#Not exactly made for modesty | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellecdc · 23 days

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Surprise! We're Making Love

6.8k words

this is my first real like... real smut fic? so do take that into consideration [and please be nice to me lol] but also feel free to send me a message if you have any feedback or pointers.

this is a fic based on this trope that was sent to me by @bobluvbot like a million weeks ago and became my hyper fixation for far too long. I finally decided to put it into words. thanks to @unstablereader for championing me as I wrote this and convincing me it was decent enough to post lol

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

CW: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coming inside of someone, AFAB reader, reader is a Pureblood Slytherin, has hair long enough for Rem to feel it on his shoulders when you're straddling him, reader has hair texture that sticks to you when wet, mentions of smoking weed and being high, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of arranged marriages, use of mudblood and blood supremacy

Remus doesn’t know how exactly this thing started for him.

Perhaps it was the day after a full moon when he forgot to lock the door behind him to the Prefects Bathroom and you let yourself in, nearly fully stripped before you realised he was sitting in the steaming, bubbling pool-sized tub with a spliff hanging lazily from his mouth.

“Circe’s tits!” You screeched as you hastily pulled up your towel to keep your modesty. “You didn’t think to alert me to your presence, Lupin?” You sneered half-heartedly at him as you tried to regain your composure.

“Sorry.” Remus chuckled, voice gravelly from a mixture of last night’s howling and tonight’s smoking. “My brain is moving a little slowly right now.”

You looked between him and the spliff and sighed. “Think you’ll be much longer?” You asked him quietly, cautiously, reticently. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you look so dejected.

Slytherin princess; though you never really let that dictate how you treated people, just that it levelled you with a certain notoriety within the school. You were the only one who could talk sense into Barty Crouch Junior; Pandora Rosier’s biggest defender and advocate; Snape, Mulciber, and Avery’s biggest adversary; the one who encouraged Regulus Black to reach out to his estranged older brother; and the least likely to enact revenge on the Marauder’s for their pranks.

Though Remus had never shared more than a few words with you in passing, he knew a lot about you. In addition to the aforementioned qualities, you were a Pureblood, the eldest daughter and heiress to your family’s name and fortune, Prefect, received top marks in Charms and Transfiguration, and hated the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Knowing all of that made Remus rather rueful that he hadn’t spoken to you before now.

“Listen, this tub is nearly the size of an Olympic swimming pool.” Remus started, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion. “It’s big.” He clarified. “I don’t mind...sharing if you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable; otherwise, I’ll pack up and leave it to you.”

He didn’t really want to leave; not whilst he was still nursing his post-moon hangover and the warm water was finally starting to relieve some of the tension in his bones. But you looked forlorn, and damn Remus and his bleeding heart, he’d give it up if you needed it.

“I don’t want to kick you out... you were here first.” You murmured, apparently weighing your options in your head.

“I will leave if you want, L/N, but I’m more than willing to share.”

You searched his eyes for what, Remus wasn’t sure, but you seemed to come to some decision. You threw your head back and let out a strangled groan which Remus was certain was more for dramatic effect than it was indicative of any real ire.

“Fine, turn around.”

Remus smirked at you and tried to ignore the protesting of his joints as he stood in the pool and turned to face the opposite wall, allowing you to drop the rest of your clothes and your towel and sink into the water.

“Okay...” You whispered quietly. “You can sit back down now; thank you.”

Perhaps it had begun then; he’d offered you a puff from his joint, causing you to move closer to him. He was a gentleman and avoided noticing the way your breasts sat high on your chest, buoyant in the bubbly and fragrant waters.

He ignored the feeling of your elbow brushing against his. He ignored the way your hair, damp from the steam and humidity, stuck against your skin. And he definitely ignored the way that as the weed started to affect you, you leaned your head onto his shoulder.

What he couldn’t ignore? When you asked him what you could do to help him.

“Help?” Remus asked you bemusedly, jostling his shoulder and forcing you to sit up and return his gaze.

“Yeah; you seem tense, stressed.”

Remus let out a confused chuckle from his nose. “That’s really not anything you need to worry about.”

You laughed back at him, nudging him with your elbow. “Lupin.” You chided. “You were willing to give up your private pool time, you’ve shared your weed with me, and you’ve let me intrude on your bath; let me worry about it.”

And he doesn’t know how you did it, he’s not even sure he remembers how the rest of the conversation went – one moment the two of you were sitting an entire swimming pool apart and pretending the other wasn’t there, and the next moment he was sitting on the edge of the pool with his hands tangled in your hair as you took him in your mouth.

“Christ, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He tried warning you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

Like the watery siren that you were, all you did was moan and take him deeper, and in another moment, he was spilling down your throat.

Remus was sure he looked absolutely wrecked; naked, soaking, exhausted, a few fresh wounds from last night, and his permanent eye bags a more dramatic purple today on account of his lack of sleep last night.

Not you though; somehow even though you’d just done all the work, you looked ethereal. Wet hair pooling in the water around you as you sunk into the suds up to your collarbones, your lips swollen and glistening from your fantastic work if you asked Remus, and eyes a mischievous magnet nearly luring Remus back into the pool completely against his will.

“Godric, you’re good at that.” He breathed embarrassingly. Thankfully, you only laughed at with him.

“I’m sure you meant that as a compliment, Lupin; but it sort of sounds like you’re calling me a whore.”

Remus cackled at that, thankful that his time in the water eased the soreness in his ribs before doing so.

“If you give me a few moments, I’ll return the favour dove.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You offered, moving back to the other side of the pool to retrieve the book you’d deserted in favour of pot, and then in favour of cock. “I’ll just take an I.O.U.”

Or maybe it started at the Ravenclaw afterparty following their win against Hufflepuff. You showed up with your friends fashionably late and clearly having pre-gamed to some extent if Barty’s uncoordinated movements were anything to go by.

He noticed you every once in a while, flitting around the party with various friends, dancing to various tunes, participating in various games over conversations; but something was different about you. You weren’t as...glowy.

Your smile never met your eyes, and your laughs weren’t carefree – not like they were in the tub. Not like they ought to be.

But hey, you helped him when he needed it, and he did technically owe you.

He brushed past you and gently pulled on your elbow as he continued moving. When you turned back to see what had happened, he nodded toward the exit.

He didn’t bother turning around to see if you were following him, he just carried on down the stairs of Ravenclaw tower before turning the corner to an empty corridor.

“Oi, Lupin; your legs are longer than mine. Slow down!” You called.

He didn’t realise at that time how much it meant to him that you had followed; hindsight being 20/20, and all.

“Where are we going?” You queried as you caught up and walked in step with him.

“You’ll see.” He said simply, cutting across the hall and opening the door to an empty classroom.

“Going to teach me how to translate Ancient Runes, Lupin?” You joked, though your affect was clearly lacking.

“I’m going to help.” He responded simply, leaning backwards against the professor’s desk.

“Help?”

“Right.”

You smirked and raised a singular perfectly manicured eyebrow at him, looking him up and down with a suggestive glance.

“What exactly are you to help me with?”

“You seem worried, tense.” He repeated your exact words from the tub a little over a week ago.

You offered him a half smile that, once again, never met your eyes. “That’s not something you need to worry about.”

He offered you a soft smile in return. “I do owe you, though.”

Remus doesn’t know what it was that convinced you to accept his offer. One moment he was leaning casually against the professor’s desk as you watched him warily from the door to the classroom, and the next moment he had you splayed out on the desk before him with the skirt of your dress bunched up around your waist and his head between your legs.

Now, it’s important to note that Remus is a humble and modest person. In fact, he’s really quite self-conscious. He didn’t come from a notable family and compared to his friends he was basically a pauper, he was scarred and tall and lanky, and due to his lycanthropy, he avoided meaningful relationships; meaning that whilst his friends all enjoyed relationships and situationships, he stayed religiously single.

All that being said, there was something Remus knew to be true that he felt worth bragging about.

He was fucking good in bed.

So his ego was properly stroked when you threw your head back so hard that it made a painful whacking sound against the wood of the desk with just the first stripe of his tongue through your folds.

Like a man starved, he buried his face between your legs and hardly ever came back up for air. He pulled your hips flush to his chest with your legs thrown over his shoulders and his arms hugging your thighs that he used as earmuffs.

Remus could easily call this one of his new favourite places to be, especially with the sinful sounds escaping your mouth.

He used his thumb to tease your clit, thrusting his tongue in your hole a few times before bringing it back out to run through your lips.

“Oh, Merlin!” You cried, causing him to chuckle, which caused you to flinch slightly at the feeling of his cold breath against your cunt.

“Come now, L/N; you know that’s not my name.”

You let out another cry as he wasted no time diving back in, his nose rubbing at your clit as his tongue continued its assault.

Remus’ efforts were rewarded in the form of you cumming on his face and your body falling limp below him.

He allowed you to catch your breath as he fought to catch his own, ignoring his knees crying in protest from having spent the last however long supporting his weight on the hard stone floor.

“Oh gods.” You breathed finally, opening your eyes and stealing a shy glance at Remus, still stationed near your core.

He smiled wolfishly at you. “Better?”

You laughed; a real, hard laugh that had been missing from you all night. “Much.” You agreed readily, accepting his outstretched hand and sitting up on the edge of the desk and pushing your skirt back down to cover yourself. “Thank you, Lupin.”

Remus shrugged nonchalantly as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a snap of his fingers, pushing open a window with a flick of his wand. “What are friends for?”

You snorted inelegantly; a far cry from the proper Pureblood heiress you’d been raised to be as you pulled your panties back on and took careful, albeit slightly wobbly, steps to join him at the window.

“Are we friends now?”

“Were we not friends before?” He countered, offering you a drag from his smoke that you easily accepted. He was sure his lips, tongue, and now the end of his cigarette still tasted like you.

“I didn’t think your kind was supposed to be friends with mine.” You offered, not looking at him as you passed the cigarette back.

“Blood status, really L/N?”

You scoffed derisively. “Please, Lupin. Give me some credit.”

It seemed to Remus that you looked almost hurt at his insinuation.

“I meant Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s.”

“Perhaps we can be the first.”

“Do many of your friends see you naked, Lupin?”

Remus grimaced at that. “Honestly? More than I’d like, yes.”

And there it was again, that uninhibited laugh. Remus felt vindicated in his task for this evening.

“Alright, friends then.” You agreed, reaching out for his cigarette and taking a long drag before returning it to him. “Let me know when you might need my help again, Lupin.”

“Likewise.”

And maybe it was the day that he had Avery pinned against the wall by the collar of his shirt for calling a first year Hufflepuff a Mudblood.

There was blood dripping from Remus’ nose onto the collar of his uniform shirt from an elbow to the face as he spat various threats promises of pain and maiming, when he felt a gentle hand on the small of his back.

Due to the tension radiating through Remus’ body considering how close it was to the moon, his first reaction was to throw an elbow behind him. He thanked every deity possible that you were shorter than him when you ducked expertly to dodge his assault.

“Let him go.” You said simply.

Remus felt his brows furrow as he let out a protesting grumble.

“McGonagall is coming.” You continued.

Remus looked from you back to Avery who was now smirking at him. If Remus left now, Avery would tell McGonagall what Remus did; if Remus stayed, he could tell McGonagall what Avery had said.

“He won’t say anything.” You argued - as if you had heard Remus’ internal conundrum - causing Avery’s face to fall and both boys to whip their heads to you.

“And why the bloody hell won’t I, L/N?” Avery spat.

Your eyes moved from Remus’ to Avery’s where they took on a horrifyingly cold quality, no doubt the result of your cold and indifferent parents raising you like a proper Pureblood heir.

“Because I know where you sleep.” You spat lowly.

Remus watched as Avery fought to remain defiant, but as he heard the sound of McGonagall’s footsteps approaching, let out a frustrated groan.

“Fine. Sod off.” He barked, pushing Remus away from him roughly and stalking off towards the Slytherin dungeons.

Remus angrily picked up his book bag and began stalking down the corridor in the opposite way.

His blood was boiling, the tension in his shoulders and neck was starting to give him a headache and every step he took aggravated the matter.

He turned hastily around a corner when the strap of his book bag was pulled off his shoulder.

“What?” He hissed when he turned to see you with the other end of his strap in your hand.

“This way.”

“L/N.”

“Lupin.” You countered severely, voice intoning no nonsense.

Remus allowed you to drag him by his bookbag like a dog down a seemingly abandoned corridor and into an empty classroom before you locked the doors and threw up a silencing charm.

“What are you doing?” He muttered admittedly far more petulantly than you presently deserved from him.

“Helping.” You answered simply as you began undoing your school tie.

“I’m fine.” He spat, plopping himself down roughly into a chair.

“Right.” You said sarcastically. “And you wouldn’t have continued to punch the first arse you saw on your way back to Gryffindor, huh?” You asked as you started pulling off your top and exposing your lacy black bra. “And I may not be an expert, but you’re a long way from Gryffindor tower which means your chances of running into an arse were really rather high.”

Remus held his hands up to his face and pinches at his temples, trying to stave off the incoming migraine and the overwhelming urge to tell you to fuck off, which he knew he really didn’t want to do.

Suddenly you were in nothing but your bra and panties, kneeling before him and fussing with his belt.

“This really isn’t necessary, L/N.” He offered without much fervour.

“What are friends for?” You asked quietly as you pulled his belt from the loops of his trouser.

“You don’t have to.”

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked pointedly, pausing your movements and looking up at him. You were giving him a choice; an out. Did he want to blow off some steam, or did he want to spend the rest of his day pissed off and tense?

Did he want you to stop?

“No.” He admitted.

Your eyes softened, though everything else about your face remained impassive as you undid the button and zip to his trousers and began encouraging them down his legs.

He decided to give up on his temper tantrum and assist you in the unenviable task of disrobing him and pulled you up into his lap.

“I don’t need anything.” You squeaked as he had you straddle his lap, your hair falling over your shoulders and tickling his own from your place above him.

“I’m not going to get in a fight and be a selfish lover all in the same day, L/N.” He said in faux admonishment. “Friends look after each other, yeah?”

And he’s not sure what swayed you. One moment he had you perched precariously above him as he gently nipped at your neck, and the next moment he was brutally thrusting up into you with no lack of desperation.

“Fuckin’ hells you feel amazing.” He grunted as you mewled above him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes screwed shut causing Remus to worry momentarily.

“Are you okay?” He asked breathlessly. You moaned in response and dropped your chin onto his shoulder.

“Hey, dove, you okay?” He asked again, pulling you from him and slowing his movements.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Lupin.” You barked before you pulled his face to yours by the ends of his hair for a searing kiss.

He grinned somewhat maniacally into the kiss and lifted you from his lap as he stood with his cock still lodged deep within you and perched you on the edge of the desk.

“You’re a bossy girl, aren’t you?” He taunted, pushing roughly into you from this new angle and causing you to cry out. “You like telling men what to do, dove?”

You gasped as Remus found the magic little spot he’d been searching for and he doubled down in his thrusts with renewed vigour.

“That’s okay.” He continued, brushing a strand of hair away from your face that had gotten stuck in some of your lipgloss. “I like being told what to do.”

“Please! Please, please please.” You whined, a pretty sheen of sweat dusted your skin and began to pool on the divot of your collarbone.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me.”

“Working on it.”

You were apparently coherent enough to laugh at that which was torture for Remus who was currently hanging on by a fucking thread as your giggles caused your cunt to clench torturously around his cock.

“Come on, pretty girl. Come on, cum for me, yeah? You’re close; I can tell. Cum for me.” He started chanting, moving his hand that was currently holding your knee up near his ribs to rub circles around your clit.

“Cum for me, L/N.”

“Oh fuck.” You shouted as your orgasm tore through you; Remus felt almost sick from the effort not to follow you over the edge immediately, wanting to help you ride out yours to fruition, but your walls pulsating around him left him very little control over the matter.

“Fuck.” Remus growled, and unfortunately that was the only warning you got before slammed into you once more, twice more, and was then spilling inside you causing your cunt to grow impossibly more wet and warm.

You let out a desperate breath and fell forward into Remus’ chest; he was ashamed to admit how much he relished in the intimacy - ignoring the very intimate act that had already taken place.

“Fuck Lupin, you’re an animal.” You breathed out with a laugh.

Remus let out a surprised bark of laughter as he looked down at you.

“You have no idea.”

And if it wasn’t any of those, perhaps it was a few weeks later, when Remus saw a regal looking owl fly into the Great Hall over the Slytherin table, and with a grand war cry dropped an important looking letter in front of you, causing the rest of your table to fall silent.

Remus watched as Regulus Black’s jaw tightened and Barty Crouch Junior’s spoon fell back into his porridge as they watched you open it.

Remus watched as all colour seemed to drain from your face and your jaw fell slack, though not open.

The rest of the Hall seemed completely unaware of the turmoil taking place over at the Slytherin table; everyone but Remus and, apparently, Sirius Black.

“Shit.” Sirius whispered under his breath quietly, alerting neither Peter nor James who were currently in a heated debate about whether pumpkin pasties or sugar quills were the better treat from Honeydukes.

“What is it?” Remus asked him quietly. Sirius seemed nearly surprised that Remus had noticed, though schooled his expression quickly.

“Marriage announcement, she’s been betrothed.” He sneered the word, his nose actually wrinkling in disgust. “‘Sold off’ is a more appropriate term. It’s too bad, I quite liked her.”

Remus didn’t really like the feeling that settled in his stomach when he considered you being married off, but he didn’t have time to think on it too hard before he watched you storm over to Avery, Mulciber, and Snape before grabbing the former by the nape of his neck and slamming his head down into the table.

Remus was up and over to you in an instant with Sirius close behind, beaten only by Barty and Regulus who had the advantage of proximity.

“You miserable fucking wanker! You’ll fucking rot for this!” You screamed as Regulus fought and nearly lost in his battle of holding you back as Barty began sparring with your newfound enemy.

“I’ll fucking kill you for this Avery! You watch your fucking back!” You screeched. Regulus - for what reason, Remus couldn’t know - thought now a good moment to put you down, and as you launched yourself once again for what he was sure was Avery’s jugular, Remus threw you over his shoulder and took off out of the Great Hall.

“Put me down!” You shouted.

“No.”

“Fuck off, Lupin.” You cried, grabbing at his jumper and slamming your fists into his lower back as he took the stairs two at a time.

“You’re fine, L/N.”

You squealed and began kicking your legs out, causing him to use both arms to pin them to his torso.

“Stop it.”

“Put me down!”

“Stop it. Stop fighting me.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s fine.” He said, though it felt anything but. But he knew, you weren’t really mad at him, you perhaps weren’t even really mad at Avery.

“I hate you.” You said quietly this time.

“That’s alright.”

You had given up on your fight by the time Remus got to his destination. He was sure his shoulder in your stomach was causing you issues and the blood had to have been rushing to your head, but you remained placid as he hoisted you back up right and set you down on the floor of the Astronomy tower.

Your face was wet and your hair was a mess as you took gasping breaths.

This was beyond Remus’ wheelhouse when it came to you; he was good for eating you out, blowing off some steam, quickies, and the odd toke or two, but this? This was beyond his area of expertise.

He decided to sit down beside you - both your backs pressed against the cold stone of the castle in a way he was sure felt good against your skin that was sizzling and crackling with fury. He didn’t say anything; there was nothing to say, nothing that he could say, and nothing he’d really know to say at a moment like this. Perhaps he should have left you to your friends; to the Purebloods who got it. Though, Regulus seemed willing to let you help Barty kill Avery, so perhaps it was better that you were up here with him instead.

That's what he’d tell himself for now.

It could have been minutes or even an hour before you finally took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?” Remus asked quietly.

“Stop me.”

“You stopped me first.”

You let that sit in the air as you looked out into the horizon.

“What do you need, L/N? What… what can I do?” He begged desperately.

Remus was certain the entire school could hear the sound of his heart breaking at the devastated expression that graced your face when you turned to make eye contact with him; your eyes seemed to beg Remus for something but he couldn’t decipher what it was that you were asking of him.

“I want to…to forget.” You sobbed. “I want to not think, I want to turn it all off for a fucking, god’s damned minute. I want it all to stop.”

“Okay.” He offered readily.

“I want it to stop.”

“Okay.” He repeated, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m right here.” He encouraged you. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to forget.”

“Okay.” Remus said again, pulling at your hand and encouraging you into his lap. “I’m right here; take what you need.”

And Remus wasn’t sure what went through your mind as you searched between his hazel eyes. One moment you were carefully perched above him in his lap; tear tracks staining your cheeks and eyes full of sorrow. And in the next moment, your uniform skirt was hiked up and panties pulled to the side, and Remus’ belt was undone and his trousers were pulled low around his thighs as you bounced up and down on his cock like it was the solution to all of life's problems.

Remus wished it were true, he really did. But if all he could do at this moment was help you turn your brain off and forget the unpleasantness waiting for you back in the castle for just a little bit, then that’s what he would do.

You had your face shoved into his neck and he was quite sure you were biting down on the junction between his shoulder and his neck - in an attempt to quell your moans, your crying, or just out of frustration, Remus didn’t know, and quite frankly he didn’t care either way. You grinded down onto him and he felt you applying pressure to your clit against his pelvic bone, prompting him to start rubbing it with his thumb.

“You can let go, gorgeous. No one’s here.” He whispered.

You bit down harder in response and began riding him with an air of desperation.

“I’m right here.”

And then he felt it. First, he felt your tears fall onto his shoulder, then he felt your teeth break his skin, and finally he felt your walls clench around him.

You stayed latched onto him; your arms around his waist, your hands clenched into the fabric of his jumper, your teeth on his skin and your cunt on his cock as he thrusted up into you and found his own release with very little effort on account of the aftershocks still shuddering through you.

You sat like that for some time afterwards; the gentle breeze causing goosebumps to cover each of you as the sweat began to cool on your skin, and Remus rubbed circles into your bare thighs with his thumbs.

Unfortunately - for reasons Remus wasn’t willing to ponder on at present - you pulled away, a string of spit connecting your lips to the place on Remus’ neck he was sure now adorned the shape of your teeth.

“Sorry.” You rasped, running a hand over the newest of many wounds now decorating his skin. He didn’t want you to be sorry, though, he thought perhaps this might be his favourite one; it wasn’t the result of some hideous monster who took out its rage on him, but instead marked a tender moment between him and his…friend.

You pulled your wand to cast a healing charm over it when Remus grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t.”

Your reddened and swollen eyes looked at him inquisitively, causing Remus to flush in embarrassment.

“Leave it, I’ve already got so many; what’s one more?” He tried to joke, though he could tell as you looked back down at the bite mark, it fell flat.

“I’m sorry.” You said again, and Remus shook his head.

“Don’t be.”

“Thank you.” You said quietly, looking into Remus’ eyes imploringly, as if trying to convey your gratitude through your very soul. “For stopping me.”

This moment suddenly felt too charged for Remus; it was different somehow, something had happened, though he wasn’t sure what.

Not then, at least.

“That’s what friends do.” He said noncommittally. “It was an I.O.U.”

He managed to force a small smile out of you for that, and he was grateful.

So perhaps it was all of those together, in addition to the many blowjobs, many quickies, many quiet, loud, rough, or awkward fucks the two of you had in between.

But maybe…

Maybe it was the way your smile lit up the room when Barty or Pandora said something particularly outlandish or funny; your laughter echoing through the halls like an invitation to experience a secret joy that only you and your friends knew about.

Or maybe it was the way you seemed to be the only one who could weasel a smile, a laugh, or a fond eye roll out of the notoriously cold and apathetic Regulus.

Or maybe it was how a dimple in your left cheek only appeared when you were particularly proud of an achievement you made or a grade you received.

Or maybe it was the kind way you sheltered the younger Slytherin’s from the brunt of the Marauder’s pranks without impeding their more good natured ones.

Or maybe it was the way you hexed McLaggen for hitting on Lily Evans, and then again for calling her a filthy Mudblood when she refused his advancements.

Or maybe it was the way that you could always tell when Remus was feeling sad or low and needed help, needed something, needed you.

And fuck.

He needed you.

Remus wasn’t exactly sure how this thing started for him.

One moment you were on your hands and knees in his bed and he was fucking into you from behind; his body curled around yours as he rubbed at your clit expertly to push you over that edge for the third time tonight. And the next moment you were spread out and pliant beneath him, head thrown back in ecstasy as he lazily pushed into you.

He didn’t often get moments like this; moments to just sit and admire you.

This thing he had with you, it was delicate, precarious. It was precious. And he wasn’t going to go fucking it up by forcing it to be something it wasn’t.

You were friends.

You were friends who helped each other.

You were friends who have seen each other naked; who have tasted each other’s sweat, skin, flesh, blood, and cum.

You were friends who have spent time with each other, on each other, and in each other.

You were friends.

That’s what you had agreed to, that was the arrangement, that was all this was supposed to be.

And then Remus’ stupid sodding heart had to go and fucking yearn for you.

It ached to sit beside you in the library without it being a precursor for one of you to be on your knees in the stacks moments later.

It ached to ask you about your day for the sole purpose of getting to hear about it and not just as a means to help you take your mind off it by bending you over in an empty classroom.

It ached to watch you, uninhibited throughout the day, without it causing grief, or angst, or hungry looks being exchanged.

It ached to taste your lips without tasting the leftover sex from previous actions.

It ached for you to climb into the shower with him after this, to throw on one of his ratty old band tees, and to stay.

It ached for you to stay.

He wanted you to stay.

But you guys were friends.

And that was enough, it had to be enough. He would make it be enough.

So sue him; sue him for taking this extra moment to admire your form below him, when you were only his in this moment. Sue him for memorising the way your hair pooled around your head like a halo even after all the tugging and ruffling that it has been subjected to. Sue him for watching the way your breasts bounced with each gentle thrust of his hips, the way your ribs expanded and contracted with each breath, the way the two of you fit so perfectly together; your body accepting him with grace and ease as he slotted the two of you together over and over and over again.

He ached for you.

And damn him - damn him and his bleeding heart and this beautiful girl beneath him - he reached out to pull a strand of hair that laid plastered to the side of your sweaty face.

He didn’t just ache for you.

He yearned for you.

He loved you.

He was in love with you.

And Godric only knows how far gone he was or for how long now. But it didn’t matter; none of it mattered. All that mattered was this ethereal being that, for just this moment, was all his.

He doesn’t know how long your eyes had been returning his gaze. He supposed it didn’t matter, because he knew; he knew it was written all over his face.

He may as well have been flashing a neon sign on his forehead: “My name is Remus, and I’m wildly in love with you”. And if the sign hadn’t been enough, he was sure his actions were.

There was no longer any desperation in his actions; no destination in mind as he slowly pulled out of you and pushed back in again. His hands weren’t placed in precise locations to elicit a specific reaction of any sort, but rather roved languidly over your body in meticulous worship.

And if that hadn’t been enough, he was sure that the way you were staring deep into his eyes, into his soul; you saw. You knew.

The jig was up.

He had been outed.

Your eyes widened minutely and began to flit around Remus’ face as your grip on his arms stationed on either side of your body loosened.

You knew.

Though it was all for naught at this point, Remus scrunched his eyes closed as if he could save any of his remaining dignity; not that there was much left.

This was it, it was all going to be over.

He lowered himself over your body and pressed his face into your neck, hiding like the coward he was as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

Gently, tentatively, he felt you press a cautious hand between his shoulder blades and another to the nape of his neck.

Somehow, the tenderness in your touch hurt more.

He came with a strangled cry, feeling humiliating tears fall from his eyes as he filled you up for what he was certain would be the last time.

He melted into your hold and cried silently into your shoulder, and you let him.

Your hand that was stationed between his shoulder blades never moved, but your hand in his hair kneaded gentle, soothing circles into his scalp.

He wanted you to stop; he wanted you to stop because this was all he really wanted... to be here, with you, like this.

He wanted the rough and the fun and the biting and the hair pulling, sure. But he wanted the gentle, the soft, the affection, and the innocent intimacy, too.

That wasn’t fair though; it wasn’t fair to you. You never asked for it, and you never offered it.

You never asked for it.

You never offered it.

He decided that he’d been hiding in your neck for far longer than he had any right to, and slowly pulled his face away from its sanctuary.

He looked up at you through his curls in shame to see you had tear tracks down your cheeks too.

What a fucking mess.

He was a fucking mess; and he’d dragged you down into it.

He slowly pulled out of you and summoned a tissue to clean up the cum leaking from your folds. You hissed at the sensation and he whispered an apology before pulling on a pair of pyjama pants and throwing you a t-shirt that he hoped to fucking God was clean, and sat on the edge of James’ bed; facing you, though his head was bowed in shame.

“I’m sorry.” He offered pathetically, knowing it was not even close to helpful in this situation.

“When…” You started, voice both gravely from the sex and tight with emotions as new tears fell. “When did this happen?”

He didn’t have an answer; he didn’t know. He couldn't say.

“When,” you tried again. “When did this change?”

Your face fell into your hands as you began to cry in earnest.

He wondered what part of this upset you the most; the loss of this friend that you had in him? The pressure to offer him more than you were willing to give? The feeling of guilt over not being able to return his feelings?

You didn’t seem to be waiting for an actual answer from him, but were rather voicing the thoughts running through your head as they came to you.

“I should go.” He whispered, even though this was his room, even though you were wearing his shirt.

“Don’t.” You demanded harshly, eyes blazing with a fire he never imagined ever being shot at him. “Don’t you dare leave me here like this; not after that.”

He nodded quickly, sitting back down on James’ bed as you wiped angrily at your face.

He wished you wouldn’t; he wished you’d be more gentle.

He didn’t get to wish things like that, though.

“When, when did this become love?” You asked in a mixture of shock and bemusement; the thought of an equation you couldn’t solve was clearly insulting to you.

Remus shook his head in disgrace. “I’m sorry.” He offered weakly.

You scoffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Sorry for what, exactly? Making me fall in love with you? Making me fall in love with you and not telling me about it?”

“You... too?” He rasped, looking at you with a slack jaw.

“Fuck.” You seethed, standing up and beginning to pace the dorm room for a few moments as you seemed to think back on the entire duration of this situation.

“When!?” You demanded again after a few moments.

“I don’t know.” He admitted honestly, placatingly.

“Fuck.” You paused in place, bringing your hands to your mouth. Remus hated it, but you paused right in front of the hearth, causing your form to be illuminated by an ethereal glow. He thought you looked beautiful.

“I’m sorry.” He said, for daring to even think such a thing.

But, maybe…maybe if you loved him too, he could think such things?

“Fuck.” You said again, still staring unseeingly at the wall of his dorm as you stood in nothing but an oversized shirt in the middle of the room.

“What-” Remus started, taking a cautious step towards you as if you were a wild animal poised to run at any given moment. “What do you want, Y/N?”

Not one muscle in your body moved save for your eyes as they shot over to him.

“Anything.” He whispered.

I’ll give you anything you want; be anything you want. Say it and I’m yours. I’m yours.

I’m already all yours.

“I need to pee.” You said plainly.

Remus’ chest deflated in relief that you weren’t asking him to obliviate this memory from your mind.

“And then…” You took a shuddering breath that made Remus want to fold you up and keep you safe in his breast pocket for the rest of his life. “And then I want to talk. About this, okay? Please?”

Remus nodded quickly, readily, so unbelievably willingly.

“Don’t leave, please. Please be here when I get back.” You whispered; eyes, voice, and body language far more vulnerable than he ever remembered seeing from you (and ever cared to see from you again).

“Always.”

And he kept that promise.

1K notes · View notes

notroosterbradshaw · 4 months

Text

Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)

about: Bradley's home just before the turn of midnight. After 15+ Christmases together, it's just sometimes lovely to reminisce about life before the babies wake and the madness ensues.

word count: 6k

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

a/n: I haven't had a lot of time to put this together the way I would have liked, I will quietly edit after xmas to put some more time into this... hopefully. otherwise, please enjoy and have yourself a merry little something if you feel that way inclined x

masterlist.

It was so late.

Bradley was so late.

A late arrival to base, mandatory debrief, it was a shitshow of delay after delay from his three-month deployment but coming home to see the house dark, he knew you’d given up and headed to bed. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself, quietly dropping his duffel bag at the front door but ears pricked up to hear Christmas music – Eagles, Please Come Home for Christmas – and he could swear, you singing gently with Don Henley. The sweetest sound even if you were the first to admit your voice was reminiscent of nails on a blackboard.

Untrue. It was like pure honey from the hive and he couldn’t get enough.

Chewing his lip in anticipation as he quietly unlaced his boots, he wandered into the dim living room, only lit by the glow of the fading white lights on the tree and carefully curated tea lights flickering on the fireplace. But he couldn’t interrupt the revelry as you danced gently around the tree you were trimming, one hand adjusting a decoration, the glass piano that once belonged to his old man, and a balloon of Pinot Noir in the other. He watched as you took a delicate sip, the floor around the tree littered with beautifully wrapped gifts and the stockings full of candies and odds and ends.

It really was a picture. You curated magic.

If he knew you, and he knew you so well, the tree would have been up on Thanksgiving evening and perfected every night until now, Christmas Eve. So beautiful in what little you wore, one of his many threadbare old Navy tees and maybe some undies underneath for modesty, or maybe not, he hoped. The reflection of the lights danced against your bare skin on display that had him swallow rough, and like most instances in your presence, hard. So hard. Three months without your touch, taste and sweet voice hard.

“Hi,” Bradley said finally, as you jolted slightly and looked in his direction, a smile growing on your face as he made his way to you, steadfast as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his forehead against yours.

“Hi,” you said simply, even though you had a thousand things you wanted to tell him. “Merry Christmas, Bradley,” you said as he smiled softly at you, grasping your cheek in his calloused palm and searching your face intently – looking for anything that may have changed, confident in his recall he could never forget one feature on your divine face.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” you confided delicately. And honestly? Neither did he.

He looked at his watch. “With moments to spare,” he said, amber eyes dancing mischievously. “God, I missed you,” he breathed, your delicate perfume grounding him, ridding away his sea legs. “May I?” he nodded towards the wine in your hand, and you gratefully passed it to him. “Like this,” he told you. “Glass for me?”

You made a face. “Like, six hours ago… maybe?”

He grinned. “That good, huh?”

“I’m sorry, but you were so late.”

“So late,” he mocked, bobbing to put the glass on the coffee table.

“And yet you still haven’t kissed me,” you mumbled.

He huffed a gentle laugh and did exactly what was expected of him. Three months away from your soft lips, and sparkling eyes as he pulled you closer to him with a firm hand on your lower back. Three months of fantasising what this moment would feel like even though it had happened dozens of times before. How slick your tongue was against his and it reminded him of the soft-spoken, even shy freshman he met in college in his sophomore year. The first time your eyes met in the dorm hall as you dragged your suitcases behind you, looking for room numbers and coming up short. So small in the ocean of chaos.

Bradley had no reason to go over and ask if he could help you. Leave the conversation with friends about, he reckoned, the Phillies… Countless students were struggling with the same problems, but you? Magnetic. No one else mattered, it was like no one else in the universe existed. And still… now? Aside from your beautiful daughters, maybe no one else did either.

That’s how Bradley Bradshaw’s kiss made you feel after all these years. The man who could have any woman he wanted, and those who still felt entitled to try and sway his attention on the infrequent nights out you shared.

And just like the boy you fell in love with, his firm hands skimmed the fabric of the tee. You felt a warm palm against your hip and drift to your thigh and of course, his intended destination, against your bare ass – “Perfect,” he breathed against your lips.

You weren’t sure when he’d started dancing with you, his hips slowly guiding you to whatever song was in the background, now you weren’t so sure because all there was was him.

As he kissed and moved you, he whispered if his girls were asleep… that no one was about to wander in from their bedroom. And as much as he wanted to see his babies, his gorgeous girls, he needed their mother more and he would eagerly see them tomorrow morning.

“Upstairs,” you told him, and he knew that meant homecoming was less raucous than it was when you were both a little young and dumber. No fucking on the couch or your back pressed up against the wall, your thigh in his calloused palm and his slacks dropped to his ankles the second he walked in. Those days were gone, greeting each other so much softer.

You weren’t entirely surprised when his hand smoothed from your side and drifted between your thighs to your delicate core. He tenderly pressed his soft lips into your pulse as his long, slender index finger tenderly skimmed the smooth skin of your pussy. “You feel good,” he breathed gently, so conscious of his voice raising and bringing the kids’ attention downstairs. “I want you. I’ve missed you, sweetheart,” he moved to your lips again and he kissed you the way he did when you first started seeing each other. The way his tongue flicked against your lip, tracing with an edge of demand as you gave in, willingly falling under his spell and kissing him back with the same ferocity.

His strong thigh pressed against your core, and you gasped against his lips, the rough material of his uniform making you heady as he tilted you that little further to almost ride him.

“Not here,” you told him, guiding his pout to your mouth and leading him by the hand to your bedroom, the master bed, your sanctuary and sometimes the loneliest room in the world when Bradley was away.

Bradley wasn’t surprised to see a few candles lit in the bedroom either. As you got older, your need for romance seemed to have crept through with the solitude that came along with a husband who served and two little girls who ran you off your feet every day. Bradley, a romantic at heart, unleashed some of the sweetest things that had ever happened to you. He was always big on flowers, and planning sweet dates but physical touch was his love language.

He was a hand holder, he liked that you were the right height he could rest his lips against your temple and kiss you when close, skilled hands and massage. But it all meant so little in comparison to him holding you tightly in his arms. Something over the years you missed dearly when he was absent, you never felt safer than feeling his warm palm pressed into your lower back, the way his brawny arm would curl around your waist and tuck you into his side.

You were the other’s missing piece and so lucky to have met each other so early in life.

“Too young to fall in love, too young to get married,” Bradley reiterated all the things you heard all those years ago. “Too young to start a family.”

“They may have been right about the last part.” At 23 and in over your head with a newborn and a husband dedicating his career to defending the country was one thing, it was one of the hardest things you’d ever thrown yourself into, leaving family to move where Bradley’s job required. The other military wives took you under their wing, (s)mothering where they could. And you were so proud of all of Bradley’s achievements, but it didn’t cure the sad nights of solitude once the kids went to bed, and you had time to think about how hard it all is to do alone.

Bradley huffed a laugh into your ear. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t change anything now.”

“They never thought we’d last,” you rolled your eyes like you did every time you two embarked on this quiet joke that was now at everyone else who didn’t believe expense.

“Like I told you. From the moment I met you, it was forever,” he pulled you towards the bed, lightly tossing you towards the pillows with little effort on his behalf, you gave him a look as you adjusted against the soft pillows. “Was I wrong?”

“You’ve been very convincing,” you teased as he playfully rolled his eyes.

“In what way?” he played along.

“Well, you’re a wonderful father.”

He hummed, as he began on the buttons of his shirt. How were you supposed to continue when he was playing a strategic game of rendering his wife speechless? After 15 or so years, his body was more impressive now than the day you met him. It was almost criminal.

When you met him, a gangly 21-year-old boy who was endeavouring to improve himself, prepare himself for the rigours of being a pilot for the navy. Gym, protein shakes, gym, school. It had been quite a development, watching Bradley grow into the man he is today.

…and you got to reap every single benefit.

“Just a good dad? Shit…”

“An amazing father and from what I can gather, a pretty fantastic leader.”

“Captain, Mrs Bradshaw,” he corrected. “But I’ll overlook it this time.”

You rolled your eyes again, watching his nimble fingers get to the last button and push back the material to – disappointing. An undershirt. He tossed his shirt at you gently, his cologne wafting over your senses. “How many layers you got there, Captain Bradshaw?”

Eyebrow raised; he kept your gaze as he stripped the second layer that kept you from his golden skin. “Better?”

You didn’t hide your shallow breath. Because yes, your man was only getting finer as he got older. The precision of his well-defined muscles glowing by candlelight, the smattering of freckles across his shoulders and broad chest, abs, abdominals, abs – they seemed to go on and your favourite, his Adonis belt. May as well have been named the Bradley Belt for all you cared, because his was spectacular. You reached the familiar logo of his boxer briefs and slender hips. The snail trail that led to the jackpot. “Better,” you confirmed as he moved to his belt, slacks and zip. “More,” you replied. “I’m practically naked here.”

Bradley’s lip quirked. “I think that tee you’re wearing is at least 10 years old.”

“Sue me, it smells like you when you’re away,” you sniped as he winked cheekily and stepped out of his dropped pants, approaching the bed.

“I hope you’ve washed it after three months.”

Three months. But yes, you’d begrudgingly washed it. But it was still nice to be wrapped up in something that belonged to him when it wasn’t his arms to keep you safe. “Would have been better if you were here…”

“I know, sweetheart,” he sighed, making his way to the bed and crawling over to you, resting his cheek on your breast, tightening a grasp around your waist. “God, I missed you.”

Smoothing his curls, you tenderly kissed his temple. “No way as much as I did, Bradley.”

“Were the girls good?”

“They had their moments, but they’re nearly teenagers…”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to start fending dudes off at the door,” Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose, not wanting to believe his baby girls were growing so quickly. Violet was in Grade 7 and Olivia Grade 5. It was hard to miss so much of their lives and sometimes felt like lifetimes between his time at home. But he’d reconciled he would do more time on dry land this year, taking up a training facilitator role on base for new Top Gun recruits. You’d spoken about it for so long and now it looked like he was getting his opportunity to make Friday night basketball games, and swimming on Saturday mornings and whatever else was expected of him.

“Not long now,” you had to agree but as much as you wanted to tell him everything he’d missed that couldn’t be fit into the couple of minutes you managed to get him every once in a while, you were so desperate for your husband, you didn’t want to play the polite game. “Bradley?”

He hummed again.

“I want you.”

Looking up at you, he ran his slick tongue over his top lip. “Well, ma’am, I guess I’d better get to work, huh?” his grin was wet, and he reached to kiss you, so tender and sweet but you knew it was laced with so much more as he rolled you beneath him, propping himself on an elbow and using his free palm to raise your thigh over his hip. His kisses were so good, and you knew you were a keening mess for him… when weren’t you?

Gasping into his mouth as he lightly walked his fingers to your core, he was bold and spread your lips, taking your arousal, sticky and warm, he pressed your clit and started to rub, just so to relax you. You melted beneath him. After all these years, he knew exactly how to make you a bag of bones. He didn’t need to ask as he pressed his long index finger in, never once breaking the kiss, just increasing the intensity.

Making out with Bradley while he fingered you. He was going old school. Those days before you slept with him, you’d be tangled together on your shitty single bed, grinding against the other. The first time he dared touch you, how he asked so sweetly if he could try and make you cum, to finger you. When you gave him a shaky yes in reply and opened your legs to him as he slid his long fingers under the waist of your tights, his soft eyes reassuring the panic that washed over you, kissing you tenderly and promising against your lips that he’d stop if you wanted him too. You told him you wanted to because he was Bradley and you’d never met anyone like him, you’d never felt the things he was making you feel. Maybe you had something to prove – to him, to you? You weren’t sure but as Bradley’s big hands slowly tugged your tights down your legs, carelessly discarding them and seeing those pretty pink undies soaked through with your excitement, he breathed, scared he’d cum before he’d touched you. He dared to sweep your undies to the side, your pretty pussy bare and glistening for him.

He did that, he made you that wet, he thought proudly. He was so excited and popped the button on his jeans, needing to relieve some friction and moved to coax you under his arm, his nose nuzzling against yours.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable or if I need to stop,” he breathed, his gentle rasp calming you as you softly gripped his wrist.

This wasn’t the first time you’d done this, but with Bradley, it was like you’d never been touched before. He ignited sparks in you that you’d never felt before, no one else’s fingers did this… not even your own.

“You’re beautiful,” he told you as you pulled a pillow over your eyes, so shy, so bashful. He tossed away the pillow and kissed you, his hand tracing down the side of your body and index finger gathering your excitement to coat your labia and clit. He started slow and asked if you touched yourself or if you had toys. And yes, you had a vibrator that gave you a pretty good impression of what you liked but this was already wildly exceeding anything the vibe brought to the table. “Do you like this?” he was so considerate and when you hitched a breath and told him ‘faster’, the keenness to learn you clouded over and his façade darkened, turned on by you telling him what you liked and he slid another finger into you, trying not to blow his load as you started to cry out, his thumb passing on your thrumming clit and shamed, you held back how much you really wanted to come alive for him.

You knew you couldn’t bite back your moans of pleasure, and as he laughed into your skin, he reached and lifted your sweater and bra, dragging his mouth down to your pretty tits, lapping and licking and sucking as you started the shudder below him. You clawed at his wrist that was buried within you and grinding against you as he toyed with your tits more, kneading and sucking harder. He was gonna blow his load before you even touched him.

“Oh, Bradley,” your voice was so sweet as you fucked into his hand, quivering and sensitive and wet and desperate as you came. Everything all at once.

“You’re so sexy,” he crooned with his deep rasp. “I’ve never seen someone cum like this…” He kissed you deeply as you felt the last bursts of electricity flow through your body before flopping into the mattress and urgently pushing his fingers away, too sensitive. He smiled against your lips and told you it was okay, he loved seeing you lose control.

After you’d cum, and you nervously asked him if you could give him a hand job to return the favour or whatever, he knew he was in love. Young and dumb and no one could tell him differently. How he got to his back and watched as you drag his jeans off and pull down his boxers, his cock so hard, weeping precum. “Tell me if I hurt you,” you mumbled, the most nervous you’d been. “Or if you don’t like it.”

“You could never hurt me,” he hissed as you used both soft hands to wrap around his length. “That is so fuckin’ good, baby,” he managed, head sinking back into your fluffy pillows, imagining if he was to die tomorrow, he’d die happy. And as he wrapped his hand around yours, showing you the tempo he preferred, he almost came as your wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock without warning. “Oh, shit,” he hissed unprepared, trying not to fuck your face, his hips wild. He had never been so turned on.

He’d dated and slept with a few girls, and had a few blowjobs but nothing, nothing felt like this, and he buried his big hands into your hair, massaging and encouraging you as best he could. He screeched a warning he was coming and to take your mouth away if you didn’t want to taste him. When you didn’t relinquish your sweet mouth on him, he came hard in the back of your throat and you swallowed the salty flavour of him down, he pulled you to him and kissed you deeply, telling you he thought he was in love and, silently, he hoped you were too.

“That was the best head I ever had,” he peered up. “And you’ve never given a blow job before?” he was suspicious. You shook your head bashfully, but also excited he was so happy with your attempt, and you vowed you’d only get better if it brought out this reaction in him. “Feel free any time you wanna practice,” he almost laughed, falling back against the headrest of the bed.

A few hours later, as Bradley pounded into you, you’d be lying if you didn’t feel nostalgic, recalling the first time you had sex with him. It never felt like plain old missionary with him, he tucked you in close and you’d wrap your calves around his hamstrings, keeping him close as he whispered filth in your ear.

You knew you’d bled, and you were begging not noticeably. You didn’t want that embarrassment, even if the towel caught it. Overall, it wasn’t a painful experience, Bradley had done everything to relax you, the slick of the lube reducing any real friction and he’d gone down on you before he’d even taken off his jeans. “You have the prettiest pussy, baby,” he told you as you shuddered beneath him and he continued fucking you with his fingers until you pushed his face away, so sensitive. “Okay, okay,” he cooed to you, trailing wet kisses up your naked body, exposed wholly to him.

It had been a very fun few weeks, lots of kissing, touching, and making the other cum and sneaky sleepovers but when you told him you were ready to have sex – with him – your first – Bradley couldn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t believe you would be interested in him, you were so sweet, and kind, and pretty. So sexy and he hoped, all for him. He hadn’t met anyone who he felt so connected to. He worried he was trying too hard to force something that wasn’t there, but as he slowly pushed into you, gloved cock long and girthy, stretching you and you sighed into his ear to tell him how good it felt and that you thought you were falling in love with him, everything stopped.

His hips, lips and heart froze as he must have misheard words he was desperate to return but far too timid to do so.

“Remember the days we’d be in bed all day and just fuck and laugh. Order takeout and fuck again?” Bradley said between the rolls of his hips. “I wanna be able to do that again,” he groaned in your ear as you fuckingthrobbed around him, so close as you clenched. “I’m gonna take you away in the New Year. You, me, the Maldives. Private villa and all that good lovin’ we deserve.”

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you giggled against him, excited for him and the prospect that you would spend some uninterrupted time together and you rose to meet his thrusts, spurring him on with your enthusiasm. He felt so good: strong, rough and as the head of his cock hit your G-spot, a step closer to orgasm – heaven, he wasn’t sure. He knew your body like it was his, and he brought his fingers between your bodies, brushing against your pained clit as your back arched and his tongue swirled around your nipple. He sucked on the delicate skin, as you began to quake and grunted low, your warm, slick pussy. “Yes, Bradley,” you encouraged.

“Your pretty cunt was made for me,” he murmured in your ear and that was it, you felt the quakes start in your toes, the muscles in your tummy start to coil and your pussy started to throb around his cock, your entire body on fire with desire for your sexy husband. “Yes, baby,” Bradley kissed you deeply, trying to concentrate on his thrusts but it was impossible as he made you feel so goddamn good. He raised your thigh to get that little rougher and you moaned, the gush fell between you both and he grunted, not giving you a moment of respite, chasing his orgasm. You fell back, completely spent as he laughed darkly, his cock rocking into you again, wrapping his palm around your waist and pulling you back to him. “So close, don’t give up on me now, sweetheart. You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

“Too sensitive,” you whined to him. “Cum, Bradley,” you begged.

It was low and powerful, the feral groan that met your demands. His hips sped up, desperate for release. He couldn’t hold back anymore and as your nails pierced the tanned skin on his back, he came with a low groan and fucked more unruly thrusts into you before collapsing above you, kissing you wildly. He gasped, completely spent, still in you without intent to move. “Gonna need to burn the bed,” he uttered to you as you barely managed a reply. It was fucking like that you missed so desperately when he was away.

“That was incredible,” you said, kissing some sweat on his brow away. “I love you.”

He chuckled into your skin, pressing kisses into your pulse. “I love you, baby,” he was a dream, this man. “Good job, team,” he raised his palm for a limp high-five, both spent.

“Roll the dice,” you reiterate to Bradley. “If we get pregnant, great. If we don’t…”

“It’s you and me and we are great with that,” Bradley answered with the faintest glint of hope in his shining honey eyes. Was this happening? Was Bradley about to get the family he’d been missing for so long?!

But in the back of the afterglow of lovemaking as husband and wife, you’d told him you’d go off birth control after your honeymoon if he wanted to try for a baby so soon. You didn’t want it to be immediate, you wanted to enjoy being married and the fun that came with it. And Bradley wholeheartedly agreed.

Bradley was so determined to rise through the ranks, that you didn’t want to detract him any more than you might have but you were young and in love and when you found out you were pregnant with your first baby, a girl to be named Violet. The thing was, you were only hoping to be a newlywed once - marriage wasn't as big a thing for you as it was for Bradley so the drama of it all (even as intimate as it was for you was a one-time deal). And even babies. But even he admitted he wouldn't have the first idea of how to do it since his dad wasn't around when he was growing up and Maverick wasn't exactly a glowing example of fatherhood.

He was a smitten young man. A beautiful wife, and a gorgeous little girl waiting at home for him while he served his country and continued slowly but surely through the ranks, getting a reputation as Rooster, slow into the fight.

Or Rooster, and the size of his cock, you’d joked quietly one evening. The way he seemed so scandalised and as the devil crept into his gold eyes, the grin behind his growing moustache was seen to be believed. Not many people knew that about the version of it, you shared, and when you’d learned he’d been adorned with it, whoever gave him the callsign would rue the day of the double entendre. One of life’s funny coincidences and Bradley wouldn’t wipe the devious smile off his face when you’d christened him with it.

When Violet was three, you found out Olivia was going to come into the world punching. Now both tweens and the baby-making days were well behind you both, you felt like you were starting to live your lives again, not bogged down with school runs, weeknight ballet, gymnastics, basketball, softball, soccer and whatever else they were desperate to try. Both athletic like their father, you felt like a taxi when Bradley was away, running the girls from one thing to the next, the sweet solace sometimes found when both girls were away from home at sleepovers and the like.

They were the nights you couldn’t wait to introduce to Bradley. A date night, Jesus, wine on the couch uninterrupted for a drop-off or pick up to what was for dinner or “Mama, I have an assignment due tomorrow and I haven’t started.”

Recalling when your period was late after about two cycles after going off birth control, you kind of hoped it was the drama of irregular periods and what it brought. It was why you went on the pill in the first place in your teens.

But there was something different while you channel surfed and Bradley cooked in the kitchen. A strange cramping in your tummy. Not unbearable, but noticeable as you sat up, a little perplexed. It was too early for a period and you weren’t ovulating. Popping up, you joined Bradley in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his hips to kiss between his shoulder blades. He smiled, turning back for a quick peck before you quietly excused yourself to do a pregnancy test. And you weren’t entirely surprised when it revealed you were 1-2 weeks pregnant. And you weren’t entirely surprised when you showed him the positive pregnancy test after dinner that still certainly said PREGNANT in fat, bold letters.

“It tells you how many weeks?” Bradley was astonished.

“Clever, huh?” you said quietly. Bradley watched you, he looked at the test, begging it wasn’t about to flash NOT PREGNANT and he’d read incorrectly – but he gazed back at you. Unreadable at best, erring on the side of too quiet. Reserved, he had trouble reading you sometimes, and this was one he'd need you to talk through. He needed to know exactly what was going on through your head.

“You good?” he asked softly, grasping the test in his strong palm. It was so small, but it held his world in his grip. He put the test down to caress your jaw, forcing your gaze to him. “Baby…” his fingers light as they had sunk into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Sweetheart,” he called to you.

“I think I am. It’s just… quick," you surrender, falling into his sound touch. And he was due to leave within weeks. You were 23, you had only just found the job of your dreams -

“It is quick,” Bradley agreed, kissing your hair. “Is it too quick?”

“Maybe…” you admitted as he pressed a kiss into your temple and wrapped his strong arms around you. He felt so warm and so protective as he held you without question, you really couldn’t imagine life without him right there. What if something happened on tour, what if -

“If it’s too soon, that’s okay," he said softly.

You looked up at him, trying to placate your growing fear. What if he never came home? “I just thought we’d have more time maybe.”

He bit back his smile and sighed. “Sweetheart, is this what you want? If you're not ready - if you have changed your mind - ”

“I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “That’s okay.”

Well, it wasn’t – it was a choice you’d actively made together. To make love, to make a baby. The liberty of changing your mind seemed so incredibly unfair to you and Bradley after you were both so sure this was what you wanted. “I think I just need some time,” you admitted, cutting him off. “Just to get used to it all happening.”

Bradley softened. He in no way felt like it was his place to speak. He could not hold you and whisper that whatever you decided was okay, and he would support you with anything you decided.

“What if this is our only chance?” You asked quietly. “What if - ” You shut your mouth and the guilt of the situation started to overwhelm you, Bradley chose to remain mute. “Would you hate me?”

“No. Oh sweetheart,” he kissed your hair. “But I would never live with myself if I forced you to do something you weren’t ready for. Come,” he took your hands and led you to the bedroom. He helped you take off your clothes and change into your oversized nightie, his large palm lingering gently over your abdomen for just a second longer than he should have… his baby in your soft belly.

He pulled back the duvet and patted your pillow. You snuck under the cold sheets and he climbed in after you, the scorching skin of his chest against your back. His fingertips traced your hip, slowly drawing his name on your skin. "If you don't want to do this, it's okay. But it's still something you'll need to consider..."

"I want this," you were able to say, but it was easier with him not boring his eyes into yours. He kissed your shoulder and nuzzled the nape of your neck. “I think…”

"I love you," he said so softly you almost didn't hear him. “I won't let you do this alone. Whatever you decide, I’m right there with you.”

But with a belly of arms and legs and your sheepish husband standing before you a few months later, you screeched, "You're getting deployed?" you looked at Bradley, eyes wild, six months of baby belly all that separated you. His head fell back.

"I know."

"You know?" you mimicked sarcastically, spoiled for months of your husband home with flight and combat training simulations and he finds himself deployed as you enter your final trimester. "Bradley, you'll be away for the birth of your daughter."

"I know..." he said a little meeker. He was sick about this conversation. Sick.

"Did you not put in the leave paperwork?"

"Of course I did,” he did, he did. Didn’t he? Shit, he doubted himself for one second but in this instance knew beggars couldn’t be choosers and he had his leave approved, but he also had his orders and he was so close really getting into it.

His career was on such a sheer trajectory, his head was swimming with its force.

“Is anyone going with you?”

"Payback, Phoenix," he confirmed softly.

“Will you be home for Christmas?”

He nodded. “Yes,” he stepped towards you, his large palms sinking into the round belly under his grasp, tickling the stretching skin. You sighed and collapsed into his hold.

“I’m just scared. The birth is one thing… but I can’t raise our baby on my own,” you said, the fear in your voice evident.

“And I’d never let you,” he whispered into your hair.

"If you see one ounce of action, I swear, don't dare come home."

He nodded. Dear God, he knew.

“Come on, Mama, give it to me,” Bradley urged as he held your ribs, thumbs toying with your nipples, that delicate roll of your hips grinding down on him as the sun started to rise. Neither of you slept even though you were both exhausted, you wanted to ground yourselves together before the madness of the day commenced. Between lovemaking, different positions and so much mess, you just chatted quietly, catching the other up on what they missed, knowing full well you would be next to useless for the lunch Penny was putting on with Mav (you were flying out in a few days to spend New Year with your parents). “Look at you, as sexy as the day I met you,” he continued, chewing his lower lip – he was close but we wouldn’t cum until you did. “Pretty little thing.”

Bradley had leaned into the whole encouragement during sex – and you will credit him for bringing out a wilder side you never knew you had in you – his voice still made your stomach flip flop and how off, give him everything he deserved in your shared pleasure and more.

“Mama, is Daddy home?” you heard a screech from upstairs. Olivia. Daddy’s girl. “His bag is at the door!” A prompise Bradley had always made his girls was he would wake them even if it was the dead of night to reassure them he was home.

Last night… he did not.

Bradley’s eyes flicked open as you paused above him, knowing your girls were unlikely to burst in but also… Dad was home and maybe, just maybe they were likely to run in excitedly. He rolled you off him quickly and you landed with such a lack of grace that he snorted and he tossed his tee at you, hitting you square in the face. He scoffed another chuckle as he reached for his discarded boxer briefs and stood to height, still hard but if you knew him, visualising the worst of the worst to settle. “I’m home. I’ll be right out, just need to hit the bathroom, girls,” he carefully called back, starting for the door and snuck a look back at you. “You got five minutes; I know I can’t hold those two wildcats back from a tree with presents under it.”

You nodded with a grin as you pulled the shirt over your head and moved towards the en suite but not before changing direction and stopping him before he went to see his girls and pulling an old Lakers singlet over his – god, so many golden muscles. “Merry Christmas, Bradley,” you tenderly traced an ab or eight and he smiled, bending to kiss you. “Last night was so good. Been a while since we had a night like that.”

He chuckled lightly against your lips. Pride evident, he shrugged. “I miss the days we’d fuck for hours,” he sighed, low. “We’re going away, just you and me. Okay?”

“I can’t wait, handsome,” you told him as he kissed you again -

“Dad?” Violet now.

“At ease, Captain,” you told him as he playfully did as instructed, kissed your forehead softly and let the reign of terror commence, greeting his darling girls after months apart with excited hugs, kisses and giggles.

“I missed my girls,” you heard Bradley rumble. And it was always the same, the way he’d swallow back the emotion of seeing how much he’d missed. “You two have to stop growing, okay?”

“Or you could stop traveling,” Olivia said, often quite vocal about how often her dad was away.

Hearing your name as you straightened in front of the mirror a few minutes later, brushing your mussed hair and impatient with the slight burn Bradley’s moustache caused on your upper lip (pussy and thighs but that was a tale for another day), you wrapped yourself in your light gown. You breathed and headed to the living room to start your Christmas morning, your girls perched in front of the tree, the lights still fading in and out after a night left on, and your husband safe and sound on the couch. He winked, the happiest man on the planet with his three girls, everything exactly where it belonged.

Even last night’s half-full wine glass.

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princessbellecerise · 11 months

Text

1 A.M

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Bucky had a dark secret, and so did you. Both of you had hidden your desire for the other from your father, but one night on a kitchen table changes everything

warnings | dbf!bucky, smut, dracaphyllia, age gap, kitchen sex, oral (m. receiving), 18+ ONLY

this is an eighteen plus fic. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

It was 1 A.M when you ran into each other.

You were up because you couldn’t sleep, your body tired but your mind not letting you get a wink of rest. You were too busy stressing over miscellaneous things; such as work or your current situationship. You had tossed and turned all night and when it finally hit one o’clock, you decided to just go to the kitchen, hoping some water might pull you back to sleep.

Likewise, Bucky wasn’t getting much rest either.

He hadn’t really slept since the moment he closed his eyes, but unlike you it wasn’t because of stress. No, his predicament was more…unique, due to the fact that Bucky was simply just too excited to go to sleep.

His cock had been throbbing all night, and despite Bucky trying to his to soothe himself with his hand, it didn’t work. It wasn’t enough; not when what he really wanted was right down the hallways.

Bucky had been staying the night at your Dad’s place for a few nights, just until renovations on his own home got finished. That meant for a whole week, he had to be tortured with the fact that you were there, and Bucky couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The fantasies that he had about you were just that: fake. And at first, they were enough to get him through the night, his vivid imagination conjuring up things that would never happened in real life. Like you riding his cock, for instance. Or Bucky fucking you in the pool, that tight little swim suit you were always wearing stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

Normally, that was enough to satisfy him.

But not tonight.

Something about that night had him restless, unable to sleep due to his running thoughts. Bucky figured that eventually he’d have to fall asleep, but once it started to approach one o’clock he knew that wasn’t the case.

He wouldn’t be able to truly rest anytime soon, so he sighed and got out of bed, making his way into the kitchen when he surprisingly ran into you.

You were awake, and struggling as a matter of fact. You trying to reach the snacks that your dad placed on the top shelf of the pantry, but you were having trouble since it was so high up. You weren’t tall enough to reach it, so Bucky chuckled and decided to help you out.

“Here, let me doll.”

You jumped as his figure suddenly appeared behind you, warm chest pressing into your back and causing you to suck in a breath. Quickly, you turned around, just in time to come face-to-face with Bucky as he finished grabbing the snack.

He handed the chocolate chip cookies to you and wordlessly you took them, your mouth becoming dry as you stared into his blue eyes. You weren’t expecting to be so close to him, and it made your heart hammer in your chest as you giggled nervously and lowered your head.

“Thanks, Buck,” You said quietly, stepping away from him out of modesty. And for your own sanity, not trusting yourself to be so close when he was half naked. Not that you would ever tell him that; god save you from the humiliation of that conversation.

“No problem, sweetheart,” Bucky wore a sweet smile to mask his disappointment. He quite liked being against you, even if it didn’t help his already hard cock. “I take it you can’t sleep, either?”

Changing the subject would help distract him from the fact that you were only in a nightgown. Short and lacy—just how he liked it.

“Mhmm,” You hummed softy, nodding your head. Your hands rung in front of you nervously as you noticed his eyes raking over your body. “Been up for quite a while. I’ve been trying to sleep but my mind just won’t let me, you know?”

“Hm,” Bucky nodded, understanding exactly how you felt. “I feel ya. My thoughts have been driving me crazy, too. I feel like they’re gonna turn my brain to mush,” He said honestly, though he left the part where you were the main culprit.

Chuckling a little bit, you related and then you offered him a cookie as you guys walked over to the kitchen table. Bucky took it, and he noticed how nervous you seemed to be as you stood in front of him. Eyes darting back-and-forth, not looking at him. Fingernails digging into your skin.

It was obvious that something was on your mind. And curiously, Bucky wanted to know.

“Hey, doll. You alright?” He tried to keep his voice lower now that you were closer to your dad’s room. Sam may have been a sound sleeper, but he didn’t want to risk him waking up right now.

“Hm?” You looked positively distracted. Your body was flushed, and though you tried not to, you just couldn’t help the hammering in your lower regions as you looked at Bucky. “Oh—oh no, I’m fine. Just still a little tired, that’s all.”

“You sure?” Bucky wasn’t convinced. He could see the way that you were slightly leaning away from him, almost if you were afraid to touch him. And you were doing that thing with your lip, biting it in a way that made Bucky go crazy.

God, you looked so good. It took everything in Bucky not to take you right then and there.

“Yeah,” Your tone wasn’t at all convincing and you knew that. But you couldn’t help it—you needed to lie your way out of this situation before you ended up as a puddle near Bucky’s feet. “Yeah, everything’s absolutely perfect. One hundred percent, I just think I need to get back to…”

Your voice suddenly trialed off when you made eye contact with Bucky’s sweats, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton due to the erection that was pressing against them.

You felt your whole face flush when you noticed that he was hard, and big which had you gulping a little. Suddenly, the room left like it was spinning. And of course, it only got worse when Bucky suddenly reached out to touch you.

“Are you sure, Doll? You look a little…” His calloused hands came to stroke your arms in a comforting way. Or at least, it was meant to look that way but really, Bucky just wanted an excuse to touch you. To feel your soft skin without you turning away.

And it worked—you let him touch you but not without trembling a little bit, his touch causing your skin to feel like it was on fire. You opened your mouth, but no words could come out as you looked at him.

And how could they? Everything you wanted to say was absolutely off limits. You couldn’t exactly open your mouth and tell Bucky that the way he was barely dressed right now made you wet. You couldn’t tell him that you had been weak in the knees for him ever since he had walked into the kitchen with no shirt on.

After all, Bucky was like a second father to you. You had known him ever since you were nineteen and you’d bet everything that you had that he didn’t see you the way you saw him. Sam’s little girl—that’s all you were to him. An innocent little college student that he’d never touch that way.

You couldn’t tell him that. So, you settled on lying even though you knew it would kill you.

“I…I’m fine. I’m sure. I think…I think all I need is to go back to my room and get some rest,” You stuttered, trying to convince him that you just needed to lie down.

But Bucky didn’t move. Nor did he think you were telling him the truth, which meant he wasn’t going to let you leave until he knew you were okay.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to go just yet if you’re really not alright,” He frowned, and his concern for you only made you wetter. “You know if there’s something going on in that pretty little head of yours, you can tell me, right? Anything you need. Anything at all.”

He stared at you and you shivered as he all but whispered those words in your ear. You barely even noticed how close he had gotten to you until it was too late, and suddenly you were staring into his eyes with your lips trembling.

Tears seemed to gather in your own and you weren’t sure what it was about that moment, but you just couldn’t hold back your feelings any longer. You had to get them off of your chest, even if it ran the risk of him rejecting you or telling your dad. You had to tell Bucky how you felt, because if you didn’t—you were afraid you might burst.

“I…” This was it. You were going to spill. “I-I need you Buck,” Your voice came out as a whimper and a tear fell down your face as you looked at him, the dam inside of you finally breaking. “I…I want you inside me so bad, it hurts. I—fuck. I tried to hold it back for so long, cause I know how you feel about me. But I swear, I didn’t mean to. I just…I just need you.”

Bucky felt his whole world still as the words tumbled from your mouth like a waterfall. You couldn’t help yourself as you spilled every thought he only dreamed of hearing from your lips. You told him everything Bucky had been fantasizing about for years, and for a moment, he thought that it was just another one—a dream that his cruel mind had conjured up.

He didn’t think this was real life until suddenly, he realized that his hand was still on your body, grounding him to reality. Prompting him to realize that this was very much real, and you were crying in front of him because you were so horny and so ashamed.

It felt like your whole world was crumbling, sure that you had done it now. You had certainly just ran off your dad‘s best friend, and the only other man that loved you. Surely, the next step was for Bucky to reject you and then go tell your dad everything that you had just confessed.

…But he didn’t.

Bucky didn’t do any of that, and instead, you were in for the shock of your life as he suddenly used his hand to grab your face, making you look at him through your tears.

Everything was blurry, but the smile on his face was the one thing that was clear enough for you to see.

“Sweetheart,” Utter relief flooded his voice, and Bucky could’ve sworn he’d never been happier. “You don’t know how fucking long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

“Wha—”

You were suddenly cut off when Bucky decided to slam his lips against yours, silencing your words and your worries at once. His rough mouth moved against yours, and now it was your turn to question your reality as he kissed you.

You couldn’t believe that this was happening. The person you had desired most in the world was finally reciprocating the same emotions you had. And to be honest, it overwhelmed you, making you slow to kiss him back at first.

You had to take a second to even gather your thoughts, but once you did, you swore you melted.

You fell into the kiss with Bucky like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like kissing him was something you were born to do, and your mouths moved in sync as Bucky groaned and wrapped his hands around your body.

He steadied you as he backed you into the kitchen table, the legs creaking a little bit and causing you to pull away. You looked at him worriedly, eyes glancing down the hall to where your dad was sleeping.

“Buck—we gotta be quiet,” You suddenly reminded him, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. “My dad’s right down the hall. I don’t want him to wake up.”

That was the last thing you needed, and Bucky knew it, even though he was disappointed to pull away from your lips.

“Sorry baby doll,” He whispered sweetly in your ear which caused you to forgive him in an instant. You wrapped an arm around his neck and right before he kissed you again, he said, “I’ll try to be more careful next time.”

Your reply was quickly swallowed by his lips, but you didn’t care to speak much anyways. All you wanted in that moment was to devour him and savor the taste of sweet, delicious forbidden fruit. It tasted so good on your tongue that you couldn’t wait to sample what else he had in store for you.

And as if Bucky could read your mind, you were suddenly gasping as his fingers came to play with the skin of your thighs. He trailed them up so that he could get to the bottom of your nightgown, and every place that he touched left fire in its wake.

The flames that licked at your body had never felt so good, and in that moment you were praising yourself for choosing the right night attire.

The lacy nightgown only made it easier for Bucky to gain access to what he really wanted, your cotton covered pussy that he could already feel the heat radiating off of. It was easy enough for him to trial his fingers towards it, ghosting over the fabric and loving the way you moaned in his mouth.

Bucky swore he couldn’t get enough of your lips but much as he wanted to keep kissing you, his throbbing erection had him pulling away and practically clawing at his sweats to free himself. It was almost painful how hard he had gotten in the last few minutes, his cock standing straight up and slapping against his belly when he pulled on his sweats.

You watched with hungry eyes as he gave it a few pumps, loving the soft groans that escaped his lips.

You both were trying your very best to be quiet as you couldn’t imagine the reaction your daddy would have if he found you and Bucky fooling around at 1 A.M. Bucky imagined that Sam would quite literally lose his mind, and the thought had him smirking as he crawled closer to you.

You were desperate to feel him, he could see it in your eyes. Bucky could see the way you were practically crying because you wanted him so bad, the tears in your eyes only making him harder.

You were so desperate, and it was wonder you made it this long as your pussy throbbed.

You knew that the cotton panties you were wearing were soaked by now, and you couldn’t wait for Bucky to pull them down and fuck you like you deserved. You ached for him so bad, the longing almost killing as Bucky reconnected your lips and stood between your legs.

You could feel his cock poking at your clothed entrance as he kissed you; almost as desperate as you were—if not more. After all, it had been Bucky’s fantasy of this exact same situation that kept him awake in the first place. And now that he finally had what he always wanted, Bucky couldn’t stand to wait any longer.

He needed to be inside of you, and he needed to do it now.

You seemed to agree as you allowed him to pull away and finally get rid of the one thing that was separating the two of you. In an instant, he had tugged down your panties and brought them to your ankles, slipping them off before carelessly throwing them somewhere on the floor.

Mentally, you made a note to pick those up before Sam woke up in the morning. But right now, that was a very far away thought in your mind. Right now, the only thing that you were focused on was the way Bucky’s cock brushed against your entrance, teasing you so bad that you actually started crying.

“Please—Buck. I need you,” Pathetic tears began to roll down your face as you looked at him, just begging for Bucky to fuck your desperate cunt. You grinded your pussy against nothing, showing him just how much you needed the friction. And fuck—you were so wet that Bucky could see your pussy gleaming even in the dim light.

He smirked.

“That’s it—go ahead and cry, little girl. I’m gonna fuck those tears out of you anyways,” Bucky then growled in your ear. And not even a few seconds later, your deepest and darkest desire came alive as he slid into you.

As if on que, both you and Bucky let out low moans and you held onto him as he began to push himself deeper inside of you. His thick cock provided a delicious stretch, one that had you whining before he even bottomed out. Likewise, Bucky had screwed his eyes shut at the feeling of your tight pussy, utter ecstasy filling his veins.

Fuck—you felt like heaven and everything else he had dreamed of. As a matter of fact, your pussy felt even better than that and it wasn’t long before Bucky found himself speeding up, really fucking into you. Just like you wanted him to.

His hips snapped into yours, and you gasped when suddenly his cock was plunging as deep as it could go. Over and over, the table shook as he pounded into you, his balls smacking into your ass.

Random tableware began clattering but you could barely hear it over the sound of yours and Bucky’s moans mixing together.

You tried to be quiet; you really did. But with the pleasure that he was bringing you it felt damn near impossible to not scream out. He was hitting that special spot inside of you just right, making you see stars every time his cock dragged against it. It had you struggling to hold back your cries and eventually, you found yourself crying again.

On top of you, Bucky loved it. He loved seeing the sweet tears run down your face, the sobs of pleasure that he eventually had to cover with his own mouth. He couldn’t risk Sam waking up; not now. Not when he could feel your pussy clenching around him, letting him know that you were close. He didn’t want to be robbed of the moment you creamed around his cock, so he kept you silent until you physically couldn’t take it anymore.

You moaned in his mouth as finally you hit your peak, your orgasm causing your body to shake and your walls clamp down on Bucky’s cock.

The delicious feeling had him groaning as you shuddered underneath him, a quiet sound that indicated his own release was near. Bucky sped up, fucking you dumb as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The lewd sounds that your pussy was making only baited him even further, edging him until Bucky’s release finally came about.

As much as you would have loved for him to cum inside of you, you both knew it would cause too much of a mess. So, right before he spilled himself, Bucky quickly pulled out and watched in astonishment as you got to your knees and quickly took him in your mouth.

The feeling of your tight lips wrapped around him had Bucky coming in no time, holding your hair between his fingers and groaning as you played with his balls.

You looked up at him and in the kitchen lights, Bucky swears that you’ve never looked sexier with your tits out and your mouth around him. Like a good girl, you made sure to get every last drop from him before you finally stood up, cheekily showing him that you had swallowed.

“Fuck—” Bucky grabbed you and pulled you close to him, your heavy panting mixing in with his. He kissed you, and when he pulled away you could tell that he was surprised to taste himself on your tongue.

“Good?” You teased him a little bit and Bucky let out a breathless chuckle as he shook his head.

“S’alright,” He simply shrugged before giving you a wink. “But I think I’d much rather taste you, doll.”

Just like before, a familiar heat spread to your cheeks and down to your core. Involuntarily, your legs clenched together and Bucky watched as you took a shy glance towards the hallways before looking back at him.

“How about we arrange that then?”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #dbf!bucky #winter soldier #winter solider smut #winter solider x reader

2K notes · View notes

incognit0slut · 1 year

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (1)

Reader never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Reader and Spencer face the aftermath of their tryst. wc: 2,8k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"YOU NEED TO LEAVE."

Since when did her life come to this?

She wasn't sure what to make of when the words softly left his lips. The words weren't exactly pronounced in a way that the urgency was prominent, but she could still sense the weight of them as she stared into the dark walls of his bedroom, sprawled out across the bed of this foreign man she had spent the past two hours with.

What was his name again? Stephen? Sean? Or was it Sebastian?

It definitely started with an S.

Her eyes slowly made their way toward him, eying his tall figure as he carefully walked over to his drawers. He awkwardly tripped over a piece of her clothing which lay on the floor before mumbling some incoherent words. He shot her a dubious look past his shoulder and turned his body away, quickly grabbing the first thing he saw on top of his pile of clothes.

His sudden modesty seemed amusing to her when it was barely minutes ago they had shared the sex-induced fantasy of sharing body heat between complete strangers. It was as if he wasn't the one thrusting above her, eyes glazed in desire and mouth open in ecstasy, reaching the peak of his high with her legs wrapped around his narrowed waist.

Surely he hadn't forgotten all of that?

She prompted herself on her elbows and found the piece of clothing he had grabbed in his haste was a pair of brown pants and a nice clean dark shirt. She watched him again and under her scrutinizing gaze, he backed away even further.

His sudden discomfort should've offended her, but it didn't. Somehow it intrigued her how much he was trying to be oblivious of everything around him—the lustful tryst that took place moments ago. The naked woman under his covers. The sudden shrill of his phone ringing on the bedside table.

The latter seemed to catch his attention as he glanced at the source of sound with an alert expression. He crossed the room and quickly answered the call.

"Yes?" There was a muffled reply from the other end before he glanced at the still-naked woman staring at him with curiosity. He cleared his throat again and gave her a look. "I need to take this."

She shrugged. "Sure."

She saw him hesitate for a split second before slipping out of his room, throwing a short reply to the receiving end of his call that didn't go unheard. "Yes, Garcia, I have company." More mumbling. "What? I'm not answering that..."

His words were cut off as he closed the door behind him, leaving her to grasp the situation she had put herself in.

Having a one-night stand wasn't something she often did. She wasn't sure it ever happened again since her freshman year of college when sleeping with a senior at a raging party would solidify her college experience. It seemed right at that time. It was what everybody was doing and her innocent mind believed it was a good idea to expand her nonexistent romantic life.

New place, new experience, new beginnings.

The experience wasn't so bad. Brandon Wallace—who was now happily married according to his recent social media post—wasn't exactly the best lover she ever had, but he also wasn't that bad. It was the awkward moment after the endeavor that made her avoid any repeated situations with somebody she barely knew.

Which was why she was questioning why she let that exact avoidance happen tonight. Why she had stepped into her favorite bar on a random Wednesday night and laid her eyes onto the awkward man sitting a few stools away from her.

Maybe it was the way he seemed out of place. Wearing a crisp blue shirt and a vest over it, he sat in a poised manner while constantly wiping down the bar counter with the napkin he seemed to keep requesting the bartender for.

She was there because she needed the kick of alcohol to calm down the stress from her current work assignment. Jamison, her strict boss who didn't take no for an answer, was starting to make her consider the act of murder. But committing such a heinous crime wasn't exactly nifty, so alcohol was the safe bet.

And thus, what was he here for? The cold beer sitting in front of him was barely touched as he looked around the room in a very uncomfortable manner.

Maybe the fact that she was sitting in an almost empty bar had loneliness wash over her, or maybe it was the alcohol finally kicking in, that she found herself making her way over to him. She was only going to greet him, introduce herself, and remark on how he stuck out like a sore thumb when he clearly was trying to keep to himself.

The hue of the bar lights reflected into a golden halo around his head. She slid beside him, tipped her drink towards his way, and gave him a simple smile.

He shifted in his seat and turned sideways, throwing her a questioning look. Up close, she could see his features clearly. The sharpness of his jaw, his hooded eyes, the unruly mess of brown hair on top of his head. She could tell he wasn't sure how to react to her sudden appearance, but he didn't seem to mind.

She sat there, her lips inching wider at the frown forming on his brows. How could someone be awkward yet adorable at the same time? Y/n was about to introduce herself when he suddenly sat forward, threw her a hesitant smile, and slowly asked, "Do you have any change?"

The random question startled her. "Excuse me?"

"I... I need to pay for my drink."

She shot him a ludicrous look, not sure she was hearing him right. Was he really trying to ask a stranger to pay for his drink? So much for spending the night with what looked like good company. But before she could counter her disappointment, he reached out his hand and in a swift motion revealed a ten-dollar bill from the back of her ear.

"Never mind.” He waved the money in front of her face and cleared his throat. “Found it.”

She blinked, once, twice, trying to comprehend the past few seconds. Then her lips twisted into a wide grin, his own lips twitching into a shy smile.

His attempt at an introduction based on a silly magic trick tugged her heart in a way that had her leaning closer, fingers tracing across his other hand that rested on the table. She didn't know what had impulsed her to be so brazen. It was very unlike her to show interest in the opposite sex, but here she was, touching the warmth of his skin.

But then his breath hitched and her stomach dropped. What the hell was she thinking? Touching a complete stranger without consent as if she was trying to maul him in public.

She shook her head and backed away, an apology already hanging at the tip of her tongue when he suddenly leaned in and wrapped a hand around her wrist. The gesture was very innocent, but somehow his fingers manage to burn her skin. She looked up and held his gaze, found the same bashful smile still playing on his lips, and relaxed at the warmth radiating from his body.

And then the rest was history, to say the least.

Yet even after the travel from the bar to his place, after the haste of removing each other's clothes, and after the post-orgasm that left them both satisfied—although to be completely honest, she would've been more satisfied if he'd let her have her second orgasm—she was starting to question her decision.

She finally threw his covers away and slipped out of his bed. She picked up all her clothing scattered around the room and slowly dressed herself as she carefully tried to listen to the conversation in the other room. But all she heard was muffled voices, and deciding that she couldn't pick out his exact words, she tuned out his voice and smoothed down her hair with her fingers.

Feeling more presentable, she stepped out of his room and finally took in the personal space he lived in. Now that she wasn't preoccupied with unbuckling his belt, she realized how dark his apartment actually was.

There were stacks of books lined up on the walls and scattered papers laying around every corner. He clearly wasn't a clean freak. Although he did seem to dislike public spaces, and honestly she couldn't argue on that when her mind considered the sticky, sugary residue that coated the floorboards and every other surface of the bar.

His hushed voice sounded aggravating and she turned to find him standing in what looked like his kitchen, his back facing her. Not wanting to interrupt him, she decided to look around her surroundings, eying the few framed certificates hanging on one side of his walls. There were a lot of certified achievements he was definitely very proud of with his name glorified on each frame.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

His name was Spencer!

She let out a chuckle. She wasn't exactly good at remembering names. Hold on—doctor Spencer Reid?

Her eyes went wide. But before she could feed her curiosity, she heard footsteps coming closer behind. She quickly turned away and found him glaring at his phone as he strode into the room.

"Bad call?"

Spencer—it was nice to finally put a name on him—abruptly looked up. His eyes studied her in bewilderment as if realizing she was still there. Then his expression slightly softened as he threw his phone away on his couch. "Not really, it was a work thing."

She raised her eyebrows. "You still work this late?"

"I don't exactly have a scheduled working hour."

There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask. What kind of work did he have to be getting calls this late? Why was he inside that bar when he clearly looked like he didn't want to be there? Was he really a doctor? And why did he look so adorable with that frown across his face?

There was something strange and hollow in his eyes that she couldn't quite put on as his hand rubbed over the back of his neck. She could sense the awkwardness stretching between them and needed to fill in the silence.

"So..."

She let out an awkward laugh. He, on the other hand, started to fumble with his words as he suddenly spoke, "Did you know that awkward silence is the result of a disconnect between people?" She peered up at him with raised eyebrows. "When there is nothing to say, or maybe one person feels uncomfortable in a situation and doesn't know how to respond."

She blinked in confusion. But he wasn't finished.

"Statistically speaking, 80% of communication is nonverbal, whereas 20% is verbal. So in a way, silence can also communicate just as much information as speaking does. It is used to express anger, sadness, excitement, and other emotion. It can also create tension in a conversation or release it..." He trailed off before letting out a sigh. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"You most definitely are," she confirmed. "Where did that suddenly come from?"

He looked away as a blush crept on his cheeks. "I have an incredibly active imagination. It—uh, it leads to a tendency for me to ramble as my thoughts are constantly flowing."

"And you just know all these random facts?"

"I have an eidetic memory."

"You don’t say?" Her sarcasm was followed by eying the framed achievements plastered on his wall before glancing back at his confused face. She sighed. "Look, I'm not better at this than you are. Let's just... I don't know, thank each other? Say goodbye? Shake our hands?"

His eyes lit up as another piece of information filled his brain. "You know, the number of pathogens shared during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to..." He trailed off again and suddenly gulped, mentally kicking himself when he realized the fact he was about share. "...kiss."

She couldn't help the smirk twitching on her lips. "Is that so?"

He absentmindedly nodded as his eyes glanced toward her mouth. She instinctively took a step closer, noticing the tension in his body as he quickly looked away. This man had just flirted with her using an adorable magic trick, had his head between her thighs minutes ago, and reached an earth-shattering orgasm... yet he had the audacity to act all flustered.

She should probably leave. That was what he wanted moments ago, wasn't it? The words came out of his mouth the moment he checked his phone before jumping out of bed at lightning speed to dress his naked body. He needed to be somewhere. He had this somewhat confidential work he had to do.

Yet somehow he was warm and her hands were surprisingly very cold. The heat radiating from his body called out to her and without registering what she was about to do, she softly placed the palm of her hands on his chest.

She was internally screaming when she inhaled a sharp breath, his scent suddenly engulfing her senses. He smelled slightly sweet with a hint of spice; a woody, earthy musk that was mixed with his natural scent of sweat and hormones. She peered up into his eyes, traveling down to his cheekbones before they rested on his lips.

A riot of emotion burst inside her as she saw his tongue flicking out and holy shit—she just stared at him, completely, utterly enraptured.

Her focus was on his hot breath against her mouth, his lips a mere inches away from hers. He was so close she could practically hear the fast pace of his heartbeat. She could feel him everywhere, his hard body flushed against hers, his head moving closer to her and—

Then his damn phone started to ring again and all her senses went to alert. She quickly took a step back.

Now that was her cue to leave.

And it was a pity because whether she liked it or not, a part of her wanted to stay. But that was not an option. He wanted her to leave and she needed to do just that. She needed this to be a one-time thing.

Because there was never going to be another time. The moment she walked out the front door, they were back to being strangers. She would go back to her life and he would go back to his, probably back to his seemingly not-so-normal job with the way he described his working hours. Or the lack of it, anyway.

His phone stopped its ring and he shifted his weight from one foot to another. He was back to being awkward and she was back to being rational. Although her heart was beating fast and she was as flustered as he was, she didn't him to know what, especially when it seemed like he was about to kick her out again for the second time.

She was too busy oscillating between stunned, mortified, and turned on. She refused to blush. She refused to appear even an ounce embarrassed.

His phone rang again and he looked flustered about what to do. She helped him decide by grabbing her bag that was conveniently hanging by the door. "I should probably go."

She knew she was slightly disappointed, but she'd be damned if he knew the truth. Her mother used to describe her as a spiteful person ever since she was young. But then again, was it so wrong to feel that way? She figured she was just evening the misery out. If something was making her unhappy she felt it was her right to bring at least equal measures of unhappiness.

It seemed relatively immature, but she didn't feel like caring especially how her night had turned out. She took a deep breath and worked out her pettiness.

"Thank you for tonight... Stephen."

He suddenly tensed. "It's Spencer."

She studied the frown on his face. God, she was evil. She would probably regret this childish behavior of hers, although that was something she could deal with later. The very least she could do now was to give him a proper goodbye before she turned her back towards him for good.

"Well, good night, Spencer."

She wasn't sure he even remembered her name or whether he was just as petty as she was. It was more likely the latter considering he had an eidetic memory. "Good night."

She gave him a final nod. He answered by throwing her an awkward wave, a tight-lipped smile, and an even deeper frown as she slipped into the cold air.

>> NEXT PART

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencerreid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #fanfic #fanfic series #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x female reader #Right Kind of Wrong

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astrogre · 2 months

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Aphrodite(1388) Beauty Indicators

What counts as Aphrodite(1388) beauty indicators:

Aphrodite in 1st house (YOU are appealing, this asteroid is simply who you are as this house represents you as a whole, physically and personal identity)

Aphrodite in 10th house (this is how you publicly appear to others at large, so if you have an asteroid here it kind of shows those themes come to mind in general when people think of you and what your reputation is associated with, imagine yourself as a concept, you perceived as a brand)

Aphrodite Conjunct Venus (your beauty and the way you style express yourself, you express your love and sense of beauty in similar ways, Venus also shows where we are most beautiful therefore the things that make you most beautiful are like Aphrodites)

VERY Strong indicators:

Aphrodite Conjunct ASC (it further amplifies because you become the physical embodiment of Aphrodite, no longer just a hint but may even be mistaken for her your form of expression and how you come across to all and most importantly yourself is just like Aphrodite)

Aphrodite Conjunct MC (same as 10H however it’s even more prominent, your Aphrodite characteristics may manifest or be needed for the job you do as well)

Aphrodite conjunct is at 0-2 orbs. Closer the orb more exactly like your appearance. 0 orb means Aphrodite is YOU to a T. Your physical appearance/public image/expression of oneself, if described with an adjective would be the asteroid itself.

2 or more of any of the previous Aphrodite indicators this asteroid is far too prominent in your chart to be an adjective to describe your beauty, it’s more like an epithet.

What kind of beauty you have:

- You embody the ideal beauty standards

- You shapeshift to appeal to the senses and pleasures of individuals who look at you

- People may struggle to define you by your appearance because you come across so differently to each person

- The allure (the buzz and positive talk of you) stands out more than what you put out to reality especially for Aphrodite asteroid in 10H/conjunct to MC

- You’re beauty is so rare that it’s unbelievable, people that hear of you described by others who know you may think you’re a myth or not real like a catfish or someone pretending to be real. Eg someone looking at your instagram may think you’re not real or if a guy is explaining you to his friends you sound too good to be true especially from the male gaze. That is until they meet you and realise you live up to their expectations and then the rumours of you further amplify as even MORE talk of you. If you start dating around jumping from man to man, people will gush over you

- You may pretend to be modest, demure and coincidentally sexually attractive yet your sexual attractiveness is purposefully intentional

this is based on aphrodites Greek and Latin scholars who wrote about the famous statue at Knidos on which it is based, says that Aphrodite’s facial expression and gesture show ‘false modesty’. She purposefully displays false modesty to look like her nudity and sexual allure is unintentional and just happens to be on her

- You show your beauty through your clothing perfumes and hair accessories. Aphrodite wore perfumed and silken garments, a crown of gold or flowers in her hair, and had expensive jewellery covering her body

- As time goes on you are more sexualised, no joke if you guys made a sex tape in your elder years you’d be like a trending milf dilf, especially with Capricorn, Saturn and 10H Aphrodite

Aphrodites depictions were always fully clothed until as centuries progressed the men that idolised her wanted to make her wear less and less, become sexier and sexier, they project their lustful thoughts on her and Aphrodite viewed it as compliments

- No matter what people may say about you, they cannot shake or change the fact that you are beautiful, they may also bring that up when talking about you behind your back if in 12H conjunct ascendant

- You have feminine curves which are shown best through draped clothing, you look best in clothes that drape to your skin and hug your curves

- No matter what you wear people will always see you nude or want to, they may sexualise you and you may subconsciously enjoy it because you feel desired and it feels good to know you’re making others feel pleasure just from looking at you

- You look best naked, your breast and hips may be most prominent and something men recognise you for and what garners admiration from women too. Women may look up to you as the standard and what they wished the looked like

Source: the idealization of womanhood in all her femininity; the Aphrodite sculpture, Praxiteles was mainly responsible for establishing the type-sensuous in its soft curves and voluptuousness.” (Morford 180). As told by Morford, the exaggeration of body parts, breasts mostly, became Aphrodite’s spotting mark in art

- You could have long hair, or your hair can be styled in a different way to other women, very distinct, it can be different from what others expect, your hair may be “immodest” like it looks like it’s uncovered, not domestic, you may put a lot accessories on it or do something specifically that makes it stand out and look better, it’s kind of “unintentionally” erotic.

- You look best in bodies of water, playing with your hair in water, when you’re showering, wringing your hair dry, you may get a lot of stares when you go to the beach just relaxing, or if you’re swimming. It’s something people could watch for a long time

- You love to accessorise excessively

- Men change the way they see you physically from your body to your face and hair, all just to fit their imagined ideal beauty standards. For an example: say a man may prefer brunettes, if you’re blonde, that man will imagine you with brown dark hair and romanticise it, from that point onward he can no longer see you as blonde no matter how blonde you are because the fantasy of an idolised you is so overwhelming

- Men fantasise about you a lot, women too. You invoke fear/admiration into women because of your appearance

- You represent the most ideal physical traits, you can be compared as the standard for others and people may put you on a pedestal so high that makes others want to be where you are but knowing they simply cannot as it’s not in their nature. Because competing against you would destroy them and they do not compare

- You may make people feel ashamed of themselves because you’re so uplifted and idealised by many

- You can adapt to the taste of the target/person you’re trying to seduce

- Your clothes and the way you style yourself enhance your features and make you look like someone who is wealthy and important of high status/nobility

- You are one of the most physically desired people to others

- Your physical appearance isn’t the only thing that makes you so beautiful, it’s the fact that everyone finds you desireable no matter who is looking.

Honestly when I think of Aphrodite I think of someone who is overly sexualised by men. Like they collectively came together and said THIS is what we like. She is the image of sex and desire because they put her there. And she likes it, which is probably why she is labelled as the god of sex, pleasure, love and beauty, it’s because she accepts all kinds of admiration from anyone. No matter how degrading or intensely it manifests. Do you too also accept love no matter how sexually degrading or intense it is? Do you have a tendency to expect to be glorified?

Source:

Link to the historical study of Aphrodites physical appearance

Homer, for example, said that the goddess could be recognized by her shining eyes and “desirable breasts.” Other writers gave her the epithet “Smile-Loving,” indicating that she often had a happy expression. More often, writers described Aphrodite’s beauty through her clothing. She wore perfumed and silken garments, a crown of gold or flowers in her hair, and had expensive jewelry covering her body. most of what we know about Aphrodite’s looks must be drawn from the art of the period.

gain, the representations leave much room for interpretation. The one aspect they have in common is that, fittingly, Aphrodite was shown as beautiful.

This usually meant that she had feminine curves, which were often accentuated by closely-draped clothing. When she was dressed it was often only partially, but the goddess was just as often shown in the nude.

She usually had long hair that was left at least partially down, in contrast to the more demure, covered hair of matronly and domestic goddesses. A favorite subject of classical artists was the emergence of Aphrodite from the sea, in which she was sometimes shown wringing the water out of her long hair.

Sculptors had more freedom than painters to imagine the goddess in different poses and situations. Often these poses emphasized her feminine shape and attractiveness to the male gaze. As the goddess of beauty, she represented the most desirable female form possible.

She often changed her appearances to suit her purposes.

This shape-shifting also allowed artists to portray her in a way that reflected the physical idea of their own time and place. Aphrodite could have dark hair in one place and be blonde in another.

Thus, our modern interpretation of Aphrodite has been filtered through the ideals of female beauty from not only Greece and Rome, but long after as well. Medieval artists gave her a high forehead and Renaissance painters showed her with flowing blonde hair because those were the ideals of their times. The written descriptions of Aphrodite were open-ended enough to allow artists to show her in a way they thought was beautiful for centuries. While later artists were influenced by the paintings and sculptures of Rome and Greece, they had the license to show the goddess of beauty in a way that made sense within their own cultures.

Most often, Aphrodite’s clothing and jewelry were described in greater detail than her body or facial features. The richness of her garments and adornments both enhanced her features and signalled her nobility.

The lack of written detail meant that artists were able to portray Aphrodite in a way they felt was beautiful. While these typically followed certain conventions, these conventions could vary between regions and time periods. Aphrodite/Venus was therefore shown with certain marks of beauty that had persisted from the ancient world, but also with the features and clothing considered ideal in the artists’ own times. She could be recognized not by a specific feature, but by her desirabilithy.

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bangchansdirty-slut · 8 days

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Can you please do the office meeting fucking "hyunjin x m'reader" please?? I'm begging you! :D

Boss's Request

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Top!Boss!Hyunjin x Bttm!Assisant!Male Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Hyunjin decides to spice up the meeting after being pent up and teased by you all day.

More: Masterlist

A/n: Requests are open

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

The fashion world was abuzz with anticipation as the new Hwang Hyunjin line was about to be unveiled. M/n, the boss's "personal" assistant, was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, making sure every last detail was perfect. Hyunjin himself was pacing the floor, his usually immaculate suit rumpled and his hair mussed. Something was clearly bothering him, but no one could quite put their finger on it. Everyone else was too focused on the new designs and the potential impact they could have on the industry.

Meanwhile, M/n caught a glimpse of Hyunjin stealing glances in his direction every now and then. It was almost as if the boss was… admiring him. M/n couldn't help but feel a blush creep up his neck. He'd been with Hyunjin for long enough to know that look, and it usually meant trouble.

As the final touches were being put on the collection, Hyunjin called M/n over to his office. Once the door was closed and they were alone, Hyunjin leaned against his desk, his eyes raking over M/n's body. "You've been busy lately," he purred. "I've barely seen you. I've missed…" He trailed off, biting his bottom lip. "I've missed my stress reliever."

M/n felt his heart skip a beat. He knew exactly what Hyunjin meant. Their relationship had been secret for months, but it was no secret that whenever M/n was around, Hyunjin seemed to forget about everything else. He was always so focused on M/n, and it drove him wild.

As the two went to the meeting and sat down, M/n could feel Hyunjin's eyes on him, even when he was speaking with the other designers. It was a mix of desire and possessiveness that made M/n's blood race. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't help but feel turned on by the attention.

The meeting went on, with M/n doing his best to keep his mind on the task at hand. But every time Hyunjin shifted in his seat or let out a soft groan, M/n's focus would slip. It was obvious that Hyunjin was struggling to contain himself, and M/n couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he gave in to those urges.

Finally, midway through the presentation, M/n felt Hyunjin's hand snake its way up his inner thigh. He glanced over in surprise, only to find Hyunjin's dark eyes locked on him. The boss's expression was a mix of desire and possession that made M/n's heart race. Without another word, Hyunjin leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I can't take it anymore. Bend over the table."

Embarrassment washed over M/n as he complied, lowering his body and resting his elbows on the smooth surface. He felt Hyunjin's fingers trace the line of his boxers and pants before they were roughly yanked down, exposing him. The cool air from the air conditioner hit his sensitive skin, making him shiver.

But any hint of modesty was quickly forgotten as Hyunjin's hard length pressed against his entrance. There was no gentleness in the thrust, only a primal need that took control of the boss. M/n let out a gasp as Hyunjin pushed deeper, filling him completely.

Their moans filled the conference room full with employees, drowning out the sounds of the other designers as they presented their work. M/n could feel Hyunjin's hips slapping against his ass, driving himself deeper inside him with each thrust. He arched his back, unable to contain his own pleasure as his boss took control of him.

The other employees shifted uncomfortably in their seats, trying to pretend like they weren't watching the intimate scene unfolding before them. But Hyunjin didn't seem to care; he continued to fuck M/n, his gaze never leaving the other people in the room. He let out a husky laugh as he pulled out, only to thrust back in harder. "See, M/n? They're all looking away. They're afraid of what I'll do to them if they say anything about this. And you? You're mine. You have no reason to be embarrassed."

M/n gasped as Hyunjin's words sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn't deny the thrill he felt, knowing that they were putting on a show for everyone. It was a power play, and Hyunjin was in control. He arched his back, meeting Hyunjin's thrusts with equal fervor. The boss's cock felt impossibly big inside him, stretching him in ways he hadn't thought possible.

"That's it, baby," he whispered in M/n's ear. "Make them jealous. Make them wish it was them up there, taking my cock." With each thrust, Hyunjin's hips slapped against M/n's ass, driving him deeper inside. The boss's hands gripped M/n's hips tightly, holding him in place as he took him roughly.

M/n could feel his orgasm building, the pleasure overwhelming him as he felt so completely owned by his boss. He moaned Hyunjin's name, the sound filling the room as he lost control. His muscles tensed, and he arched his back, meeting Hyunjin's thrusts with a ferocity that left them both gasping for breath.

As he came, M/n felt Hyunjin's own release, felt the hot liquid spill over his entrance as the boss found his own release inside him. Their bodies moved together in perfect sync, the rhythm of their movements mirroring the power struggle that had brought them to this moment.

When at last they came down from their shared high, Hyunjin pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants. He straightened his tie, adjusting his suit jacket before turning back to face the others in the room. His expression was cool and confident, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired.

M/n, on the other hand, felt a mixture of emotions as he tried to regain his composure. His heart raced, his body still trembling from the intense release. He looked around, feeling the weight of the other designers' gazes on him, knowing that they had all witnessed what had just happened. But he also felt a newfound sense of power, of being a part of something bigger than himself.

Hyunjin leaned back against the table, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. His eyes met M/n's, and there was a smug satisfaction in them that M/n couldn't quite place. "Well," he said, his voice still husky from their exertions, "I think that's enough for today. You all have your assignments. Get back to your desks and make me proud."

As the other designers began to file out of the room, murmuring amongst themselves, M/n lingered behind, still feeling the aftershocks of their encounter. Hyunjin placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. "Come on, M/n," he whispered in his ear, "let's go back to my office and discuss your performance today."

#bangchansdirty-slut #boss x employee #office smut #kpop x male reader #bottom male reader #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x male reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x you #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids x male reader #male reader #skz x male reader #x male reader #kpop smut

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maddie7writes · 8 months

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EXS AND OHS

summary : y/n and harry are recently engaged, but in y/n’s line of work, she runs into lots of his exs and their not all happy for the couple

warnings : just bitter people

harry’s dating history wasn’t exactly a secret, but the list of exs would come to a hault, as the 50,000 dollar diamond sat on y/n’s ring finger with pride. but y/n wasn’t exactly a nobody, she had two vouge covers and three world tours under her belt along with opening and closing fashion week malin, paris, and new york, and not to mention several blockbuster movies.

she was kind of a big deal.

but in her line of work, she had lots of run ins with her loves exs, and they weren’t always pleasant.

—

y/n was booked for victorias secrets comeback show, and she was a nervous wreck. her strict diet made harry worried sick, and her coworkers were starting to worry y/n.

“and you’re sure you want to come? i understand if you don’t—.” “—y/n i love you. i’m goin’ to be at everything for the rest of your life. even if my ex is there.” he assured with a kiss to her forehead. she sighed, and a week later found herself in hair and makeup getting ready to strut out like she was on top of the world.

“make sure to flash that ring okay? it’s been on covers for the past month.” her agent said, as she stared down the poor hair and makeup crew. y/n heard a distant scoff in the background but she chose to ignore it. “i thought for the show it had to come off?” y/n asked, she didn’t exactly want to part with it but she didn’t want to break any rules. “not when the one who gave it to you is harry styles. trust me, the show will be memorable because of the ring.” her agent scoffed with a few taps to her phone then back to insane staring.

just then, the busty, perfectly thin blonde, with small bronze chrome wings came walking around in lingerie. “the reason he never proposed to me is because his taste in rings never met my standards.” camllie gossiped to a fresh faced girl, clearly new-ish to the modeling world. y/n rolled her eyes and kept her thoughts to her self.

when y/n got out of hair and makeup she was draped in gold lingerie with diamonds dripping from the bra. it was for their anniversary line, and the bralette would only be sold to select clientele. the matching panties were gold as the metal brushed the modesty garment she wore. then large gold wings were applied, weighing less then she has anticipated.

“she’ll open, then jenner and rowe will follow ten paces behind, wait at the top of the runway and walk back before them.” a manager explained to y/n and her agent. y/n nodded before being moved to were she was directed, greeting kendall with a smile and hug.

“i haven’t seen you in forever!” kendall smiled and embraced her, the two went on a brand trip together before she got engaged and at the start of her and harry’s relationship and ended up sipping on margaritas and gossiping on a yacht the whole time. privileged and elite? sure, but they had a great time.

“i know, we have to do a trip just us.” y/n smiled, kendall was already grabbing her hand to see the ring. “god! he’s always had good taste but y/n this is gorgeous.” she gasped and looked between the ring and y/n. camille scoffed beside her. “please, the diamond has a blue tint. i doubt it’s even real.” camille rolled her eyes.

“it’s tinted blue because he chose to not stain it. he went water mining when we were in bali, someone helped him find it, and he chose to not stain it.” y/n clarified, just like that the lights cut and ariana grandes unmistakable vocals of dangerous woman was heard, y/n was counted off and she strutted out.

—

y/n would definitely say her least favorite job was acting. there was so much drama in almost every romance movie she’s filmed, so when she was casted as gwen for the fourth spider-man movie to bring a love triangle into poor spider-man’s life, she was excited that it would be an action movie even if she was playing a love interest.

that was of course until she figured out who would be working on the movie with her.

olivia wilde.

y/n tried to remain professional, tho it was difficult with tom seeing as he was so giggly about everything, and zendya was laughing about how forced tom looked. everything was more natural with tom and zendya tho, so to switch between his girlfriend and his friend must have been weird for tom, so y/n tried to keep that in mind and remind her it wasn’t her fault the scenes weren’t working the way she wanted them to.

however one of the directors did not agree.

“y/n, can you step off set for a moment.” olivia’s voice sounded, tom looked confused as did y/n before she stepped off set as she was asked and followed oliva nervously.

“is there an issue?” y/n asked. oliva scoffed, “of course there is. this scene should have taken four takes, max. we have over forty of you and tom laughing. if you can’t play a love interest we will have to find someone who can.” she scolded, y/n was slightly offended.

two actors that have never worked together, taking on a role in a movie where they’re meant to be navigating love together, is not easy. and their first kissing scene might take a few try’s, but that’s not enough to threaten y/n’s contract over.

“unfortunately you might want to check the contract marvel signed, this is not cause for termination, and you cannot terminate my contract period. but if you would like to submit a claim that i am unable to preform my required task, i will happily take that battle with management. i really don’t want to waste anyone’s time so should i head back to set or?” y/n looked at oliva innocently with a smirk, brushing her hair back so her ring caught the light.

“watch you back, l/n.”

“styles. but close.”

safe to say y/n reported that threat and oliva wasn’t heard from again.

—

“you look absolutely divine.” harry came up behind her, kissing the exposed skin on her neck from her half slicked wave, old hollywood hairstyle. y/n laughed as she looked at them in the mirror. harry, in his colorful sparkly patch work jumpsuit, and her in her all black,

a-symmetrical neckline of the all black floor length dress she wore. their two personalities showing on their faces. she was so excited for tonight, she had a good feeling about harry’s changes of the trophy.

“you ready to sweep tonight?” she asked, he blushed. “don’t jinx me, the grammys don’t tend to like me.” he said in a hushed voice, y/n rolled her eyes and kissed her husbands cheek deeply. “not this year. i can feel it.”

her words ended up being true, with harry’s complete sweep. he was overcome with emotion, and y/n sat with him through all of it. holding his hand and even kissing him when he induced it, which was rare seeing as he hated pda especially when cameras were around.

they had plans to skip the after party and go get a pizza with the band and team, then go home and celebrate like old people with sleep. however their plans were put to a hault when taylor swift approached. y/n, ever the swiftie, was sure she was about to pass out as she squeezed her fiancés hand.

“congratulations harry.” she smiled and hugged him briefly before turning back to y/n. “and your performance was amazing, i had no idea your range was so good?” taylor said, y/n’s eyes went wide and she nodded. “oh yeah- yeah thanks.” she tried to laugh it off and leaned into harry’s comforting touch, he tried to hold back a laugh and taylor could tell.

“i have a few ideas and i want you to be a part of it, here’s my number— new number—.” she glanced at harry. “—and call me, so we can start scheming.” she winked at y/n, who was definitely dead. “congrats again harry.” she patted his shoulder before turning around and going to find her other friends.

“holy shit.” y/n whispered as she clutched taylor swifts number. harry chuckled and kissed her, “we can call her in the morning yeah? pizza and sleep okay?” he said, only to be welcomed with a large kiss and a i love you.

four months later, here y/n was, doing her one night only with taylor fucking swift.

harry was sitting in the 1989 friends and family box, with gigi, zayne, and their daughter as they caught up. gigi made sure to comment on how harry’s all access pass said ‘STYLE MUSE’ instead of harry styles.

the concert was perfect, everything was amazing. after all, taylor was considered the one of the best performers of all time. then as she stayed on stage after her two surprise songs, fans cheered even louder than usual.

“i actually have something i want to give you guys.” fans bracelets began flashing blue as screams could almost shatter the stadium, taylor laughed.

“i think you guys noticed i skipped style tonight.” she smirked, louder screams were heard and y/n stood backstage in her light blue wide legged pants, and white satin top. waiting nervously for her cue as they adjusted her headset and in ear microphone.

“i also want to throw in just one more surprise song, just for you guys!l she said excitedly, but didn’t wait for the crowd to quiet as she used the mic to talk over them. “please welcome miss y/n styles!” she screamed, and the stadium screamed back as the beat to style began to play.

harry recorded like a proud husband and sang along to every word as he watched y/n dance around on stage, in her element to a song he inspired.

“you got that long hair slick back white t-shirt.” both the girls flicked part of their hair over to imitate harry back in one direction, and ran a hand from their neck down to their pelvis as they sung, then tossed one shoulder and strutted down the diamond like models. which y/n was, harry thought to himself.

style passed, the loudest cheer in the whole room came from harry. so happy to see the woman he loved getting to work with her idol and be so happy doing it.

“i think there’s one more that goes to perfectly with us, don’t you think taylor?” y/n asked, fighting back the happy tears in her eyes. taylor bit back a smile and nodded, “what do you think Los Angeles?” she asked, they screamed. and the beat to i think he knows began to play.

the girls sang and danced along with the crowd, harry didn’t know this song very well so he was hyper focused on making sure to get all of y/n’s performance while also watching her.

“he’s got that boyish look that i like in a man.” y/n sung, and stopped dancing as she looked at taylor.

“i am an architect i’m drawing up the plans.” taylor copied the movements.

“he’s so obsessed with me and boy i understand.” y/n flipped her hair jokingly, making sure to flash the ring before both girls turned to face each other taylor grabbing y/n’s hand to look at the ring before screaming the line; “boy i understand!”

harry’s heart was skipping around 13th avenue.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #fluff #harry blurb #harry #famous!reader #harry styles x famous!reader

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vampyrsm · 6 months

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‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER ELEVEN | TAMONTEN

‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale continues with an insight into the dark recesses of the Shogun's daughter's mind, just how deep have the tendrils of darkness burrowed into her very being? Perhaps things will start to unravel in the light of a new vow...

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 11.7k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, female reader, cannibalism, vivid gore and horror, descriptions of bodily harm, jealousy, Sukuna is on the softer side here, smut (dacryphilia, oral f!receiving, spit, very intimate, double penetration, biting/marking, creampie, possessiveness with a hint of a primal kink)

“Watch your tongue, girl.” It’s Uraume who hisses the words. The girl in question seems to disregard Uraume entirely, uncaring for the way her haori flutters at her sides to reveal absolutely everything. You have to blink away the surprise on your face to give way to the confusion.

Sukuna only grunts at the intrusion, heaving a heavy sigh that tells you that this woman is most definitely the guest of the day. His arm remains tight around your waist. As if he knew you were slowly coiling tighter and tighter like a snake once the unknown woman ascended a few steps closer to the throne.

“Yorozu.” Sukuna comments flatly, shoving a curled fist against his cheek when he leans against the armrest of the throne made of bones. “I told you the next time you approach me wearing nothing but a haori, I was going to add your skull to my collection.”

Yorozu doesn’t blanch at the threat, if anything her smile grows on her face when she manages to drag her eyes away from the arm looped around your waist and up towards Sukuna’s face.

With the final step up, her lips part as if she’s ready to play his dangerous game of cat-and-mouse but instead… you watch the way her face suddenly twists in agony. The human body was so malleable, so easy to bend and snap until it was unravelled. Her screams were awfully loud within the grand room, bouncing and ricocheting until they settled against your ears.

You watched as her skin tore itself apart, twisting until it broke with a sickening wet ripping sound. Her once fair skin is replaced by that of blossoming red, it douses the white haori over her shoulders until it’s an entirely different colour altogether.

Mangled and beyond recognition, you still watch with a thrill that flutters in your chest. Her body is splayed against the cool tile floor, her blood seeping into the cracks until it flows away. Even now, the long-haired woman still screams — still wails as her limbs are torn, muscle and sinew alike ripping slowly… like it would if you were to sink your teeth into it.

Would she still be worthy of eating after? Your stomach tightens at the thought, but not in disgust. In sick pleasure. You stare down at the writhing woman, the flesh of her legs is cleanly tugged from the bones that achingly hit against the stone floor with each thrash of her body.

How long could the human body survive before it broke? When would shock set in? The human heart was fragile, like it was almost made of glass and anything could break it. You wanted to be the one to crush her heart in your hand, to feel the rhythmic beating of it as it still rested in her chest before you squeezed… and squeezed… until it burst.

A hand squeezes at your side and you blink away from the scene before you, only to find Yorozu is still staring up at you from her place at the bottom of the step. Sukuna has a much tighter hold over you, the tips of his claws dig past the multiple layers of rich silk and nearly pierce your skin.

Not to hurt you, but to ground you — recenter your mind. As if he knew exactly what you had imagined.

The woman before you, Yorozu, seems to flare her nostrils at the motion. Her fingers curl uselessly into the sleeves of her haori and yet—she still does not close it to hide her modesty. It only serves to spring more questions to mind, just who exactly was Yorozu to Sukuna? He seemed to hold no fondness for her in the way he addressed her, but he didn’t really in the way he spoke to you — did he?

“Spit it out, or get out.” Sukuna commands, a lazy look on his face despite the iron grip on your waist.

Yorozu shifts her light-coloured eyes quickly away from you and back onto Sukuna once he speaks. Ah, so it was infatuation on her behalf, there’s no doubt about that. She looks at him as if he hung the moon and stars.

“Master Sukuna,” Yorozu all but purrs, the lilt in her voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “I have what you asked for.”

That makes Sukuna raise an eyebrow, but he doesn’t move a muscle to get whatever it is he ‘asked for’. That makes Yorozu shift on her feet once again, the sound of her bare feet on the tiled floor is nothing short of claws on rock.

“I didn’t know we discussed important matters in front of whores now—” She huffs a laugh, her gaze flicking away from Sukuna’s face just in time to miss the raising of his upper lip into a snarl. “Well? Get out of here.” That was addressed to you.

“You’ve been warned once. Watch your tongue.” He snarls in retort, and Yorozu’s thick eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Get on with it.”

Despite her initial shock at the tone Sukuna took with her, Yorozu clears her throat and plasters on a much too sultry smile for your liking. “The Shogun has returned to his home. He no longer resides at the Shogun’s palace—apparently, he had important business at the Zen’in estate.”

You don’t bristle at the mention of your uncle or the fact he’s returned to the Zen’in estate. It was a grand thing, built by and for your father. It held multiple branches of the Zen’in family, all of them trained warriors with formidable cursed techniques. Some of them however had no cursed energy at all… at least that’s what some of the scrolls you had filtered through just a day prior had mentioned.

“He moved his army there?” Sukuna asks, his back straightening just slightly at the idea of slaughtering not just the Shogunate—but the entirety of the Zen’in clan in one fell swoop.

“Mhm,” She hums before continuing. “The Generals and Sun-Moon-Stars are also on the move.”

The Generals and Sun-Moon-Stars? You had no idea who or what they even were, they’d never been mentioned by your father when you had often hovered around him as a child when he discussed strategies with his strongest men.

One of Sukuna’s hands comes up to rub at his chin in contemplation, an odd look on his face. One of deep thought. Whoever these people were, the generals and Sun-Moon-Stars, Sukuna most definitely knew who they were. But you doubt he worries about fighting them, he had no qualms about fighting anyone. He knew himself as the strongest.

“Fine. Where do they move to?”

Yorozu grins like a feline, her eyes nothing short of seductive. Oh, you knew that look on her face — she wanted something in return for her information.

“First. You promised me something.” Sukuna makes a face like he did no such thing. “You promised me that you’d spend time with me. Alone.”

That final word is tacked on with a vicious glance in your direction, aggressive enough to have your own eyebrows raising just a smidgen in surprise. Clearly, the warning Sukuna had growled in her direction just mere moments ago had blown right over her head.

“I promised nothing.” His fingers curl into a fist beneath his chin, propping his head up further so he could sneer down the thickness of his nose at the woman before him. “You mean nothing to me. Why would I devote my time to nothing?”

“And a common whore means something to you?” She spits before she can reign in her tongue, yet she does not back down. Her head held high with a twitch of an eyebrow—she was at her breaking point. You wondered if she too had a cursed technique, she must have if Sukuna had granted her more than one chance to speak to him.

Those long claws sink further into the expensive silk draped over your body, stretching the material until it gives way. He leans forward just slightly, an imperceivable movement but you feel the way he presses closer to you. Keeps you closer. Just out of the corner of your eye, you watch as his upper lip curls into a snarl and the words form on his tongue.

The lower arm of which you were leaning on snakes around your side too, a large hand dipping down until it engulfs the side of your thigh in a possessive grip. You can feel the subtle circles he draws with this thumb, and the way he occasionally drags his hand back and forth as if he were stroking your very skin.

It has your toes curling, your eyes fighting to flutter at the feeling of his hands on your body whilst staring down a woman who wants him so desperately. That heat still simmers from earlier when the two of you had been alone to dress, only growing hotter and hotter with each pass of his fingers along your thigh.

“How dare you speak of my wife like that.”

The entire room stills. Frozen and suspended in time and yet it’s not your cursed energy at work — but rather the words spoken by Sukuna. He doesn’t spit the word like it was a curse, nor does he scowl at the fact he had told a lie about who you are to him. He plays it off as if it were the truth. Why did that make your toes curl once again?

Yorozu sputters. “Wife? Wife?! You–! You said you’d never love someone!”

“I said I’d never love you. You, the lowly street dog from Ainu. You never would’ve served me other than warming my bed before you thicken my broth with your bones.” Sukuna’s voice is a dark rumble in his chest, the grin on his face nothing but pure malice. “Know your place.”

Perhaps it was the shock at the words Sukuna continued to spill at his lips, but you can’t stop yourself from hiding the evident surprise on your features. And Sukuna seems to notice that, as he raises one arm to conveniently block your face with the sleeve of his haori so he can point towards Yorozu.

“Get out of my sight before I mount your head on my wall so you’re forced to watch me fuck my wife.”

Yorozu seems to fight the urge to snarl and snap her jaws at Sukuna, at you, but there’s a drop in temperature in the room. An icy chill that rolls from somewhere, a location you quickly realise is Uraume themselves. The cursed energy they release comes off of them in thick waves, a thick mist starting to coat the floor to bite at the bare ankles of the humiliated woman.

Yorozu leaves soon after, turning on her heel but not before shifting her hateful gaze to you—to stare at you in the eye with a scowl so scathing, you wonder if she had attempted to burn you alive.

The air in the throne room was stifling. A chilling silence that lingered far longer than comfortable, yet Sukuna did nothing to appease said silence and Uraume at least had the decency to resume her post at the bottom of the steps. You, however, weren't sure where to look or how to sit properly.

His wife. That’s what he called you. A title he pinned on you in the face of a woman who wanted nothing more than the four-armed beast still running his fingers up and down your thigh as if he did truly own you – body and soul.

“Uraume,” Sukuna calls finally, snapping the room free from its silence. “Leave us.”

Uraume turns to give a deep bow, their hair shifting with the movement to hide their features. “Yes, my King.” And like that, they were gone in a blink of an eye.

Sukuna handles you off of his lap far too easily, two large hands grabbing at your waist to lift you and place your feet on the floor before he too stands. It’s no surprise that he doesn’t speak a word to you, instead wordlessly expecting you to follow him down the few steps that led away from his throne and out of the room.

You follow — because of course you do. But you’re not entirely sure why, perhaps it was because you felt somewhat safest around him or you simply knew you had no other choice. Not after the failed attempt to kill him once and for all.

He leads you through the neatly cleaned corridors of the temple, tatami flooring swept and kept pristine. You’d think it was home to a Lord of some kind; not a man who had zero qualms about eating another person as if it were the same as eating an apple.

The rooms you pass by are large, but mostly empty save for a few low tables and cushions that appear to be unused for quite some time. It only leads you to wonder who used to live here, before Sukuna had taken ownership. You knew it to be his ancestral temple in a way, this was home to him.

But it was so barren, so large. You wonder if maybe he had plans to fill it one day—maybe with a family of his own or he was just a creature who enjoyed a large space to call his own. The latter seemed more likely.

Eventually, Sukuna stops outside of a large door. It’s different to the others, unpainted with any of the designs that you’d seen on his bedroom door for example. Instead, it’s clean, unassuming, in fact, if you were to walk by it you would’ve missed its very existence.

The room opens up with an easy slide of the shoji door, the smell that comes forth is one you know far too well. Old books. It has your nose wrinkling momentarily, stepping into the room that seems to come to life the second Sukuna steps a foot inside too. The lanterns along the walls all flicker to life, illuminating one by one until you realise you’re standing in a library.

A very extensive library.

There were tall wooden bookcases reaching to the ceiling of the room, and each of them was filled with a variety of things. Scrolls that were stacked atop each other, poorly bound books that looked as old as time itself and stacks of loose papers that seemed to be in a certain order.

It put the small collection you destroyed in Sukuna’s room to shame, what was in there was nothing in comparison to this. This alone looked like it took years upon years to gather, stock up and organise. Was this the reason why Sukuna was so well-versed in all things political and cursed energy-related? He had all of the knowledge he could need at hand.

Sukuna doesn’t stop you when you squeeze yourself out from behind him and into the open room, hardly offering you a second glance as he disappears further into the room to search for something. You can only turn on the spot to truly take in everything, this was far more than you ever expected.

It may even beat the impressive library you’d seen in the Emperor’s Palace as a child.

Noting Sukuna hadn’t beckoned you to follow him, you decide to meander around for yourself. With careful steps, you begin to walk down a long aisle of bookcases. Some of them were unlabelled, simply put there by someone who knew what it was and where to find it when the time called for it. But some did have titles crudely painted and carved into the cover of books.

All history books so far. Asuka Period. Nara Period. You stop once your eyes find the title; Heian Period. No doubt it’d be incomplete, but you wondered just what had been documented so far. So much had happened in a short amount of time since the end of the Nara Period, something your father had often lectured you on as did your teacher.

You pluck it from the shelf, the wave of dust itches at your nose and the tips of your fingers. You can’t help but grimace as it stains your pristine outfit with little specks of grey. The book itself was thick, but you could tell that most of the pages were empty; waiting to be filled in by whoever would ensure the future generations knew what had occurred.

The start of the book is something you’d already learned previously; the movement of the Emperor and how he claimed the capital of Japan. Nothing was out of the ordinary there, but the further you began to read into it… the more you realised it was filled with blatant lies or simply nothing at all.

You stop when you see your father's name written across the page in black ink, his full imperial title. It states his death, but not the cause. Simply that your uncle had transcended to the position of Shogun in the wake of his death. None of this was surprising, but rather it was the history of your father that has you stalling.

You knew him as a man of great peace and understanding, even if he was a hardened warrior. He wanted peace like no other, a world where he didn’t have to worry for the safety of his children—the safety of you. But here it states you did not exist. A Shogun with a deceased wife and no children, no heirs. Nothing. You were wiped clean of the history slate as if you weren’t anyone or anything at all.

Was this the Emperor’s doing? Did he hold sway over the historians who documented everything? Or was it your Uncle, the underlying fear that his brother's daughter would come back with a vengeance and seize the title from him?

“Does it bother you that they wrote you off as nothing?” Sukuna’s voice is much too close. It can’t be helped when you practically jump out of your skin, fingers fumbling to make sure you don’t drop the book–or worse, swing it at the man who approached you with a trained silence.

“It does, doesn’t it? That Samurai pride of yours… No, not just that. The insufferable pride of the Zen’in clan still can’t be snuffed out even in the rejects of the family.” His words are mean, as they always are but something tells you that he isn’t coming completely from a place of total malice and hate—he’s simply telling you what you already know.

But you don’t let him know that you’re aware of the truth he speaks.

“No.” You speak with every ounce of self-confidence you can muster, hunkering down on the tone you had often heard your very father speak in— “No. What bothers me is you daring to claim me as your wife, in front of a woman who pines for you no less.”

His presence behind you remains close, but you can tell he’s standing once again at his full height. So you turn to him once you replace the book on the shelf, and he’s staring down at you with an indifferent look on his features; he doesn’t care for your insolence or tone that you take with him it would seem.

“You used me to make that woman jealous. Didn’t you? Dressed me up as some sort of bride and then splayed me on your lap like a prized house cat. How dare you.”

Sukuna stares at you for a tense long moment, maybe it was only a few seconds in reality but he stares at you like he would if you were a battle, a conquest that he’s figuring out how to conquer.

“Your tongue lashes with such poison and yet,” he leans in much too close, forcing your back to press into the wooden bookcase behind you. “Yet… I can smell just what it did to you, what it still does to you.”

He cages you effortlessly, large hands pressing against the shelves on either side of you to lock you into place as he lowers his face down until he is level with your own. His eyes are all directed at you, watching with such scrutiny that you can feel him just beneath your skin; searching your very soul.

“You’re lying.” You can only breathe in return, even on your tongue you can taste your very own lie. You knew, deep down, that he was telling you the truth — he could smell your arousal, and that thought alone was electrifying in its own way.

“Only one of us is a liar presently.” He heaves in a heavy breath through his nose as if to prove his point, and you have a front-row view of his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head whilst his pupils dilate just enough to nearly swallow the violent crimson of his eyes.

Your heart thunders in your chest, batters against your very rib cage because he’s right. You’re lying to yourself. It had made something in your stomach churn pleasantly when he had openly laid a claim to you like that, to call you his wife in front of not just Yorozu but his right-hand Uraume… it thrilled you to no end.

But you knew. You knew Sukuna didn’t believe in things such as marriage, or even love. It was foolish to believe for a second that he meant it as anything but a way to get rid of a headache that continued to pester him for his time. Another means to an end; that’s what your first ‘marriage’ was. A powerful pawn in the hands of a selfish man.

Sukuna hums quietly to himself, reaching up a hand used to brutalise men and women without a second thought. He brushes a large thumb over the apple of your cheek, rolling it down until he meets your jawline. You feel the wetness smudge beneath the pad of his finger — you hadn’t even realised you were crying.

“I’ve always thought you were such a beautiful crier. You cried too the night you were meant to die, and I thought to myself… no woman had ever looked more beautiful than you did. With blood on your throat, and in the cracks of your teeth… crying.” It’s perverse, yet it has your eyelashes fluttering when he makes another pass of his thumb to swipe at your falling tears.

He leans in once again, his hand slipping away from your cheek to encase itself around your throat. His fingers squeeze gently, an impulsive reflex you think when his lips are within reach of your own. His lower set of eyes are nearly shut completely, whilst he looks at you through thick eyelashes with the other pair.

It’s intoxicating to be this close to him, a mixture of fear and arousal that blend so perfectly together you can’t tell one from the other. He could tear your very throat out in the blink of an eye, slice you into a million pieces and you’d never be found again. But he holds you with a sense of gentleness, his thumb making the barest of movements just beneath the corner of your jaw.

You expect him to lean in to kiss you, to give in to that primal instinct to press against another human being but instead, his lips brush away from your own. They find home against your cheek, before he ever so slowly drags his tongue up along the tear tracks.

He angles his head after his tongue follows along that watery path, until his lips brush against the shell of your ear. His breath is warm when his lips part, “You’d never be nothing with me.”

It’s sinful how easily he can drop the harshness of his voice, how he can soothe out the deep ridges until his voice is nothing but a rumbling purr. It takes great strength on your part to not let your eyes flutter closed and to part your lips to tell him just how much you enjoyed when he spoke to you like that.

“Is that what you want? To be something, to be someone?” Another deep inhale through his nose, no doubt savouring the scent of your apparent arousal. “With me, you could be so much more than just someone.”

“How?” Your own voice is nothing but a whisper, but Sukuna hears you as clear as day. His face breaks into that feline-like smile, brushing his lips against the lobe of your ear before he rounds back around to look you in the eye.

“You’ve already given part of yourself to me, but the rest… give me the rest of you.”

Your blood roars in your ears, screams at you to refuse to fall for another one of his deals—a bargain with the devil himself. But the way his fingers drag down from their place at your throat, gently prying apart your carefully planned outfit until the tips of those fingers brush over your collarbone. It’s impossible to listen to anything but your desire; a desire for more.

It was simple human nature. To want to become something more, to make a mark on the world that had been designed to oppress you as a woman – you wanted to be the reason why men feared your name, why they put you in the history books simply because you were someone. He was offering you power, plain and simple.

You have to wet your lips to get your words to roll from your tongue, and Sukuna looks far too pleased with the effect he’s having on your body. “I don’t—How?” You repeat yourself.

“A Binding vow.” He replies predictably, and his grin grows more wolfish when he sees the recollection dawn on your face. You couldn’t get out of the vow even if you tried once the terms were set. “I promise it won’t be as complicated as the first.”

Those same fingers that were pushing your kimono apart succeed, it falls limply to rest atop your breasts. You expect him to pry it open further but he doesn’t, instead his eyes shift away from your own to settle on the centre of your chest. His fingers brush slowly, gently, along the area as if he were caressing your heart directly.

“Give me your heart.” It comes from his mouth so easily, as if he hadn’t asked for the one thing that keeps you alive. It makes your skin sweaty beneath his touch, hairs rising on the back of your neck as if your brain finally caught up with the fact you’re pinned uselessly beneath a great beast. “And you will have mine. That’s the vow.”

“That’s it?” It seemed far too simple, far too vague that it seemed almost like a joke. Like he was playing on your emotions. “How does killing me give me what I want?”

“I don’t mean literally giving me your heart. Not yet, anyway.” He breathes with a grin, his fingers pressing harder against the softness of your chest until his claws start to dig into the flesh. “Binding the heart should theoretically tie you to my own lifeline, you’d have access to unimaginable strength.”

“Theoretically?” You huff in part amusement and part disbelief, he wanted you to hand over your heart—metaphorically—based on a theory? “You want my heart based on… what, some story written by a monk gone mad?”

Those same claws still on your chest for a moment, but they don’t remove themselves from how they’re embedded in your chest; poised to rip out your beating heart. He instead drags his eyes back up to meet your own, that smile on his face is nothing short of bad intentions.

“What, scared? Where’s that samurai warrior spirit of yours? You had no fear when you tried to cut my head off, twice.” He’s still so close that he speaks the words practically into your mouth. You know he’s trying to coax you into giving him what he wants, you know that, but… it was so easy to let your guard slip until you were intoxicated on everything that was Ryomen Sukuna.

He must see it visibly slip on your face as his smile grows ever-larger, more devious and that hand on your chest splays out wide. The palm of his large hand settles wholly over your heart, even pressing a little harder to feel the rapid thumping of it against his own flesh.

“Well?”

“...I agree.”

He swallows your agreement just as it leaves your lips, his own mouth working against your own whilst his hand presses harder and harder against your chest—until it feels like he’s about to pass his hand right through your body. It burns under his palm, hotter than anything you’ve ever felt before. But you have felt it before, in the hot spring.

Sukuna brands your skin so effortlessly, binds your body to his own with a simple press of his cursed energy. Yet your body feels no different, you don’t feel the ‘unimaginable strength’ Sukuna had theorised about. You feel nothing but the pass of his tongue into your mouth, the tip of it running over the roof of your mouth until he flicks it against your teeth.

He pulls back, mercifully, as your breath grows shorter. He stares down at you intensely, his palm still pressed against your chest. You want to know what’s running through his mind when he stares at you like that, a look that’s calculating yet so disarming.

But instead, there’s a shift of movement and you’re hoisted into the air. Much too high for your liking. Your thighs squeeze around his midsection, and you’re forced to press your hands against his broad shoulders. Sukuna holds you above him, his head tilted back to look at you in a different light – and here you start to understand the look in his eye. Admiration.

“A normal person would’ve died…” He starts, but stops short of finishing his sentence completely. Instead, he draws you impossibly closer to his body, two large hands gripping your thighs whilst the other two hold your waist so delicately.

His words should worry you. His theory was based on the fact that most, if not all, people died at the very notion of binding your heart to another. But instead, you find yourself speechless, staring down at him tips the power scale over. You feel awfully out of place above him like this, his eyes have a different glimmer to them when he’s forced to stare up at you.

You can’t stop your hands from leaving his shoulders to cup his face, your hands seem tiny on either side of his jaw that flexes at the contact. You drag your thumb along the black tattoos along his jaw, tracing them until you have to repeat the gesture over–and over–...

His lips mirror the softness of your own easily enough, he doesn’t force his tongue into your mouth as he had so many times before. Rather, he simply lets you guide the kiss, gently and smoothly. Your body is forced to hunch down to reach his, and he aids you with a hand splayed across the small of your back to keep you steady.

One of your hands slips away from his jaw, hooking your arm loosely around his neck to run your fingers up along the nape of his neck, through the shortened hairs there until you can glide your fingers through the longer pink strands of hair. His chest rumbles between your thighs, a deep sound that resembles something so oddly familiar—

The sound grows louder with each pass of your nails against his scalp, up and back down to scratch at the nape of his neck. It’s only then that you realise the rumble is more like a deep vibration, a purr. Your toes curl against the corded muscles of his back at that sound alone, the press of his midsection between your thighs doesn’t help either.

It doesn’t take very long for the kiss to devolve into a slick mess, his insatiable greed for more growing far too large to ignore. He guides your tongue in a sensual dance, one that has your core aching with the memory of what that second tongue had done between your thighs not even a single night ago.

Suddenly, you’re pulled away from the bookcase he had cornered you against. The movement doesn’t break his concentration on your lips, each of his steps are with purpose. His gait doesn’t falter either when he begins to lower himself down onto his knees, those large hands holding you steadfast to ensure his time with your mouth isn’t cut short.

The way he handles you is entirely different to how he had the previous night. Last night was filled with adrenaline-fuelled lust, rough grabbing hands that took and took until there was nothing left to give. But now, he handles you with a delicacy you’d see reserved for loved ones.

His hands don’t leave your waist when he lays you flat on your back on the softer tatami mat made for sitting and reading on. Instead, he holds you much tighter, like he expects you to wriggle out from beneath him at any second. Though you don’t plan on that any time soon, not when his lips finally break away from your own to press themselves in long passes against your jaw and the hollow of your throat.

The Uchikake slips away from your shoulders, giving him better access to start pulling and tugging in the right places until your kimono unravels entirely from your body. It falls limply at your sides, revealing your bare front to the prying eyes that do a slow sweep up and down your body. The hands at your waist smooth up the expanse of your hips, up along your rib cage until he rests his thumbs just beneath your breasts.

His eyes slip up along the length of your chest, lingering for just a moment on your breasts before he meets your own gaze. That carnal lust for blood has been replaced by nothing but pure desire, it leaks into his eyes until his pupils are dilated and locked onto yours. He looks like a predator who just found his prey.

The length of his tongue is hot against your nipple, the black of his tattoo such a stark contrast to the pink of his tongue as it contorts to swirl around the hardening nipple before he sucks it into his mouth without shame. All whilst he maintains that heedy eye contact, making sure you watch him thoroughly enjoy your body; the body you’ve just given to him so willingly under the guise of a binding vow.

Thankfully, he isn’t forgetful. A hand comes up along your right side, pressing into your skin to feel each and every bump of your ribs beneath the skin that he could shred so easily. His hand comes up to cup the entirety of your breast in one large palm, fingers stretching and then squeezing tightly as if to get a true grasp of just what he was holding.

It’s a painful grasp but it soon bleeds into pleasure when he pinches the stiff peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it until you’re forced to breathe out your pleasure.

The sound that escapes your mouth seems to be what Sukuna was waiting for, his own groan is muffled against the flesh of your breast but it vibrates against your nipple nonetheless. Your hips buck up at the feeling, and in turn, Sukuna presses his own body harder against your own — pinning you beneath him, keeping you still so he could perform his ministrations against your body without interruption.

He continues to twist the tip of his tongue around your nipple, sucking it further into his mouth until you’re sure it’s going to leave a painful bruise in its wake. But then he switches to the other, giving it the exact same treatment whilst his fingers now play with the abused flesh of the nipple dripping in his spit.

Sukuna doesn’t linger much longer on your nipples, instead ducking down to latch his teeth into the fleshy part of your underboob and it’s enough to pull a pained hiss from you. You can feel his lips curl into a triumphant grin at the fact he was able to pull a sound from you and not fight the repercussions.

The path he marks down your body is a tantalising mixture of pain and pleasure, his teeth sink into the fleshier parts of your body – only to be soothed over by the thickness of his tongue. You watch him as he lowers further and further down, his upper set of arms stretched up just slightly so he can continue to pinch at your nipples.

He holds your eyes with his own, settling just at the apex of your thighs and here you can feel the billowing heavy breaths being pushed from his nose. It makes your toes curl and thighs rub together in an attempt to stave off the pressure between your legs. Sukuna of course doesn’t miss the movement, his tongue flicks out to run over his upper lip. He looked as if he were about to devour a meal.

The spare pair of hands come to your outer thighs, easily pressing his fingers into the flesh to manoeuvre them up and over his shoulders once he settles himself on his stomach between your thighs. It’s an odd sight; to see a man as gigantic as Sukuna on his stomach, between your thighs of all places.

Part of you expects him to dive straight into it, he spreads your legs so wide on his broad shoulders that you don’t doubt he can see everything on display. That alone has heat burning at the tips of your ears and buzzing in the apple of your cheeks, it’s entirely different from the previous time he had been between your legs.

It felt different when he used the tongue at his stomach, almost like that was just a way to prepare him for you but this…—it was beyond intimate. A man willing to lay down on his stomach in such a vulnerable position just for the purpose of pleasuring you was mind-numbingly attractive.

Those hands that had been pinching and squeezing at your breasts have meandered their way down to your thighs, easily wrapping themselves around the meat of your thigh to lock you into place whilst the bottom set of hands pry you open. Now that has you squirming, you can feel the wet heat of your desire leaking down to stain the pristine white fabric of your kimono that had been turned into a temporary blanket.

You want to look away from him, to divert your gaze away from the downright filthy look in his own. He doesn’t break away, not once, not when his jaw works for a moment before he spits against your clit. Your thighs tense, your hips jumping up at the contact of the significantly cooler liquid against the molten warmth of your pussy.

Then. Then, he graces you with the length of his tongue. It presses against you, the tip of it dipping between your spread folds to then drag its way up until it teasingly flicks against your clit. Again, you jolt from the pleasure. It was most definitely different from the tongue in his stomach, that one was much too big – made purely to ensure you were dripping wet before he took you.

But this tongue… the skilled tongue that had spat threats so easily, and had been the home of smug words and arrogance like no other. It was working you to completion much quicker than ever before. Sukuna must realise it too, noticing the sudden rush of arousal that graces his tongue and lips because he locks his arms tighter around your thighs. And then, he truly devours his meal.

Long gone are the gentle, slow passes of his tongue. Each pass of his tongue is aggressive in a way that has your toes curling into his back and the heel of your feet dragging along the tattooed flesh there. His lips are unforgiving when they latch themselves to your clit, those teeth that you’d seen rip through flesh graze teasingly against the sensitive nub there until your fingers find a home in his hair.

When you pull, he groans. A low, deep rich sound that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He sounds like a wounded animal, like he’s teetering on the edge of his own bliss with each clamping pull of your hand in his hair. He doesn’t give up on the quick passes of his tongue over your clit, nor does he stop drooling against your pussy as if you were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

You jerk beneath his ministrations once again, and your fingers tighten on his hair. Holding him in place as you ride the start of your orgasm against his tongue, Sukuna looks like he’s lost in his own world—one that contains only you and him in this very moment. His eyes are half-lidded yet you can see the unbridled lust there, something so humanly wanton that it makes your thighs twitch.

Then it washes over you. You feel a tug in your chest, a pooling of vicious lust in your stomach and with a moan of his name, a breathy “Ryomen!”, you cum on his tongue. He holds you in place thankfully, your hips jumping uncontrollably because his nose continues to press against your clit with each deep press of his tongue into your still throbbing walls.

Sukuna finally pulls himself away from the salvation he found between your thighs, the bottom half of his face and part of his cheeks are drenched. A shiny clear sheen of your very obvious arousal, and he grins. All sharp teeth and dark intentions on display, his eyes glitter with the fact he had you come undone on his face so quickly—so easily.

He then crawls back up the length of your body, slow movements that pull his muscles perfectly. He’s the very image of an apex predator, and you find yourself slipping far too easily into the role of his unlucky prey. Your legs spread once again for him with the help of his own thighs spreading you wider, he’s fully dressed yet you can feel the heavy press of his twin cocks.

A hand comes up to your face, a curled index finger stroking along the soft skin beneath your eye and down towards your temple, wiping away the stray tears that had come loose in the height of your orgasm. “You’re beautiful when you cum.” He says it nonchalantly like it’s a fact more than a compliment, yet it still has your heart pumping faster and arousal spiking.

The kiss he lays against your lips is undoubtedly soft, far too soft for the man you know him as and it’s so fleeting that you’re left wondering if it truly even happened. His mouth instead finds a home against your neck, panting breaths pressed against the scarred flesh there from the previous times he tore you apart, just to piece you together again with his very own hand.

He settles his weight between your legs, forcing your thighs to spread impossibly wider to accommodate him. But instead of resting there for much longer, his hands grab at your waist and thighs. The world shifts around you, a blur of movement and a thump of a body against the floor — all to reveal Sukuna now splayed out beneath you.

His hands stroke gently up along the bareness of your thighs, and slowly back down to stroke the soft skin at your knees. He still looks impossibly big even beneath you, but it makes your heart seize in your chest. He put you in a place of power, a seat of dominance on his very lap; all with a lazy smile on his face.

“It’s an equal exchange,” he explains when he sees the thoughts flit behind your eyes. “I take from you, and you take from me.”

Right. The Binding Vow. The reason why your chest still burns with an idle ache that feels familiar to the one at your wrist. Instead of answering him, you look down at your own body, noting the numerous bite marks embedded into your skin. Your fingers brush along each of them until you halt at the centre of your chest, right between your breasts—

There’s a new tattoo. It’s different to the band around your wrist, instead, it’s two curved lines separated with a smaller tear-drop line in the middle, shaped like a trident. The long lines curve with your breasts, the teardrop resting just over the centre of your heart.

Your fingers brush over it briefly, there’s an aching sting beneath the fresh ink that blossomed on your skin. It’s tiny compared to the one you’ve seen on Sukuna’s body, on his tongue. You want to know what the symbols mean to him, each of them must hold a different reason for their shape and placement.

“You suit them,” Sukuna supplies after a moment of watching you trace over the trident-like shape on your chest, and your eyes drift back up to meet his. That lust is still there but it’s softened into a gentler, more welcoming red.

“I don’t think I’d suit the face tattoos.” You admit, and he arches an eyebrow in amusement at your words.

“No? You dislike them?” His claws playfully drag down along the flesh of your thighs, earning him a full-body shiver which inevitably causes his cocks to twitch from where they’re trapped against your still wet-heat between your thighs.

Your laugh causes his own lips to turn into a smooth smile, his eyes tracking the movement when you shake your head. “Always putting words in my mouth,” you lean forward, planting your hands on his chest and inwardly mourning the fact he was still wearing his own kimono. “I just think you look much better with them. Fearsome.”

His eyebrow remains raised in feigned disbelief, perhaps even faked hurt. “Just fearsome? I bathe you in compliments, and in return I get fearsome?”

You lean ever closer, brushing your nose playfully against his and he returns the motion but a little more harsher. It’s an odd air that’s settled over the both of you, maybe it was the binding vow still setting in. You had handed him your very heart, and you were still due to take his. It’s not an unenjoyable air however, if anything, it’s the happiest you’ve felt in a very long time.

“Handsome. Ruthless. Regal.” Each word is breathed between kisses along the thick line of the tattoo along his jaw until you’re nestled next to his ear. “Does that satisfy you, or do you want me to stroke your ego some more?”

A buck of his hips has your newfound confidence wavering, a tumbling moan falling from your lips and gracing his ear. His hands grasp tightly at your hips whilst a large palm smoothes over the expanse of your ass, grabbing and squeezing — only to smack you with enough force to spring tears to your eyes.

“Careful.” He blows the word against your own ear, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your earlobe before laying a kiss just beneath.

As if remembering just the hold you have over him at the moment, you lean out of the biting range of that wandering mouth. He nearly snarls at the fact you pull away, until you start to tug at the obi belt of his kimono. Undoing all the layering until his chest is laid bare for you. You trace your own finger along the expanse of the lines that mar his chest there, down the chunk-like squares until your hand presses over his own heart.

Sukuna at least lifts his hips to help you push down his Hakama and free him completely from the confines of the materials you had dressed him only a short while ago. He relaxes further with the skin-to-skin contact, yet those cocks between your thighs twitch impatiently; drooling against his defined muscles.

He holds your gaze when you plant a hand on his stomach, lifting your own hips to guide a hand between them and take hold of one of the thick cocks waiting for attention. You leave the upper one untouched, and he grunts at the realisation you won’t be taking both—not yet, anyway.

The tip of his cock grazes against your still-sensitive clit, and glides through the sticky mess between your lips. You’d only grown more and more wet for him as you found yourself atop of him, and you don’t doubt that you could take him… with a bit of a struggle.

Sukuna schools his features well but you don’t miss the swell of his chest when he sucks in a breath, your entrance swallows the tip of his cock greedily and that alone has a stinging burn pinching at your walls. But you preserve, you push through inch by inch until you’re seated on his thighs with his heavy balls resting at the curve of your ass.

You clench involuntarily, and finally, the mask slips away from Sukuna’s face. He groans, without shame, kiss-bruised lips parting to relieve him of the pleasure he was trying to keep to himself. His hands are clamped to your hips, holding you in place just to give him a second to breathe — to recalibrate his brain and try to focus on anything but just how tight and warm your pussy was.

“Even after nearly stuffing you with two cocks, you’re still so fucking tight.” He hisses, sharp fangs on display when he grits his teeth to give a tentative roll of his hips up into you.

Your thighs tense, walls throbbing around his length and the pretty moan pulled from your lips is complimented by his own rumbling groan. On instinct your own hips grind back, your clit catching against the underside of his unattended cock and those long black claws finally sink into your flesh.

It feels too good. Far too good, and you’ve not even moved yet—not properly. You want to ride him, to sit atop of him and watch him unravel whilst nestled beneath you. But it’s becoming increasingly hard to think when you feel the tip of his cock that’s buried deep inside of you twitch against that one spongy spot deep inside of you.

So you distract yourself, momentarily. Your hand slides away from his stomach and wraps around the weeping cock against his pelvis, Sukuna jerks at the motion as if he hadn’t expected you to take care of both. Your fingers don’t reach around the girth of him, but you squeeze nevertheless.

His cock is dripping with your arousal from when you had been seated atop of him, you had been turned on for him so much so that it had leaked through his pants. Your hand glides easily up and down, twisting gently at the tip of his cock to roll your thumb over the slit there before spreading the mixture of your slick and his pre-cum down along his length.

Sukuna all but groans prettily at the way you handle him, head thunking back against the floor when he finally, finally, relinquishes control to you. You give another grind of your hips and the pinching burn there has started to bleed away into undeniable pleasure, so you shift a little atop of him.

As if realising what you were about to do, Sukuna places his hands just beneath your thighs. Not to control you, but to simply guide you, support you, if you needed it. The first bounce is awfully loud and sticky, your pussy greedily sucking his cock back in when you drop down to his hips.

Your hand slackens a little around the cock still leaking near his belly button, so a large hand engulfs your own and starts to move your hand up and down a little more aggressively — so not totally out of control, but you can’t complain when he nudges his hips slightly to meet your bounces.

His cock presses beautifully against that spot deep inside of you repeatedly, each bounce and drop in gravity hammering the mushroomed head of his cock against it until your stomach coils painfully. Your impending orgasm makes itself suddenly known, and this one feels much more intense than the others. A pressure in your lower stomach that has your jaw slackening to moan without any shame.

Sukuna watches you through thick lashes, biting down on his lip to stop himself from growling or moaning, perhaps even both. Those hands beneath your thighs have started to slowly shift up until they rest at your hips, and a hand smooths itself over your lower back. And it’s a very subtle warning for what's to come.

A man like Sukuna is undoubtedly strong, made of muscles that were purely for ripping and shredding through people with ease. So it’s hardly a surprise when he bucks up into your hard, enough to plant his feet squarely on the floor before he fucks into you like he’d never get a chance to fuck you again.

You can only squish your chest to his own to save yourself from slamming into him, and his hand on the lower portion of your back holds you there. Pins you to him in a vulnerable position whilst his hips work to thrust his cock hard and deep into your velvety core.

A surprised moan mixed with a yelp is torn from your throat when a hand smooths itself down over your ass before pressing rather unceremoniously into the tight ring of muscle there, it’s not an unwelcome feeling but it still has you panting open-mouthed against the thick muscle of his chest.

The orgasm that was building erupts far too quickly, and all you can do is gasp against his chest with a breathless “‘M gonna— gonna cum, please, please—” You don’t specify what you’re begging for, but Sukuna knows exactly what you’re pleading for.

So he doesn’t let up on the fast and aggressive pace of his hips, snarling into your ear when you clench repeatedly around the length of his cock. The juices that drip from your abused pussy soak him entirely, ruining the material that had gathered beneath the both of you and it only aids in making the slapping noise of his balls against your ass even louder.

His hips only begin to slow once he’s rung out your orgasm until you’re oversensitive, flinching with each pass of his cock against your swollen walls. He lets you settle atop of him, his cock still buried deep inside of you and throbbing with the need to release but he holds himself back, and staves off his own climax.

You nearly purr when a hand finds itself in your hair, long claws scratching delicately at the sweaty scalp there until you’re ready to continue. The twitch of his cock pressed between his stomach and your own has your toes curling, and that small coil in your stomach twists with delight at the fact you’re still not finished.

That hand drifts away from your hair once you reposition yourself atop of him, your hands dragging along the smooth expanse of his chest to settle at his stomach. His body gleams with a sheen coat of sweat, and his lungs expand harshly with each breath he sucks in. It seems fucking you through an explosive orgasm so aggressively took it out of him.

“You’re beautiful,” you find the words slip from your lips so easily, and Sukuna can’t stop the surprise crossing his features. Beautiful, no doubt a word that has never been used to describe him. But you mean it. He looks awfully angelic like this, in a twisted way when a quiet voice whispers in the back of your mind about the atrocities he’s committed.

Yet it’s very easy to ignore that voice, to push it down and silence it. His hair is slicked back with sweat, yet tendrils of it curl around his ears and at the nape of his neck – sticking to the sweat there that continues to roll down his skin in droplets. His eyes are somewhat satiated as if seeing you reach bliss twice was enough for him for the day. His lips are set in a soft line, relaxed.

Truly beautiful.

He parts his lips to speak, maybe even to retort your compliment but you silence the words on his tongue by lifting up from his lap. His cock slips free from your swollen pussy, and it’s enough to make the both of you hiss in tandem.

“Done already?” He questions, a tint of his voice sounding almost disappointed at being left high and dry. Though, you don’t say a thing when you shift your body up onto your knees so you’re hovering over not just the one cock, but the both of them.

As if realising what you were planning, Sukuna wraps a hand around the girth of both of his cocks to help you when you start to lower yourself on both of the tips. Even after the mind-blowing orgasm, it’s still a very tight squeeze. Your face scrunches with the blossoming pain, and you know you should slow down. But that incessant tugging in your heart has your body overpowering your brain, and you lower yourself down… and down.

You only let out a heavy breath when you feel his thighs brush against the inner part of your own, and Sukuna grips your hips much more harshly compared to before. The whooshing of blood in your head is much too loud, and it only makes you feel like your head is submerged beneath water.

“Look at me.” A command, and you obey it wordlessly. You meet Sukuna’s gaze, and he’s staring at you with more care than you’ve ever witnessed. Your heart squeezes again in your chest, and you’re only now realising that it feels like a hand is wrapped around your very heart.

Your own fingers glide along the sweaty expanse of his chest, pressing into the muscle there until you locate the exact position of his heart in his chest. It beats so heavily beneath his skin, thumping against your palm as if it yearns to break free and be held by your gentle hold.

“How do I do it?” You ask in a breathless whisper, you hadn’t made a mutual contract like this before. You simply agreed to lend him your strength when he asked for it, but this time he had offered his own heart to you in exchange.

“Just take it, it’s yours.” He lays his head back against the floor, eyes staring down the bridge of his nose to stare at you. He offers no further guidance, nothing to help you with figuring out how to take a man's heart—figuratively.

He made it seem so simple, as easy as laying his hand against your own chest and wrapping his cursed energy around your heart until it beat for him, and only him. So you follow in his footsteps, your own nails dig into the muscle of his pectoral muscles and he at least notes the discomfort of you digging harshly enough to draw blood.

You feel the tug in your own chest, his cursed energy squirms in your very body until it seizes around your heart and holds it still. Then you force your mind to focus on your own cursed energy, you let it wrap around his own that nestles itself tighter around your heart until the two become one.

It snakes down your veins, from your fingertips and inevitably into his chest. It burns your palm when you press harder, ensuring that the vow is made successfully. Sukuna’s upper lip twitches in discomfort, yet he does not stop you from completing it.

Your hips twitch involuntarily when you feel the familiar embrace of that dark energy that he exudes, it welcomes you so easily. It wraps its cold arms around you and digs into your flesh, pulling you further and further in until you can sense nothing but the man beneath you.

“Take it.” Sukuna hisses through gritted teeth, and you do. You clamp down on his heart, your cursed energy snaps violently into place and Sukuna jerks at the sudden burst of it in his chest. His hands grip your hips harshly, tearing into the flesh without a care in the world and you yourself can’t find it within you to care about the blood that spills from your hips.

Instead, you gasp in his hold, overcome with such an intense feeling of undeniable power. Strength beyond comprehension. Its dark tendrils slither beneath your skin, nestling themselves around your bones until they become a part of you. It doesn’t stop until you accept it, fully.

Something snaps into place and you blink back into reality to find Sukuna staring at you with a wide-eyed expression, something that makes him look so much younger than he really is. You feel his heartbeat beneath the palm of your hand, and it matches the pounding in your ears.

He moves you effortlessly until you’re beneath him, not once breaking his eyes away from you — staring at you as if he’s never quite seen you before. The power that bleeds from him is familiar, it’s welcoming, it’s your own.

The binding vow was complete.

He crowds you into the floor, two large arms caging either side of your head when he hunches down over you. The other arms work to lift your hips up to meet his own, wrapping your legs higher up around his waist before he starts to thrust into you, slowly… as if testing the waters.

The moan that’s punched out of you sounds wounded, not because you were sore from being stretched around two cocks but because your pleasure seems heightened beyond belief. You can feel everything and then some.

One of those hands holding up his weight moves, cupping the side of your face. It always amazed you just how well he manoeuvred himself despite how large of a man he was, he wasn’t as nimble as some but he most definitely moved with a certain type of grace that was undoubtedly him.

His thumb swoops down, pressing just beneath your jaw and tilts your head up slightly to meet his own. The kiss he devours you with is nothing short of consuming, he isn’t gentle with how he keeps his lips pressed tightly to yours when his hips roll once–twice, and then he’s fucking you at a rhythm that has your toes curling sharply.

The coil that had lain dormant in your stomach suddenly sparks back to life, it curls tight in your lower stomach until your thighs seize up and you’re left to clamp around the two sizable cocks shoved deep inside of you. Sukuna groans at that, a shuddering sound that’s expelled against your lips before he returns to your mouth.

His tongue pries you open easily enough, and his tongue is unyielding as he laps at you. Two hands flex at your thighs, long fingers digging into the flesh behind your knees to effortlessly fold you further into the mating press—you can’t help but gasp into his lips, pushing out the last of your breath into his panting mouth.

“Mine,” Sukuna snarls like some feral beast, sharp canines glinting in the shimmering flame from the lanterns dotted around the room. It’s so primal, the way he takes you, the way he folds you nearly in half just to fuck himself deeper into you; to ensure you feel every last inch of him. “Say it.”

He gives a particularly hard thrust with the last word, gritting his teeth at just how tightly you clamp down around him. The hand at your jaw slips down, taking hold of your throat so easily and pinning you to the floor beneath him. He pulls back just slightly, enough so that you can see his face entirely — can see just how much you affect him.

Your answer doesn’t come quick enough, however, as he rolls his hip back smoothly only to fuck into you with much more vigour. The rhythmic wet slapping sound contests against your choked moans, you can feel each time his balls slap against your ass; how heavy they are.

“‘M yours—” You manage to choke past the squeezing of his hand at your throat, the wild glint in his eye is dangerous. A look that you’ve seen before, right before he struck with the goal to kill. “Yours! Yours—fuck!”

Sukuna chuckles breathlessly, sounding no better than yourself. He looks absolutely ruined, sweat dripping along the side of his face, at the back of his neck and along his chest. He looks positively divine, something you want to sink your teeth into. That realisation has you clamping down suddenly, pulling a shameless moan from the man above you.

You’re so close, so fucking close that you can taste it on your tongue. Sukuna can feel it too, his gaze locking with your own before he shifts just slightly onto his knees. And then when he’s truly above you, does he start fucking into you at a much deeper angle. The tip of his cock drags heavily along your g-spot whilst simultaneously ramming itself against your cervix—it’s painful.

But a type of pain that has your toes curling mercilessly, your hand grasps uselessly at the arm closest to you, the one holding you beneath him. You slip your spare hand down along your body, taking advantage of the small gap he’s granted you by wanting to watch you come undone entirely.

Your fingers slip through the mess of curls below, you’re absolutely drenched—beyond wet, a type of wetness that only Sukuna is evidently able to pull from you. You find your clit, swollen and so sensitive that you flinch at the brief contact from your fingers.

Sukuna seems to notice too, his lower set of eyes drifting down to see the way you touch yourself whilst he fucks you with both his cocks. His mouth opens in a wordless groan. You can feel the slickness gathering there when you brush your fingers down along your pussy, to brush your fingers against the sides of his cocks as he continues to fuck you.

It grows increasingly difficult to smoothly roll your fingers over your clit, the stickiness causing your fingers to slip too quickly—sometimes moving away from your clit entirely when Sukuna gives a particularly rough thrust of his hips. He’s fucking you like he needs you to cum, like if you don’t then surely his heart might give out.

Meeting Sukuna’s gaze again, you can’t stop the way you clench around him and in return, Sukuna bares his teeth at you. It’s non-threatening, not quite as lethal as the previous times he did it in the past. Instead, it sends heat shooting down your spine, flaring up in your stomach and it’s impossible to stop the orgasm the second you register it happening.

You moan, head flung back against the tatami mat with a dull thud and your entire body tenses up. The growl that comes from Sukuna is guttural, a deep sound that you can feel vibrate through your very own body from just how loud it is.

His fingers tighten around your throat, and with a gasping breath, you call for him. “Ryomen,” you flinch at the sensitivity of your clit when he throws his hips harsher against your own. “Ryomen, please, please—”

You may not know what you’re begging for exactly, but Sukuna seems to pick up on it flawlessly. His body surges forward, the width of his shoulders hiding you completely beneath him before his lips clash with your own. It’s not much of a kiss with the both of you panting in the other's mouth, and then he snarls—

“You are mine.”

His hips stutter for just a moment before you feel him thicken impossibly further deep inside of you, both of his cocks throbbing and twitching—it sends a painful twinge up your spine before the relief comes. Both of his cocks twitch simultaneously, the pulse releasing a wave of seed deep inside of you. It’s warm, almost unbearably so, yet you relish in the feeling of it.

You feel complete. A contentedness settles deep in your chest and wraps around you in a comforting arm, and all you can do is moan sweetly into Sukuna’s awaiting mouth as he shudders through his orgasm. His hips continue to pump against you, forcing his cum as deep as possible inside of you—claiming you in the most primal way.

The world swirls around you, looming bookcases seeming to grow taller as the lethargy starts to kick in. Sukuna lowers his body slowly down atop you, still refusing to pull out from you but you can already feel the stickiness of his release trickling from around where the two of you joined and ruining the slips of silk beneath you.

The hand at your throat moved at some point, instead coming up to smooth through your hair, peeling it away from your sweaty skin before brushing it further back. It has you leaning into the touch, and you’re sure if you could purr, you would at the tenderness Sukuna is handling you with.

His nose smooths up along your cheek, his breaths coming in deep and heavy before he finds the shell of your ear. “You are mine, as I am yours. Your strength will know no bounds, for as long as you stay at my side.”

A tingling sensation burns at your chest, an itch that you can’t quite reach once his words settle against your ear. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion starting to take its toll on your brain, but his words almost sound like he was completing the binding vow with an additional rule…

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#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader

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paddockbunny · 1 year

Text

Repeat Offender

Summary : Charles is recently single and quickly finds himself in a "friends with benefits" situation with none other than his ex-girlfriend's best friend.

Rating : 18+, Mature

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x Reader

Word Count : 7, 345

Trigger Warnings : 18+, Mature & Adult themes, Angsty, FWB situation, PinV sex, Unprotected sex, Oral (female receiving), slight choking, c*m talk & language

Authors Note : Firstly, I had around five or six requests for a newly single charles or rebounding charles so I've amalgamated them all into one. Thank you for the inspo to all of those who requested something to do with this. I'm trying out some first person stuff on this one so although it's labelled as "reader" YOU are in fact the author/reader if that makes sense. I also don't mention Charles' ex by name and that is very much on purpose as I keep my blog as IRL WAG free as possible so none of my stories will feature any of their names, hope you can all understand why. Anyway, this is LOOOOOONG so it has not been proofread yet.

You know when you wake up but your not fully awake yet, you’re like conscious but not alert? Well, that was exactly how I was feeling as the room was ever so slightly spinning and the faint memory of strawberry daiquiri's and vodka shots were beginning to flash across my eyes. So was the deafening sound of the music, the ache in the arches of my feet from stupid heels and the feeling of hands creeping around my waist pulling my ass against a firm crotch while dancing. Then as I slowly crept more and more into consciousness I felt the slight ache from my thighs kick in and the feeling my body had been through it.

Finally, after summoning up the energy to do it, I managed to open my eyes. They felt heavy and dense and I realised there was no way I had made it home because I had slept in my make-up - and regardless of whatever state I was in I would always manage to stumble into the bathroom to at least wipe most of the night out greasepaint off of my face so the fact it was still firmly in place meant the worst. As my vision was struggled to focus I wriggled around in a rather comfortable bed and attempted to pull myself up without a wave of nausea lash upon me. Exactly how much did I fucking drink last night? But then as eventually my eyes concentrated on something and a very loud groan reverberated from my throat. The familiar bright coloured art work that hung from the white wall across from the bottom of the bed was like a vicious, unwelcome enemy. I had studied it far too many times to count and each time it got worse and worse. It was like the eyes of T. J Eckleburg in The Great Gatsby, but instead of the judgment of an inanimate object upon American society, this horrendous painting was judging my piss poor decisions of the night prior which lead me to waking up in this damn bed, once again. And as my stomach lurched I had to force myself to make sure I was in the bed of the man whom the awful painting belonged to.

At an almost glacier pace my head began to turn. Crawling up the sheet clad outline of a pair of calves, knees and up to big, broad thighs and into the covered - yet barely - crotch. The outline of his cock almost visible through the white cotton that was practically failing to protect his modesty. His hips were next, then the outline of abs which yeah ok - I can admit it, I’ve traced with my tongue before so sue me. Then I couldn’t do it any longer. I was just drawing things out. I snapped my head immediately up to his and yup! It was Charles.

“Oh fuck!” I groaned loudly and with an eye roll I drew my hands over my face. Listen, you might be thinking “he’s fucking hot as hell, probably an incredible shag and I’d love to know how big his cock is” but, it’s all the other stuff that goes along with these nights of drunken yet passionate sex with Charles that makes me sick to my stomach each time I wake up here. You see Charles had so much awkward baggage that spilled over into my own life and I really went through several stages of self loathing when I left his apartment and had the embarrassing walk of shame home the next day. “Good morning to you too.” He scoffed loudly but by this point I knew he probably felt as guilt-ridden and dismayed as I felt.

Silence had momentarily befallen us. All I heard was the quick typing of his thumbs hitting his phone screen. It was almost annoying. That incessant tap, tappy tappy tappy, tap, tap as he typed whatever was in his head into a text or whatever he was doing. I couldn’t help it, I rolled my eyes and thought how likely it was that he was probably texting one of his friends telling them how the pair of us had hooked up AGAIN! Most likely he was asking for their advice on how to get me out of his bed. Not that he needed any because there was no way in hell I felt like staying. I wanted to get out of here as badly and he wanted to kick me out. Just as I moved to sit upright a bit more and try search for my stomach lurched and I had to take a few deep breaths not to feel the effects of last nights alcohol. Something which unfortunately Charles noticed and as he asked if I was suffering from a the dreaded hangover, sarcasm laced thick in his voice.

“Why does this always happen? Why do we do this?” I sighed while letting out a long, drawn out exhale. The question hung in the air and I could feel Charles’ eyes suddenly burrowing into the side of my head. I knew there were words teetering on the tip of his tongue and could practically hear his brain working out a response that sounded appropriate for me but thankfully, he remained in silence. There was no doubt he would have been regretting whatever things happened last night as much as I was and yet, he didn’t seem particularly consumed by guilt. He seemed rather carefree right now so scoff I closed my eyes in an attempt to piece the puzzle together remember what the fuck happened last night.

The music was far too loud but the fourth fruity cocktail I currently clasped in my hand made me rather immune and numb to it. I danced just like all the other girls out in the middle of the crowded dance floor. Hips swaying side to side in time with the rhythm. Hair swishing around without a care in the world. Feet aching in stupid stilettos. To have looked at me in that moment anyone would be forgiven for thinking I was a party girl. One of those glamorous girls always out on the town, partying, blowing cash (boys and snow* too probably) but really I hated going out. I hated the stress of finding something to wear, doing the whole routine of make-up and hair and then feeling like I was in the middle of a cattle market. At least the men in Monaco happened to be rich and therefore no girls spent a dime all night from all the free drinks that would get bought. And the fact that someone in my group always seemed to know someone else in another and that meant VIP was inevitable. And I mean come on, who wouldn’t want to be sat in VIP?! Which was funnily enough, where Amelie was pulling me in the direction of and then I sighed when I saw why.

Sat in a booth was none other than Charles and his gang of buddies that I really wish would have been anywhere else in the world tonight and not in this nightclub. As soon as he looked around and saw me heading toward him I swear he rolled his eyes.

“Fucking hello to you too Charles.” I thought, muttering under my breath while I and rolled my own eyes back at him sarcastically. And that was when my mind flashed back to the last time we saw each other. It had been at that shitty dinner where I actually felt sorry for him having to sit the whole night flashing googly eyes at his ex girlfriend hoping she would notice him even though the night before he had had his cock shoved down my throat, me! The one he spent the entire time ignoring. But the thing was, I knew one thing he didn’t and that was she was already moving on with someone who might have been too close too home for him to even comprehend. Yet, with his attitude I said nothing and allowed him to remain in purgatory. Sad thing was, she never even so much as glanced at him the whole meal. Then I remembered what happened after, once everyone had drank heavily and shared cars home. It hadn’t been the first time (nor the second, third or fourth and was actually more like the eleventh or twelfth) that Charles had put the moves on me and I stupidly succumbed to his seductions. But now as I reached the table the thought of his hands being between my thighs, his fingers caressing my desperate clit with the door to his apartment wide open behind us in an utterly voyeuristic display - one that I would never have pegged him as the type to enjoy - danced teasingly through my thoughts. He slid into the booth a little more and nodded in the direction of the now vacant faux leather seat beside him for me to sit in. He looked good tonight and for once that wasn’t the alcohol in my system talking. He seemed to be in good spirits and I figured he must have been celebrating a good race. It was neutral ground so I thought it was something I could talk to him about. When I went to open my mouth to do exactly so, my words were swallowed by his; “Have you seen her recently?” Your mouth parted slightly before closing. You had to bite your tongue before you said something to the effect of “fuck off” or “fuck you” and quickly shook your head to respond to him. Then loudly from across the table one of his friends shouted loudly “shots” and thankfully it distracted Charles from pushing the conversation toward her like he wanted.

Several shots were taken and yet another strong strawberry daiquiri was being drunk while having as everyone sat at the table has as much of a conversation as possible over the loud thumping music. I raised my voice as I leaned forward to answer one of the questions Charles’ friends had asked me. We had met before and yet he did that typical male thing of forgetting who I was and therefore I had to tell him all over again much to my slight annoyance and dismay. But as I was explaining what I did for a living, I stuttered when suddenly I felt the flesh of soft fingertips ghost up and down my bare naked thigh. The action almost made me brake my calm, collected exterior. He couldn’t be serious? We had barely spoken since I sat down nearly an hour ago and as his thumb stroked up and down the skin of my inner thigh I glanced at him. He wasn’t even paying attention, he was doing it just for the sake of it, because he could. And so without a single thought I decided it was time to go and dance again. I wanted to put distance between him and I because we would only end up doing what was by now becoming a habit and falling into bed together.

As I grabbed Amelie and pulled her back to dance with me, I could feel the familiar pulsating throb from between my thighs at the thought of Charles. I tried to push the thoughts of him out of my brain as I began dancing and yet, it was a pointless task as all I kept thinking about was how badly I needed him and how he melted all of my annoyed thoughts of him away with a simple touch of his damn hand. The worst part was, just as Amelie and I settled into moving our bodies one of Charles’ friends rudely pushed between us. I was just about to argue and tell him to get lost when I suddenly felt hands creep around my waist. I didn’t need to look to know who they belonged too and I realised the intrusion in between me and my dance partner had been orchestrated.

“Running away from me?” Charles purred against the side of my neck. Why did he do this? Every single time we saw each other he always got underneath my skin. I hated him for it but I felt powerless against him and his cocky seduction techniques. His hands gripped my waist tighter as he pulled me back so I was flush against him. Our hips moving side to side while he got all the friction of my ass grinding against his crotch. “We said the last time was the last time.” “No. You did.” His words were more direct than I would have expected them to be. Almost like he was annoyed at me for implying I was about to turn him down - as if I could if I wanted too, just having the teasing action of his clothed cock so close to where I wanted it would have had me making a public embarrassment of myself right here in a nightclub. And without warning he used those lingering hands to turn me around to face him. “Let me take you home.” “No, Charles. We cannot keep doing this.” The sheer fact that when I spoke to him he was looking at my mouth instead of in my eyes made me want to kick him in the shin for being so vexing. But right as I was trying to convince myself to stand my ground against him he cast his eyes across my body and fuck, the things it did to me when he looked at me like that. “Charles, we’re playing with fire….”

“So? We’ll both burn together.” He shrugged nonchalantly. And I suddenly realised how we were no longer dancing and simply standing staring at each other while everyone else around us continued. In a regular situation - when alcohol wasn’t coursing through my body clouding my judgment - I would have felt self conscious but right now all I could think about was the fact he wanted me so badly he was out here making bold declarations. For a second the fact his first words to me earlier were about his ex girlfriend entered into my mind and a fleeting crushing feeling passed through my soul. He just wanted me to release his tension, not because he ACTUALLY wanted me. I zoned out briefly as I thought of how bad I always felt the next day and considered if I was strong enough to do it again. But as I was contemplating his hand travelled up to my neck and he made me look at him and I was gone. I wanted him to make me feel good.

How he managed to get us both out of the nightclub so easily I had no idea. His hand was wrapped around my wrist guiding me past hordes of people and out toward an exit. It took all but two minutes until we were in the back of a car heading back to his. It seemed too swift to me, too well thought out and I realised that he was so arrogant because he knew I would say yes and probably pre-arranged the car to pick us up. In that second I knew I should have been so pissed off and angry that he would think I was that easy but I let it slip again because I knew I was using him as much as he was using me. I liked the momentary, fleeting high he gave me. I was like a drug taker, he was the drug, and I was willing to take the short hits when I could. So I was every bit as bad as he was. Charles normally didn’t behave to politely in the back of the cars we took as we went back to his. His hands would be roaming, following suit with his mouth. He always made sure to light the match inside of me before we even got to the safety of his apartment. The fact he could be caught out, someone could tell, seemed to always be the furthest thing from his mind and so tonight, it was different. He sat further away and kept his hands very much to himself. And when I couldn’t help but glance across the car toward him and watched as his jaw seemed to clench I swallowed while nerves buzzed through my brain.

As soon as we got to his apartment building Charles called for the elevator and I couldn’t help but feel the same attitude radiating from him. It was the same attitude he had in the car and I thought about turning on my heels and leaving immediately. I didn't even know how to read him. Which meant I was so caught in the thought of trying to work him out that I missed the ding of the lift stopping on the lobby and sliding open. It wasn’t until Charles practically purred my name and held his hand out for me from inside the elevator that I snapped back into reality due to the look that filled his eyes. You knew it all too well. It was self assured, cocky confidence. He knew I couldn’t turn him down, I couldn’t turn his cock down, I craved it and what he could do with it too much. And so when my high heel clad feet crossed the marble floor and passed the iron thread hold of the lift I felt the surge of excitement buzz throughout my body.

The pair of us rode the elevator is silence but my hand remained firmly gripped in Charles’ and his thumb was delicately running over the back of my knuckles. It would be almost fucking romantic if there was any smidgen of a “normal” relationship between us. Now that I had registered the buzz of excitement I also felt the more steady and familiar hit of anxiety that went with it. It was pre-sex anxiety - that realistically I had no reason to have, this wasn’t my first rodeo (certainly not with Charles) but I still had it anyway. The silence would have been deafening to anyone else but right now I was kind of thankful for it. I didn’t want to chat because if I did I would feel guilt and I really didn’t want to feel guilty about what my body craved and desired above all else. The short ride up to Charles’ apartment ended when the lift door slid open and he gently pulled me out behind him. Fuck, I wish I had drunk more. Alcohol would have banished the unfair apprehension I was feeling. I leaned against the wall while Charles opened the door with his key. The curve of his shoulders made my mouth water. The thought of kissing his thick, strong neck while hearing the sound of pleasurable moans escape him sent a pulsating ache through my core. He pushed open the door and held it there with his hand, waiting for me to enter his abode first, ahead of him. And I mustered up all the confidence I could manage to saunter past him and glide into the hallway. The millions he took home from his career driving in fast circles paid off. Charles home was beautiful but like always, I wasn’t here to appreciate it.

Charles hands on my bare arms reminded me of that. He pressed against me from behind and I could feel his semi hard cock already straining against his jeans and I tried desperately to hold it back but a gasp escaped passed my lips as he moved my hair to the side to expose my neck to him. Fuck. The feel of his lips as they pressed delicate tender kisses against my flesh had my mind whirling. I pushed back into him more, instinct completely taking over, and a low groan rolled out of his parted lips and sent tingles up and down my spine. It was dangerous to have allowed myself to think it but I gave in and thought about how it would feel to have been his - properly, as a girlfriend - for all but a few fleeting seconds.

When Charles hands moved from my arms to my waist and I wasted no time. The alcohol came rushing back to me and I turned to him at breakneck speed. My lips finding his immediately. As my hands slowly glided upon the skin of his neck holding him to me. When I let out a small moan it was the sign he needed to start pushing me backward till my back pressed against a cold wall and his tongue pushed into my mouth. He tasted like the liquor he had consumed and as his tongue ran teasingly across my bottom lip he followed it with his teeth and it brought another moan from me, like he knew it would. Charles’ hands left my waist and I felt them slip down to my legs. His fingers skimming the outside of my thighs. I knew he wanted to push my dress up. He was growing impatient and that became very obvious when he yanked me away from the wall and pulled me through his house to his bedroom. The familiar surroundings welcomed me like a sneaky comrade. The walls practically smirked as I was pulled in by Charles. I could become accustomed to these plush surroundings if he saw me as more than a just a hook-up but that was a fucking dumb idea.

My dress was off faster than I knew what was happening. It was around my ankles on the floor and Charles was already making fast work of removing his shirt. His eyes hungrily fixed on my bare chest. He was practically wolf like as his eyes remained on my skin the whole time. I would have blushed if I had been less confident. “Take them off.” It was the first time he spoke since we had left the club. “You heard me.” He flashed his eyes down toward the thin scrap of black lace material that could barely behold the name of underwear. As my eyes travelled down to where his hands were working on ridding himself of his jeans I realised I wasn’t ready to allow him to have all the fun. “No.” I stated. “Take them off me.” My stomach flipped and I watched as a smirk disappeared from his face as quick as it appeared.

“That’s how you want it huh?” He abandoned trying to remove his jeans and his hand suddenly went to my neck and held me firmly before he used it to push me backward on to the bed. My heart hastily quickened. It hammered against my rib cage so quickly it began to hurt. I looked up at him full of expectation but he wasted no time in hooking his fingers around the sides of the only material left on my body and roughly pulling them down my legs and off completely. I watched Charles as he took me in. His eyes casting over and lingering in all the important areas. I bit my bottom lip as my own eyes mimicked his and I took in his perfectly sculpted chest and then his defined muscular abs. The lines on his hips that were line a tempting signal down toward his now erect cock, standing to full attention. He watched me watching him and cockily laughed. “Go on.” He tilted his head and I knew exactly what he was referring too. He wanted head. He wanted me to blow him. And I would have, I would have blown him till my jaw ached and throat couldn’t take anymore, but I reminded him that he wasn’t getting full control.

Much to Charles surprise, I pulled my ankles up and put myself on full display for him. I played him at his own game. If he wanted me to go down on him he had to do it first. I held his gaze and so when he laughed again I wasn’t so sure he was as willing to be a giver as much as a taker, but within a few agonising moments he proved me wrong. Charles was down on his knees and instantly pulled your legs up so you could rest them on his shoulders. And although it was something of an embarrassing confession to make, all of the times we had had sex, Charles had never gone down on me. Not once. So now that his head was between my thighs, mouth so tantalisingly close, eyes locked on to mine, I held my breath in anticipation. Charles gently ran his fingers up and down my dampening folds. I swallowed the breath that was caught in my throat as Charles finally licked a slow, teasing stripe that followed the pattern of his fingers moments earlier. He repeated the action over and over again. Using it to torment me. My hands grabbed hold of the sheets, fingers entwined in the high thread count duvet, when Charles began to pay attention to my pulsating, throbbing clit. Small, short flutters were mixed in with strong kisses. And then a loud exhale left my lips as he pushed two of his fingers inside me.

“Char….” I couldn’t get his name out. My breathing was erratic and all I could think about was what his mouth was doing. As his tongue continued lapping at my clit, his fingers curled up inside of me and Charles immediately found and started massaging that magical spot that made me gasp. And he continued even when I shoved my hands through his hair and gripped on for dead life. My eyes squeezed tightly shut as I felt the first high of an orgasm fast approaching. Swear words were all I could manage. My mouth going between wide open to get as much air as I possibly could and tightly shut with my top teeth digging into my bottom lip practically drawing blood. I was almost so lost in the beginning of the wave of euphoric pleasure that I missed the moan Charles made as he felt my walls start to convulse around his fingers. Fuck. How and why did I not beg for him to do this to me sooner? He was far too good at it. It was borderline obscene how good he was at it. And totally criminal that he had never gone down on me before. Right as I felt every nerve in my body begin to be ignited with the high of a climax Charles removed his mouth and in its place used the fingers of his other hand to draw rapid circles against my clit. The motion made me loose complete control of my mind and his name burst free from my mouth as wave upon wave of ecstasy crashed upon me. The high was undeniable. It took hold of my body and I felt myself quivering as he slipped his fingers out of me, covered in the product of my orgasm.

“Look at me.” Charles voice came quietly but strongly and I did as he requested. I opened my eyes and looked down at where he still remained, between my thighs. He held my stare as he ran the fingers he had brought me to orgasm with back up and down my now dripping folds. A small tremor shuddered through my thighs as he did so. And then with my eyes trained straight on his he raised his fingers to his mouth and licked them. It took a second to register the feeling that I felt in that moment but as he raised to his feet and I saw his cock rock hard, with its purpling tip already leaking pre-cum, I knew it was one that filled me with unashamed excitement. “Turn over.” He demanded and I relinquished the control I had won earlier so easily. Not because he wanted me too but because I wanted too. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than for Charles to fucking rail me into oblivion. I turned and got on all fours on the bed. Ass facing him. It was a position I had come to realise was one of his favourites. Sure he liked watching my boobs bounce as I rode him cowgirl and sometimes if he was feeling slightly more tired he’d fuck missionary, but Doggy was his favourite (like most guys). The momentary lapse of concentration earned me a firm thwack of his hand against the round flesh of my ass. I yelped and lunged forward and I felt the enjoyment radiating off of him. I doubted she let him do that, I doubted she would have enjoyed it. I moaned and after I wiggled my hips around a little he did it again so that a more audible whimper left my mouth.

“Fuck me…” I knew it was what he wanted to hear so I gave it to him. “Please, Charles….” I added more good measure and sure enough, he pulled my hips back and immediately ran his leaking cock over my sensitive folds to collect the mixture of his spit and my juices.

As he lined up at my entrance and pushed the head of his cock inside of me, teasingly slowly, I pushed back for more. It was an action that I knew he would have enjoyed and he groaned as he gave me more of himself. His hand splayed on my lower back and forced me down into the mattress more so I arched for him and then he gave me all of himself. He bottomed out and the stretch from his girthy cock had me once again gasping and gripping the sheets. He stalled for a moment - savouring the feeling no doubt - before he began moving. Slow at first. A steady but slow rhythm that I needed, rather than wanted, to quickly increase. Charles moaned loudly and paused for a second only to surprise me completely. “Your pussy is so fucking perfect. You, are so fucking perfect.” I knew he didn’t mean it in THAT way - he didn’t like me like that, I knew that and he didn’t even need to verbalise it - but his praise made me feel good all the same. I wriggled my hips again to urge him to move and when he did his pace increased. It increased until I was a panting writhing mess. I loved how big he felt at this angle and how he would alternate between giving me quick, short spanks and pulling my hair. And honestly I truly had to focus so I didn’t cum just yet. His cock continually hitting my g-spot could have made me see stars but I didn’t want to give in yet. I wanted more of him so I urged him on my moaning his name over and over and over again through heavy sighs. His hand wrapped itself around my hair once again and this time he pulled me back so my back was flush against him.

“Say my name again.” His voice was lower than I had ever heard it before. Lower than I ever thought possible. The hand that had been wrapped around my long hair was now around my throat, holding my in place against his body as he continued thrusting up into me. I couldn’t focus on words. I just kept thinking about Charles’ lips being on my neck and feeling how fast my heart was going through the vein they lingered upon. His teeth grazed the flesh and his name whimpered across my lips a few times before he finally called me a “good girl” and I almost lost my mind between that and the angle his cock was at. He had to know how close I was. He had to feel how my pussy tightened around his cock and I was beginning to struggle to keep going. His teeth sunk into my shoulder and he groaned as I couldn’t stop the orgasm that came thrashing down upon me. I grabbed his arm so tightly my fingernails would leave marks upon his skin. My whole body convulsed as finally I let go and let the climax take hold of me. The high Charles had given me seemed to be otherworldly and stratospheric. It took me to another fucking planet and none more so than when he groaned, gripped my hips and held me down in place while he himself, found release. I could feel the pulse of his cock inside of me as his hot, milky cum poured out of him. The feeling was insurmountable. The twitch of him as he filled me up seemed the prolong my orgasm even longer and when the shakes that ravaged my body became too much, I couldn’t keep my knees from giving way and so finally fell forward against the bed again. All I could hear was Charles and I’s heavy, exhausted breathing.

As Charles settled down beside me on the bed he ran his hands up and down my back. It was a rather tender, sweet motion for someone who had just railed me into oblivion but I didn’t mind it. Suddenly as I found myself lying still - still recovering from those two incredible orgasms - I felt the alcohol from earlier catch up on me. The room seemed a bit spiny and I really didn’t want to throw up anywhere in Charles all white apartment. But then - right on queue - with his breathing still laboured Charles asked if I wanted anything and suggested a towel and a glass of water. Not to sound like a broken fucking record but this was new, he had never done this before. He had never really spoken after we had fucked so this was totally left field. I nodded and said both would be nice if he didn’t mind.

“Ok, be right back.” I listened to his words but stayed in the same position as I had earlier - mainly because I was scared of being sick and because now I was completely exhausted but also because I didn’t want Charles’ cum to leak out of me and go all over his extortionate sheets. I thought the action of him going to get me things would have been nice for a normal, regular girl (y’know, one he was dating) but seemed unusual for him to extend such gestures to me, his fuck buddy, his hook-up, his piece of ass. When he finally came back clutching an ice cold glass of water and a warmed damp towel for me to clean up with I expected him to hand me my dress as well. But my dress remained on the floor and he stared down at me while I drank from the glass. “Let me.” He motioned when I went for the towel. Charles took the glass from me and placed it on the floor before crouching down there himself. I was about to question him, ask him what he thought he was doing, when he lifted one of my legs and slowly parted them. My breathing all but stopped as he dabbed at my slightly red, a little bit tender pussy with the warm cloth. I let out an unsteady, unsure exhale of air as he watched his cum slowly seep out of me.

“Hmmm….” He purred “I should have told you my pull out game is weak.” He chuckled and in that singular moment he made me laugh. He sat back on his heels and laughed with me and all of the nervous energy in my body disappeared. All I could focus on was the sound of his laughter and how much I liked it and in a different life I would have wanted to hear it every single day for an eternity.

I rushed to try and find my dress, hoping that he hadn’t torn this one like last time. I wanted to spend the least amount of time naked in front of him as possible now snapshots of last night began coming back to me. Charles observed from his place in bed. Watching me as I sprinted around to get back into last nights clothes so I could leave. As the sunlight streamed in through his window it bathed us both in the cold harsh reality of the day and it was very much bringing a self loathing vibe along with it. Suddenly a wave of riotous nausea flashed upon me and my head felt like it belonged in a vice. Through clenched teeth I rubbed my forehead from the searing pain screaming throughout it

“Can I get you painkillers?” His voice had turned soft and was rather strange because it wasn’t what I was used too from him - or was that the narrative my own brain made up for me to believe he was a metaphorical bad guy? “Don’t do that, Charles. Don’t be nice to me.” “Why?” He acted so innocent and I knew he was putting on a front, there was no way he could be so stupid. “Because!” I practically shrieked, “I’m your ex-girlfriend’s best friend and we can’t stop fucking each other.” “I think you’ll probably be her ex-best friend if she finds out about us.” FUCK! He really didn’t need to hit me with the reality stick right now. The smugness was almost woven through his voice and I had to restrain myself from throttling him. But in reality the cold light of day made me feel angry and disappointed with myself, something I doubted he felt about this situation at all.

“That’s not going to happen.” I snap back at him. “Because there is no “us”, there never will be an “us.” Your voice lowered and you knew it sounded sadder than you intended. It didn’t stop Charles from continuing however. “Right…..” he rolled his eyes “until you’ve had too many strong cocktails and vodka shots and then you won’t be able to say no. Just like you always.” With his words lingering in the air I had to fight the urge to yell at him that I was never the instigator and he was the one who always came after me. I desperately wanted to fucking correct him and scream at him that he used me to forget about his ex, about Ferrari, about all the pressures of the life he leads and that it was HIM that sought ME out, not the other way around. But for some unknown reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to start an argument with him. I pulled on my dress hurriedly once I found it, no longer wanting to be so naked in front of him. All I wanted was to get the embarrassing walk of shame back to my apartment over already. I busied myself from the silence by looking for my shoes and I almost missed Charles getting out of bed and getting dressed.

“I’ll give you a ride home.” I heard him say as I pulled up the covers and found my black heel under them at the bottom of the bed. I now felt uncomfortable in his presence after the last words he spoke. Instinctively I told him; “It’s fine, I’ll call an Uber.” “I’m not suggesting. I’m telling.” He stated bluntly and this was new, this had never happened before. He was rarely awake when I slunk out the door of his apartment - because it was always his apartment or hotel room never mine - so this was completely foreign to me. “If you’re sure.” I half expected him to say of course he didn’t mean it, laugh, explain he was messing and to call that Uber immediately. But he just nodded and picked up my other heel from beside the door and held it out to me. I tried to avoid his eyes. I didn’t want him to see any emotion at at all behind mines so I took the shoe and shoved it on to distract myself.

We didn’t speak the whole ride to my apartment. The silence was only somewhat uncomfortable but for some strange reason things felt rather calm. Sitting in the passenger seat of Charles’ Ferrari - which I had never before sat in - felt somewhat surreal. I was hyper aware that the seat still practically bore another girls name. It still belonged to her and he would have her back without so much as blinking. I kept my eyes on the roads as Charles expertly drove the expensive luxury vehicle around them. Hoping the red lights would turn green as soon as we approached them.

“I do like you, y’know?” Came abruptly from Charles mouth when we turned onto my street, my apartment building in sight. I thought my ears were deceiving me so I broke my trance and glanced at him. “I know you probably think you’re just a rebound or….” He trailed off as he put the blinker on to pull over into the lane he could stop in to let me out. I could see the front door to my building and I had never seen a more welcome sight. “…but it’s not like that.”

I was desperate to ask what it was in fact like, what exactly he thought was going on but thankfully he brought the car to a stop and I could finally jump out and escape the awkwardness. There was this uneasy feeling in the car that hit me like a led balloon and right in the middle of my chest. I hated it. I wasn’t used to it, especially not with Charles. I was used to feeling annoyed, frustrated and fuck, disappointed by him. The first few times we fucked I’d have said I felt used but that went away because I enjoyed our trysts as much as he did. And besides I didn’t need validation from him. I didn’t need him to need me. But then right now, as I waited to get out of the car with my hand on the door handle, it hit me how badly the words he had just spoken were actually all the things that I craved and desired above all else and it was startling. Then Charles said my name so gently, totally unlike he had ever said it before, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “I’d like to take you out sometime, properly. On a date.”

But before I knew what I was even doing I pulled the handle, pushed the door and started getting out of his car. He yelled my name so I would stop and for a second I did but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, to fall for him. “You know that can’t happen, Charles.” I managed to say in something struggling to be above a whisper “you don’t want me, you don’t even really like me, you’re still in love with her.”

The elevator ride up to my apartment felt like it took an eternity. The words he had spoken rang throughout my head as if a bomb had gone off and I was momentarily deaf. Fuck him. Fuck his bullshit and fuck how I fucking felt right now because of him. I was right for telling him that he was wrong and he still loved his stupid ex but it hurt because being with him always did. Being picked up and dropped all the time hurt. I wanted to be one of those girls who would have fallen for his words, whose stomach flipped when he told them he liked them, but I wasn’t and mines didn’t. I knew it was just about sex. I wasn’t his type. I wasn’t right for him. I’d never be his girl….and yet as the doors opened to my floor, I couldn’t wait till the next time I could fall asleep beside him and hate myself for it the next day.

*snow = cocaine

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heavenlydevine · 2 years

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SILENCE IS GOLDEN — EDDIE MUNSON.

SUMMARY: “I'm gonna fuck that attitude right outta you, pretty girl.”

WARNINGS: PURE FILTH AHEAD. SMUT AND SMUT. ROUGH SEX. LANGUAGE. MINORS DNI.

So I reread this entire thing and it makes me question my own sanity. I mean do you all really enjoy reading my work? It's days like these where I just question whether I should just stop and reflect. But writing keeps me sane when all I feel like is constantly drowning. Thank you all for your continued support. Let me know what you thought. Reviews and reblogs appreciated.

Silence is golden.

It threatens to consume you, this aching sensation that pushes you towards the precipice of no return—a firm warning silences your pleas of mercy, “Jesus H. Christ,” teeth graze the shell of your ear, “—so fucking tight.”

You can't breathe—the sheer intensity behind his gaze rendering you a helpless, quivering mess of tangled limbs and jumbled thoughts, barely clinging unto reality as his hips set off at a brutal pace—taking without question, pushing you towards the edge, vigorously pounding into you.

“Fuck,” it surprises you, these emotions that run rampant, so lost in the euphoria rushing through your veins that you almost forget exactly where you are, head banging against the hard surface of the door. “Fuck!”

“You wanna get us caught, don't you?”

It lingers at the forefront of your mind that being caught having passionate extra-curricular activities during school would bring about the end of the world for you and the beautiful boy railing you against the bathroom stall—and yet at that moment, seeing and feeling nothing but him, well all rational thought flew out the door the moment he had gripped your hand, tugged you down the hallway, pushed you into the girl's bathrooms, and then proceeded to eat you out like his life depended on it.

It was only at the sound of footsteps echoing closer that Eddie had managed to come to his senses, grinning down at your flustered face, “I told you,” a shrill yelp had tumbled from your lips as he yanked you off the basin counter, silencing your protests with a firm kiss that made your nether regions pulse and burn, “—I'm gonna fuck that attitude right outta you, pretty girl.”

His tongue had invaded your mouth, pushing past your parted lips, firm fingers tangling through your hair, “You won't walk for a fucking week.”

You barely registered moving, only feeling his arms wrap around you with a strength that made your desire only grow, all but stumbling into the furthest stall in the bathroom, slamming the door shut just as shrill giggles resonated through the air.

You can't focus, not with his lips slanting over yours, stealing every little sound you offered him, shaking fingers desperately seeking to find the firm hardness pressing against you, “I mean did you see what she was wearing? Talk about wardrobe malfunction—.”

You can't focus—to which leads you where you were now, completely and utterly helpless to the onslaught of absolute pleasure reigning down upon you by a grinning Eddie Munson.

You aren't sure when or how he had managed to free his aching, pulsing member, gasping at the sensation of his fingers spreading you apart, thumb circling your throbbing clit—well who could blame you for throwing modesty to the wind when your only warning was a smug grin, a firm hand slapping over your mouth, and the other lifting your leg to dangle off his hip and then he bottomed out with one singular thrust.

His cock, filling you to the brim, pounds into you at such a pace that you fear being discovered, head banging against the hard surface of the door, no longer caring to be subtle, as you both found yourselves too lost in the feeling of each other than to care about the looming silence that followed after your cry of pleasure echoed through the bathroom, “Fucking fuck!”

“Get a room!”

Eddie barks a laugh the moment murmurs and cries of disgust echo through the bathroom, swallowing your moans as he shifts slightly, pulling out before plunging back in, “We did!” and somehow this union between the two of you makes it so much exciting.

You can't find it within yourself to feel mortified, instead focusing on the growing heat bubbling within, “Yeah that's it,” he grunts against you, panting heavily, “—take what I give you. Let the entire fucking school hear it. Let them know it's Eddie fucking Munson who's balls deep in this pussy.”

You fucking snap.

It hits you without warning.

“Jesus fuck!” You aren't given the chance to come down from your high, shaking and trembling, barely aware of him cursing profanities that would make a sailor proud—only feeling a brief moment of emptiness as his cock leaves you empty and hollow, yanking you around, back flush against his chest, “Give me one more. Just one fucking more.”

And then his fingers glide over your hips, digging into flesh, before burrowing himself deep into your spasming cavern, “Scream my name, pretty girl.”

But you can't, too consumed with his hips snapping forward, slow, hard, rough—and it drives you insane. “Fuck me, Munson. Fuck me like you hate me.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

It was there and then, as his cock drove into you at an unforgiving pace, that you vowed to never ever not push his limits. If it took only a few simple words for him to snap like this, well you doubted that you'd ever be able to walk again.

#Eddie Munson Imagine #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Smut #Stranger Things Imagine #Eddie Munson x You #Stranger Things Smut #Eddie Munson #Reader Imagine

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moongreenlight · 3 months

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Nanny!Reader x John Price hnnnnngh

Tw/Cw: Cheating, mentions of drug use and abuse.

@ceilidho put the words ‘marriage kink’ and ‘ambiguous gray blob wife’ into my head and it has been eating away at my psyche for DAYS.

The Maddie from Euphoria of it all, honestly.

Getting the job through a Craigslist ad because it pays better than some of the office jobs you’d been perusing and it comes with free housing and a car to use? It’s a no brainer.

The kids are alright. Spoiled, but not entirely obnoxious. They’re school-age, so you really only deal with them for breakfast and a few hours after school. Their mother is absent. Some sort of philanthropist who travels for work and prefers to jet-set instead of sitting home. Their father is lovely. Truly picture perfect.

He only brought you on because he couldn’t step away from work, and he wouldn’t hear of sending his children to some daycare. Too impersonal. He prefers to get to know the person raising his cubs. He’s sweet like that.

John doesn’t expect much of you. Decently tidy house. Well-tended kin. A pot of coffee in the morning before he’s off to work, and a hot supper if he’s home late.

Leaves you to your own devices while the kids are at school. What’s his is yours. At first, you mainly stuck to your quarters and the living room, but after so long, you got a little lax.

Started wandering the house. Awfully fucking big for a philanthropist and a military man with three kids, but you’re not one to speculate. You try out the hot tub. The jacuzzi bath in the primary en-suite bathroom. The home gym in the basement.

Even that gets boring after some time. Too routine. So you get adventurous. Get your paws on the mother's medicine cabinet. Take a cocktail of her nearly expired prescriptions and take a few hours to yourself in the bath.

You must have fallen asleep, because the snap of a door closing makes you jerk your head up off the cold rim of the tub.

"Hello?" You're trying to figure out who exactly would be home. Scrambling to yank the plug out of the drain with one hand and track down your phone with the other. Suddenly very worried you slept through school pickup.

But when your pruny fingers finally swatted at the screen hard enough, you were grateful to see you'd only really dozed off for twenty minutes or so. Still no response even though you were fairly certain you heard the door come from somewhere upstairs with you.

"Someone home?"

The drain was loud. A dead giveaway of your neglecting your job. Gargling as it sucked away the evidence of your lavender-scented bath. What's worse? You'd forgotten a towel. Mind fogged by some desperate housewives-adjacent combination of stimulants and muscle relaxers.

You nudged the bathroom door open with a dripping wet toe, poked your head out to see what was going on. Seeing nobody, you decided that maybe you were just hearing things. Just the house settling.

So you inched forward, cringing at the trail of wet footprints you were leaving on the carpet of John's bedroom floor. You made a mental note to tidy those somehow before you went to get the kids. It wasn't until you were out on the walk over the living room that you heard someone clearing their throat in the kitchen.

It made you whirl your head around, scrambling to cover your modesty as best you could. Maybe it was a contractor? John had a bad habit of not reminding you that his buddies were coming over to do some project or another.

"That how you dress when you've got the place to yourself?"

You wouldn't be so lucky.

"J-John?"

A chuff from just beyond the wall downstairs. Strategically positioning himself where he could see, but wouldn't be seen.

"I-I didn't know you'd be home. God- I'm so sorry."

You weren't sure if it was better to run to your room or stay where you were. This was uncharted waters, after all.

A tsk, like he was sucking his teeth to keep the smile from creeping into his voice.

"In my room?"

Your mouth is painfully dry. You can't even manage to swallow.

"I'm so sorry, John. So sorry."

"Why don't you dry off and then we'll chat?"

#and then they FUCK. okay are you guys happy? jesus christ #sephspeaks #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader

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rotgirll · 7 days

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⋆˙ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬

𝗽𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗽𝗼𝗰𝗮𝗹𝘆𝗽𝘀𝗲- 𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗴𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝘅 𝗳!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

♱ 18+ 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘮𝘥𝘯𝘪

you knew it was wrong, the looming cloud of consequences hung heavy over your head. the thought of your father's fury fed into the anxiety that had coursed through your veins hours ago, but now, as you stood on the edge of recklessness, it was adrenaline that rushed through your veins.

the room pulsed with the thump of the music. the haze of the alcohol began to make you feel giddy, the room spinning slightly and your vision becoming blurry. despite the warning bells going off in your head, you found yourself shoved forward by reckless abandon, fuelled by the thrill of the moment.

your hands anxiously tugged at the hem of your short skirt, a futile attempt at regaining some of your modesty back. you'd lost sight of your friends a little while ago, swept away by the fascination of the free alcohol and the company of the guy who had been eyeing you all night.

but now, as you moved through the crowd of people, his persistent presence was beginning to feel suffocating. he trailed behind you like a lost puppy, his gaze following your every move with an unwavering intensity. it was starting to wear on your nerves, the constant feeling of being watched, of being followed against your will.

with a frustrated sigh, you spun harshly on your heels, the motion sharp and decisive. the abrupt movement seemed to catch the stranger off guard, his eyes widening in surprise as you faced him head-on.

"look, brayden or brandon, whatever your name is," you called out, your voice laced with frustration, "just... stop following me around like you're a lost puppy or something."

your words hung in the air, and a significant tension swirled around you as you spun back on your heels and walked away, not bothering to wait for his response. the dim lights of the party flickered overhead, and the commotion of the drunk mob gradually subsided as you made your way through the dimly lit halls of the home, your destination fixed on the bathroom.

finally, after pushing open every single unlocked door, and trudging your way around the upstairs of whoever's home this was, you found it. a hefty sigh of relief escaped your lips as the familiar white, sterile room lit up before your eyes.

you quickly locked the door behind you and reached for the tap, the cool water soothing against your parched lips as you gathered it in your hands and took a refreshing sip. meeting your tired gaze in the mirror, a grimace tugged at your lips. god, you looked rough. after five hours of partying, dancing and drinking, it wasn't exactly a shock. but still, seeing the evidence of the nights activities was enough to make a pang of regret pierce through you. it made you wish that you'd never snuck out in the first place.

after spending a few minutes composing yourself in the bathroom, you unlocked the door and stepped back into the house. but something felt off. the dull throb of the party seemed to of died down, and there was an eerie absence of people around.

with a sense of unease, you descended the stairs, finding only a handful of people scattered around the living room, behaving as if nothing unusual had happened. you approached one of them, intending to ask what was going on, but your question died on your lips as you turned the corner.

to your surprise, there stood officer rick grimes, his commanding presence filling the room, casting a sense of discomfort over the small gathering of people.

as you caught sight of him, your breath hitched in your throat, your lips parched, and a familiar nervousness bloomed in your stomach. time seemed to stand still as he turned to the new face in the room, and as his eyebrows raised in surprise, a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. you offered him a sheepish smile, attempting to shrink yourself down in hopes of slipping past him unscathed.

"um... I was just.. leaving" you squeaked out, manoeuvring your way around the imposing figure.

your heart raced as you padded past him, every nerve on edge, praying he wouldn't stop you. with each step, you felt his gaze bore into your back, his presence casting a heavy shadow over your escape.

as you finally reached the door, relief flooded through you. with a quick glance over your shoulder, you slipped out into the night. your sore feet hit the plush grass, and you almost thought you could cheer in delight at not being caught by the officer, but as you looked behind you, maybe you celebrated a little too early.

there he stood, in the shadows of the outside light, the door shutting behind him with a soft click. his gaze pierced into yours, a single eyebrow arched in silent inquiry. your heart sank as he advanced towards you, his stride oozing authority and confidence.

"uh.. hi, rick" you spoke, trying to muster a false sense of confidence.

his shoulder lightly brushed against yours as he strode past, his fingers gesturing for you to follow.

"come with me" he commanded, his voice carrying a hint of annoyance.

you stammered, regaining your composure and hurriedly following after him, attempting to keep up with his brisk stride. your words tumbled out faster than you could think, a jumble of apologies spilt from your lips as you followed him through the grass and onto the concrete path

he led you to his patrol car, as expected. upon reaching the door, he pivoted, leaning against it with his arms folded across his chest. nodding towards the house you had just come from, he raised an eyebrow.

"care to tell me what you're doing here at this time of night, sweetheart?" he questioned, his head cocking slightly.

your cheeks flushed at the endearment, and you found yourself gazing down at your heels, suddenly more engrossed in their details. though you had known rick for a long time, given your father's role as police chief, you never anticipated finding yourself in this situation with him.

you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, searching for the right words to explain your predicament without giving too much away. the tension hung thick in the air, and you could feel his scrutiny bearing down on you.

"I, uh.. it was just a little party" you offered, sheepishly.

"a little party, huh?" he replied, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"look," you began, aiming to get straight to the point, "please, just don't mention this to my dad"

rick rolled his eyes, sighing as he surveyed the area before opening the car door and sliding into the driver's seat with ease. once settled, he turned his attention back to you.

"get in. I'll give you a ride home" he said, reluctance evident in his tone.

with an awkward smile, you circled your way around the car to the passenger's side. the cold air nipped at your bare skin, prompting you to wrap your arms around yourself for warmth. the interior of the car wasn't much warmer, and as you settled into the worn leather seats, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by the scant amount of fabric you were wearing in front of the man.

the roar of the engine filled your ears as the tyres spun on the gravel, moving the car away from the house and down the street.

"you cold?" he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, noting the way your arms were pulled tight around your body.

"a little" you hummed in response, your gaze drifting to the veins that stood out on his hands as he adjusted the air conditioning.

the scenery whizzed past in a blur, the city lights merging into streaks of colour as the car navigated through the streets. anxious thoughts churned in your mind, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you chewed on your lip, a knot of fear tightening in your stomach.

"wait" you blurted out suddenly, the urgency unmistakable in your voice, "don't take me home"

his gaze flickered to you, his expression unreadable. "why not?" he inquired, a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

"if my dad finds out I was out this late, i'll be in serious trouble" you explained, the desperation evident in your tone. "can't you just drop me off at a friend's house or something?"

you watched him carefully, hoping for a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes. instead, he chuckled lightly, the sound sending tingles through your body.

"sorry, princess," he said, his tone teasing "can't do that"

you drew in a shaky breath, the gravity of the situation settling heavily upon you. the realisation sinking in that escaping this situation wouldn't be as easy as you hoped.

"please" you begged, your voice barely above a whisper "don't take me home.. I'll do anything"

his ears perked up at your words, a flicker of interest crossing his features as he gave you another side glance, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"anything?" he echoed, amusement lacing his tone once again.

"anything..just, please" you confirmed, your voice tinged with desperation. although, you were too fixated on getting out of trouble to notice the faint flicker of uncertainty looming In your brain.

he fell silent for a few minutes, his focus seemingly absorbed by the task of navigating the car through the unfamiliar streets. suddenly, the car veered sharply into a lane you had never seen before. it seemed deserted at this hour, and whether that was a blessing or a curse, you were about to find out.

glancing at him, you noticed the dim glow of the street lamps highlighting the muscles in his forearms as he gripped the wheel. in the stillness of the night, you couldn't help but realise just how attractive he was. was he much older than you? yes. was he also under your father's command? yes. but were any of those thoughts present in your mind as you admired the older man? absolutely not.

the car jolted to a rocky stop, the abruptness of it causing your body to lurch forward slightly. his hands worked quickly to pull the key out of the ignition, the metal clink echoing in the confined space. seizing the moment, you glanced around, only to be met with the vast expanse of darkness outside. a frown creased your brows as you turned back to face the man, only to realise he was already watching you.

before any words could escape your lips, he pushed his seat back, creating a considerable gap between him and the steering wheel. he adjusted his hips slightly, the movement sending a flutter of butterflies to your stomach. you tore your gaze away from his crotch, desperately trying to appear composed. but as you looked up, you found yourself locking eyes with him.

his focus was entirely on your face, maybe even on your lips. your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met his, the intensity of the moment thickening the air between you. you swallowed hard, feeling the tension crackling between you like lightning.

his movement caught you off guard as he leaned in closer to your face, the proximity sending a jolt of anticipation through you. he only seemed to get closer, his presence enveloping you entirely. he was so close- you could smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne, feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and see the glow of his eyes in the dim overhead light of the car.

but, before you could utter a single question, his lips parted, his voice breaking the silence. "you said you'd do anything, right?"

you were too caught up in the moment to respond with words, opting instead for a nod as you watched his lips move with his words. apparently, that wasn't sufficient, because his cold hand suddenly cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing just below your lips in a tantalising caress.

"are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and almost like a rumble. he was closer now, so close you could feel the heat of his breath over your lips, causing your eyes to flutter closed.

"yeah" you confirmed, the words leaving your lips in a soft, airy whisper.

that was all he seemed to need. the tension and desperation finally reached a breaking point as he pressed his lips to yours. they were surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to the intensity of the moment, catching you off guard as you tried to match the pace he set. his hand, once gentle in its caress, now trailed down the back of your neck, tangling in your hair and pulling you impossibly closer to his face.

a small whimper escaped your mouth as he deepened the kiss, the heat of the moment overwhelming you. before you knew it, you were practically making out, tongues and teeth clashing in a fervent dance, the heat between you fogging up the windows of the car. god, you knew this was so wrong. but in that moment, it just felt so undeniably right.

while you were lost in the moment, his other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. he briefly pulled away, eliciting a whine from your lips as you instinctively chased after his. but he had other thoughts in his mind.

"why'd you sto-" you began, only to be cut off when he suddenly pulled you over the middle console and right over his lap, purposely placing you over the bulge that began to grow in his pants. he leaned back slightly, taking in the sight from this new angle. your hair was tousled from his fingers running through it, and your chest rose swiftly as you tried to catch your breath, your slightly swollen lips painted a picture of desire and longing. he knew it was wrong, but how could he resist when your doe eyes looked up at him so sweetly?

a curse fell from his mouth, his lips instanly chased yours again. the kiss was more fervent this time, the lust between you two only beginning to rise. his hand returned to tangle in your hair again, only to suddenly snake down the back of your neck and onto your waist, pulling you even closer in a possessive embrace.

your hips unconsciously ground down onto his, the movement emitting a groan from both of you as he rested his lips over yours.

"are you sure you want this?" he asked, breathlessly, his fingers toying with the hem on your skirt, inching dangerously close to your inner thigh.

that was an answer you didn't even have to think about. "yes" your words were confident, for the first time that night, and they only seemed to spur him into action.

his hands moved so quickly, you could barely even blink. they travelled up to your shirt, deftly grasping the bottom of it and pulling it over your head. your arms hit the roof of the car, bent into an awkward position as he slipped your skimpy top off of your body.

he whistled appreciatively as he got a good look at your perky tits, shaking his head with a small smile spread across his face. "god" he muttered, the words barely audible.

your nipples pebbled with the cool air, his hand reached up to toy with your sensitive buds like it was a second nature. the touch made your back arch, only rocking you over his bulge once again. that was his breaking point.

the energy in the car shifted, it suddenly became hot and heavy as he feverishly attempted to rip the rest of your outfit off of you. your little skirt came next, he didn't feel the need to take it off; the position would have made it awkward anyway. instead, he just hiked it up your stomach, flipping the thin material up, giving him a good look at your little lace panties.

"who'd you wear these for, huh?" rick teased, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. his fingers lingered, hooking through the fabric teasingly before letting it snap back against your skin. you couldn't help but squirm under his touch, lust coursing through your veins as you met his gaze of desire.

"nobody.." you began, your words trailing off when he swiped a finger over the most sensitive part of you, leaving a whimper to come out your mouth instead. his hands seized the lacy fabric again, this time pulling on it with force, eliciting a loud ripping sound that echoed through the car. the suddenness of the action caught you off guard, your skimpy little lace panties were now threads in his hands.

your brows creased in annoyance, but before you could protest, his middle finger pressed onto your clit. your hips bucked automatically, and an erotic moan slipped from your mouth. you hadn't realised how sensitive you'd gotten, but he certainly had.

a low chuckle tumbled out his mouth, his pupils clouded with lust as his finger rubbed slow circles over your throbbing clit. "you're so fucking wet, princess" he almost growled, watching every little jerk of your body as he touched your sensitive nub.

his pace was agonisingly slow, leaving you craving more. you pushed your hips down, practically grinding onto his fingers, casing the pleasure. "more, please" it fell from your lips like a chant, the thoughts in your mind going foggy.

"more?" he questioned with the same cocky chuckle, but alas, he obliged anyway. his fingers stopped their attack on your clit, leaving a dull ache in their wake. but, before you could get bratty from the lack of pleasure, he slipped one finger inside your dripping cunt.

a sharp whimper unfettered from your mouth at the sensation, your pussy sucking up his fingers feverishly. he inserted another finger, it practically slid inside with how wet you were. as his fingers began to pump in and out, the lewd sound of your wetness filled the small space, making all the blood rush down to his cock.

your hands scrambled for a grip onto anything as he curled his digits inside you, the pleasure overwhelming as they managed to hit that spot again and again and again. your fingers found grip on his bicep, squeezing harshly as the sweet release chased after you.

"p-please" you begged, choking on your words. you had no idea what you were even begging for at this point, your mind too hazy to even think.

"you close, baby?" he breathed, right into your ear. you hadn't even realised he had gotten so near. all you could do was nod your head, the coil tightening inside of you. you were so goddamn close, your legs shook as they struggled to hold you up, and your hand closed impossibly tighter around his arm.

the telltale signs were there, he knew how close you were. your walls went taut around his fingers, your body was twitchy and you couldn't even form a coherent sentence. he decided to give in, longing to see your face as you reached that climax.

"cum for me then, sweetheart.. come on" he encouraged, his voice dropping an octave lower.

the encouragement was all you needed, the coil inside you seemed to snap, and you felt like you turned to jelly as you came around his fingers, your face scrunching up in pleasure. "fuck!" you shouted, sure that your moans could be heard by people for miles.

your body collapsed against his, a soft hiss fell from your mouth as he slipped his fingers out, his hand now wrapping around your body possessively. your lips blindly searched for his again, the kiss lazy and sloppy. his hand gripped onto the flesh of your ass, electing a gasp from you as your mouth fell open, allowing him to ease his tongue into your mouth. the muscles fort a silent battle for dominance, him winning obviously, as your hips began erratically grinding against his.

in the haze of the make-out session, you began to notice the fact that he remained fully dressed, while you were left exposed, laid out on display for him. so, you ran your hand down his body, over his sculpted chest and down to his belt. your fingers brushed over the cool metal of the buckle, instinctively pulling at it, hoping he'd catch on.

and he did. with a knowing smirk, he caught your hand, stopping your fumbling attempts at his belt. his eyes locked onto yours, a silent understanding passing between you. without a word, he regained control, swiftly unbuckling his belt and removing it, tossing it aside carelessly.

you pushed your body up, allowing him to slide his jeans down to his ankles, his legs parting even wider as he was left in just his boxers. the unmistakable bulge in them drew your attention. your bottom lip settled between your teeth as you began to palm your hand over it. he threw his head back in pleasure, a low groan slipping from his mouth while the muscles In his jaw tensed.

"fuck.." he muttered, his voice thick from lust "I need you, now"

"then have me" you responded, coly, as he pushed himself back up to meet your lips. your hands clawed at the waistband of his boxers, trying to paw them off. he noticed your frantic movements, shaking his head at your impatience.

but alas, he gave in to you again, his patience was running thin. his hands joined your scramble to remove his boxers, finally pulling them down to set his hard cock free. it sprung up against his stomach, the tip red and angry. he'd gotten so hard from seeing you all worked up that it was almost painful.

a mischievous look fell over your face, your hands twisting around his throbbing erection, pulling another groan from his throat, this time It was louder with his growing impatience.

his large hands hooked under your thighs, lifting you up. your noise of surprise was silenced as he lined himself up and slipped inside of you. multiple obscenities flew out of both of your mouths as he pushed you down onto his cock.

the stretch was euphoric, your nails created dull crescents in his shoulder as he sunk you down lower and lower. you felt so full, your head tipped back and your eyes scrunched closed. your legs began to shake as he finally sunk you all the way down on his cock, and the moan that escaped his mouth was almost enough to make you cum on the spot.

"feel so good, angel" he groaned as his hand gripped at the nape of your neck, planting more kisses on your lips to distract you from the slight pain as he began to move. his hips bucked up ever so lightly, until the pain turned to pleasure.

his pace picked up when your quiet whimpers turned into fully fledged moans. despite your state, you tried to move your hips to match his rhythm, increasing the pleasure even more. shock waves ran through your body at every little bounce.

"s-so good" you whimpered, echoing his words.

rick chuckled, his head tipped back in amusement, curses slipping from his mouth "fuck princess, I'm so fucking deep" he bought his hand to your stomach, pressing down ever so slightly, causing your back to arch in ecstasy.

the once clear windows were now fogged up from the sheer heat radiating off your bodies, the car creaking at the speed of his thrusts. if anybody happened to pass by at that moment, they would undoubtedly know exactly what you two were up to.

but that thought wasn't even present in your mind, the only thought you had in that moment was how close you were getting, and rick could tell it too.

"so...close" you stammered, your walls pulsating around him wildly.

"yeah?" he panted "close already? so needy" the chuckle that left his mouth was teasing, your whimpers and moans music to his ears. the sound of skin slapping together was deafening, probably echoing on for miles.

"what do you say then, baby? you wanna come so bad?" his hand travelled to your clit "say please"

you gasped as his fingers began to rub small circles over your swollen bud, the motion tipping you just over the edge. "oh g-god, please...please, please" the words fell from your mouth like a chant, trying ever so hard to gaze into his eyes.

he groaned, feeling his release chasing him too. "fuck... come on then, princess.. cum for me"

his praise tipped you over the edge, finally reaching your peak. your body shook and your vision went white for a moment. you could barely feel the hand that he slapped over your mouth to keep you from screaming.

your gummy walls pulsating over his cock were enough for him to fall over the edge, his stomach tightening and a string of groans and curses slipping out of his mouth as he came inside of you. his hot, white cum painting your insides.

your eyes opened again, and your hips bucked involuntarily as his cock twitched inside of you. your vision was slowly coming back, thoughts started to regenerate in your head. you could feel the juices dripping down your thighs as you stared into his eyes. god, your dad would be livid if he found out.

shit, you didn't use a condom.

#rick grimes #the walking dead #twd rick #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes imagines #twd x reader #twd smut #twd imagine #rick x reader #rick grimes x you #smut #rick grimes drabble #help

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perictione00 · 9 months

Text

Sex Education

Part 1/2

Pairing: Professor Toji x reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut, reader is 20 and a virgin, Toji's in his early 30s, corruption kink, unprotected sex, oral sex.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Being part of a conservative family, you had lived an exceptionally sheltered life. Even at school, you were part of a pretty nerdy group so you never had the chance to flirt with the territories of what your father called the "act of procreation". Not only that but your school treated the very subject of puberty as taboo, consequently, you had an awkward age of adolescence, where you were bewildered by the sudden body changes. Your first period was a disaster and your mother was no help as she made you think of it as a dirty thing. However, it wasn't anything new as you were used to this reaction, rejection, being neglected by your whole family. Hence by the age of 18, you were a prudish virgin, a nun basically who felt uncomfortable in her own body.

It was a total culture shock though when you moved out of your house for college. You saw girls and boys all over each other publically, "Such degenerates", you used to think as you passed by them. Kissing and sex scenes were unnatural to you, it was confusing, and you felt revolted but at the same time weird all over your body. Nonetheless, you kept your modesty and dignity intact, never accepting any proposals or going to wild parties, or dressing like an immoral woman. Your parents would never accept you that way, not like they did in the first place but at least they acknowledged your existence, that was enough. The only thing you didn't understand was why you didn't feel happy or fulfilled. You were keeping yourself the way your parents liked yet you felt isolated and empty.

So on your 20th birthday, you had decided to grow and change along with your surroundings, a resolution of sorts, and that very day, you talked to your roomie for more than 30 seconds, an improvement from your previous chats. She was very sweet and straightforward enough to let you know that you dressed like a nun. As days passed you experienced a lot of new things, you were enjoying your time at the parties, trying on clothes you never imagined yourself ever wearing, engaging in conversations with guys, you were finally feeling like a normal person your age. Everything was pretty much stagnant until you came across your Professor for Animal Reproduction, a man with a scar on his lips.

Professor Toji Zenin was the most sought-after bachelor on the campus and you couldn't complain as you too were fascinated by his good looks and it was a plus that he was great at teaching too. Everyone was mesmerized by the mere existence of Professor Toji, from the way he looked to the way he dressed, his voice, and his body, he was a walking wet dream. It was frustrating as the whole class tried their best to concentrate on his teachings rather than his thighs, to no avail, which resulted in poor performance by everyone. However due to your upbringing, you were always good at academics, so it came as no surprise when you scored the highest in the first test but what surprised you was the public appreciation from the Professor.

Now Toji might look like he had taken advantage of his popularity quite a lot but the guy was a saint. Well, he had fucked some of his high school teachers but after entering the same domain he was certain that it might ruin him for good. He knew about the consequences of having such forbidden thoughts regardless he couldn't exactly help but notice the girl who was always on time, sitting in the very first row, never missing his lectures. He valued all of his students equally, he just cherished you a bit more. He observed the way you stared at him, how you blushed whenever he caught you staring, and how you submitted your assignments punctually with a sweet message. Your cute little outfits were no help either, never failing to make him uncomfortable in his pants. Nonetheless being the professional person that he is, he kept these carnal desires latent from everyone up till you scored low on your test for Sex Education.

Toji was playing with your clit as tears brimmed your eyes, you couldn't stop moaning, it was all too much. You were sitting on his lap, half-naked with your tits out and your skirt was barely covering your sex. "This right here, is the most pleasurable and sensitive part of a woman's body", Toji explained as one of his hands moved to your tits. You were unable to form any coherent sentences as you kept moaning. Toji suddenly entered a finger inside of you, you were so wet that he easily entered another two. Goosebumps covered your body, you were drooling in lust and your walls tightened around his thick digits. Toji realized that you were nearing your orgasm, so he stopped altogether.

"What-..why..please.. please don't stop-", you were cut off as Toji turned your body, making you lay down completely on the bed. Before you could comprehend, he held your legs apart as his tongue lapped at your alluring pussy, fucking your hole. It was too much stimulation, you tried moving away but Toji held your thighs in a tight grasp, yanking your sex towards his face. "Please..ahh..it's dirty", you said feeling shameful. Well, that was enough to trigger Toji to drag his tongue to your clit and suck on the bud. You were losing your mind, as Toji continued savoring your cunt. Your body was on fire as you bucked your hips instinctively and slid your fingers, grabbing onto Toji's hair tightly suffocating him as Toji gladly rubbed his nose on your clit. Your vision turned white as you climaxed, you were left breathless as Toji helped you through your orgasm.

You were just catching your breath as Toji's lips found yours, kissing you deeply, biting you. You were distracted by something hard nudging your thigh as his tongue was exploring your mouth."mff..Toji", you said as you pushed him slightly, looking down, only to see him hard. You slipped your hand under his trousers, wrapping it around his dick."Fuck.. what are you doing?", Toji said sighing heavily. "I wanna make you feel good", you replied innocently. You looked so fucking adorable that Toji could no longer restrain himself, so he led you on your knees, before taking out his dick. He could see that you were intimidated by the size so he asked you to suck him slowly.

You sucked his cock, bobbing your head as Toji controlled your movements. You tasted something bitter on your tongue stopping only to see some liquid coming out of the slit. Without thinking you involuntarily teased him as you licked and sucked harder to get more of it. Losing all control Toji started fucking your throat as you choked. "Fuck, just like that, yeah, you're doing so good ahh", he said in between his grunts. You sucked harder wanting more of him, you were loving it, the taste, his groans, his hands holding your hair, you wanted to be used by him and be at his disposal. He came as his eyes met yours, he came a lot and swallowed all of it, reveling the taste of his seed. "Good girl", he praised you as you got up from your knees. This feeling, the praise, the acceptance, you didn't want this to end, you wanted more, so you asked him boldly if he wanted to go all the way with you and who was Toji to deny such pleasure?

You were an enticing young woman, Toji had to admit and your innocence was enough to trigger his need to corrupt you and turn you into his nymphomaniac slut, which was exactly what he was doing as he played with your pussy to get you wet enough for his size. "I'm a virgin", you announced out of the blue, which didn't surprise him yet he assured you for the sake of it. Toji started with your nipples, giving them the attention they begged for, sucking on one while teasing the other. You moaned loudly as he bit them, you were so aroused that you didn't notice him entering your cunt. You yelped in pain, the stretch was more than you anticipated but as Toji moved gradually the pain subsided. He was biting your shoulder to avoid going too fast but you clenched your walls as you whispered, "No don't, just use me".

Toji went feral as those words escaped your lips, roughly having you in a mating press position, he started fucking you deep with each thrust hitting your sweet spot, sending a shiver down your spine. You arched your back from the overwhelming wave of pleasure as you continued chanting Toji's name in broken syllables. Toji groped your tits, swirling his tongue on them while you grinded on his length wanting him to come inside of you."Fill me up Toji, I want you to cum inside", you said in between your moans. The last bit of self-control Toji had, left his body and his movements became swift and erratic. He came with a grunt, filling you up as you moaned endlessly begging him to not stop, which he didn't, forcing his cum back into you till you reached your high. And then with a heated kiss and a devilish smirk on his face, he said, "Let's go over this topic again in 10."

Part 2

#jujutsu kaisen #toji x reader #jjk smut #fushiguro toji #jjk toji #jjk toji smut #toji smut #toji x reader smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen Toji #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader

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stiltonbasket · 5 months

Note

what happened when wwx went to gusu summer school in the wrh raises wwx au?

"Thank the heavens," Lan Xichen laughs, when Lan Wangji presents himself at the Hanshi after returning from his latest monthlong night-hunting tour in Huai'an. "Shufu has been at his wits' end in your absence, didi."

Lan Wangji lifts an eyebrow and begins to unpack the basket of tribute gifts he received from the Huai'an magistrate. "Why? My duties were to be delegated to Changyi-tangxiong while I was away; and whatever Shufu might find wanting in his temperament, I have never known him to be anything but diligent."

"No one has dared replace you as head of discipline," his brother says wryly. "And according to Shufu, this batch of guest disciples has worse manners than most."

"Shufu rarely has trouble with the guest disciples," Lan Wangji points out, frowning. The lone exception to this rule was Nie Huaisang; but no one in the Cloud Recesses has ever bothered disciplining Nie Huaisang, even before his older brother was betrothed to Xiongzhang. "Who does he wish me to discipline this time?"

Inexplicably, Lan Xichen only grins at him and scoops a handful of icy-red lychees out of the tribute basket.

"Go to tomorrow's lecture in the Lanshi," he teases, "and perhaps you shall see."

Lan Wangji could not see the sense in this. If one of the guest scholars was being impudent in the Lanshi, Shufu ought to have sent them to the Pavilion of Discipline to receive punishment instead of waiting for him to settle matters; for as Head of Discipline, Lan Wangji's main duties consisted of revising the codex of appropriate punishments and patrolling the Cloud Recesses after hai shi on alternate fortnights.

But the next day, he made his way to the Lanshi as bidden—and the moment he crossed the threshold, he understood exactly who had been making trouble for his uncle, and why he had been left for Wangji to handle.

As ever, all four of the other Great Clans were represented among the guest disciples: Yunmeng Jiang disciples in violet and jade-green, the Jin in cream and gold, Nie Huaisang and his shixiongdi in their familiar black and silver-gray—and by the window, the fiery scarlet and gold of Wen Ruohan's delegation, dressed in silks so fine that they would not have looked out of place upon an imperial concubine.

Lan Wangji narrows his eyes at them. Each one is haughtier than the next, though not quite brazen enough for Shufu to blink at; but then his gaze moves to the disciple sitting at the front, and freezes as the boy rolls his shoulders and turns around to greet Wangji with an insolent, lazy smile.

This is the one, he realizes, as the disciple flutters painted—painted?—lashes at him before turning back to look at Shufu. He is the one Uncle wants me to discipline.

"Wangji," Shufu says, with such open relief that Lan Wangji looks away from the Wen disciple in surprise. "At last. Have you come to attend lessons with the guest disciples?"

Wangji puts his hands together and bows. "Yes, Uncle."

"Excellent. But before you sit down, go take Wei Wuxian to the dormitories, and see that he washes his face and removes those ornaments from his hair."

Lan Wangji nods and takes three great strides towards the Wen disciple. "You heard your laoshi," he says. "Come."

The disciple—Wei Wuxian—gives no reply; but luckily, he rises from his chair and follows Lan Wangji out of the Lanshi without protest. As soon as the doors to the lecture hall fall closed behind them, Lan Wangji opens his mouth to deliver a short lecture on the virtues of modesty and simplicity in dress—only to snap it closed again in shock, for he has never seen a man who painted his face like this outside the theater troupes Xichen used to visit with him when they were children.

Wei Wuxian's lips are a wet, shining crimson, as if he had dipped them in blood before arriving at the Lanshi; and his eyes are lined with fine black paint and red rouge mixed with some kind of bright, sparkling dust. Worse yet, he had even painted his eyelashes, to make them seem twice as long and dark as any man's lashes ought to be—and as if all of that were not enough, the heavy locks of his hair are fastened with chains made of solid gold.

"Why are you looking at me, Lan-er-gongzi?" Wei Wuxian asks. He puts his head to one side, and despite himself, Lan Wangji hears music; for someone had woven small golden bells into Wei Wuxian's braided hair.

"Enough talk," Lan Wangji says flatly. "Follow me back to the dormitories so you can wash and brush out your hair."

To his astonishment, Wei Wuxian does not object. He keeps pace with Lan Wangji all the way to the compound reserved for the Wen disciples; and then, without another word, he vanishes into his lodgings and leaves Lan Wangji behind to wait for him on the porch.

Puzzled, Lan Wangji seats himself on a convenient stool and wonders why Wei Wuxian had obeyed him so easily. It was only too clear that Shufu first tried to teach him the virtues of simple adornments at least a month ago, if not longer; so why had he flouted Uncle's wishes and honored Lan Wangji's?

Perhaps he is being too obedient, says a small voice in the back of Lan Wangji's mind. Perhaps he has run out through the back of the house, and gone off to frolic in Caiyi.

Lan Wangji frowns more deeply than ever and raps on the door with his knuckles. "Wei-gongzi? Are you finished?"

"Nearly," Wei Wuxian calls. "You can come in, if you'd like."

Wangji highly doubts that Wei Wuxian is really making himself presentable (or at least, not as he ought to be doing) so he enters the house and finds his charge wiping his face with a damp towel.

He lowers the towel at the sound of Lan Wangji's footsteps, and then:

"You were not meant to paint yourself in a different fashion," he says, incensed. "Wash your face properly at once."

Wei Wuxian blinks at him in confusion.

"I have washed it off," he says. "Look."

And then he leans forward and grabs Lan Wangji's hand, drawing it up to the damp skin of his face before Lan Wangji can turn tail and flee. He drags Lan Wangji's fingertips over the smooth bones of his cheeks and forehead, and across the bronzen skin circling his eyes—tanned and not painted, Lan Wangji realizes—and presses his full lips to the heart of Lan Wangji's palm, so forcefully that any traces of rouge left upon them would have been imprinted on Wangji's skin.

"There!" Wei Wuxian says, beaming—and completely unaware that Lan Wangji is very near to bursting out of sheer fury. "I'm as clean as a new jian."

"Your hair," Lan Wangji croaks; for if he dared raise his voice any further, he would scream, and then he would be the one submitting himself for punishment at the discipline pavilion. "Comb it."

Wei Wuxian nods and unravels his braids. Rather than undoing them one by one, he merely snaps his fingers and lets out a burst of spiritual energy; and immediately, the gold fastenings fall loose and clatter onto his dressing-table, leaving the glittering mass of his hair to slide down his broad back like a waterfall coursing down the face of a mountain.

Suddenly, Lan Wangji finds himself unable to breathe.

He flings himself out of the guest house and up the hill towards the Jingshi, where he spends an hour meditating in complete silence before he can bring himself to set foot out of doors again.

"Brother," he says, when he finally works up the courage to return to the Hanshi two days later. "I fear that I may be unable to take over the duty of disciplining Wei Wuxian. He made me angrier than I have ever been in my life."

Lan Xichen—who had heretofore shown no signs of being anything other than a kind, understanding brother—only stares at him, and bursts into laughter.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #my fic #wrh raises wwx au #reblog this please i beg it took so long haha #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan xichen

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fallenangelkitten · 9 months

Text

Through the Sun

Synopsis: Part two of In the Moonlight. The drive home from the gardens did nothing to stifle the need growing between you and Henry. How much more can the two of you take?

Warnings: HenryxVirginReader, sex, smut

Note: MUCH of this is taken from a scene out of one of my favorite books From Blood and Ash by J.L.A. Enjoy part two <3

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else before I go?” He asked, eyes on me as I stood in front of my bed.

The ride home from the gardens were quiet and tense- the air thick with unresolved desire. Henry had come inside my apartment with me to make sure I was okay, following me into my room, but just lingering in the frame of the open door. I had changed out of my clothing and into a loose, silk nightgown.

The evens of the night had replayed through my mind- his hands holding me, lips all over me, my own hips moving so roughly against his. Without thinking, my thighs pressed together.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” his voice had thickened, eyes scanning me. I didn’t even realize I’d left his question unanswered.

“Like what?”

“You know exactly how you’re looking at me,” he closed his eyes. “Actually, you might not. And that’s exactly why I should leave.”

“Henry… how am I looking at you?”

His eyes opened, his stare lingering on me for what seemed like forever. He didn’t look like he wanted to leave at all. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

I watched him start for the door. I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want to spend the night alone. I wanted him.

“Henry?”

He stopped but didn’t turn back.

My heart began to thump in my chest, palms sweaty as my lips parted. “Will you… will you stay with me tonight?”

He didn’t respond. I wasn’t even sure if he had taken a breath. But the words finally came as his hand lingered on the door. “I want nothing more than that, believe me, but I don’t think you realize what will happen if I stay.”

I felt a little dizzy. “I think I know enough.”

He turned, his piercing stare colliding with mine. “There is no way I could be in that bed with you and not touch you. Especially after tonight- earlier. We probably wouldn’t even be able to make it to the bed. I know my limitations. I really didn’t want to overwhelm you, but I know that if I stayed tonight I wouldn’t be able to not strip that thin little gown from your frame and do exactly what I said I would by the greenhouse.”

Heat swept low through me as I stared at him. “I know,” I almost didn’t think the voice was mine.

He sucked in a sharp breath as his brows furrowed, “Do you?”

All I could do was nod and continue to keep my legs clenched.

He finally took a step away from the door. “I’m not just going to hold you, (Y/N). I won’t just stop at kissing you, I won’t even stop at letting you move against me again. My need for you is far too great.”

A chill tiptoed down my spine at the bluntness of his words. They weren’t a shock, but his undeniable need was. I couldn’t fathom myself being the object of something so fierce. Especially by him.

“I know,” I repeated. It was the only thing I knew- my want and need for him. The uncertainty of what to truly expect fluttered in my chest, but I didn’t care. I felt that newfound warmth deep in my core begin to grow as I slipped my arms through the thin straps of the gown. The silk pooled at my feet.

Henry didn’t look away from me; his restraint from earlier in the night gone like my modesty. He didn’t blink as his eyes stayed locked with mine. But as his gaze slowly trailed down the length of my body, I couldn’t help the blush that flooded my cheeks. I knew he could see every dip, swell, and curve of my body. His gaze was soaking in every inch of me. I couldn’t help but shiver when his eyes finally made their way back to mine.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” his voice was thick with desire.

Then he moved. Within a heart beat his arms were around me and his lips encased mine. There was nothing slow or sweet about the way he kissed me, not this time. He devoured me, and I wanted that. I moved my mouth against his, matching his hunger, and tightly gripping to him.

Things quickly became a blur as my heart thudded in my chest. I’m not sure how his clothes ended up on the floor, but I’m sure my hands aided in the process. I pulled back from the latch of his lips and trembled at the first sight of him. He was utterly beautiful.

I took him in with my eyes as he did to me. His sun kissed body was lean and I could see his undeniable strength without the need to witness it. Soft patches of hair coated his body. I noticed the trail long his stomach, then my gaze strayed and my eyes widened.

Oh, my.

I subconsciously but down on my lip, fighting the urge to stare. It seemed indecent to do so, but damn did I want to.

“If you keep eyeing me like that, this will be over before it has the chance to begin,” he growled.

Before I could even react, his arm was around me and he had me pressed to the bed. The rough hairs on his legs were abrasive against mine in a surprisingly pleasant way. But it was the feeling of him against my hip that caused me to swallow nervously.

Henry kissed me and I couldn’t think of anything other than the fact that it had an almost drugging effect- like he had mentioned in the gardens. He had kissed me until I’m sure he could feel my heart beating through my chest. Only then, when he left me breathless, did he really begin his assault.

His fingers trailed along by body at a painfully slow pace. He kept one arm supporting himself above me while the other started at my jaw. When he got to the swell of my breasts and the peak of my nipples, I couldn’t help but whimper. But he kept going. And when he finally got between my thighs, I cried out at the contact. What I had felt with both of our pants between us previously had been nothing compared to his skin against mine.

He worked his way down using his mouth and tongue to follow the path his hands had blazed, sucking and nibbling as he went. He flicked his tongue over my clit, causing me to cry out and make sounds that briefly made me think about the thickness of my apartment walls- the thought left as quickly as it came.

From between my legs, he looked up at me and my heart just might have stopped. Even when my back began to arch and hips involuntary buck wildly against him, he never broke eye contact. He wanted to see me, see what he did to me. The riot of sensations he pulled from me didn’t seem possible until this moment.

It was almost too much, and I couldn’t hold still from the glide of his tongue. I breathy moan escaped me as I bucked my hips again, and his rumbling growl of approval was almost as good as his assault.

My head fell back against the mattress as my fingers dug into the sheets. I was fully aware that my body was squirming around with no sense of rhythm, but I simply didn’t care. The sharp tightening deep inside of me was coiling, twisting until I thought my heart might have actually stopped. Then it all unraveled, stunning me with its intensity. I might’ve said his name, or even screamed something incoherent- I wasn’t sure. But it took an eternity before I could reopen my eyes.

Henry lifted his head, lips swollen and glossy with- well, with me. The intensity of his stare caught and held mine. His tongue flicked across his bottom lip, making me shutter. “I could taste you all fucking day,” he growled, making my breath catch in my throat.

He didn’t move so much as he prowled up the length of my twitching body. I watched him, unable to look away as the hardness of his body caressed mine, unable to stop the shiver when the rough hair of his legs and chest tickled my skin.

“(Y/N),“ he breathed, his lips touching mine. He kissed me, and my face heated with a blush when I tasted his mouth, the taste of me on his tongue. My senses whirled at the feeling of him settling between my legs, pushing them open with his thick thighs, only barely pressing against me. “Open your eyes.”

They had closed? Yes. They had. I opened them to see his ever present cocky smirk plastered to his face. He said nothing as he stared down at me, hips and body still. “What?” I asked.

“I want your eyes open,” he demanded.

“O-Okay, why?”

“Because I want you to touch me,” he explained. “And I want you to see what your touch does to me.”

A shiver made its way along my spine for the thousandth time tonight. “How… h-how do you want me to touch you?”

“Any way you see fit,” his voice was thick and deep, even at the whisper he spoke in now. “You couldn’t do it wrong.”

Uncurling my fingers from the sheets, I lifted a hand and lightly grazed his cheek. His eyes remained latched to mine as I trailed my fingers along the curve of his jaw, over his soft lips, and then down to his throat. I glided the tips of my fingers over his chest, his deep breaths pushing it against my hand. I kept exploring, soaking in the feeling of the taught muscles in his lower stomach, the patch of hair below his navel, then lower. My fingers brushed the hardness of his length, making his entire body jerk. I hesitated, not wanting to mess this up.

“Please, don’t stop,” he rasped, jaw clenched as his fingers stilled below my breasts, the tops of his hands brushing them. “Dear god, do not stop.”

His jaw clenched and his lips parted slightly. The lines of his face became sharper and the muscles in his neck flexed as I curled my hand around him. His large, powerful body trembled. I noticed how rapid his breathing had become as I slid my hand down to where our bodies were almost joined. He twitched, and I was awed by how much my touch affected him.

I tightened my grip as confidence fell through me. “Fuck,” he growled.

“Is this okay?” I asked, brows furrowed in concern. But even then. My arousal pooled between us.

“Anything you do is more than okay,” his voice has deepened even more. “But especially that.”

A giggle left me, but then I did it again, shifting my hand up and down him. His hips moved then, much like mine had, rolling against my palm. He made a sound, a deep, dark rumble that caused me to emptily clench around nothing.

“Do you see what your touch does to me?” He asked, his hips following my hand.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“It kills me,” his head dropped, his thick lashes shielding his ocean eyes.

My gaze searched his face. “I-In a good way?”

Henry’s features softened has his hand rose to cup my cheek. “In a way I could only ever feel with you.”

“Oh.”

He dipped his head, kissing me as he shifted onto his left arm. His hand left my cheek and slid down the length of my body until it landed between us. “Are you ready?”

Breath catching, I nodded.

The corners of his lips tugged up into that smirk I knew all too well. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes. Please, Henry.”

“Good, because I might have actually died if you weren’t.”

I giggled, surprised that such a light sound came from such a tense, important moment.

“You think I’m kidding… little do you know,” he teased. He kissed me again before barely pushing in. He made that animalistic sound again, only fueling my desire. “I’m really sorry if it hurts at first,” he practically panted.

I knew enough about sex to know that was a possibility. “It’s okay, just please keep going,” I begged as he showered me with kisses.

A groan emerged from his chest as he began to move. There was pressure and a moment where I wasn’t sure he could go any farther, and then a sudden, sharp sting stole my breath as I squeezed my eyes shut. My fingers dug into his shoulders. He stroked my face with one of his fingers, cooing in my ear. “I’m sorry,” he spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I assured, but the words came out like a sharp breath.

He kissed me again, softly, and rested his forehead against mine. A shallow breath lifted my chest. I tried to take a deeper breath, the pain lessening as I released it. Henry remained still above me, letting his hand stroke my hair. Tentatively, I lifted my hips against his. It stung, but not as badly as before. I lifted my hips again, and he shuttered, but remained still. He didn’t move until my grip on his shoulders lessened and my breath caught for an entirely different reason. There was a burning friction, but it wasn’t the same. Muscles low in my stomach tightened as a ripple of pleasure shot through me.

I curled my arms around his neck as I let myself get lost in his movements- in the building crescendo of sensations. Some kind of primal instinct took hold, guiding my hips to follow his. We were moving together; the only sounds were his deep growls, my whimpers and moans, and the sound of us colliding.

That exquisite, almost painful coiling sensation returned. My legs moved to wrap around his hips. The pressure was building inside me once more, but it was much more potent than before.

Henry worked his arm under my head and curled his hand around my shoulder as the grip of his other hand tightened on my hip. He began to move with a vengeance, his hips moving faster and deeper into me as he held me in place. My mouth blindly found his as his hand slipped between us. His thumb found the sensitive area that his tongue assaulted earlier, and when his hips churned against mine in tight circles, the tension exploded from inside of me.

I cried out, the sensation more intense and biting than before. The release he had given me earlier somehow felt like nothing compared to this. I was shattered into pieces in the best way possible, and it was only when the last wave seemed to have crested that I became aware of those intense blue eyes fixed on my face as he slipped his hand out from under me. I knew at once that he had been watching me the entire time, causing a breathy moan to drift from my lips.

I placed a trembling hand on his cheek. “Henry,” I whispered, unsure what was even going to leave my mouth before he seemed to lose whatever control he had left.

His body pounded against mine, moving us across the bed. Under my hands, his muscles flexed and rolled, and then his head kicked back and he cried out, shuttering. He dropped his head to my neck, to the sensitive place along the side of my throat. I felt his lips against my thumping pulse as the roll of his hips slowed. There was the scrape of his teeth that sent a shiver through me, and then the press of his lips against my neck.

I wasn’t sure how long we laid there, bodies tangled together. But I fell asleep… a deep, dreamless sleep.

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