to gawk, his cock erect and angry, hanging in front of you nearly menacingly, inches from your nose. His inked body, covered in tattoos, tummy toned with the peeking of soft abs that we’re accentuated when he’d clench them, making the inked skin there move and ripple. You'd assumed everyone had exaggerated how big his cock was, the groupies that sold stories and tabloids just playing that detail up as an excuse for letting him do the things he did to them, dick drunk. You see now, that wasn't the case at all, feeling a little hypocritical for your own harsh judgements at the time.

"Get up, bend over." Eddie growled, nodding towards the chair he'd been sitting in. He stroked himself lazy and slow, cock dribbling out at the head. "You wanna cum? There's only one way you're gonna cum. Go."

You scrambled up, practically diving into the dark leather of the chair, nails scratching the thick material. Your head was reeling, pussy throbbing, aching with the way he'd edged you, toyed with you and got you so close.

Eddie snorted, shaking his head in a mocking manner. "So desperate, what a shock." He growled, lining himself up with you. He didn't bother being nice, your only warning of what's to come was the fat head of his cock pushing in your entrance, pausing when Eddie moved closer to you. "Thought you were too good for me? Look at you now."

You cried out loudly when he pushed in, filling you quickly, not giving you even a second to adjust before he pulled back out and slammed in you all over again. Your walls stretched and burn with the uncomfortable intrusion, clenching down hard on him so he cursed, sucking in a breath.

"You think you're too good for me? I think I'm too good for you." Eddie hissed, hips slamming hard against your ass, drooling at the way your red, irritated skin jumped against his. "Spoiled little bitch, you think you can just get away with treating people like shit? Being a cunt to everyone all the time because you grew up in the hills?" You panted, face buried in the leather, trying to conceal your shaky moans.

Eddie's hand in your hair wrenched you up, pulling you so you were standing on wobbly legs, his hand moving to your throat then back down to hold you across your hips. "I asked you a fucking question." He growled, nose exhaling hot air against your cheek.

You opened your mouth, dumbly letting your tongue roll out. The pressure on your neck wasn't enough to cut off oxygen, just enough to feel the pressure, but it still had you clenching hard, eyes rolling back at the sensation. "Yes." You breathed out.

"Yes?" Eddie repeated, a sharp thrust that had you crying out. "You think you can treat people like shit?"

"No!" You whined, thighs trembling, tears leaking out of your eyes and down your cheeks. "No, no, no I don't! I'm sorry!"

Eddie scoffed, letting his hand fall from your neck, your stranded moans and sobs leaving in sharp breaths out of your chest. He pounded hard into you, jabbing your g-spot relentlessly. A sloshing sound was starting to build, soft and mixing with the sound of his balls slapping against you.

Eddie pushed you back down, face first into the leather, his free hand finding your clit, the other gripping your hips hard- you knew you'd have bruises. "Spoiled little bitch," He grunted, lightly rubbing over your clit. His touch was ghosting, so light you wondered if you were hallucinating it. "Maybe I should call you a dumb little bitch instead, hm? Just dumb on my cock."

You screamed, back arching and eyes rolling when he pinched your clit, hard and round, rolling it between his pointer and thumb finger. Your legs shook, waves of pleasure washing over you until you collapsed beneath him, legs giving out. His hand on your hip and under your tummy held you up.

Eddie snickered, your wet released, sprayed out all over his pelvis, over his cock and the leather seats. He knew no now had ever done that to you, judging by the way you laid simple, head still reeling and shaking beneath him. Here you were thinking you were so much better, and yet, he was the only one who could fuck you properly.

Eddie didn't let up, didn't soften his pace, pounding into you harder and harder and harder. Your hips recoiled, fat jumping with every snap of his own hips, punishing you. He could feel you clamp around him again, tiny moans that were tired and breathy. His cock lurched, twitching deep inside of you, teeth gritting.

Eddie raised his hand, smacking your ass again, watching the way you jumped and whined, hand print fading in with the others, illuminated on your already abused skin. He tucked his lip between his teeth, eyes pinching hard shut, you'd already came again, shaking and whining around him with another pitiful little orgasm that left you dizzy all over again. Eddie grunted, jackhammering you hard before he felt his cock twitch hard, spilling deep inside you.

He thrusted slow, hard huffs of air mixed with small groans, his cock emptying deep inside of you, the sloshing sound of each thrust filling the room. "Oh, fuck," Eddie breathed out, chest heaving hard.

He looked down, creamy spend covering the base of his pubic hair, wetting it and leaving it glistening. He pulled out slow, smirking at the way your release and his dripped out of you, making a mess onto the floor.

You slid and he let you, crumpling into the floor, too tired and fucked out to make yourself stand, thighs burning and shaking, whimpering when the heels of your feet dug into your ass. Eddie smirked, smug and proud of how ruined you were now, how ruined he'd made you.

He reached for his jeans, fishing a cigarette out, lighting it while he watched you slowly drift back into yourself. Head lolling to the side, breaths evening out, and whimpering when the harsh carpet scratched against your ass. He'd nearly finished the stick when you finally looked up at him, soft eyed and glazed.

Eddie smirked, blowing smoke at you. "Welcome back, Princess," He snarled.

You rolled your eyes, half hearted and tired, shifting to gently try to stand. He grinned watching you, knocked knees, shaky legs, pushing yourself up and trying to hide your little whimpers and grunts. Still so stubborn and spoiled; he wished he was surprised.

"Finally learn your lesson?" Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Fuck off," You grumbled, but you couldn't bring yourself to be mean, too tired and sore.

Eddie hummed, shaking his head. "Guess we'll have to try again." He sighed, mocking and mean. You glared at him, he shrugged. "I'll break you eventually. I know there's a good girl in there deep, deep down inside."

"Yeah? Let me know when you find her." You snapped, lazily grabbing your dress. You didn't see your underwear, deciding to leave them wherever they were. You wouldn't be needing them anyways, the thought of the scratchy lace on your ass made you cringe.

Eddie laughed. "You're kinda funny when you're not so mean." He tilted his head to the side.

You gave him an unimpressed look, slipping your dress back on, haphazardly, trying to walk as straight and normal as you could past him. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you limp.

"You know where to find me next time you need to be put in your place, baby." Eddie grinned, leaning against the doorway. You turned, his cock hanging limply in front of him, and you could see how it glistened and shined in the low lights of the hallway.

"Now I know where to avoid." You snarled, mouth filling with spit at the sight of his cock, you swallowed it furiously. "We're not doing this shit again. Wasn't worth it." You bit, venomously and full of hate, eyes narrowing at him.

Eddie laughed at you, loud and mocking. "Oh, you'll be back." He said confidently. "And you know exactly where to find me. I'll see you then, Princess." He smirked, smugly, eyes rolling down your frame before he walked across the hall, shutting the door to what you assumed was his bedroom. You told yourself you'd never know, but you knew deep down that wasn't true.

You hobbled down the steps, heels in hand, hissing with stretch of your abused skin and aching pussy. Farrah grinned at you, standing from the bench by the doorway.

"Hey," She grinned, eyes lighting up in amusement.

"Don't." You snapped, shaking your head. "Just-just, get me the fuck outta here. I don't want to talk about it."

The car out front started, driving you through the gates, the soft glow of the sunrise filling the tinted windows of the car. Farrah pressed ups for questions, giggly and excited. You snarled, blaming it on the alcohol and boredom, but you knew better. You knew you'd be back, Eddie knew you'd be back, and you knew deep down that this was the beginning of something. Whether that something would be beautiful or detrimental, you weren't sure yet, but you couldn't wait to find out.

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thewulf · 10 months

Text

Angel || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - hi! would love to send a req! i was thinking abt what to req and thought abt the song angel by shaggy! (pls listen to it first) so basically hangman has always had a crush on reader (cs: angel) and basically everytime she walks into the hard deck he goes to the jukebox to play “angel” for her, and u can go from there! no pressure to do this tho :)

A/N: My fav man. As always, hope you enjoy :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 3.6k +

One – The Hard Deck

“There she is!” Your favorite voice yelled from the corner of the bar. Immediately, a cheesy little grin came over you as your eyes found him. The stupid, stupid man who’d captured your heart so flawlessly. The stupid man who wasn’t stupid at all.

You admired him for half a second before walking right towards him, eyes right on him. The sun hit his side so beautifully it had your mouth watering right then and there. You wished he hadn’t a clue how bad you had it for him. But he only seemed to see you as a friend.

You hugged his side all too awkwardly once you made it to the high top the group was sitting at, “Hey guys.” You waved to the group of pilots you’d grown to love over the last few weeks.

“I was getting worried.” Jake turned to you brushing a hand over your arm, “It’s late. Was afraid I couldn’t do this.” He winked at you before quite literally waltzing over to the jukebox. In under five seconds Jake had picked the song and made his way right back to you.

Leaning down he whispered the start of the song in your ear. A hasty dark blush blossomed over your cheeks as you listened to his deep voice vibrating against your ear. You shoved him away playfully when you saw the looks your fellow pilots were giving the two of you. Looks that told you the obvious. Nat shook her head. Bradley made a disgusted face. Fanboy made a kissy face and you turned away with embarrassment coating your features.

Jake tugged your hand, “Come on Angel, lets get you a drink.” You let him pull you along to the bar hand in hand. You looked up to him with a big smile as you walked over to the bartender you’d become friends with.

He looked down at you suppressing the smile he wanted to give you, trying to play it somewhat cool around you, “What?”

You shook your head, “Nothing. Just admiring the view.” You remarked catching him by surprise. It was an endless game between the two of you. Incessant flirting that led to absolutely nothing. It drove the pilots mad. It drove your friends mad, and it certainly drove you absolutely fucking crazy. You were actually flirting with the guy but you’d all but given up hoping that something would happen between the two of you. It was like you were tapdancing on the line between friends and something more, but you never seemed to cross it no matter how much you let him know you wanted to. You’d just have to accept being friends with the guy. It was worth it though, to have him in your life.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked you once you made it up to the bar.

You nodded looking ahead, almost afraid of what would come out of his mouth. With your heart beginning to hammer in your chest you answered him, “Would you still tell me if I said no?”

A light laugh came from him before he shook his head at you, “Probably. Only because I know you’d say yes.”

You grinned, “A game of hypotheticals. My favorite game. Shoot, you can tell me something. Anything. Whenever you want.” It slipped out before you could stop it. He had you wrapped around his pinky finger, and he didn’t even know it.

He smirked knowing he had the upper hand now, “Really? Whatever I want?”

If you could’ve rolled your eyes harder you would’ve, “Spit it out Jake.”

He leaned on the bar turning towards you. He looked so damn good. Too damn good. It almost made you claustrophobic as he looked you over. Your own eyes scanned his face for a hint at what he was thinking.

“You look real pretty in that dress darlin’. Is that why you were so late?” He asked, prying just a little bit.

Your mind went blank once you heard his words. Was he just messing with you? You shook your head, “If you must know. I wasn’t going to come tonight. I was supposed to go on a date.” You don’t really know why you’d admitted it to him. Maybe to see his reaction? Maybe to make him feel something? You did the know the reason, just now wanting to admit it to yourself.

You’d certainly piqued his curiosity now. He leaned forward a little, you watched as his lips parted slightly. With a disbelieving voice he continued, “A date?”

“Mhmm.” You took the beer from the bartenders hand nodding at him and mumbling your thanks before turning back to Jake, “But he bailed, what’s new?” You sighed not really wanting to talk about it, but Jake was going to ask, he always did.

“Should’ve told me. I would’ve talked you out of it sooner.” He said all too confidently, “Although, I do get the benefit of him bailing. Seeing you in that pretty dress.” His eyes trailed your body all too obviously.

You shook your head smiling widely, “You’re probably right Jake.”

“Aren’t I always?” He shot you a wink knowing it’d get a rise out of you. His favorite activity.

You let out a patient breath from your nose, “You’re insufferable, you know that?” You shot him back a wink.

“And yet, you stick around Angel.” He pinched your hip before sitting back down at the high top across from you. Your cheeks burned from the smile you were holding.

“I always will. If you’ll have me, that is.” You added feeling a little nervous. You’d meant it far more deeply than you knew he’d take. Little did you know, he took it the exact same way. His heart soared. He loved you dearly. Afraid to do anything, say anything that’d put that love in jeopardy. He was as clueless to your love as you were to his.

He took a long sip of his cold beer. You watched as a bead of condensation rolled down his hands. Damn, you really did have it bad for this man. He grinned seeing your dazed gaze watching him. How he didn’t put two and two together was so typical. You were beyond obvious with your affection for the blonde pilot.

“For forever, darlin’.” He watched as the blush rose to your cheeks. A dangerous game he played with you night in and night out.

Two – The Bowling Alley

“Your late.” You poked Jake’s side. He was lacing up his bowling shoes when you spotted him. You just had to give it back to him after he gave you so much shit for

He stuck his tongue out at you earning a small giggle, “I was on a date.” He quipped. What was he onto? Looking for your reaction?

“No, you weren’t.” You snorted lightly, crossing your hands over your chest not believing a word he said.

He shook his head, “And how do you know that?” He stood taking your hand in his. You’d certainly never tire of the small signs of affection he gave you every so often. You believing it was nothing more than a friendly gesture. He knew it meant so much more.

“You’d tell me.”

He shrugged, “You didn’t tell me when you were going on one.” He walked you over to the lane you and your teammates shared every Wednesday. Wednesday night bowling league at the lanes across from the base. A two-hour long break from the real world you were talked into by Jake a few months ago.

“But that’s me Jake. You know that. You’re a big mouth. It’s why I like you so much.” You teased him poking him in the side a few more times feeling awfully touchy feely with him tonight. Not that he minded a bit.

His mouth parted in a wide smile, “Oh is it Angel?” Jake absolutely adored that your callsign was something he already wanted to call you. A literal angel on this planet. Beautiful, kind, a heart of gold and a badass in the air? He was sold the moment he saw you shoot down Bradshaw in training. That witty mouth of yours made it a close second.

“One of the few. Very few reasons I like you.” You had to humble him, always. If you only flattered him he’d become the insufferable twat he always played with Hangman. A guy so different than the one you came to love.

He scrunched his nose, “Cold darlin’. Ice cold. That’s why I love you.”

“Oh, you love me huh?” You teased.

He nodded so nonchalantly it made your heart gallop in your chest, “Sure do.” As a friend, you wanted to add.

Before you could reply you heard a yell from Nat, “Angel you’re up!” And that was Jake’s cue. As soon as you stood to go bowl your round he went to the Jukebox machine. He found the song with ease sliding in a dollar of quarters. He never forgot. He saw the laugh out of the corner of his eye when Shaggy’s song came on. It quickly becoming a running gig between the two of you.

You bowled a spare clapping with glee as you turned to your team. Nobody was paying attention except for Jake. He clapped right along with you. A gleeful laugh right along with it. God, how this man knew how to drive you right crazy.

He walked up to you taking your hands in his, “What are you doing?” You asked, a creeping blushing coursing your neck up to your cheeks.

“What’s it look like Angel? I’m dancing with you.” He took your hands guiding you in a small motion. Seeing Rooster and Phoenix snicker out of the corner of your eye raised your anxiety about the whole thing.

He shook his head, the motion drew your eyes back to him, “Look at me darlin’.” He tucked a finger under your chin keeping your eyes on him, “That’s a girl.” How’d he know you were feeling weird?

Your heart about dropped out of your body at that praise. What the hell was he doing to you? Did he have a clue how he affected you? Your knees nearly buckled in on themselves at that comment. Thank God he was holding you close.

At a loss for words your mouth simple parted before it closed. You let him lead you in whatever the hell was going on. The group of pilots going back to ignoring the two of you and your usual, odd antics. For whatever reason you were perfectly content being weird and odd and whatever Jake wanted you to do. It was fun with him. It didn’t matter with him.

“You’re my angel, you’re my darling angel.” Jake mumbled lazily bring you back to reality. It happened often with you, getting lost in your own little bubble. He thought it to be incredibly endearing. A trait he’d adored about you.

Your head slowly moved to look up to him, “I’ve always liked this song.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, “Me too.”

Three – The Piano Bar

The five of you sat down at a table close to one of the dueling pianos. It was one of Bradley’s favorite bars, so he’d begged you to come out with him. You’d happily agreed which got an unhappy Jake to agree to go. He’d agree to do any plans if you were going to be there. The two of you growing rather close over the last few weeks.

“I’m requesting a song. Anybody need anything while I’m up?” Jake asked looking right at you. Acknowledging the group but staring at you. His eyes rarely left you.

You shook your head, “I’m good Jake. Thanks.” You waved him off turning back to the group waiting on him to come back.

“When are you going to tell him?” Nat asked leaning back in her seat.

You cocked your head to look at her, “What are you talking about Nat?”

She rolled her eyes, very aggressively, “That you like him. Love him even.” She wiggled her eyebrows knowing you were skittish when it came to admitting feelings.

“Shut up Nat.”

“See, told you boys. She wouldn’t deny it.” She leaned back even further. Her cocky grin only growing further.

“Shut up! I’ve made it rather obvious. Don’t you think?” You asked the group.

“I’ll say.” Bradley agreed quickly. While Fanboy just nodded his head agreeing without any words.

Just then your song came on. Angel by Shaggy. You smiled with the utmost happiness hearing the chords come over the Piano. Jake walked back over sliding in the seat next to you. He leaned over whispering in your ear, “I had to.” He winked before pulling completely away.

Midway through the song Jake stood holding his hand out to you, “Dance with me?” He asked looking at you longingly.

Placing your hand in his he pulled you up quickly. Leaning down he brushed your ear with his lips, “You look real pretty again tonight. A real-life angel.”

You shook your head, “That’s quite the compliment Jake.”

“The truth Angel.” He winked pulling you close to him

Letting out a nervous breath you answered him, “Thank you.” You whispered leaning your head on his chest hesitantly. He smiled down at you placing a hand on the side of your head pressing your head in further to his chest gently. Letting you know it was okay, he welcomed the contact. He wanted the contact from you. Needed it.

You got the message and leaned yourself on his. He wrapped his hands around you gently. You’d ignored the comments and snickers from your friends close by. Nat letting out a cheer when she saw the intimacy between the two of you.

“You’re a queen and that’s how you should be treated.” Jake whispered kissing your cheek softly. The two of you had shared many friendly kisses on the cheek but this felt different. It felt like it was loaded with a thousand questions. A million what-ifs.

You closed your eyes embracing the moment with him. Enjoying the little snippets of the song he sang to you. When it ended you opened your eyes to see his intently studying you.

“You’re beautiful Y/N. So beautiful.” He admitted before he could turn back. It was a step. A small step in the right direction to test the waters. The blush that coated your cheeks were sign enough for him. You felt it too. The pull and the attraction. A rare feeling you needed to lean into.

“Thank you Jake. You’re not so bad yourself. Clean up nice. Handsome guy.” You kissed his cheek right on back before letting go of him and stepping away. You’d joined the table again once the song was over. Nat gave you a knowing look. You simply shook your head and looked away. You’d tell her later.

Four – Allie’s Wedding

“Jake Seresin. Will you have this dance with me?” You asked holding your hand out to him. ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love,’ played in the background. A song you asked Allie, your best friend, to include on the wedding playlist.

Nodding quickly, he took your hand in his. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, not for a single second. He loved that he was sitting in the crowd, and you were standing by her side. The bride was beautiful, but you were so much more in his eyes. He watched as your eyes lit up seeing your best friend glide down the aisle. He dabbed his own eyes seeing you cry when she got married. He was a damn sucker for you and only you.

He placed one hand around your hip and another around your back pulling you close. You placed hands over his shoulders. Looking up you grinned to him, “Thanks for coming with me tonight.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else darlin’.” He squeezed your hip with his hand that was placed there. Goosebumps right up your arm gave you away.

You looked his face over wanting nothing more than him, “It means a lot the me Jake. Thank you.”

Lightly, he place his forehead on yours. Shivers ran down your body as you felt his hot breath on your face. He pulled your waist closer to his as the two of you swayed to the music, “’Course,” He said as if it was the most obvious thing, because to him it was, “Can I tell you something?” He asked feeling awfully nervous about what he was going to admit to you in a few seconds.

You smiled brightly, “Always, Jake.”

Now or never. Jake had promised himself he’d do this today. You’d all but confirmed your feelings out loud to him, “I love you. So much Y/N. Love, like love you. I love you as a friend yes. But what I’m trying to say is that I’m in love with you.” He laughed feeling a weight released from his chest. He hardly ever called you by your actual name, he must’ve been pretty serious you concluded. That must’ve meant he actually loved you.

You felt your blood run cold. Something you’d wished to hear for so long coming out of his mouth, “You do?” It didn’t feel real, not for a second.

His forehead was still on your as he nodded into you, “Yes. So much. For so long. I’m sorry if you don’t…”

“Shut up Jake.” You placed a gentle finger on his lips getting him to stop talking immediately.

“What?” He looked exasperated, confused as hell. He didn’t know which way you were going to take it.

Rolling your eyes, you felt a surge of confidence. Grabbing the back of his head with both of your hands you answered him, “I love you too. So much.” He let out a soft hiss at the touch of your hands before a smirk adorned that beautiful face of his.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He waited for a response of any sort before he did anything.

A nod from you was all he needed before he took your breath away. A gentle kiss turned more desperate quickly. Years of longing. Years of barely missing each other. Years of chasing and pining finally led to this moment. He was yours. You were his. It was that simply. Finally, that simple.

You broke apart needy for oxygen. Jake kissed down your neck not giving a damn if he needed to breathe or not. He finally had you. He needed to show you much he needed you. Craved and desired you. He made it all the way to your collar bone before your gasped.

You pulled his head off your neck feeling all too overwhelmed, “You can’t do that here.” A breath escaped your mouth as you tried to regain control of your heart.

A sly smile crossed his lips as he realized he had you in his grasp. He leaned over whispering right into your ear, “Why not pretty thing?” Jake had to admit he loved the way you shivered beneath him knowing he was the cause.

“Because.” You were nearly whimpering in his grasp. His thumbs pressed in at your hips pulling you as close as he could get away with publicly.

Jake shook his head leaning to your other side, “Because why?” He whispered so damn close again. Fucking hell, he was out to kill you.

“Jake.” You were puddy in his hands completely forgetting the wedding reception going on around you.

“Words darlin’.” He kissed your forehead, “Can’t read that gorgeous mind of yours.” He pulled back waiting on your response. Searching your face for anything.

You leaned up to him on your tippy toes knowing your words were less than savory for the guests around you, “Because Jake. It made me want to rip that very nice form-fitting jacket right off of you.” Nibbling at his ear lobe you heard a grumble rip from his chest.

“And you can’t do that and say that here.” He pulled you back grabbing at your sides cursing under his breath. You caught the goosebumps that rippled across his neck. This time you got to grin right at him. A gotcha right back at him per say, “Jesus. Where did that come from?” His wide eyes looked around seeing if anybody had noticed the heated interaction.

You shrugged, “Always been here Jake.” Your confidence only grew as you watched him literally melt into your words. Surely, some nasty things were crossing his minds. Because they certainly were yours.

“Angel.” He groaned placing his hands on either side on your face, “We’re not going to the after party, right?” He kissed you for the second time. Not as desperate but just as hungry. You were it. His endgame. Everything he needed.

You laughed, “We have to go to the after-party Jake.” You had to give him credit for trying. And he’d certainly be

He sighed, “Of course.” He didn’t want to dampen your mood, so he smiled nodding right along.

“But you’re coming back to my place after that.” You winked pulling his tie, so he’d lean down and kiss you once more. You were certain you would never tire of his lips on yours.

“If you insist.” He played right along.

“Oh, I insist.” You ran your hands up his back as you hugged him.

He savored everything about the moment. This was it. His happiness, “Your wish is my command Angel.” He pulled your head up before leaning down and kissing your forehead, “Now let’s get on out there and dance. Allie’s been staring for a little too long.”

You grinned taking his hand, “It’s a deal cowboy.”

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mayhemmanaged

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thelittleangel · 2 months

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Cowboys are frequently (secretly) fond of each other.

Tags: Dean Winchester x Cowboy! Reader, fluff, flirting, male reader, soft romance.

Warnings: possibly OOC, no use of Y/N, implied violence toward an animal, references to “taking someone home” (I’ll let you interpret that how you want.), romantic-ish interactions between dean and reader toward the end.

Taglist: @agroovygoose @pumpkinhead666

Walking into the bar, I see heads raise. I try not to pay them any mind. I know what kind of impression I give off. I’m tall, shaggy hair that barely kisses my shoulders, dressed like I just wandered off the set of a Clint Eastwood movie.

I know what kind of expectations I'm supposed to fulfill. People look at me and they see a cowboy. A man’s man. A straight man.

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of that entire train of thought. My dad taught me that if this was the way I was going to live my life, I needed to stop worrying about what others thought of me. I walk over to the bar and order a beer. The bartender hands me a frosty bottle. I put my ring under the cap, tilt the bottle and push. The cap pops off and I take a swig. I put my beer on the bar, wrapping my hands around it like it’s a mug of hot coffee. I look around the bar, watching the people.

It’s a habit I picked up. Me and my dad would go to a bar, and he’d order me a Coke and point out all the small details that a quick glance couldn’t catch.

The woman at the bar had just been divorced, the tan line on her ring finger. The couple in the booth are cheating on each other, seen by the way they sit. The man at his table is waiting for his friend, he’s fallen madly in love with him.

I smile for a moment. It’s been a few years, but I'm out. My dad didn’t like that I wanted to leave, but he’d understood. I got an honest job working at a ranch. The hours were long, and the work was hard, but I felt like it was a job I could be proud of.

The doorbell rang and a gust of summer air blew into the bar. I look over at the door. In walks the most stunning man I've ever seen.

He was dressed in a suit, with brown hair that almost looked like gold in this light. Eyes that may have been green, but I couldn't tell from this far away. Freckles and stubble decorated his face in a way that complemented each other.

I clear my throat and look away. A man in a bar like this dressed like that was here for a girl. But, no. His posture suggested he was here on business.

I turn back to my beer. I didn't need to find a man to glance at for the rest of the night. I look down at my drink, trying to clear my head. I sit like that for a moment, savoring my beer. Someone settles into the seat beside me. I look over, and he’s smiling back at me.

My face burns hot, and I hope that the lights are dim enough that he can’t see me. I turn back to my beer. I hear him order a drink, his voice strong and deep. He turns back to me, beer in hand.

“You’re ____, right?” Dear god, how does he know my name?

“Special Agent Hammett, FBI.” oh. That explains it.

“Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?”

“We’re investigating the cattle deaths that are happening at your ranch and we wanted to know if you’ve seen anything strange.”

“Strange?”

“Cold spots, weird smells, crop failures…”

“No, just the cows.”

“And what would you say happened?”

“I just… went into work one day and there was a bull ripped to shreds.”

He nods. “Could I see it?”

The next day, I was showing Agent Hammet onto the ranch. The way the sun hit his eyes was one of the most beautiful things I've seen. Like seeing the way the light hits the trees for the first time. I look away. I need to focus on why we’re here.

I led him toward the barn. Inside a cooler, the bull’s body was resting. The agent pulled on some gloves and started looking through the body. I look away from the corpse and try to suppress the urge to vomit.

Eventually, he pulls out a small tooth. Small and pointed, it was very scary looking. “It looks like a fang…” He turns to me. “Is there anything that lives around here that might leave something like this?”

I shake my head. “No, not that I know of.” He puts the tooth into a tiny bag and pockets it.

He looks up at me, and he must see the sick look on my face, because he stands up and says, “Let me buy you a drink.” We both climbed into his car, a nice-looking thing.

“I can’t believe the FBI lets you drive this car around.” He just smiles, still looking at the road. “They do.”

I shake my head, a goofy grin stretched onto my face. “I don’t know, seems a little conspicuous.”

“You’d be surprised.” I looked over at him. His smile is gone, looking at the road lost in the thought. When I look at him, I just want to reach over and-

I look out at the road. I can’t entertain that thought. I refuse to. I glance over and I find him looking at me. He turns his eyes back to the road.

Eventually, we found our way back to the bar. Walking inside, it was deserted. We chose the same seats we picked last time. Ordered the same drinks. We settled in, sitting in silence for the longest time. It's not uncomfortable, just quiet.

He watches me. I can feel his eyes in all of their silent intensity. I want to look back at him, but I know if I do, he’ll break his gaze. “So, what do you make of this, cowboy?” I laugh to myself. “What?”

I finally look back at him. “The last person who called me cowboy, I ended up taking home with me.”

He gives me a soft smile. “Who says I wouldn't want to go home with you?”

I look away, my eyes wide. My face is a bright burning red. He throws his head back and laughs. I put my face in my hands, trying to make my face normal again. He places a hand on my back, and I startle. I groan to myself. Jesus Christ, this man is making me act like a teenage girl.

I look over at him and he’s still watching me. We fall into another silence, this one not uncomfortable like the last. Peaceful, like the answer to everything was in each other’s eyes. He reaches over and tucks a few stray hairs behind my ears. My breathing began to slow, my heartbeat decreasing.

I slowly place my hand on his face. A few of my fingers gently touched his jaw. I watch his eyes dart around my face, maybe doing the same thing I did last night. Searching for micro expressions, any type of indicator that this was too good to be true. I realized something.

I pull my hand away from his face. “Are you...?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Am I what?”

“Are you a hunter?”

His eyes widened for a moment. His chest begins to go up and down a little bit more. He was breathing heavily. I’d caught him.

“How do you know what hunters are?”

I look up and watch as my father enters the bar.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

#Dean Winchester x male reader #Dean Winchester x reader #supernatural #male reader #cowboy reader #dean winchester

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whositmcwhatsit · 1 month

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Glimmers of Dawn

AN: This is a belated birthday present for one of my favourite people @ellie-24. I have been promising her a BDE fic for months and this is the beginning of one at least? As our guy once said: "I hope you like it. It doesn't make much difference."

“This is crazy! Are you sure we’re allowed?”

Steve rolled his eyes at her like he did this every day, like it was nothing. But if it was nothing, he would not have suggested it.

_______________________________________________________

Aurora had been sliding on her denim jacket at the bar, ready to go home to Johnny Carson and the dried out meatloaf that her mother had been cooking when she had ducked home after work to change. She had already given in to Joanne’s plea to stay for another round and that had left her with nothing but a numb butt from sitting perched on the bar stool while she watched her friend flirt with the tall, shaggy-haired guy at the pool table. Now the guy was draped over Jo’s back as she giggled and lined up a shot, pretending to miscue so that he could ‘correct’ her.

Aurora gave Jo a little wave to get her attention over the heavy rock playing over the tinny speakers and then thumbed towards the door, making the phone and time gestures to let her know she would call her later.

“You’re not leaving so soon?” asked one of the other guys playing pool. He was tall too, and broad shouldered but athletic looking with it and had a mustache to go with this long brown hair.

“Yeah, it’s getting late and I got things to do in the morning,” Aurora said apologetically. “It was nice meeting you though… Steve, wasn’t it?”

“I can’t talk you into one last, teeny tiny drink?” She paused, considering. The thought of the meatloaf wasn’t exactly appetizing and it wouldn’t be the first time she showed up on a Sunday morning to take her grandmother to church on a whisper of sleep. She relented, but then the bartender reminded Steve that he had called last orders ten minutes ago and no amount of wheedling or good natured threats could change his mind.

“Forget it, man!” called the guy who was currently taking a break from inspecting Jo’s tonsils. “Let’s just go up to the house.”

“Naw, you sure? The Boss-”

“Won’t even know anything about it. He ain’t come down in three days, man, in more ways ‘n’ one.”

Aurora frowned questioningly at Joanne, who shrugged back as the two men worked it out, and suddenly they were leaving the bar.

“So, where exactly are we going?” Aurora asked, as she and Steve followed Jo and Dave, his name turned out to be, into the parking lot. She could feel Steve nervously eyeing her as they watched Dave sling his arm casually around Jo’s shoulders and stick his tongue in her ear. She had already prepared a sharp elbow in the ribs in case Steve got the same idea.

“Uh, the place where I work has a pool room and a bar.”

“You work in a bar?” She was trying to figure out why he was being so cagey. Wondering if maybe he was embarrassed, but that didn’t make sense if he was going to take her there.

“No, it ain’t… It ain’t a bar.”

Even as she was climbing past the folded seat into the back of Dave’s Datsun, Aurora was having second thoughts. The cool night air had cleared her buzzing head and chased off the last of the energy powering her limbs after a full day of work. She started preparing her speech for when they got to where they were going, so she could call a cab and head home, with or without Joanne.

‘Look, it’s nothing personal’, she would say. ‘I just had a really long day.’

And then the Datsun turned right on the highway at the gates of Graceland.

“What are you-?!” Aurora gripped the headrest of the driver’s seat in front. “Are you kidding? God, I don't have time for this.”

Fooling around and trying to break into Elvis Presley’s house was for kids and tourists. If these guys thought it was going to impress her, she would be glad to correct them.

The gates opened.

“Are you sure we’re allowed?” she asked again, staring at the lights ahead and trying not to catch the eyes of the smattering of people standing outside the gates even at this hour.

Someone was sure to realise that they were not supposed to be there and they would be stopped. She wondered if the security guards really did have guns like the stories said. All sorts of crazies probably wanted to try and hurt a huge star like Elvis; there could be FBI snipers in the trees.

“It’s okay,” Steve said finally, though his tight jaw didn’t exactly make him seem convincing.

The way that Dave shushed Joanne when she was laughing and squealing with excitement about seeing inside Elvis’ house also didn’t fill Aurora with a huge amount of confidence.

It seemed deathly quiet and still as they went in the back. Aurora thought there should have been music, maybe ‘Hound Dog’ playing on a jukebox like they were stepping into one of his movies. Her aunt Phyllis would be green with envy that she was there.

The guys crowded them in so it was hard to see exactly where ‘there’ was. Muted lighting, stairs, a lot of wood, and then a… a tent?

“So, where's Elvis?!” Joanne asked, as they took in the busy pleated material sweeping out from the ceiling and draping down the walls surrounding the pool table.

It made Aurora feel like she was trapped in her bed covers. She took in a strangled breath to reassure herself that she still could. Meanwhile, Joanne bent at the waist to check under the pool table- God, how much had she had to drink?!- as if Elvis could be lying in wait under there.

“You think he'd sing ‘Don't be Cruel’ for me? That was my favorite when I was little.”

“He's probably sick of singing it,” Aurora told her, grabbing Jo's arm and shoving her sideways onto a sofa before she broke something and the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll had them in court for millions of dollars.

Their secret out in the open, the guys seemed eager to tell them about their jobs and all the dangers and intrigue it entailed. It wasn’t all fetching and carrying, they assured the girls, there were some real bad guys out there who wanted to get a shot at Elvis and they were the reason that these bad motherfuckers had never got their shot.

“You know a head honcho of the FBI said Elvis has better protection than the President,” Dave remarked, just before he potted the cue ball and swore under his breath.

“Yeah? You ever meet the President?” Joanne asked, rolling her eyes at Aurora behind her hands.

“No… No, the Boss did, though, more than one.”

“Must’ve been when you weren’t on duty,” Joanne murmured. “Seriously, where is he, your boss? Isn’t he home? He’s gotta be home if you’re here, right?”

“He likes to relax upstairs after he gets back from a tour,” Dave mumbled, racking up the pool table. “Things can get pretty intense.”

“I bet,” Joanne giggled. “All those mamas and grannies throwing their girdles at him.”

“Jo!” Aurora elbowed her and flashed an apologetic smile at the two guys.. “Sorry, a little beer on an empty stomach goes straight to her head. Can we maybe get some water?”

The guys exchanged looks again, and Steve sighed and shrugged, glancing up at a camera with a little red light on it that Aurora hadn’t noticed before.

“Sure, no problem. Follow me.” Aurora nodded and smiled, glancing back over her shoulder to watch Dave drop down into her space beside Joanne on the sofa.

“I’m sorry about Jo. She just gets over excited, she doesn’t mean nothing by it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve replied as they climbed the stairs. “You hungry? They can make pretty much anything you want in the kitchen.”

Aurora followed him into a sleek, modern kitchen, all patterns and walnut. It was like walking around a maze. She had no idea where she had come from, nor where she was going, but she was vibrating with amazement that she had finally made it inside the house on the hill.

The next time she drove past on the way to the mall she would be able to imagine what was going on inside. She could think of about fifteen customers at the salon whose toes would curl with jealousy when she told them.

There were two ladies in the kitchen, their pale matching uniforms, the only plain, unpatterned material Aurora had seen in the house so far, were stark against their skin. Aurora could feel her cheeks burning, waiting for them to point out that she shouldn’t be there and call security, but they barely paid her any mind.

Imagine having people whose job it was to just sit in your kitchen waiting for you to want a snack at one am! Aurora did catch one of the ladies glancing at her, her face unreadable, but her thoughts not impossible to imagine. She knew she was out of place, there but for the grace of Steve in her cut off jean shorts and her thrift store spaghetti strap blouse, staring starry-eyed at the glimmering glass or maybe crystal in the glass-fronted cupboards as sizzling sounds started coming from the stove. She could feel herself getting smaller, tucking in her edges and minding her manners, making less of herself so that she would be less of a blight.

“Well, what do we have here?”

The voice was soft and unmistakable, whether it was on the radio, in movie theaters, or in a strange kitchen in the middle of the night.

Everyone immediately whipped around to look, but Aurora’s brain instead made her freeze on the kitchen stool. It told her that she couldn’t turn and face Elvis Presley with her mouth full. For some reason that seemed the ultimate violation.

So, she chewed and chewed the suddenly vulcanized bread as the seconds stretched into decades. Finally, when it had become too weird, she tried to force the ball of dough down her throat and ended up almost choking, swilling it down with a frantic gulp of water.

“Steve, son, if you’re gonna sneak pretty girls into my house at least don’t try and kill ‘em in my kitchen. It’s, uh, bad for business.”

A warm weight rested on her shoulder and squeezed as she looked up through watery eyes at Elvis Presley, up close in person. Her brain couldn’t take it all in at once, just fragments like the black hair, the sideburns, the gold aviator sunglasses, the smile… Even with her airway clear, Aurora was not exactly breathing.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” She watched the familiar pillowy lips move as the words filled her ears, not completely in sync. His hand on her shoulder, his cologne in her nose, it was a fully immersive experience and she had already been finding it hard enough to comprehend standing in his kitchen.

“Yeah, it went down the wrong way,” she heard someone say, and it kind of sounded like her.

“Well, honey, looking at that ugly mug over there was always gonna give you indigestion. Nothing personal, Steve, you just got that look-” He laughed a little to himself. “Liable to give this young lady heartburn or something, you know.”

Steve stood awkwardly on his other side like he was trying to gauge the mood, trying to figure out whether it was time for an explanation or an apology, and Aurora was trying to feel bad for him, but all she could feel was Elvis’ hand still on her shoulder, and the sleeve of his jacket brushing against her skin. There was pressure there, like he was leaning on her a little, and she tried to stay still when her pounding heart was telling her to try and run.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” He pulled off his sunglasses and stumbled back a little, pretending that the low lighting of the kitchen was blinding, rubbing his slightly puffy eyes, before they narrowed as they fixed on her. Then it was Aurora who felt like squinting, trying to take it all in.

“I’m Aurora,” she said. Then, for some reason she thought it might make things better somehow if she added, “You have a lovely home.” As if she was an invited guest coming over for iced tea on the porch. She was such an idiot.

“Well, thank you, Aurora. Aurora, is that right?”

Her name was a little unwieldy in his mouth, like he couldn’t quite get his tongue around it. Her face burst into flames as soon as she thought about his tongue.

Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, seeing as he was turning to berate Steve a little more, pointing out that at least she had some manners, unlike some people.

Elvis had gray in his sideburns, Aurora noticed, as her muscles stiffened in the tense atmosphere and she was unable to look away. It made sense, he had been about her age when he first got famous, and that had been… a while. But it was still weird to think about Elvis going gray. She couldn’t picture him as an old man. In fact, the idea made her a little sad. But then the alternative would be worse.

“Child,” he intoned suddenly, interrupting whatever he had been saying to put Steve in his place, and turning back to her with a twinkle in his eye, “you have gotta lower the beams on those pretty eyes of yours, they are practically melting my face off!”

And that, more than the gray roots and the stumbling over her name, helped Aurora’s perspective click back into focus. The fancy furniture and the maids and the cooks and the Elvis-ness of him had turned her head for a while, made her feel off kilter, but she knew this dance very well..

“Well, it’s not like I can help it when you’re standing so close to me!” she retorted playfully. “You’re not made of glass you know!”

The crooked smile crept across his face like the tide coming in and she felt herself slipping beneath the waves, drowning.

“You got some nerve, honey, I’ll give you that,” he said, shaking his head. “How ‘bout you finish eating my food and I’ll give you a real tour of this old place?”

“Look, if it means so much to you, you can have the rest of the sandwich,” she said, her careful, watchful eyes belying her teasing, irreverent tone. She knew she was in dangerous territory, her mama would have hissed a warning and cuffed her across the back of the head for being so rude, but the light that glittered in his heavy lidded eyes when she gave him some sass was too enticing to ignore. She didn’t think that too many people dared to tease Elvis Presley and that made her feel a little bad for him.

In response, he gently ‘snatched’ the glass of water she was clutching and turned it until his luscious lips were in the same place hers had been, taking a sip. She somehow froze while also melting at the same time at the glittering challenge in his gaze and the faint twitch of his eyebrow. In that moment, she realized that she had vastly miscalculated how evenly matched they were in this battle.

Luckily, she was rescued by Joanne, who had found her way upstairs and came reeling slightly into the kitchen, clutching Aurora’s jacket, and mumbling that she wanted to go home. She got as far as knocking into Aurora’s back before- and Aurora was never going to let her forget it- she shrieked:

“Oh Elvis! Oh shit!”

Without context, it would have been impossible to tell whether she had caught sight of Elvis or a mouse running across the floor. What made it funnier was the complete non-reaction of Elvis himself, and the way that he locked eyes with Aurora for a long second, as if to say, ‘See what I have to deal with?’

Then he was introducing himself to Joanne, shaking her limp hand and saying he was pleased to meet her like it was all prearranged and they hadn’t effectively broken into his house in the middle of the night.

Oh Elvis, oh shit, Aurora’s brain said helpfully, Elvis Presley is a nice guy.

Sitting in his kitchen, trying to hold a loud, flailing Joanne with one arm and not failing to notice how uncomfortable Dave and Steve looked, Aurora began to feel grimy. It was one thing to take a peek at how the other half live, to get a glimpse of a rarefied existence, but it was another thing to barge in, do questionable things on the couch and make yourself a sandwich. The goldilocks giddiness had soured into shame.

“So, um,” she began as she stepped backwards over her stool like the world’s clumsiest cowgirl, “we’re really sorry for trespassing…” She still couldn’t bring herself to say his name out loud. “And we should probably get going.”

“Well now, wait a damn minute, honey, I promised you a tour, and by God, that’s what you’re gonna get!” This time, she didn’t giggle on cue.

Aurora wasn’t clever, but she was smart. She might not have read fancy long books, but she knew people and she knew men, best of all. Her mama made sure of that, because she didn’t want her to end up the same way, fooled by some good looking lying man who looked good in a fancy borrowed suit.

It occurred to her, as she watched Dave and Steve share yet another long look, that this could all be some elaborate trick. It wasn’t like she and Joanne had asked the guys to bring them to Graceland, hadn’t twisted their arms, hadn’t even known they worked there before they brought it up. And the two guys had barely debated it before they were all suddenly getting into the cars.

What if it was a set-up? What if Dave and Steve did this regularly, went out trolling for girls to bring back for their boss? What if she had walked into some weird situation straight out of the Hollywood gossip magazines?

“I have to get home,” she said, fumbling for excuses, “I gotta get up early to take my grandma to church and I have a couple of clients after that.”

“Clients?” She didn’t understand his strange tone, but she simmered under his appraising eye, and instinctively held her jacket in front of her like it could transform into a pair of baggy pants.

“She’s a hairdresser, she cuts hair,” Steve said sulkily, defensively.

It felt like there were twelve different conversations going on in fifty different languages and it was too late and Aurora was too tired to deal with it all. It had been a fun adventure, but now it was time to go home.

“Well, you know, I've been needing a haircut myself,” Elvis remarked with a strange, sly grin on his face, looking at Steve, who was irritably shuffling his feet against the carpet. “What do you say, honey?”

“Your hair looks fine,” she replied, before turning to Steve and raising her eyebrows in a silent plea.

“No, really, if it gets any longer I’ll start looking like one of those weirdo freaks this one listens to,” Elvis joked, nodding towards Dave with his Led Zeppelin t-shirt stretched tight across his chest. “Nice guys, but complete weirdos, man.”

Aurora was pretty sure that nobody was about to get Elvis Presley and the guys from Led Zeppelin mixed up, but saying so would have taken her over that line from light teasing to downright unkindness that she would never cross.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t got my kit with me and I’m so tired, I don’t think I should be trusted with scissors.”

“I’ll go start the car,” Steve said, turning towards the kitchen door.

“No! Now, hold up, man, nobody’s going nowhere ‘til I say so. S’cuse me for a minute, ladies, I think I need to have a word here with these so-called employees of mine.” Elvis’ tone was aggravated, like he was working hard to keep it even, behaving for company.

Joanne and Aurora looked at one another, shrugged, and stepped past the door that led down to the basement and found themselves in the red carpeted foyer, looking towards the front door. They listened carefully, but could only hear murmuring from back in the kitchen.

Joanne squeezed her arm and pulled a triumphant face, hissing, “Fucking Elvis, man!”

“Shh, they might hear you.” Aurora occupied herself with staring up at the chandelier, watching the way the light was reflected back on the glass walls. She couldn’t imagine living in a house that had a chandelier. She wondered if Elvis ever marveled on it since he had grown up just as poor as her, maybe even more so.

“You think he thought we were call girls?” Joanne asked, moving to lean against the staircase and resting her head on the banisters. She yawned wide enough to show the fillings

in her back teeth. “When you said ‘clients’ they all got this weird look. Maybe he wants you to cut his hair to test your story.”

“I ain’t cutting anyone’s hair, I’m dead on my feet,” Aurora grumbled.

“Not even if he offers you a thousand dollars?”

“Well, maybe for a thousand dollars.” She sleepily contemplated what she would spend a thousand dollars on. She wondered how much a chandelier cost.

“Hell, for a thousand dollars I’d pretend to be the call girl!” They both snorted and giggled, before sighing into the still peace of the foyer.

“He looks a little different from the movies though,” Joanne observed. “He’s got… heavier.”

“Yeah,” Aurora conceded with a shrug. “Still Elvis though.” She giggled. “‘Oh Elvis! Oh Shit!’”

“Shut up!” Joanne groaned, donking her head against one of the banisters. “I bet you didn’t come out with anything deep or profound when you saw him.”

Aurora’s throat was still a little sore from where she had forced a fistful of bread through it while choking, but she kept that to herself.

Finally, Dave shuffled out to let them know they could return from exile and led them back into an empty kitchen. When he spoke, he sounded annoyed and Aurora wondered if he had got a ticking off from Elvis too. Maybe it hadn’t been a set up after all.

“C’mon.” He nodded towards a set of the stairs that curled up round a wall in the corner of the room.

“Where?” she countered.

“Look, just cut his fucking hair a little, all right? Pretend if you have to, we’ll be heading out on tour soon and he’ll have his hairdresser do it properly then anyway.”

Aurora looked at the staircase and thought about getting back into the Datsun and going home. She thought about telling the ladies at the salon about her weekend, the way they would say, ‘And what happened then?!’ And she would have to finish her surreal recount with, ‘Then I chickened out and went home.’

That would be a lame ending to the story.

And so she found herself leaning in front of Elvis Presley, examining his wet bangs as she ran them through the comb, scissors clutched in hand, standing in the most outrageously opulent bathroom she had ever seen.

“You shouldn’t wrinkle your forehead like that, you know, honey,” he observed, his breath tickling the column of her throat. “You’ll look old before your time.”

Her frown shifted from one of concentration to intense control, trying to stop herself from shivering because it felt like he was murmuring into her ear.

“My face does what it wants,” she replied finally, snipping the tiniest fragment of an inch. “I don’t have too much of a say in it. Keeps me honest, otherwise who knows what I’d be doing instead of cutting hair day and, apparently night now too.”

They had negotiated down to just trimming the bangs, and now that she was confronted with his mass of fine hair, she was grateful. Everyone knew that half the teen population back in the day had flipped their lids when they cut off Elvis’ hair in the army. Aurora didn’t want to become the target of those same women today, stronger, smarter, and old enough to own handguns.

“What would you be instead, if you could choose?” She made the mistake of looking at his face when he asked. It was a trap. Framed by dark, weary shadows, the murky blue of his eyes had all but swallowed up the pupil and it felt like they were looking at something within her, somewhere she didn’t even want to let people know existed.

“I don’t know. If you ask my memaw, there are only a few careers a girl can have with a name like mine. I picked the most respectable. There we go, all done.”

“What kind of name is Aurora anyway?” Searching, his damn eyes were searching and she couldn’t seem to distract him.

“I don’t exactly think we should be making fun of people’s names, Elvis. Especially not when some of us are holding scissors.” He snorted and laughed to himself. It sounded so young and silly that she knew it was real.

“Aurora means dawn or light. You know the Northern Lights? Those squiggly colorful lights up in the North Pole? Their real name is Aurora Borealis. And you know, Sleeping Beauty’s name was Aurora.”

It was the well worn explanation she had been trotting out since she was knee high to a cricket, not that it ever made any difference to the bemused, baffled or disdainful faces of the gangs of kids or customers at her father’s store that demanded she explain herself.

She caught sight of Elvis’ reflection studying her, but not in the way that he had been before, the way that men often studied her, appraising and pricing her up like her daddy did with cans of soup. No, this was a different kind of look.

“Dawn,” he murmured, his gaze seeming to look past her. “Sleeping…Beauty… Might be something to this…” His eyes seemed to click back into focus and he smiled at her, that crooked smirk that everyone in the world imagined in their head when someone said the name Elvis Presley. “It’s pretty, sweetheart, I was just kiddin’.”

When she followed him out of the bathroom, he mumbled, “Think fast!” And before she could even decipher his words, she was catching the tiger statue he had tossed at her. It was heavy enough it could have probably cracked her skull if she hadn’t caught it.

“Whoa, was the haircut that bad that you had to try and kill me?!”

“No, honey, it was fine, but it’s like you, you see.” She could tell something corny was coming from the silly little grin and the way he paused to laugh at himself. “It’s a roarer.” She groaned, but giggled as he laughed, his brows knitted together in a pained acknowledgement of how corny he had been.

“Woo, well, it’s lucky you’re pretty,” Aurora replied, doing what she thought was a damn fine impression of her grandma, who always said it like it was.

When Elvis snorted a little, but didn’t say anything else, she wondered if she had caught him off guard and made him a little bashful. She made a show of giving the ceramic tiger a scritch under the chin like it was a pussy cat and then went to hand it back.

“No, no,” he replied, waving his hand. “It’s yours, honey, you caught it. Them’s the rules.”

“Well, thank you… You know, it puts a whole new perspective on those folks you gave cars to. They probably belong in a circus.” He didn’t reply, just sat down on his bed and shuffled back against the pillows, picking up one of the books that lay strewn across the comforter.

Not knowing quite what she was supposed to do, she petted the tiger under her arm and started edging towards the door. If she couldn’t make a glamorous exit, she could at least minimize the awkwardness of it.

“Hey, you know…” Her eyes fixed on him as she did her little side shuffle, she saw him glance up from his book and his expression go from open to frowning. “Where you goin’?”

I thought we were… I thought you were waiting for me to leave.” He shook his head, looking slightly irritated, and then patted the bed heavily by his legs.

Aurora thought of Steve waiting downstairs and then shrugged, walking over to the bed. You didn’t ignore an Elvis for a Steve. She perched on the edge of his bed and watched as he rooted around on his nightstand, sliding on a pair of gold framed glasses and shooting her a sheepish look.

“The lightning of the Word will illumine the abysses.

New, new, new ones, beautiful ones, sensitive ones,

Exalted ones, will be assembled.

The Teacher has entrusted thee to manifest Him.” He read it like poetry or scripture and it sounded dramatic and lovely to Aurora’s ears, but then he stopped and he looked at her like she was supposed to do or say something. It was like standing at the front of the class on book report day with nothing in her hands. Her face burned all the way back to her ears.

“You ever heard anything like that before, honey?” he asked finally, his eyes back to scanning the text, leaving her to writhe in her ignorance and humiliation.

“No, I don’t think so.” She looked longingly at the black padded door standing open and then down at her tanned toes, half submerged in the thick red shag pile carpet as if her sandals weren’t even there. “I was never too good in school.”

“School,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t learn nothing worth knowing in school. I mean no disrespect to the teachers, but-” He sighed loudly. “You know most people use but one percent of their brains, one percent! Just focussing on the Mickey Mouse shit, uh, workin’ and paying the bills and having a good time, coveting their fuckin’ neighbor’s whatever… Never knowing what’s really important.”

Aurora stared at him as he continued his diatribe, a little impressed at how he weaved in foulmouthed quotes from the Bible. Nobody was going to believe this was how she spent her Saturday night.

“I’ve been studying all this a long time, it takes discipline and dedication. Honey, why don’t you come on up here and get comfortable?” He gestured to the space beside him on the pillows, the space usually occupied by glamorous models and beauty queens, one of whom was beaming with fierce intensity at her from a framed picture on the dark wood unit against the wall.

“Um, can I bring Muffin?” He lifted an eyebrow and she tilted the tiger she still had tucked into her hip. “I named him Muffin.”

“Well, I was talking to Muffin anyhow, but I guess he can bring you.” He shook his head, his cheekbones brimming as he smirked and watched her shuck her sandals and clamber up gracelessly from the bottom of the bed. “You’re kinda silly.” He leant forward and gave her a lightning fast kiss on the lips, just warm and wet and gone. “I like that.”

And then he read to her, for over an hour. Sleepily leaning against the pillow, Aurora slid her finger underneath the stretchy strap of her watch as it was pressing into her skin. Her eyes caught sight of the time and she pushed herself up, feeling a little dazed and dizzy.

Having sunk back into his pillows too, Elvis was still reading, his voice barely above a whisper and he didn’t seem to notice her sitting up. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his arm and then said his name. It took him a beat or two to register the interruption.

“It’s getting really late,” she said apologetically. “I think I should go find Steve, he’s my ride home.”

“Aw, honey, he went, he’s gone.”

Aurora smiled anxiously, not sure if he was joking. “He better not be. It’s a long walk back to my house.”

“I’ll have someone take you home, don’t worry about that,” he murmured, his words slipping and sliding together.

“Well, It’s getting pretty late,” she said again.

He lowered his book and went to say something, but seemingly changed his mind. Instead, he reached over with a grunt and picked up the phone, gruffly asking who was on duty. Aurora busied herself with slipping back into her shoes and hefting Muffin back onto her hip.

Elvis put down the receiver of the red phone and climbed off the bed.

“I’d like to see you again, if that’s okay with you?” The way he said it was oddly formal and solemn, a complete contrast to the way he had teasingly beckoned her onto his bed earlier. It threw her enough that she forgot to be overwhelmed.

“Sure!” She cringed inwardly at how high pitched her voice sounded and tried to clear her throat discreetly.

“Let me take down your number and I'll call you.”

Elvis rifled through the contents of his nightstand and snatched up a pen and then, with a shrug, opened the front cover of his book.

It was about then that Aurora's brain caught up with the situation and her hand shook as she reached for the pen and scrawled ‘Aurora + Muffin’ alongside her number on the inside cover of his book. When she handed it back, he teased her by turning the book upside as he squinted at it.

“What is this, hieroglyphics?!”

And Aurora laughed goodnaturedly, even though she had been teased her whole time at school for her poor penmanship and inability to improve it. She laughed even though, as a rule, she never let anyone get away with making fun of the things she couldn’t change. Something about him defused all those defenses designed to detonate on a hair trigger.

Aurora felt Elvis follow her to the bedroom door without seeing him. It was a weird feeling, like wearing a heavy cape made of ice. She was almost afraid to check in case it all evaporated like a dream and she woke up in her pilling pink blankets and worn rosebud sheets.

The heavy, warm hand that came to rest on her shoulder was a surprise and a reassurance then, as she felt him turn her. She took a step back, since he was that much taller and they were standing so close together that she was face to face with the dip at the base of his throat, able with microscopic clarity to see the way his golden chest hair curled behind the thick gold chain he was wearing with the strange symbol that looked to her eyes like a musical note with extra parts.

“Um, sorry,” she murmured, looking away, even though he had been the one to crowd her. He smiled softly, angling his head and pressing his soft full lips against hers. She jolted, almost choking again, and saved herself by grabbing hold of him, clutching at his waist, thick but firm, with her free hand and pressing in against him. His lips were soft and lush, like no other man’s she had kissed before. They tickled and teased, and sent shivers that spread down her spine and radiated through her body.

When his tongue first brushed and then slid against hers, she let out a little whine that had him huffing a laugh and drawing back, his hand cradling her jaw.

“You sure you gotta go, baby?” he asked softly in that low, intimate voice that made her legs quiver. “We could just sleep, you know. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t try anything.”

“I trust you,” she replied, though she wasn’t sure she did. “It’s me I don’t trust.” Which was one hundred percent true.

He pulled her in again by her chin, but she still wasn’t ready as they both exhaled in playful frustration. She nibbled on his ripe bottom lip even as she was pulling away.

Aurora made it to the outer door that led to the stairs before he called her back.

“Hey Tiger!” She let her shoulders and face slump with indignation as she realized she had answered to the silly name. “We’re going to see each other again, sweetheart.” She smiled at the previously unimaginable picture she was walking away from- Elvis Presley framed by the light in a doorway, his hair rumpled and tousled (her fault) and his mouth wet and swollen (even more her fault). “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find.”

“Sure.” Frowning a little through her smile, she nodded and turned back to the stairs. Was he talking about himself or was he talking about her? Maybe he was talking about Muffin. She hefted the tiger a little higher under her arm and clumped down the stairs, blearily opening the front door to greet the dawn.

@thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @be-my-ally @lookingforrainbows, @from-memphis-with-love, @peskybedtime

#elvis presley #big daddy elvis #elvis x oc #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #70s elvis #whositmcwhatsit #elvis presley fanfiction

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valeriianz · 1 year

Text

Hob doesn’t know why he agreed to go out on New Year’s Eve. The bar is packed shoulder-to-shoulder, it’s impossible to get a drink, and Hob keeps losing his friend group.

Despite feeling turned around, ears straining for the sound of someone calling his name, he’s determined to at least get one drink before the end of the night, pushing past strangers with ridiculous sunglasses– indoors– and 2023 hats. He’s waiting patiently behind a group of women, getting a loud whiff of their perfume as they spin around and yell past him, asking what their friends want to drink.

“I’m not going to survive this,” Hob says to himself, trying to catch one of the bartender’s attention.

“Nor will I.” A deep, dark voice speaks just next to him.

Hob looks over and nearly swallows his own tongue. A tall man, dressed in all black, is staring back at him, his eyes reflecting the flashing lights in the otherwise dark room. His skin is pale, from what Hob can see, down his long neck and incredibly sharp jawline.

“Oh?” Hob affects his best smile, sure it looks just as manic as he’s feeling, suddenly. “Your friends drag you out to watch the ball drop, too?”

Hob sees the gorgeous man chuckle, but doesn’t hear it. Only guesses by the way his lips part and his eyes shine.

“Yes, actually,” he leans over to speak properly in Hob’s ear, instead of continuing to shout over the music and sea of voices. “And I would love to ditch them.”

His breath hits Hob’s ear like a caress, soft and warm, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

“That’s not very nice,” Hob says, turning to also speak against the stranger’s ear, his nose brushing the shell of it, grinning to himself.

The man turns again, and Hob tilts his head with it, giving him his ear once more to speak in. The stranger’s shaggy dark hair brushes his cheek and Hob feels his legs wobble. He doesn’t know if it’s the energy in the room, their involuntary closeness, or how Hob can smell his skin, like the early morning air after a rainstorm, like the salty spray of the sea, but he is positively buzzing like a live wire from it.

Especially as those lips, a blush of pink against marble white skin, brush against his earlobe, his rich voice rumbling and nearly making Hob vibrate.

“I’m not a nice man.”

Hob swallows, his heart deciding then to try out for a marathon and running laps along his rib cage. He peeks sideways and finds incredibly blue eyes staring back at him.

He doesn’t know what to say. But the instant attraction between them lights Hob up. He’s not one for picking up strangers in bars, at least not since he was in college, but on the busiest night of the year? In New York City? Crammed in a room with probably a hundred people over legal capacity? Yeah, Hob could bend a little. He could bend a lot for Mr. Dark and Mysterious.

“Why would you say that?”

Hob watches the man’s lips twitch into a tiny smirk, and it only makes Hob’s smile grow. He’d forgotten how much fun it was to flirt with a complete stranger.

“I’ve been watching you for a while,” he murmurs against Hob’s ear, nearly making his eyes flutter shut. “I was going to offer to buy you a drink… unless you’d like to escape with me.”

“That’s very tempting…” Hob feels his insides twist pleasantly at the look the man gives him.

“You’re very tempting.”

Fuck, who was this guy?

They’re staring at each other, allowing people to brush past them, losing their spot by the bar, but Hob doesn’t notice. Doesn’t even feel the crowd around him anymore. Only finding himself lost in a sea of blue, with pupils dilated so wide in the darkened room, Hob almost feels like he’s falling into an abyss. Maybe he is. Maybe this guy is a siren out of water, coming here specifically to drag Hob down, to test his resolve.

And Hob would gladly go, would happily follow him. He’s just opened his mouth, about to ask this stranger’s name, when he feels a sharp tug at his arm.

“There you are, Hobsie!” One of his friends– Hob can’t be bothered to remember which one, is pulling him backwards. “Forget the drinks, we gotta get down into the square now if we’re to beat the crowds!”

The connection is broken. Hob’s jaw works uselessly, trying to protest, trying to call out, but his feet stumble along, allowing himself to be yanked back into the crowd. His eyes sweep above the dozens of heads and finds his stranger’s gaze one last time, staring at him with a mix of frustration and longing, and Hob feels regret screaming through his veins.

—-----------

The crowd outside is a hundred times worse, thousands of people in the street, streamers and balloons polluting the sky, but at least the air is clean and the lights are bright, giving the illusion of daytime, rather than minutes to midnight.

Hob doesn’t even pretend to pay attention, no longer indulging his friends but scanning the crowd instead, hopelessly looking for a mop of inky black hair and translucent skin that could reflect the artificial lights of the neon signs around them. He’s been out here for hours now, the layers of sweater, coat, boots and beanie doing nothing now to ward off the chill that begins to penetrate his bones.

A hopelessness washes over Hob, making him sigh deeply, knocking his head back to stare at the starless black sky. If two people were to ever meet twice on the same night, in Times Square, it’d be pure luck… or divine intervention.

He looks forward again, at the sparkly ball that seems miles away, so much smaller in person, hung high in the air. Hob’s eyes drift once more along the sea of hats and children perched on shoulders, the screams and shouts of excitement as the minutes tick down to midnight.

Then he sees him. Or, Hob thinks it’s him. A single dark head, hair sticking up, one of the few in the massive crowd without a hat on. Hob holds his breath, eyes narrowed in on that ink blot, waiting for some kind of confirmation, his memory of the stranger already quickly fading from his brain, the sensory deprivation of the packed bar messing with his recollection.

Hob gasps as the head turns, revealing a profile that has his heart skip. Sharp nose, small lips, long eyelashes that Hob can somehow see from here.

Without thinking, Hob dives into the crowd, abandoning his friends who shout after him.

“Wait, where are you going!”

Hob pushes past the impenetrable wall of people, grunting as he went and keeping his eyes focused on his stranger, feeling crazy. Feeling absolutely insane for doing this. Parents yell at him and drunken party people try to catch Hob but he persists, stumbling and not even saying ‘excuse me’ or apologizing for the feet he’s stepping on.

“Fuck,” Hob grouses. It barely feels like he’s made progress, especially as an announcement rings out that there is only 60 seconds til midnight, and everyone is cheering and taking out their phones as the ball begins its slow descent.

People have already begun chanting at the 50 second mark, and Hob’s brain is scrambling. He’s catching up to the man from the bar, his back still turned to Hob and– he has a brief, worrying thought that he might be mistaken. That this isn’t the strange, gorgeous man who’d found him in that overloaded room.

Forty seconds and Hob feels sweat trailing down his neck, closing in on a black coat with the collar turned up, hiding the pale column of his neck.

Thirty seconds and Hob inhales deeply as he’s finally found himself directly behind a shadow made real, an outline filled in with black paint. Hob reaches out, grabbing him by the elbow.

“Hey!”

Hob holds his breath as the man turns, and feels his face light up as the stranger from the bar sets his eyes upon him once more. His expression goes from deeply annoyed to genuine shock, his brows shooting up into his hairline and his lips parting comically.

Hob feels like laughing. The stranger’s eyes are so much more expressive, out here where the lights are bright enough to read by.

Luck, or divine intervention. Hob feels a thrill rush though his body at the way the man studies him, like he never thought he’d see Hob again. And, well, that’d make two of them.

Ten seconds, and everyone around them is shouting the countdown.

The man’s lips move, speaking, but Hob can’t hear him.

“What?!”

With a small grin he moves in closer, like in the bar, lips brushing Hob’s ear.

“I said ‘holy shit’.”

Hob laughs. “Does your offer still stand?”

The man pulls back, nearly nose-to-nose with Hob as the people around them chant the final five seconds.

As an answer, Hob feels cold hands surround his face, thumbs swiping under his eyes as long, bony fingers slip into his hair, under his beanie, knocking it askew. Hob feels his breath stolen away as the man crowds further into his space, and all Hob can do in response is raise his own arms, wrapping them around the man’s middle, firmer than he’d guessed, and pulling him flush against him.

They don’t even make it to one before Hob’s eyes slip shut and he feels warm, chapped lips collide against his own.

The explosion of streamers and cries of “Happy New Year!” reflect the way fireworks shoot off inside of Hob, his body lighting up from the inside as thin lips move against his own, pressing hard and insistent.

Hob’s lips part as he feels the man’s tongue swipe along the seam, tearing a moan from his throat and pulling him impossibly closer. Hob works his jaw to keep up with the man’s vigorous kissing, nearly letting it overcome him, almost wanting him to. The man kisses Hob like they aren’t surrounded by a mass of people, bodies still pushing and pulling them, rocking the pair back and forth, holding onto each other like a lifeline. He kisses Hob like he’ll never see him again, and maybe they won’t. Maybe this is a chance meeting, maybe they should make this last, and fuck Hob– he was in so much trouble.

He feels his lungs begin to burn, the man’s hands on his face, in his hair, igniting him in the best of ways, but he’s starting to get dizzy. He whines a protest, but doesn’t pull back, doesn’t think he can, with the possessive way the stranger has him locked in his embrace.

But finally, the man breaks away, allowing Hob to take a deep gulp of air, before he’s going back in, making Hob groan, especially as his hands move again, gripping his hair and attacking his mouth with renewed vigor.

Fuck, Hob was absolutely fucked.

His own hands move, slipping up the man’s chest, his neck, and getting a handful of his hair as well, pulling hard and forcing a choked off, salacious noise to erupt from the stranger’s lips. Hob’s managed to remove the assault on his mouth, panting roughly, and shuddering at the dark way those blue eyes are staring at Hob, challenging and completely turned on.

They take a moment to breathe, Hob’s hand still in dark hair, soft as silk, while his stranger’s hands have moved to his shoulders, waiting.

Hob loosens his hold and the man leans back in, brushing their noses and breathing each other’s air.

“What’s your name?” Hob asks, breathless and his nerves singing. The noise of people are louder than ever around them, but Hob knows the man hears him, and is hyper focused on him as well, ears straining for the answer.

“Dream,” comes the most erotic response Hob has ever heard in his life. “Yours?”

“Hob.”

Dream smiles, gorgeous, evocative, stunning Hob further.

“Hob,” Dream repeats, licking his lips. Hob feels all his blood rush south, his gaze instantly transfixed to the sight, which only makes Dream’s smile transform into a smirk.

“It’s nice to officially meet.”

Hob laughs, but it sounds broken, desperate.

“Likewise.”

#dreamling #dream x hob #STRANGERS TO LOVERS AHHH #HAPPY NEW YEAR #i wrote this in one sitting and now im RUNNING TO WORK #will probably post an edited version to Ao3 tonight #my writing

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deanwritings · 1 year

Text

Capeesh?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Request: So excited you're back! Can I request a protective/jealous!Dean x reader fic with an established relationship? Vibes of "don't touch her" would be much appreciated 😅

Summary: A fun night out at the bar takes a turn for the worse when a handsy patron approaches the reader.

Word Count: 1,928

Warning: Descriptions of violence & self defense related injuries. Cussing, if that bothers you.

Gif:

A/N: Years ago I went to a gym with my dad and the trainer/owner, this HUGE muscle head and really sweet man, gave me a free self defense class, which I still keep in mind to this day and peppered into this story.

And Happy New Year's y'all!

You lean against Dean as you take a sip of your beer, Dean's hand resting against your waist as you both politely listen to Sam as he shares a new piece of lore he learned during your latest hunt. You nod along, slightly intrigued with what Sam's found, but really wishing he could have saved the shop-talk for a time you weren't trying to unwind. Your body was still sore from the arachne fight, and you could use a break from all things hunting, even if it was just for a night. You can't see Dean's face from your vantage point, but if you had to guess, your boyfriend was likely staring his brother down with a straight face hoping he'll shut up.

You tip your bottle back again, but are disappointed when only a few drops trickle out. You give the bottle a little shake as you look through the brown glass, confirming with yourself that it was in fact empty.

You place the bottle down and step away from Dean, his hand falling from your waist. At the movement, Dean looks down at you and frowns.

"Be right back, need a new beer." You tap the glass as your straighten up from the high-top table. "Anyone need anything?"

Both brothers shake their heads and you make your way over to the bar, thankful for a break from the earful of arachne lore.

It's a fairly busy evening for Wednesday night, most tables occupied and the bar itself swimming with patrons. Luckily, you eye an opening just big enough for you to squeeze into and you step into the space. After a few moments, one of the bartender spots you as you rest your hands against the slightly sticky bar top and gives you a nod as he pours a blue liquor into a cocktail shaker.

You purse your lips as you look around the room, the crowd mostly older, with a few twenty-somethings mixed in. It seemed to be the only bar in town when you had Google Maps a spot earlier, so you weren't surprise that this seemed to be the local's go-to pub.

Your gaze falls back to the bar, taking in the bottle labels on the tiered shelves as your nails tap against the wood beneath them.

Jameson. Crown Royal. Bacardi. Bacardi Tropical. That's a new one.

A man brushes besides you as he steps into the very small space that had been open on your right. You look up at him and frown, quietly expressing your annoyance at the invasion of your person space. You get it's crowded, but the guy could have just waited behind you or someone else until a space opened up.

Rude much.

But rather than be turned off by your vexed welcome, the man just smiles down at you.

You huff and roll your eyes, looking for the bartender, his back to you as he appears to be serving two cocktails to a pair of older women.

"Can I buy you a drink?" The man next to you raises his voice over the noise of the crowd, leaning in towards you to make sure his question is heard.

His smile is still plastered over his pale face, his blonde hair shaggy over his forehead. You just glare up at him, your annoyance growing as it appears the man is incapable of reading social cues.

You see the bartender approach you, and you turn your shoulder away, squaring yourself up to the bar.

"Just a Bud Light, bottle, please." The bartender nods at you and turns to squats down at the fridge casing all the bottles.

"How about a name?" Warm breath tickles your ear, and your shoulder scrunches up at the sudden closeness as your stomach tightens.

The bartender places the beer back in front of you and asks a question with his eyes.

"The Winchester tab, thanks." The guy nods and and punches the drink into the POS.

You turn to walk away when that pestering voice calls out again.

"Winchester, huh?" You take a deep breath and turn to face the thorn in your side. "How about a first name?" His elbow leans against the bar and his eyebrow is raised at you. His grey t-shirt stretches across his chest at his position and he continues to smile at you.

He's looks like the poster boy for punchable assholes.

"Since you seem to be too dumb to figure it out on your own, let me spell it out for you." You smile tightly at him. "I'm not fucking interested." You feel your eyes crinkle along the edges as your lips tighten.

Finally, his smile falls, and he straightens up.

"Cunt," he spits.

Ah, there it is.

"You know it." Your forehead rises as you raise your beer and take a drink before turning on your heel.

As you approach your table, Dean is standing at attention, his jaw tight.

"All good?" You come alongside him, your shoulders brushing.

You look up at him and smile, genuinely.

You weren't surprised he was watching the interaction. Dean usually had his eye on you if you weren't by his side. You weren't sure if he knew that you knew he was always watching. When you first started dating, it had bothered you. It made you feel like Dean thought you couldn't handle yourself. But the more Dean opened up to you, you realized that it was just a part of Dean he was never going to shake; he had to know that his loved ones were safe, no matter where they were. A lifetime of losing everyone you've ever loved will do that to a man.

"Nothing I can't handle." You bump his shoulder and his body relaxes with a sigh. His jaw loosens and his smile returns as he throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side.

Another two beers later, ones that Dean insisted he get, your bladder was uncomfortably full, and you excused yourself to the bathroom.

The bathroom was in the very back of the bar away from the crowds, and as you washed your hands, you took a moment to appreciate the quietnesses. You loved bars and going out drinking with Sam and Dean; it was one of the few normal things you did in your lives. But it was nice to take a break from the noise and masses to reset before you threw yourself back out there.

After drying your hands, you take a moment to readjust your ponytail, a few hairs having gone astray from Dean's hand playing at the nape of your neck.

You shake your head at the thought with a smile.

Once you're all set, you exit the restroom, your eyes looking down the narrow and dimmed corridor when a hand wraps around your bicep and twirls you around.

You smile at the movement until your back is thrown against the wall, your head bouncing off the wood on the impact.

Before your vision catches up with the rest of you, you already know whose body heat is radiating in front of you; not your boyfriend, sneaking up on you for a private make-out session, but a scumbag barfly who had been harassing you early.

"Maybe next time you won't be such a bitch," whiskey wafts over you. Your nose scrunches and you turn your head away from the smell, but fingers wrap around your chin forcing you to look into his dark eyes, his pupils dilated and eyes wildly jumping back and forth as an elbow lands heavy on your windpipe.

You glare at him, your heart rate calming as you take a breath.

This asshole has no idea who he was dealing with.

"And hopefully this time you'll learn your lesson," you wheeze out as his elbow digs into your throat, restricting your breath.

He cocks his head at you and before he can react, your right hand flies to his fingers wrapped around your chin and you grasp his thumb. With a swift surety, you snap his thumb back with a sickening crack. A howl leaves his throat as his hand and arm fall away from your body. He begins to back away, his eyes looking at his broken thumb in horror, but you grab onto his shoulders, driving his body back to yours as you ram your knee into his crotch, nothing but a strangled cry and a lone tear in his eye as his knees hit the ground and he doubles over.

Your chest in heaving as you look down at the pathetic man in front of you; his good hand holding his bruised boys and his mangled hand cradled against his chest.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice echoes down the hallway. You turn towards the shadow racing towards you, and Dean is illuminated in the dim light above you as he reaches your side.

"What the fuck happened?" His forehead is wrinkled as he takes in the battered man in front of him.

"Like I said," you glance toward the pathetic excuse of a man whimpering on the ground. "Nothing I can't handle."

Dean's eyes find yours before they quickly scan over your face, then your body, making sure you were actually okay.

"C'mon," his hand lands gently on the same bicep that had been grabbed just a few seconds ago. "Let's get out of here."

You and Dean turn away but a rasped voice calls out to you.

"You psycho bitch! You'll get yours."

You just shake your head and continue your way back to the table, but Dean stops beside you.

"Dean," you say in a low warning. His head glances back slightly over his shoulder.

"What'd you say, douchebag?" Dean ignores you as he turns around and you reach out to him, though he brushes you off as he stalks towards the man picking himself off from the dirty bar floor.

His eyes find Dean, and he squares his jaw.

"I said," the man rolls his shoulders back. "Your girl's a fucking psycho and I'm pressing charges."

You're a step behind Dean, and before you can reach out and stop him, Dean's got the man pinned against the wall, holding him up by his t-shirt that looks like its about to rip.

"Press this, dick," Dean growls as his fist whips into the guy's nose. Blood spews as Dean drops him and he crumbles to the ground, tears now streaming down his cheeks, mixing with the gruesome stream flowing over his lips.

Dean squats down the the man's level, his finger his in the man's face.

"Touch her again, and there will be no one to press charges, capeesh?" Even without knowing Dean, anyone with a brain could tell it wasn't a question.

"Fuck you guys!" Blood sprays as the man yells.

Dean just rolls his eyes and stands up, taking one large step to your side.

"How about we call it a night?" Dean smirks down at you, unaware of the splatter on his flannel as he throws an arm around your shoulder.

"Sounds like a plan to me." You arm wraps around Dean's waist, your fingers only reaching the far side of his back as you smile up at him.

The two of you take a few synchronized steps before Dean glances over his shoulder again. You watch him closely before his eye face forward, a proud smile on his face.

Dean's elbow closes around your head as he pulls you into him, his lips pressing against your temple.

"Nice job, sweetheart."

A/N: Sorry, I really wanted to have a badass reader with Dean coming in for assistance vs. Dean coming to save the day. Figure if the reader's a hunter, she can definitely handle a handsy guy on her own. Protective!Dean is just a bonus. Hope you enjoyed, anon!

Forever Tags

@iprobablyshipit91 @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @deansgoddess @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean fanfic #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean reader insert #dean x reader #dean imagine

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13as07 · 2 months

Text

Spitting Image Prequel

(Gaara Sabaku Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Bev-Nap]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 4,240

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Alcohol drinking/Drunk sex

Soft boi virgin Gaara

Praising/“Good Boy”

Hickeys/Scratch Marks

Mommy kink (you can’t convince me that Gaara doesn’t have a mommy kink)

Pleasure kink

Begging

Oral (female receiving)

Creampie

———————————————————————

The neon lights of the bar cut through the darkness, pulling me towards it like a moth. This day has sucked, this week has sucked, this month has sucked. Plus, the promise of cheap margaritas is almost impossible to deny. I'm a sucker for a cheap alcohol-induced night.

"Welcome in! Margaritas are two hundred yen a glass tonight!" The short-haired bartender calls out, a toothy grin on her face.

"Start me off with a strawberry margarita," I order, sliding into an empty barstool at the counter. "Then slide me a lime one once it's done."

"So start your second one as soon as I'm done with your first?" She asks a laugh following her words.

"Ya, pretty much," I giggle out too, slapping my ID onto the counter before laying six hundred yen on top. "Keep the extra as a tip, love."

"Damn, already sweet talking me. One strawberry and one lime marg coming up," the bartender says, snatching up my ID and the cash. She glances at my ID, checking my age before sliding it into the tab box alongside another twenty or thirty others.

It doesn’t take long for my drinks to come. As promised, I down the first one before taking my time with the second. As I’m sipping on the lime drink, the taste of it justifying the price, a voice rings out. “Sorry ma’am, but is this seat taken?”

I turn my head towards the voice, a shorter man with a head of shaggy red hair at the end of the sound. His hair interests me, it’s a dark red instead of the normal pale-red gingers tend to be. I wonder if it’s a dye job. “No, it’s not taking, sunshine.”

“O…oh,” the man stutters, slowly sliding into the stool next to me. “Thank you, for the seat,” he mumbles, a hand running through his hair. When his hair flips up because of the movement, a tattooed red mark is exposed on his forehead, only interesting me even more.

“Of course. No lady likes to drink alone,” I answer, the buzz of my margs setting in. “No girl likes to buy her drinks either.”

The man’s eyes blink slowly, exposing the black circles around his eyes. How cute, a hot ginger that’s good at eyeliner. “Would… would you like me to buy you a drink? Is that what you’re asking?”

I let out a deep laugh as a smile cracks across my face. “You don’t get hit on often do you?”

Another round of slow blinking before a soft “no” peeps out.

“Yes, I’m asking you to buy me a drink.”

The man’s face scrunches, nonexistent eyebrows smashed together. The red is totally a dye job. “What would you like to drink?”

“A mango margarita, please, sunshine.”

Mr Sunshine stumbles over his words as he orders a drink for himself and me. His eyes are wide and stuck on me as we wait for our drinks, the intenseness of his stare poking at my nerves. “So… I haven’t seen you around the village before. Are you from the Leaf or just passing through?”

“I am from the Village Hidden in the Sand.”

“Oh, that’s… cool. Whatcha doing here then?”

“I was meeting with your village’s Hokage,” he mutters, eyes flickering down to our drinks being set on the countertop.

“Oh, so you’re a Shinobi then?” I ask, my interest sparked even more. I’ll be the first one to admit I’m a bit of a band chaser. I don’t know what it is, but Shinobis just do it for me. Besides, they’re the best for one-night stands. There’s a million of them and they’re usually too busy for anything more than a rang and bang.

“Um… I guess so.”

“You guess so?” I ask, downing my drink quicker than I probably should. “Well, if I ask if your hair is naturally red are you going to say you guess so?” I add, shifting closer to the man.

“I… um… yes, I’m… I’m naturally a redhead,” the man stutters, his cheeks quickly growing the same shade as his hair. “And you… you’re really close to my face.”

I let out a hum, slowly backing away from the shinobi. “Sorry, I’m coming off a little strong,” I mutter, waving down the bartender, who goes into action starting another drink. What’s that? Number four? Maybe I should slow down. Mr Shinobi is still nursing drink number one. “Not much of a drinker are you?”

“No, I am not. I’m only here because my brother wants to ‘get blasted’ before his wedding,” the man says, the words ‘get blasted’ falling out of his mouth like it left a nasty taste behind. “I am just here because he said I have to be.”

“What is it that you don’t like about drinking?” I ask, trying to push the conversation forward.

“I do not like my senses being unbeneficial. Besides, most alcohol does not taste good.”

“Well duh, you ordered a double shot of whiskey. If you want something that tastes good you need to get something fruity, like my margaritas. Want to try?” I push my untouched glass towards him, encouraging him to try something different.

“My sister says margaritas are girly drinks.”

“So? Who cares what your sister thinks?”

The man’s eyes settle on me again, his eyes round and full of confusion. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Because I’m a little more than buzzed and you’re a little more than hot,” I answer honestly, shifting closer to him. I rest a hand on his knee, resting my head against his so I can whisper in his ear. “Besides, I love the sight of a ginger on his knees.”

“You wish to have sex?” The man asks, his eyes widened again and hands fluttering up and down my arms. “You… you wish for me…. To…?”

I let out a few giggles, pressing a kiss to his cheek before I settle in my seat again. “Yes, but not until I slow down or until you catch up a bit, Sunshine.”

The Shinobi blinks a couple of times before his focus shifts to the drink I pushed toward him. He picks it up, downing it in a few gulps before setting the glass back down. “I do not like mangoes.”

I laugh again, sliding my nails over the inside of his thigh as I do so. “We could have ordered you a different flavor you know. What fruits do you like?”

“Apples.”

“Then let’s get you an apple margarita, ya?”

“Okay,” he mumbles, leaning closer as his eyes glare into mine. The closeness and intensity spook me a bit. “You are a strange person.”

“Why do you say that?”

“People usually don’t enjoy my… company.”

“You’re pretty, I don’t know who wouldn’t enjoy your company. But enough about your looks, you got any hobbies?”

The boy seems even more confused like he’s never given his looks any thought. “Plants,” he races out, eyes glancing at the apple-mixed drink that the bartender has left on the counter.

“Oh ya? I love plants. Willow trees are my favorite though,” I say, going on a ramble about the planet. The man nods along with my rant, his eyes locked on me the whole time. They’re pretty, slit, and a soft opal color. Dear Lord, all I can imagine is those pretty eyes looking up at me as he sits on his knees. “What’s your favorite plant, sunshine?”

“Barrel cactus!” He races out, blinking at me on repeat again. I get the feeling the man has never talked about himself before. “I… I mean, barrel cactus,” he says in a softer tone this time.

“Ya? Why’s that?”

————————————

The Sand Shinobi clung to me is as red as his hair, cheeks heated as his head presses into my neck. “You are pretty,” he murmurs against my throat, his body weight pressed into me.

“You are hot,” I compliment back, swaying a bit because of the man’s weight and the alcohol flowing through my system.

“No, you are like really pretty and nice and your skin is so soft, and oh my that sounds murderous,” the redhead mumbles on and on, his hands sliding over my bare arms as he nuzzles his nose against me. “You are so nice. Did I tell you that? You have been really nice to me. I want you to feel nice. Let me make you feel nice. Please?”

The high-ranked shinobi’s ‘please’ comes out whiney, turning my gears even more as I unlock my front door. “Ya? You want to make me feel nice?” I mumble, throwing my things onto the table next to the front door.

“Please? I want you to feel nice, so bad. Let me make you feel nice,” the redhead begs, his hands wandering up and down my shirt, gripping the material like he might fall over without me.

While we were at the bar we talked about what he does for work. I don’t know what any of the things he said meant but he kept talking about the Kage palace so he must be some kind of high rank ninja. Having such a highly regarded shinobi begging to go down on me only turns me on more.

“You want to make me feel nice, sunshine?” I ask, shifting in his hold so we’re face-to-face. His head shakes like crazy, and his eyes are soft for the first time tonight but still locked on me like I’m the core of the Earth. “Be a good boy and kneel for me, okay?”

“Okay,” he breathes out, sinking to his knees, his hands sliding down to grip my hips as he moves.

“Dear lord,” I mutter, the sight of the shinobi looking up at me rushing arousal down my body. His head is lead against me, chin gently pressed against the waistband of my pants, eyes locked on me, and hands gripping my love handles. “You look so hot right now.”

“You are beautiful. You are the moon. You are the stars hung in the sky,” he mutters, eyes intensely on my face as he looks up at me. “But I do not know what I’m doing.”

“What?” I ask, toying with the ends of his hair. “Have you never gone down on a girl before?”

“I have never done… anything with… anyone,” he mutters, cheeks heating up again as his eyes flicker around. “But I do wish to make you feel nice. Tell me how to make you feel nice. Please?”

“Ah… are you sure?” I ask, tugging his arms off of me. “We’re both drunk. This isn’t how you want to lose your virginity,” I continue to ramble, walking away from the man kneeling on my floor.

“No, please. Pretty please?” The man begs, crawling across the floor after me. “You’ve made me feel good all night. Let me make you feel nice,” he begs, wrapping his arms around my hips again and burying his head into my stomach. “Please?”

I let out a sigh, toying with his hair again as he nuzzles my stomach. “Alright, sunshine. Let’s go into the bedroom though, okay?”

The Sand Shinobi lights up at my agreement, his hands sliding up, picking me off my feet as he stands up again. He’s a bit wobbly as he adjusts to his drunken balance and my added weight. He’s still a bit unbalanced as he tries the doors, opening the spare room packed full of storage before he opens the door to my room. “You’re really pretty,” he tells me again, settling me on the bed.

I lock my legs around his waist, keeping him stuck on top of me. “You’re really hot,” I echo, shoving my hands into his hair as I tug his face down.

I crash my lips against his, rubbing myself on his growing bulge. “Oh my… you’re… we’re…” the redhead mutters into my mouth, his hands crawling up and down my sides. I let out a giggle, using my hold on his hair to shift his head to the side. “You, you, you… you’re…” The words stumble out of him as I brush my lips across his neck, softly sucking on his skin every couple of kisses.

“Do you want me to stop?” I mumble, working a hand out of his hair to toy with the hem of his shirt.

“No! Please, no. Please keep going,” he gushes out, hands clinging to my hips, pressing me down against him as he takes over our humping. “I want… I want to make you feel good. Tell me… tell me how to make you feel good.”

“Slow down a bit, sunshine,” I hum, tugging his shirt up. My eyes flicker a bit, rolling over the outline of his stomach muscles. “Take your shirt off for me, okay?”

The man moves quickly, sliding his shirt off and tossing it to the ground before settling back in his spot. “Now what do I do?” He asks opal-eyes stuck on me as he waits for his directions.

“Keep moving your hips,” I order, the man going straight to rubbing against me again. I let out steady breaths, trying to keep my mind straight to work our way through this. “That’s it, you’re being such a good boy,” I mumble, tugging my shirt off too.

“I’m… I’m what?” He asks, soft eyes blinking like crazy as his pace picks up. His eyes flicker between my face and my chest, mouth almost watering as he looks at my boobs.

“You’re being a good boy,” I repeat, gripping his hair to tug his face toward my chest. “Keep being a good boy. Kiss and suck on my chest as you hump me, okay?”

“Yes… yes, ma’am,” he whispers, lips brushing against my chest, occasionally testing different ways of sucking on my skin. “It’s… there’s marks,” he whines, nose nuzzling me before he litters my boobs in more kisses. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave marks.”

“I like marks,” I coo, raking my fingers through his hair. “You can leave as many marks as you wish.”

“I… I want… take it off,” the Shinobi husks out, a hand sliding under the wire of my bra. “Please take it off. Pretty please? I want… I want to suck on… please?”

A smile slides onto my lips from the sound of the redhead’s desperation. I give into his wants, sliding my hands behind my back to unclasp my bra. An audible whimper spills from the hardass shinobi when my boobs tumble out, his eyes blown out and entangled in my chest. His eyes flicker up to mine, his question stuck on his lips. “Go ahead, sunshine.”

With the permission voiced, his head dips down, his tongue sliding out to cup my nipple before he sucks it into his mouth. My hand searches for his, gripping it and tugging it up to my free boob. “Fuck, sunshine,” I whimper, working my hips against his as he toys with my chest.

“Hey,” I hiss after a couple of minutes, tugging his mouth off of me.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry,” he rambles, his desperation soaking out from his eyes, quickly coating his face.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down,” I soothe, gently pushing his head down my body. “You just sucked a little too long, it’s no biggie.”

More sorrys tumble out of him as he kisses down my stomach, both hands on my chest now, squeezing my boobs as his mouth coats my torso. “I… what do…?” A whine falls from him, his inexperience getting to him.

“Sunshine, please calm down. You’re working yourself up. I’ll walk you through it,” I tell him, my fingers sliding under my waistband to tug my pants off. The ginger’s fingers wrap around the band too, quickly tugging my pants down my legs.

Once he’s back between my legs, my hands fall on his hair, slowly shifting his head down. “Can… I want… please?”

“Do whatever you want, sunshine,” I coo, twirling his hair around my fingertips. He jumps right in, coating my thighs in kisses and soft suckles as his hands grip my legs. His fingers dig into my flesh, sifting my legs open and closed around his head.

“I…” he mutters, tapping his nose against my underwear. “I want…”

“What do you want, sunshine?” I ask, toying with him as I grind myself against him. “Use your words like a good boy.”

“I want to go down on you. I want to taste you. I want you to feel good. Please? Mommy please?” I snap his head away from me, the bedroom name ringing in my head. “I’m sorry,” he races out, his opal eyes shiny and wide as he looks at me. “I didn’t… I don’t know why I said that. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s… fine. It just called me off guard is all,” I mumble, shifting his head back into please. I let out a few deep breaths before letting my hands go gentle in his hair again. “You still want to make Mommy feel good?”

“Yes,” he races out, littering kisses across my panties. “Please?”

“Ya… ya, make… make me feel good, baby.”

Another whimper falls from the man between my legs, his lip hungrily kissing my thighs as he tugs my underwear off. “What do I do?” He asks, eyes scanning my exposition before jumping to my face. “I just… lick at you, right?”

“Kind of, ya. You can move your tongue in and out of me too, or if you can find my clit you can suck and lick at that.”

“And your clit does what?” He asks, bending back down to bury his head in my pussy before his tongue starts sliding between my folds.

“My clit is a bundle of nerves that make me feel really good - and that’s it,” I moan out the second half, clinging to the roots of his hair. “Right… right there, baby.”

The Shinobi’s eyes jump up, locking in my face as his tongue swirls around my clit, running over it again and again. After a couple of licks, he changes direction, sucking on the bundle as his eyes scan my face. “Fucking… lord, baby,” I moan out, my back arching as my climax crawls forward. “Don’t, don’t, don’t change anything, you hear me? Keep doing that?” I order, my breath picking up as the edge moves closer.

He does as told, continuing to suck and swirl his tongue around in the way I’m enjoying. “Fuck. God damn it. Baby,” I whine, shoving his head further into me as the band in my stomach snaps.

Once I settle down from my high, the shinobi pops up from between my legs, eyes sparkling, and face covered in my mess. “Did I do good? I did good, right? Mommy, right?”

“Right,” I mumble, trying to steady my breathing. “Come here,” I call, leading him up my body. “You did so good. You’re such a good boy,” I coo, littering his face in kisses. A smile small crosses his face, eyes soft but still intense as he looks at me. What a weird little sandman.

“What do I do now?” He asks, head decking down to cover my chest in kisses. “Can I do it again, Mommy? Can I go down on you again? Please? Mommy please?”

“Not right now, sunshine. I want you to fuck me, okay?”

“Really?” He asks, his breath airy as he asks the question. “Can I? Can I really?”

“Ya. Let me grab a condom first,” I answer, leaning over to snap open my side table drawer. I dig around the drawer, searching for a rubber. “Um… do you have a condom?” I ask, shifting around the drawer some more.

“No, do you not have one?”

I let out a sigh, snapping the drawer closed. “No, I don’t, I’m sorry. Maybe if you’re in the village tomorrow - ”

“No,” he whines, burying his head in my chest, nuzzling my boobs as he whimpers. “I have to leave tomorrow. Please? It’ll be fine, right? One time won’t do anything.”

“You do know that sex leads to - ”

“I know how kids are made. Come on! Please? Pretty please?”

“Alright, okay. Just… don’t finish in me,” I give in, hands dropping down to work him out of his pants. My cheeks heat up as my fingers slide over his length, the soft virgin boy being bigger than I thought he would be. “Lord,” I mutter, working his pants the rest of the way down. Well, he definitely is a natural ginger.

“What? What’s wrong?” The Shinobi starts to panic, his eyes jumping around my body. “What did I do?”

“Hey, calm down. You work yourself up too much. You’re just… bigger than I thought you were going to be,” I mumble, settling my hands on his waist to shift him around.

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, the opal of his eyes pooling into my view. The shinobi stumbles a bit, finding his balance above me. His hands settle on the sides of my head, nose pressed against mine as he looks down at me.

“No,” I breathe out, slowly using my hold on him to push his penis into me. “It’s… it’s a good thing, baby. A really good thing.” His chest pumps as he slides into me, his eyes fluttering as he looks down at me. “Okay, okay, um… do you think that you can move yourself in and out?” He nods his head quickly, mouth hung open as he sucks in oxygen. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes, Mommy. Yes, I can. I can… I can move myself,” he mutters, his hips moving back and forth, tugging his dick in and out of me. “Mommy,” he whines, head barring into my neck.

“Sunshine, move a little faster,” I ask, my nails digging into his waist. “Please, baby.”

“Yes, ya, whatever you want,” he races out, his pace picking up. I’m shifted up the bed because of his thrusts, the tip of his dick bullying its way into me. My nails race across his sides, tearing into his skin as I’m forced up the bed, the promise of scratch marks left behind. “Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy,” he whines, his thrusts getting sloppy.

“Hey,” I call out, digging my nails into him harder. “You should probably…” a moan cuts off my next order, fingers digging deep enough that I can feel his blood trickling onto my fingertips.

“Damn it,” he whines, burying himself into me, his movements stalling as his hands jump down to cling to my sides. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry,” the redhead whines, head dipped onto my shoulder as he bottoms out in me. “I’m really sorry,” he whines again, the warmth of his cum filling me up.

————————————

My heart pounds as I push open the door to the convenience store. It's been a month... or two since I've had my period. I'm sure it's nothing, that the stress of life is just getting to me... but you can never be too sure.

The sound of my blood rushing rings in my ears as I stroll around the store, eyes flickering around for the aisle I need. It doesn't take long for me to find the family planning aisle, only increasing my heartbeat.

I feel like I'm going to throw up as I settle in front of the wall of pregnancy tests, quickly scanning over the pink boxes. I grab the cheapest one, figuring it’ll work just as well as the rest.

The sound of the test moving as I walk only makes my nausea worse. I’m sure I’m not pregnant, I’m sure it’s just stress. The test will come out negative. It’s just me crossing all my Ts and dotting all my Is.

“Hello! Did you find everything alright?” The cashier asks, an empty smile on her face.

“Ya, I did,” I mutter, placing the box on the counter.

The cashier’s eyes flicker between the box and me for a second before she scans it. “Would you like a bag?” She asks already placing it into one of the propped-up paper bags. “Your total is twenty-three hundred yen.”

I place the money on the counter, snatching the bag and the recite from the lady before turning on my heels. Panic and blood rush through me as I head toward the store bathroom. It’s going to be negative, this is just a precaution.

The lights of the bathroom are so bright that it almost blinds me, only adding to my stress. It’s just to check, it’s not going to be positive, it’s just to cross it off the possibility list.

I repeat the empty promises to myself as I take the test. My anxiety claws at my chest more and more as I wait for the test to process. How could I be so stupid? How could I let a one-night stand not use a condom? I always make them use one and then a hot sand shinobi shows up and all of a sudden my senses go out the window? What the hell? I can’t be a single mom. I can’t do this alone. But it’s fine because I’m not pregnant.

I shake the stick for a second, slowly opening my eyes to look down at it. “Well, shit.”

———————————————————————

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