#also; link is trying so hard not to smile here

[luvwestwood]

❝ FROM ME, TO YOU ❞ - Satoru, Choso, Kento, Toji, Suguru, Sukuna

— (18+) HOW THE JJK MEN WOULD SPEND THEIR VALENTINE'S WITH YOU.

₊˚༊*·˚ warnings. nsfw(18+), (cw in order), food play, solo play, cheating/homewrecking, breeding, mildly dubious consent, multiple face slapping, rough sex, public play, discreet vibrator use, slight humiliation, public sex, oral sex(m/f rec), sex-tape making, anal, spanking, ass eating

₊˚༊*·˚ notes. valentines day gift from me 2 u lovelies!!! choso's one is so absurd. im sorry… not. hope u all enjoy, I had so much fun writing these... also the toji one had me creaming so it goes second. if any gifts were given by the men, i have kindly included specific links ^^

Choso Kamo - "Sweet Surprise"

Choso being the sweetest boyfriend ever, loves to surprise you with a 'sweet' treat on Valentine's day. Taking his time to produce what he calls a 'signature' of his; homemade cinnamon rolls glazed in icing - his secret recipe that always has you wanting more.

"Baby, come here will you?" Choso calls from the kitchen, the comforting smell of cinnamon lingering around the entire home. "I've made your favorite!" He adds on, waltzing around the place with a pink frilly apron; portioning out the first piece for you. The apron was a funny gift you gave him for Christmas last year, since he loved cooking so much.

Stepping into the kitchen, you squeeze your eyes shut; taking in the comforting aroma. "Oh wow, it smells divine in here." Eyes opening again, you walk over to Choso, linking onto his forearm. His forehead all sweaty, your heart aches- it was probably from working so hard to make you these rolls for Valentine's day.

"Take a seat- you get first bite," he beams a smile down at you, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. Peeling away from your grasp for a moment, he surges over to your typical seat, pulling the chair out like a gentleman.

You laugh as you sit down, Choso scooting the dished cinnamon roll closer to you. Your mouth watered— freshly baked, the cinnamon sugar perfectly melted, and the icing.. your favorite part.

Taking a huge bite, the glaze manages to stick to the tip of your nose; Choso cheesing across from you as he watches your every move. "..You like it?" something he loves to ask, as if your answer wouldn't be the same like every other time.

"Of course I do, Choso- you know that I'm never, ever going to say no." Using your finger to swipe the icing off your nose, you bring it to your mouth; completely devouring any bit of the sweetness you can get. "Mmph- baby, this is too good, did you do something different today?"

..He did, in fact, do something different. Wanting to make the rolls extra special just for you, Choso glazed them with his own icing.

— Earlier on, observing you were occupied enough to not notice; Choso stuffed the oven mitt into his mouth, hand softly jerking himself off over the tray of cinnamon rolls.

"..Ngh.. She's gonna love these," Choso grunts, his cheeks flushed with crimson, hand leisurely moving up and down his length. He wanted to ice these with love. Quietly whimpering into the mitt, his hand reaches up to the cabinet knobs for support, his body technically leaning against the counter. Eyes shut, still incessantly jerking off his cock, Choso was planning to milk himself dry.

The pace of his movements fluctuates, at the same time he tries to get off to the image of you eating the finished product; a thought that has his cock throbbing, leaking. Breathing gradually becoming more labored, he whines, trying to urge himself to cum - at least get that one bit out of him.

"F-fuck.." Choso curses through gritted teeth, canines desperately digging deeper into the fabric of the oven mitts. His balls relentlessly tighten as ropes of white spurts out from his tip, prettily decorating over the surface of the cinnamon rolls.

Brows furrowing invertedly, his mouth gapes; dropping the mitt completely. Unsatisfied, he analyzes them for a bit; until coming to the decision that it wasn't enough. "..Need.. more.."

He frantically scans around the kitchen, his eye landing on a fresh orange. Choso reaches for it from the fruit-basket, grabbing a knife nearby to slice it in half. Crafting a makeshift flesh-light, he praises himself at the innovative idea.

Choso's two fingers dig inside of the flesh, forcing open a fuckable hole. He lewdly licks off the acidic juice to refrain from doing any extra cleaning. Sliding his throbbing cock inside, a long sigh escapes his lips as the cool pulp wraps around his length. He begins to rut into the fruit; both thighs thudding against the counter.

"Ah.. ah... ngh-" Multiple feral groans come out in short, sharp pants; Buckets of sweat trickling down his skin, he imagines himself fucking into you; picturing the fruit as your tight hole, that only he gets to use.

"Gotta cum.. again.." Choso whimpers, watching his tip coming in and out from the other side of the fruit. "..Need.. to make her.. happy.." choking out between thrusts, he grips onto the orange tighter, the zesty flesh enclosing around him. It felt good, but it wasn't you. Though it had to do.

His cock glistens in the juice; length all wet and slippery— Choso tugs on the hem of his tank top bringing it between his teeth again, using it as something he could suppress his moans with.

Feeling himself reaching his high for the second time, a quiet symphony of whines and heavy breathing escaping through the fabric; Choso was just vocal, he can't help it. Biting down on his wrinkled hem had only resulted in it being stained with saliva.

Not a single mewl comes out of his throat. Choso helplessly grips onto the counters; pulling the orange off in an instance, throwing it to the side; his cock twitching around as even more spurts of thick cum leaks out of his tip. Sensibly, he finally uses a free hand to try and guides his cock so that it wouldn't go out of control.

Letting out a long breath, finally pleased; he peers down at the cinnamon rolls with pride. Lightly tapping his overworked cock against the flat of his hand, any remaining beads of his juices land inside of the tray.

"Ah.. H-Happy Valentine's baby..." Choso's voice shakily whispers; his entire body jittering from the final orgasm. Squeezing on his cock as he gives it one last stroke, he proudly sneers; pulling his pants back up.

Toji Fushiguro - "Home-wrecker"

[WARNING: cheating, sex with ex. you have been warned. This HAS been edited b/c a reader felt that it was giving r word, but that wasn't my intention; I deeply apologise for that! I got too carried away writing. If you would like to read the original, view the reblogs with your own discretion!]

Your fiancé was bound to come home at any moment. For Valentines, you planned to surprise him by waiting in bed dressed in a newly bought lingerie set.

Dolled yourself up, spritzed on a hypnotizing fragrance; you glanced at the clock, ten minutes until he pulls up in the driveway. Tonight, you looked irresistible.

Taking a shot of tequila that was set on your vanity, you shimmied off your satin robe, only to be left in the lacy red garments that complimented your body. Quickly, you slid on some matching stockings; attaching the top band to your garters.

The shot not helping at all, your heart still hysterically thumped against your chest as you laid yourself down on the bed; propping your head up with your fist.

Upon hearing the front door shut from downstairs, you breathed deeply; noticing that he was home a few minutes earlier, not that it meant anything.

"I'm in our room babe!" you called out, biting down on your bottom lip as you smiled, excitement now taking over your system at last.

You could hear the creaking of the floorboards as he climbed up the stairs; in which you anticipated the look on his face as soon as he sees you.

The walking stops, your bedroom door opening. Putting on your best, seductive face; had instantly turned into pure mortification— your ex, Toji, standing in the door frame instead.

"W-what the are you doing here?!" tugging at the bedsheets, you shield yourself with the blanket. "Get the fuck out, or I'm calling the cops!"

His eyes pan around the room; the framed photo of you and your fiancé grabbing his attention. "Didn't have time to get you flowers though, apologies."

"You're gonna be in deep shit if he finds out you were here," you say, scooting yourself further back on the bed until your spine touched the headboard. "..Where is he anyway?"

Toji tuts, your words not affecting him in any way whatsoever. Furious, he cannot imagine your stupid fiancé having you all to himself tonight. "That doesn't matter, I had him sorted." he walks to your nightstand, facing the framed picture of you and your fiancé down onto the wooden surface. "Like he cares about you anyways. Saw him downtown with another chick the other day."

"I don't believe you. Out of all people, you think I would anyways?" you spat out, his face blank, and emotionless— "You've- you've changed, that's what. That's the reason I left you, FYI."

"Who got you this? Him?" he toys with your bra straps, gently tugging it down; the thin, red material hanging off your shoulder.

You ignore his question, "We can't-," saying in a short breath, he stops. "..You had a year to solve this. All of it." Tears welling up in your eyes, his gaze softens— the voice inside of his head mentally cursing at himself for losing you. "..I'm literally getting married next summer.."

His fingertips reach under your chin, "..Then let me make it up to you," Toji studies your features, his heart aching. "..I'll give you what I failed to- back when we were dating." Voice laced with authenticity, his lips hovering over your skin. "..Please?"

Your hands move forward, tugging at his soft, raven strands. You had to think about it, but fuck, was it the liquor?"..Fine- You have one chance. One." your words end in a whine, Toji eager as you gave him the green light— pulling the waistband of his pants down. His cock springs free; so heavy and girthy. One chance, he had to make the most of it.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, placing a pattern of love bites all of your skin like a canvas, "..This pussy, and you- all of you." and a suck and tug at your clit, "I was stupid for letting go of us." Toji places a peck on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your pooling cunt. "So stupid."

Your lips quivers at his words, would all of this really be worth the consequence? You knew better, why didn't you kick him out? Hell, call the police? Right, you'd eventually come looking for him, but he somehow managed to do it all before you.

Stripping off his black tee, Toji mills it somewhere across the room; arousal between your legs at his defined physique. Gasping as he effortlessly dragged you off the bed, the two of you stand up, your legs encompassed around his slim torso. You finally loosen yourself to him, intertwining your tongues at your own will.

You could feel the tip of his cock graze against your folds, Toji trying to sink you down onto his length. After a few seconds of being a tease, he slides into you, both groaning at the sensation of your walls wrapped closing him for the first time in what feels like ages.

Toji murmured into your neck, walking the two of you over to your vanity mirror; his cock lodged inside of your hole. Not only did he get bigger in relation to muscle, but his dick size too. "Seems like the fiancé wasn't fucking you right."

He glances over to the reflection of you cradled around his body like a sloth, and shortly after, he begins to rut his hips up into you. Your tits bounce as he does, Toji growling as he continuously snapped into your hole; balls hitting against your skin.

His hands roam around the surface of your ass; Toji drilling into you, after not having your pussy for so long. He wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste— he was going to prove himself right. The sex just felt ten times better tonight, possibly due to how scandalous the circumstances were.

"Fuck," he mumbled, your forehead falling heavy onto his muscular shoulder. You bit onto his skin, moaning endlessly at Toji rearranging your guts. He didn't allow this though, the man firmly striked his palm against your ass from below, causing you to withdraw your head back off his shoulder.

Filthy sounds of sex echoed throughout the room, Toji using you like a ragdoll, he devilishly grunts. Unsatisfied, he lays you against the vanity top— his cock not sliding out of you, and he remains between your legs.

Placing one hand on your hip, the other resting on the mirror's frame; Toji bucks himself mercilessly into you, the vanity rocking against the wall. "..Pussy too good," his head falls back, enthralled, moving back down to watch as his hand eagerly grabs onto your boob— a few products falling off the vanity from how hard he was fucking you.

"T-Toji.." you choke out, head about to burst from the pressure building up inside of you, Toji fucking into your gummy walls; my, did he fuck you good. Always. You could feel him filling every inch of you, the veins on his cock kissing against your insides.

Toji lays a hand on your cheek, swiping a thumb across your face. "You can take it," he cooed, "I know you can-" At this point, he has turned feral, but refused to hurt you. Minute orbs of sweat drenching his forehead, his hair becoming spiky at its ends.

You chant his name repeatedly, clawing at his back; leaving marks of crimson just like your torn garments. Toji's bends down closer; index and thumb lightly gripping onto your jaw. "Look at me, come on- I wanna see your pretty face,"

No intention to stop, Toji reaches for your hand; yanking the engagement ring off your finger, throwing it across the room. "I'll get you a better one, y'don't need that anymore."

His forehead intimately rests against yours, "We'll go- somewhere far," voice cracking, he holds onto you tightly; keeping you close to him. "How about we start fresh, hmm?" Toji's movements slow, and passionate; "Answer me baby- I wanna hear it from you,"

"Yes, yes- fuck- I'll do it," your eyes flickering, struggling to stay open. "Just- I'm.. I'm gonna cum,"

"Give it to me", he moaned out, voice trembling. "..Let it all out-" Toji's words like a spell, you shuddered around his length, your plush walls convulsing uncontrollably. He grunts in response, at the same time he hurriedly pulls out, ropes of white decorating your lower abdomen.

"…God damn," he sighs, your eyes shutting— Toji toys with his cock, slapping the tip against your clit. He smiles, planting a tender peck on your lips; giving your tits a slap. Massaging the plump on your thigh, he attempts to soothe your nerves; until something that he says takes you by surprise.

"..Oh yeah, your ex-fiancé is in the basement. How 'bout round two in front of him all tied up?"

Satoru Gojo - "A Heart(-throbbing) Night Out"

Two years ago, what you would have assumed an innocent, couples picnic in a floral field— ended up with him pounding you as the bees watched; still, you can recall the countless insect bites that appeared all over your legs.

Last year, you both went to Greece; Satoru treating you to a lush hotel that included a private pool looking over the coast. A pool, where he ate your ass out while you took in the beautiful scenery of Santorini.

And.. this year, it was something— different. The plan your boyfriend had laid out for this exact Valentine's was, you having a remote controlled vibrator inserted inside of you as the two of you go out for an intimate dinner date.

It took you a lot of convincing, but Satoru swore not to turn it on at the most inconvenient of times. Though he had a thing for public humiliation, so you didn't quite trust his words.

"This, it's- I love it, Satoru. Thank you." The two of you laced your hands together, yourself in awe with the venue he had chosen for tonight. Satoru flew you guys out to New York for Valentine's- in which he chose a rooftop restaurant, serving the finest food out there. Knowing this place was hard to book in with, you could only appreciate it even more.

Satoru kisses your fingers in the palm of his hand so lovingly, "I'm glad baby." Grinning, your eyes travel around his body, taking in the outfit you had bought, and picked for him tonight. That was the one thing he let you do for him. Satoru paid for your nails this week, hair and clothes; hell, even for today. You were like his doll.

"You look so beautiful, you know that?" Voice low, though you can hear him apart from the murmurs around you. Red tints your cheeks, Satoru flashing his pearly whites at your reaction.

"Oh stop it, Satoru.." You swat his hand away, relaxing against the back of your seat. He lets out a laugh, loving how flustered you tend to get at times. Due to his gushy behavior, you had completely forgotten about the bullet vibrator that was stuck inside of you right now.

"..Here's to us," Satoru holds out his glass of Pinot noir, looking at you from across the table so lovingly. Holding out your own in return, he smiles, as they both harmoniously clink together.

"To us," you responded. Retracting your hand, you take a sip; the tannic aftertaste lingering down your throat. Satoru slices the steak in front of him. You prod at your pasta with a fork, twirling it around. Before you could speak further, he shoves a bite-sized piece of steak into your mouth, saying 'ahh,' prior.

Having to chew out of your own will, you gnaw at the meat endlessly, Satoru taking glances at you from time to time.

"What's wrong?" he continued, "Something wrong with your food baby?" Satoru set his cutlery down, leaning in closer over the table.

"..Huh? Nothing is wrong?" Confused, you furrow your brows; when out of the blue, a buzzing sensation emits from between your legs. Your boyfriend watches as your mouth slightly gapes open, legs crossing over one another. A prideful grin plasters onto his face, as he watched you act all disheveled right in front of him.

Eyes widening, Satoru's eyes glint with faux concern. "No- no, let me call over the waiter. Hold on," Having the desire to toy with you even more, he raises a hand, hollering for some assistance.

Pleading quietly across the table, he ignores you; "S-Satoru, I'm fine-just please, turn it off.." You feel him increase the vibration level, the same waiter approaching you from before. Whimpering, you claw at the edge of your seat, Satoru watching you with the corner of his eye.

"..Is everything okay here?" The waiter checks on you both, meanwhile, you were using up most of your strength to suppress any sort of noise; thighs uncontrollably resorting to stamping together.

Satoru smiles, making up a white lie on the spot. "My girlfriend loves the wine you recommended to us, don't you baby?"

Trying your best to suppress a moan, you refrain from jittering in your seat; finding it difficult to string together some words. "Y-yeah.. it's amazing.." A mewl slipping past your lips, you quickly cover up your noises by pretending to clear your throat.

"We'd love to bring the whole bottle out," Satoru furthers your suffering, in which you were begging for the waiter to finally go away. Approving of his request, they head back to the kitchens; finally leaving you two alone.

As soon as they had left, you moan into your napkin; Satoru subtly chuckling at your behavior. "Can't take it?" He mockingly coos, watching as one hand of yours grips the corners of the table. "Don't you make a mess, you wouldn't want that, right?"

Hysterically shaking your head side to side, you pinch the top of your nose bridge with your thumb and pointer finger; mind completely clouding. "Fuck- turn it off, I beg you-.."

Satoru's hand slides across the table cloth, intertwining with yours. He caresses the flat of your hand tenderly, feeling how your grip tightens as he fluctuates the intensity of the vibrations. "..Can't even keep quiet," he adds on, "..'ts got my cock so hard," Satoru thankfully whispers the end of his sentence, the waiter hurriedly coming back with the full bottle of wine.

They both nod at each other, followed by Satoru pouring more wine in your glass. Your forehead rests against your knuckles as you continue to poke at the food; your boyfriend suddenly getting up from his chair. Your head began to spin, you were no longer in a state to interact with others anymore.

Instantly hauling your eyelids up, you panic, in fear of what he would do next. "..S-Satoru, what are you doing?.." You loudly sigh, heels tapping against the ground as he puts the vibrator at it's max; the coil in your abdomen threatening to snap. The wine, the stimulation the toy gives you and Satoru himself was really messing with your insides.

He walks over to your beside, kneeling shortly after, at this point you felt like you were going to faint. Satoru, from his pocket, draws out a tiny box wrapped in the familiar Tiffany & Co mint blue.

Your heart rapidly pounds against your chest; overwhelmed by what possibly could be your impending orgasm, and the stunt Satoru was pulling off right now.

"A-are you crazy?!" you peered down at him with genuine disorientation, chest heaving frantically. Everybody around not helping, they turn to watch the sentimental moment before them.

The pace at which your foot taps gradually gets faster and faster, Satoru beaming his pearly whites as he flicked the box open. A ring sparkles from the cushion, and tears begin to stain your cheeks. Being that it was a good opportunity to let it all out, everyone would have assumed you were overwhelmed by his proposal, and not the vibrator lodged inside of you.

Satoru lays his palm upon your bare leg, massaging it carefully; only adding onto your arousal— his demeanor making you feel as if he was telling you to let it all out, in both ways.

"My beautiful girl, I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he takes into account the priceless expression on your face, "You make me feel like the happiest man in the world."

Fanning your face with your fingertips, hot tears stream down your face nonstop. It took a lot in you to not moan out loud for everyone to hear, Satoru truly trying his best not to let out a laugh; "..Will you marry me?"

The constant vibrations going at high speeds inside of you urge that same coil to finally snap. His hand massages your calf gently, and you groan, slamming your fist down onto the table.

"F-Fuck! yes!" Unexpectedly, you curse at the intense high washing over you, Satoru leaning in for a passionate kiss. Relieved as his lips latched onto yours, you whimper; a sense of relief coming upon you as he does so. The applause and cheer of the audience all around allowing you to make as much noise as you want.

Your face hot, Satoru pulls away, wetness from your climax pooling in your underwear; your now, fiancé sliding the ring on your finger. The vibrations come to a halt, and you grab onto the back of your seat in relief— Satoru cunningly grins for only you to see.

"..Think I'll have my dessert at home."

Kento Nanami - "All (Tie)d Up"

Valentine's day with Kento was intimate this year. Tonight, you've prepared his favorite home-cooked meal; steak and mushrooms. The steak, medium rare and the mushrooms, preferably sauteed.

You thought it was perfect, Kento actually had gone on a mission today, so as soon as he came home; you'd be waiting for him— wearing the dress you wore on your first date, and mellow Elta James on the record player in the living room.

As a gift, you've gotten him a brand new tie. Kento loved his ties, all which were bought by you— from simplistic, to funky; yet the one you got for him today was an intricately embroidered tie in taupe, with your initial threaded on inbetween the designs.

You smiled at the box before ribboning it back up, anticipating for the moment Kento arrives home; which would be any second now. And correct, the twist of a knob sounds from the front door; with you hurriedly prancing around the kitchen table to piece together the finishing touches.

"Darling?" Kento slid his shoes off, neatly stowing them away in the cloak room. "I'm home," his hair no longer gelled back, instead some loose strands fall onto his forehead. He smiles as soon as he heard the record player faintly on in the living room.

The smell of his favorite dinner met with his nostrils, Kento following the aroma, being led into the kitchen. His eyes glimmered with content as he saw you waiting in front of the candle lit dinner, glasses of wine ready to go; and you, you looked breathtaking.

"..Beautiful, what's this?" he cheesily grinned, looking around the kitchen; watching as you approached him with a smile on your face.

"Kento, didn't you forget? It's Valentine's Day! You've been so busy that yo-" cut off abruptly with him leaning down to give you a peck on your lips, he pulled away, hushing you.

"Of course I didn't forget," Kento pulled a bouquet with your favorite flowers from behind his back, the man laughing as you rolled your eyes at him. He pulled you into a hug as soon as you took the bouquet from him, Kento leaving yet another kiss, this time, on your cheek.

The two of you walked over to the table, Kento swiftly placing his briefcase on the kitchen island. He still rushed over before you could sit down, pulling the chair out for you.

Both finally take their seats, Kento melting at the amazing food you've taken the time to prepare tonight. He glanced at you for approval before digging in, and you nod.

Pouring wine into his glass first, you do yours second. Unable to help yourself, lovingly watching his every move instead of eating your own dinner. "How's the food, is it alright?"

"It's perfect," Kento takes your hand into his, tenderly kissing on your fingers, indulging in your scent. "I'm truly lucky to have a woman like you."

The atmosphere goes quiet for a short duration, only the sound of the record player echoing throughout the home. "..I have a surprise," you both say in unison; breaking out into laughter after.

"You go first," you say, Kento disagreeing. "No, ladies first." The two of you playfully squabble before Kento gives in, walking over to his briefcase on the counter to pull out a navy, leather box, before making his way back to you.

He sits down, placing it on the table for you to open. Your eyes flicker, seeing Graff all over the ribbon. "Go on, have a look," Kento encourages you to see for yourself, his stomach fluttering.

You look at him hesitantly before opening the box, your hand covering your mouth as you gasp, a diamond necklace glimmering with the candlelight.

"Kento.." your body sank down into the seat, the man anticipating for your final reaction.

"Is it the right one? I recall you pointing at that in the magazine the other week." Your heart melted, at Kento's ability to remember the littlest things about his loved ones.

You pulled him into a hug, his large arms closing around you, engulfing your body completely. "..Thank you, I love it so much.." His amber, woody scent pleasant to your nose.

His hand caressed the back of your hair in the midst of the embrace, Kento mumbling into the crook of your neck. "You deserve it, you really do."

Pulling away, Kento reaches for the necklace, the two of you smiling as you both stood up. You faced your back towards him, bunching up your hair as he wrapped his arms around your frame, clasping the necklace behind your neck.

"..Perfect," he whispers, Kento places his hands on your waist, peppering kisses on your bare shoulder.

You giggle, turning back to face him, "Okay, don't forget I have a gift for you too!" He peels his hands off your hips to roam on your back, watching as you reached for your own square box on the side of the table.

Handing the box over to him, he takes it into his possession. Tugging at the ribbon, he takes it apart; the box opening to a bespoke tie. His index finger traces over your initial, a genuine grin appearing on his face.

“I love it so much,” his hand wraps around your body, bringing you in for another hug. Kento pulls the tie out of its box, familiarly wrapping the garment around his hand.

Lost in the moment, Kento leans in for another kiss as a thank you, but this time; it’s more passionate.

Your tongues intertwine with each other, teasingly fighting for one’s dominance, his tie wrapped hand guiding you to sit atop the table. You whine into the kiss; sexual tension lingering through the air.

Kento mindfully moves the food and candles away from your surroundings, not wanting to put the two of you at risk.

Gasping, his lips latch onto your neck, leaving sweet, meaningful kisses all over your body. You were like a reward. Your fingers tangle his golden hair, slowly travelling down his broad chest, stopping at the buckle of his belt.

He groans, hearing the sound of metal undo, watching as your hands bypass the hem of his boxers, Kento doing his gifted tie around your neck.

He ravels the fabric around his palm again, the tie on your neck tightening, but only slightly choking you.

Hopping off the dinner table, you kneel, your eyes setting onto his above. The tie on your neck tightens as soon as you pull his thick cock free, which ended up heavily resting on the flat of your cheek.

He grunts, heart doing backflips as he watched you smother his warm length all over your face; Kento impatiently slapping his tip against your lips.

Breath hitching as soon as he pushes all inches slowly into your mouth; his head falling back at your wet, hot chamber enclosing around his cock.

“..Fuck..” he whispered, pushing further down your throat; balls throbbing at the gagging noises continuously slipping past your lips.

“Good girl.. take all of it.” He praises, tears welling up in your eyes from how Kento was stuffing your mouth completely, to the point you could barely breathe.

His hips cheekily began to rock back and forth, cock fucking into your throat; the gagging noises amplifying. Your hands reached to the back of his slacks for support, your eyes squeezing shut.

Kento’s hands let go of the tie, instead he grabs your face; pushing your head down onto his cock; relentlessly fucking into your mouth.

“Ah..” he let out a laboured sigh, buckets of spit dribbling down your chin and onto your dress; Kento swiping over your cheekbones as he uses your throat like a fuck toy. “Such a good doll for me, aren’t you?”

You hum in approval around his cock, eyes rolling from arousal. The vibrations of your throat heighten his stimulation, Kento pulling on the tie to remove you off his slob covered length.

Coughing, Kento wipes the tears off your cheeks with his thumbs as he brought your chin up, telling you to open wide; dropping a fat orb of spit into it.

Not ordering you to swallow, he instead pushes his cock back into your mouth— Kento whimpering as the rutting of his hips become staggered.

“Gonna need you to swallow all my cum,” he chokes out, “Think you could do that for me?”

Nodding eagerly, Kento smiles at your reaction. The 10k necklace sparkling on your collarbone with pride.

His thrusts transition into slow, considerate movements; large hands holding tightly onto either sides of your head. Kento groans, bottoming his cock into your throat; his pelvis just touching the tip of your nose.

Your eyes enlarge, and shut as soon as you feel his warm ropes reach down the back of your throat, Kento sighing in satisfaction. Ever so slowly pulling his cock out of your throat, a long, string of spit forms between you two, Kento gently caressing the back of your head.

Slapping the tip against your lips, he lets out any remaining beads of cum; Kento gently brings you off the ground, taking you in for one last, filthy kiss.

Unsatisfied with how he left you, Kento, without hesitation, pushes your back down onto the dining table, your two legs resting on each side of his torso.

You giggle, Kento bunching up your dress at your hips, tutting as he saw you weren’t wearing any underwear. “You naughty girl..” He sucks some air through his teeth, giving your pussy a slap with the leaking tip of his cock.

“I’m gonna put it in now. That okay?” He makes sure, a chuckle slipping past his lips as you chug down your glass of wine, Kento reaching for his to do the same.

He loosens the already tie on his neck, hands on your thighs to sink you onto his cock; Kento’s signature Tag Heuer strapped onto his wrist. The watch stays on.

Quietly grunting, he slowly moves in and out of you; his fists resorts to pressing down on either sides of your waist.

“Faster Ken-, please..” you manage to whisper, Kento leaning in closer against your body.

His hips piston into you at an unreal pace, the dining table’s legs screeching against the floors; the table itself beginning to move across the room.

“Fuck- fuck, fuck..” Kento curses under his breath, his hands shakily holding onto your waist— whimpers coming from him as you convulsed around his cock.

The cutlery on the table begins to scoot to the edge from his brutal thrusts, your tits threatening to bounce out of the neckline of your dress; Kento doing you a favour by taking them out himself.

“Look at me princess,” he cooed, grabbing your cheek; tenderly swiping his thumb across your cheekbone. “Come on, look at me, you’re taking my cock so well.”

You whine, grabbing at his tie to pull him closer, aching to have his lips back onto yours for the millionth time. He groans in the midst of the make out session, you were practically moulding into each other.

His forehead rests against yours, Kento looking into your eyes as he fucked into you, passionately. “Tell me baby, t-tell me you want my cum- I’ll give it to you,”

Kento’s voice cracking, warm tears begin to stain your cheeks, ruining your makeup; his hands fast enough to wipe them away.

“P-please, Ken- I need..” you say, unable to finish the rest of your sentence; your cock fucked mind having difficulty to string some words together.

Keen to get the words out of you, he pushed you to your limits. “What is it- come on- use your words..” He drastically slows down his movements, in order for you to sound some words properly.

“..I need your cum inside of me..” you squeal the last of your half-said sentence, Kento planting a kiss on the top of your head before standing back up between your legs.

“I’m gonna cum,” Kento bites down on his lips, his grip on your thighs intensifying; fingertips digging into your skin.

He uncontrollably whines, bottoming into your hole as he loses his own mind; cock twitching like mad as he pumped his seed into your womb.

You both attempt to regulate your breathing, the sound of the record player still on up to this very moment. His cock slides out of your hole, Kento peering down at his load dripping out of your pussy, making a mess below.

“We better finish this food…” he says, Kento helping you get back on your feet. As if you two would be able to carry on with dinner like normal anyways.

Suguru Geto - "Picnic Dick"

For Valentine's this year, both you, and Suguru planned on having a car boot picnic. The weather was absolutely perfect, and you two visited at sunset. In addition, your one contribution was making the charcuterie board; which you truly loved to do.

After having a light bite, you both agreed to play around in the water; the tides still calm at this hour.

"The water is cold, Suguru!" you squeal, your boyfriend splashing droplets at you, causing you to squirm around. He laughs, in return you splash back; Suguru charging towards you.

"Don't come close to me!" You scream, feet wading in the water with all your strength. Speeding up, you were close enough to the shore— until a pair of soaking forearms wrap around your waist; taking you off your feet, heading for the sands.

"You're not going anywhere," Suguru teases, his grip tight around your stomach. You playfully jitter in his hold, the two of you falling back down on the picnic towel; breaking out into genuine laughter.

He remains hovering on top of you, your back resting against the soft material of the towel— Suguru tucking strands of hair away from your face to get a better look at you. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispers, in return you attempt to cover your face with your hands; flustered.

Suguru grabs your wrist to get them out of the way, leaning in for a tender kiss. What was a soft peck, turns into a longer, hungrier kiss. You, still being in his embrace, Suguru stills his knee intimately between your legs— a noise coming from your throat as he swiped his tongue on your lips.

"Mmph," you moaned, pulling away for a short duration, "There's people all around us,"

Suguru's lips leave yours, latching onto your jaw instead, leaving a trail of loving kisses behind. "Wrong, there's no one here at all," you feel him smirk against your neck, his hands roaming and massaging at your waist.

Ticklish, you giddily laugh, "Okay, but what if someone comes in the next five minutes?" Your hands rake through his strands the more he went lower down your body with the kisses, Suguru guiding one of your legs over his shoulder as he came to a halt between your legs.

"Then I'll be done with you in four," Suguru grabs your thigh, massaging it gently; placing a warm kiss directly on your soft skin. His head goes underneath your mini-skirt, as you hysterically look around the environment for any people. Fortunately, nobody was here.

You feel his finger tug at the hem of your thong, attempting to pull it to one side. But he doesn't, and instead licks over the fabric, your voice trembling as you sigh out his name. He continues to lap at the material; humming in response to you calling for him.

The sound of the waves crashing against each other put you in a state of euphoria, Suguru finally pulling your panties to one side; kitty licking at your clit.

Back arching against the blanket, you were breathless; Suguru gently fucking the tip of his tongue into you. Hands leaving his strands, you fondle with your breasts, your boyfriend groaning against your folds as he ate you out. From time to time, he'd stick a digit in, curling his fingers up inside of your plush walls.

Your head heavily falls to the side; a few people in the distance catching your eye. You frantically tap on Suguru's head over the fabric of your skirt, he remains occupied against your folds.

"Sug- Suguru, there's people coming. Get up baby," you prop yourself up on your elbows, your boyfriend firmly gripping onto the soft of your thighs; not allowing you to get up.

"Don't mind them," he responds, unbothered, busy alternating between sucking and fucking a finger or two into you.

You whine, back falling onto the towel for a second time; your legs clamping around Suguru's head. Returning to fucking his tongue into you, he lazily rubs circles on your sensitive bud with a thumb. Looking to your side once more, you see the people gradually getting closer; and it seems like they have no clue yet.

"Let it all out on my face," you hear him plead from under your skirt; your mouth forming an o, brows furrowing as the thumb on your clit was replaced by his tongue. He sucks, eyes closed as he eagerly waits for you to decorate his face with your juices.

Until, Suguru arises from your skirt; folding you into a mating press position, your entire pussy on show as he continues to lap at your throbbing cunt.

"W-what are you doing?!" you cry out, chest heaving as your legs shudder, Suguru relentlessly curling his digits up into you; pleasantly enjoying your warm juices covering his chin.

He groans against your folds; shirt collar soaked with you. Retracting his head from between your legs, he gently places your feet off his shoulder; the two of you looking in the same direction.

The people who were gradually coming closer, have turn around and ran away.

"So I was working like a sex machine for nothing? Just for them to turn around?" he sighs, licking around his mouth to clean anything left behind.

You haul your head up, rolling your eyes; Suguru still anchored between your legs. "Better safe than so-" You suddenly shriek, Suguru flipping you over on your stomach— rising your skirt up and giving your ass a spank.

He yanks your thong down, grabbing you by the waist— Suguru keenly pulls his cock out of his pants, his hand pressing down on the flat of your back.

"You couldn't wait until we got home?" you teased, your mischievous behavior set straight by the time Suguru slid himself in.

Hands grabbing at the sand, his hips rock into you at a brutal pace; your ass ripping against his pelvis. Suguru was practically fucking you into the ground; your body wanting to give up at times, but he decides to place his hand below your abdomen, pressing down and supporting you at the same time.

"Oh f-fuck," you whimpered, overstimulated by the additional pleasure his cock was giving you. Suguru places hands on either side of your waist, technically fucking you back onto his girthy cock. He was pussy whipped.

"You feel how deep I am?" he grunts, your eyes rolling to the back of your head; your chin falling flat onto the towel.

A spank lands on the surface of your ass; Suguru pulling you against his chest by the scalp. "Answer me," he whispers into your ear, the sound of skin slapping blending in with the sounds of the beach.

"T-too deep," you choke out, Suguru leaning more backwards; his cock fucking up into you now. His hands roam all over your chest, squeezing away at your tits as he postponed into your overstimulated hole.

You reach behind to lock your arm around his nape, Suguru placing kisses on your jaw, his movements becoming slow, but still rough.

"I'm gonna cum again.." breathless, your words come out in a mutter; Suguru's method of fucking turning into more relaxed, passionate love making.

He purrs into your ear, hands reaching down to trace shapes on your clit yet again. "You need to cum?" his tone warm, and gentle; "..do it baby, come on,"

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, dazed; no longer taking into account the environment around you. Exhausted, you shudder for the second time; Suguru enticingly mumbling sweet nothings into your ear.

"That's it.." he pants heavily against your skin, "..Let it all out for me," followed by his seed filling you up entirely; your boyfriend whimpers at his own overwhelming orgasm.

Suguru keeps you in his embrace, cock still lodged into your hole. Placing a few more kisses down your back, his hands snake down your sides; length slipping out of your used hole.

You look behind you, eyes widening as you saw the tides getting closer; soaking almost the corner of the towel.

"..Suguru, we need to go!" you clamour, swiftly grabbing your thong off the ground, Suguru yelling as he reached for your picnic gear, and shoes.

Sukuna Ryomen - "Take a photo so it lasts"

It had finally come, the day your boyfriend had eagerly been waiting for.

Why? After long, restless days of Sukuna begging to make a sex tape, the two of you had agreed to exclusively do it on Valentine's Day. And you promised. It was a mutual disclosure, that the tape would only be for your own eyes to see.

Without even realising, February 14th had finally come upon you, Sukuna even providing a fresh, new lingerie set; on him. You both had even rented out a luxury hotel, just to be extra.

"You ready to come out?" Sukuna yells from the bedroom, meanwhile you were adding a few finishing touches to your look in the bathroom. His hands were fiddling away with the camera, making sure it was good to go.

You step out of the bathroom, his camera immediately panning to you; a free hand palming himself through his boxers. Giving the camera a twirl, his cock leaks at the sight of you in the sheer babydoll dress he bought; no bra, no panties. Just your nipples peeking through the material.

A low, throaty groan comes from his throat; watching as you came closer to the edge of the bed. "Crawl to me baby," he orders, in which you obey, Sukuna smiling behind the camera as you slowly, made your way closer to him.

Stopping at his feet, you kneel, fondling with your breasts through the sheer material; Sukuna patting at his lap for you to take a seat.

You do as he says, your bare pussy rubbing against his rock hard bulge, causing moving your hips slowly. Sukuna focuses the lens on your upper half, his fingers tugging at the neckline of your dress; tits spilling out immediately.

"Fuck, those tits," Sukuna curses, turning the camera around as he latches his mouth onto your nipple; tongue swirling around the bud. You moan, raking your hands through his coral ends; hips moving faster against him.

Sucking until they go numb, his warm mouth leaves your chest; Sukuna postioning the camera on the nightstand next to the bed. He eagerly diverts his attention back to you, lips needily locking onto each other; his large hands squeezing at the plump of your ass.

Giving it a light spank, you squeal, playing with the hem of his briefs; yearning for his cock to come out. His hand grips onto your wrist, stopping your actions. "Don't rush," he whispered, holding onto your waist to flip you around; completely bending you over.

The camera perfectly captures your bare pussy on display— Sukuna spreading your two cheeks; his tongue gliding through your folds, up to your asshole.

You shriek, breaking out into a moan, the feeling of his hot tongue against your ass tickling you. "S-Sukuna!" you whine at the foreign feeling, his hand drawing back and striking your left cheek; a red imprint stays behind.

He flips you around effortlessly again, Sukuna grabbing the camera off the nightstand; holding it in one hand as he watched you eagerly yank down his briefs.

"Look at this slut," he focuses the camera on your face, your hands reaching immediately for his cock. His degrading words amplifying the arousal between your legs.

Taking his length into your hands, you lick at his tip gently, eyes peering into the camera. One hand incessantly travels up and down his shaft, your mouth stuffed with his big cock.

Spit bubbles form at his tip, the rest dribbling down towards his balls. "Shit.." he moaned, his free hand clawing at your scalp, hips bucking into your mouth like a cock sleeve, your head bobbing up and down.

Tears blur your vision, needing a bit of air you squeeze your eyes shut, sucking an outrageous amount of air through your nose. He firmly pulls you off his cock, his length twitching at your helpless gasping; Sukuna giving your cheek a slap.

"Look at the camera baby," he grabs you by the hair again, properly placing your face in the frame. "Show the camera how cock drunk you are, and I didn't even put it in yet."

A sinister smile spreads across his face, Sukuna letting go of you completely as he falls back against the pillows, head resting on the headboard. "Come on," he jerks his red, aching cock, menacingly slow. "Since you want it so bad, come sit on it," Sukuna sways his cock side to side with his fingers, camera glued on you as you scrambled onto his lap.

He places the camera back on the nightstand, watching as you use your hands attempt to line his cock up with your needy hole. Pussy hovering over his tip, Sukuna impatiently sinks you down on him completely, wails escaping your mouth from how girthy he was.

Your hands claw at his bare chest, laying just atop his inked markings. "Move those hips baby," he purred, grunts laced with gratification as you began to bounce on his cock.

"Just like that," he hissed, reaching to play with your breasts; your hand resting on his thigh behind you as he stuffed you full of his cock.

Every inch of him you managed to take. "You can do better than that," he teased, taking in how breathless you immediately have gotten in just such a short duration.

"Tired already?" Sukuna points out, his tone mocking and offensive. He grabs the camera off the nightstand, bringing it behind your back, getting a better focus on his cock pushing in and out of you.

The soles of his feet place firmly on the mattress, Sukuna resorting to fucking his cock mercilessly into you at his own will. Your voice shaking from his brutal pace, his tip bullying your cervix.

"S-sukuna, p-please," you whimper, holding onto his shoulders for dear life, eyes rolling to the back of your head; fapping noises coming from below.

“Please what?” Unsatisfied, he bucks deeply into you once, before transitioning you into a mean mating press, Sukuna placing the camera behind him to get a good shot of his cock drilling into you. “Don’t you tap out,”

He pistons his girth into your squelching, tight hole at an inhumane pace, your cries echoing throughout the hotel room. "Take this fucking cock baby, fuck- you feel so good 'round me."

His heavy balls endlessly slap against your asshole, manicured nails scraping against the skin of his back; leaving trails of crimson behind.

Sukuna growls at the feeling of you clenching around him, the bed creaking like crazy as you took him whole. His hands took a hold of your ankles as he pulled away from you, his cock entirely slipping out of your throbbing hole, and this time, he puts it into your ass.

You cry out loud; loud enough for the entire hotel floor to hear, "Ngh-, too big," your hand immediately slapping over your mouth to suppress any other noise. Sukuna found it difficult to thrust into your tight ass, his movements becoming slow, but deep.

Hips rolling into you passionately, he takes the camera behind him, gesturing you to hold it yourself. “Here, take this,”

With shaky hands, you reach for the camera, doing your best to focus on him fucking into you; from your view. His thumb grazes over your bundle of nerves, legs now on either of his toned shoulders. Sukuna kisses on your calf, before dropping an orb of spit onto his length, allowing it to be more easier for him to fuck into your asshole.

Pace momentarily speeding up, your body begins to jolt back and forth against the sheets; finding it difficult to keep holding the camera, beads of sweat dripping down his pecs, abs flexing with each thrust he forces into you.

The lens takes in how his cock disappears in and out of you, yourself faintly moaning at the sight. His hard cock stretching your asshole out, he sighs, increasing the speed of his movements again. Sukuna steals the camera from your possession, doing a close up on your two holes, one being fully stuffed with his cock.

His length glistening from the natural lubricant in your ass, he purrs out a grunt, "Where'd you want me to cum baby?" entranced by your holes sucking him in, he still was able to process your slurred words from below.

"A-anywhere.. your cock- it feels so good," you babble, your forearm covering your eyes as you began to sob; Sukuna quick enough to peel your hands away from your face.

He sucks some air through his teeth, swiftly pulling his cock out from your ass, letting his hot load out just over your folds; gliding his tip up and down to distribute the white evenly, using his cum as a lubricant to tease his cock back into your ass. “Stretched this cock whores holes out completely,” he shared with the camera footage, “Only I could do all that.”

Your feet gently kicks at his chest, doing him no harm— Sukuna’s cock resting heavily over your bare pussy, before he pans the camera at your blushing face for the last time.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me, happy valentine's!🎀🩷

[luvwestwood masterlist]

#jjk smut #choso smut #toji smut #gojo satoru smut #nanami smut #suguru smut #sukuna ryomen smut #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #gojo satoru x reader #suguru geto x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto smut #suguru geto smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #choso kamo #geto suguru #gojo satoru #nanami kento #gojo smut #kento nanami x reader

[animeshotsh]

Control | Various x Overlord!Makima!Reader

Notes: Reader has the same powers as Makima from Chainsaw Man. Im leaving a link here in case you want to read about them in deep detail.

Warnings: HH violence - Cursing - Blood -

When a soul falls down to hell no one takes notice of it. You were lowkey thankful for it, your clothes the same ones as the one you had died were dity with mud and blood. Your white shirt was ruined, your black coat had holes on it.

Thats a magnificent disaster

You never expected you would be stabed in the back by one coworker, and that would be the cause of your death. But your greed was big and so was theirs so you were sure you were going to meet them down here soon.

As impressive as this was you were not under panic, maybe having to watch your back 24/7 when you were alive had helped to it.

In that dark alley you stood considering your choices when a small creature with horns appear, it showed a knife at you and jumped.

You moved your head to the side "is this a demon?" You wondered swiftly avoiding its attack. Then like instinct you raised your arm, your fingers like a gun, pointing at the demon.

"Bam" you whispered and soon the chest of the demon exploted. You looked at your fingers then at the corpse a few meters away a sadistic smile forming.

"I wonder what more I can do"

~☆~☆~☆~☆

In no time you got a name for yourself, The Control Demon. A Demon who could force others to make contracts with them, a demon who could use the power of the demons who they had a contract with.

Manipulation was your middle name. Overlords respected you and some feared you.

~☆~~☆~☆~☆

Carmilla was always wary around you, knowing your power. Her angel weapons were in reach whenever you attended a meeting. She could see behind that fake smile and eyes.

~☆~☆~☆

Zestial was amazed by your power. He knew he was strong and heavens you were stronger. He would start conversations with you only to try and get on your good side.

~☆~☆~☆

Rosie loved you, she knew you could put all the cannibal town against her but that was just amazing in her eyes, not to say, you using other overlord powers was something to enjoy.

Something she got to know was that you could force a sinner to say a name and by moving your hand that one named would explote.

~☆~☆~☆

Alastor was...well he was interested. He wanted to know if you could get him out of his own contact but then again for that he would have to confess that he had a leash on. Something he did not want to do at all.

~☆~☆~☆~

When Charlie first meet you she was...scared. Listening to your name being told and the stories....but she was sure something good was in everybody so of course she opened her hotel doors for you. Even if you were only there to see the place.

~☆~☆~☆

Vaggie straight up hated you. If Alastor was a pest then you were worse. She did not want nothing to do with you. But she also knew she was no competition against you. Specially after seeing your spiral eyes as you moved away her weapon.

"Please, at least learn how to proper use it, angel"

~☆~☆~☆~

Lucifer was charmed!!

Yes the king of hell fell for your sweet words and compliments like a young fella.

"Your majesty its a pleassure to meet the one who rules in here" You said bowing towards the short king who was suprised by your polite self.

You ended showing him the place after Alastor killed the other sinners and told him sweet nothings about hell and him. How you always have wanted to meet him (no). And he ate all up.

That night Lucifer ended on his bed blushing hard thinking about you.

~☆~☆~☆

Vox had tried to follow you only to end with a panic attack as he saw your spiral eyes staring back at him from one monitor.

"Its not polite to spy you know"

And now Vox has nightmares of you.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #vox x reader #carmilla x reader #zestial x reader

[notjustjavierpena]

Tension

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Back in November, I posted a fic where @nerdieforpedro wrote a comment in their tags that said ‘I need you to crack my back, sir’. This is stupid but it stuck with me, so here you go. I suppose it’s also my own way of saying that I see everything you all write about my stuff. I love y’all.

Summary: Your husband cracks your back when you come home from work. Also, you are trying for a baby.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, back-cracking, massages, a good girl, fingering, dirty talk, hard and fast piv sex, javier whimpering is its own warning, clit stim, breeding kink, creampie, they’re in loooove

Word count: 2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54705589

Tension

You drag yourself into the living room where Javier is currently napping on the couch, arms crossed over his chest and chin pointing downward. He looks peaceful but the tension in your back is enough to disturb him from his slumber and not feel bad about it.

You bend down over him, gently shaking him.

“Javi,” you call softly. It takes you three tries before he stirs, opening his eyes with a little confusion as he tries to figure out where he is. 

“What is it, baby?” His voice is slightly raspy from sleep. You smile apologetically.

“I need you to crack my back,” you say. 

You don’t know how it happened but it feels like something is pinched, probably from an awkward position during the night or even during other activities. You have tried to relieve the tension all day by twisting your body from side to side but to no avail.

“What?” He grabs the back of the couch to pull himself into a sitting position. You take a step back.

“I think something’s… I don’t know, it’s just so frustrating. I’m tense as hell,” you explain, turning your back to him to try and point to the spot that’s been aching since you got into work in the morning, “It’s right here. Between the shoulder blades.”

“Right,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, inhales deeply, and breaks into a yawn, “Take your top off and lie down on the floor.”

You do as he says, smiling a little to yourself as you hear the groan that he makes when getting up from the couch. Perhaps you should return the favor. You lay down on the floorboards of the apartment, flat on your stomach, face turning to the side, and your arms along your sides. 

Another grunt is heard as Javier gets down on the ground with you. He places a knee on either side of your thighs, hovering above your legs, and then he takes a hold of the hem of your pants, “Okay if I pull them down a bit? Then I can do the whole spine.”

“Go ahead.”

Javier yanks down your bottoms, turning them into something that resembles low-rise style. He then heats up his hands by rubbing them together, “How rough can I be?”

“Can’t believe we’re doing something that requires you to ask that and it isn’t sex,” you wiggle your hips a bit but then wince as pain shoots through your body again.

“Answer the fucking question,” he says with a roll of his eyes, smiling but impatient.

“Don’t hold back.”

Javier’s now-warm palms settle on your back. You sigh softly at the feeling of him touching your skin so carefully, treating you like something delicate until you feel him place one hand on top of his other to center the pressure right between your shoulders. He pushes down and you exhale sharply.

Crack.

You moan in relief. Endorphins flood your system. 

“That was so nice, baby,” you praise, “Thank you.”

“I’m not done,” Javier kisses you right where he has just relieved the tension. Then he moves down and does it again.

Another crack is heard. You curl your toes, eyes fluttering closed as another wave of feel-good hormones begins to flow through your system. 

“Good girl,” Javier compliments, and you don’t have to ask if he is smirking because it’s evident from the tone of his voice as he sees the shiver that creeps up your neck, “More?”

“Please.”

So he does it again.

And again.

And again.

Until you feel like putty underneath his touch. You want to say something but with each skim of his fingers, each rough push of his entire body’s weight, you only manage to groan in pleasure. 

Above you, Javier has gone quiet but his breathing has turned more erratic. He has switched from cracking your back to massaging your sore muscles instead, kneading along your sides whilst you reward him with small sighs and moans of satisfaction as well as gratitude. 

You shiver as he presses his thumbs into the place where your neck meets your shoulders, holding it for a while before dragging his whole palms outwards. It feels good, almost like an embrace.

He repeats the move until you feel sweat starting to break out on your skin from how warm his hands are. A moan escapes your mouth, the same kind that you usually make when he kisses your neck. 

“You like that?” He asks in a tone that you know too well. You nod. He does it again but goes closer to your neck this time, fingers skimming along your pulse point.

Something in the atmosphere shifts after that. 

Soon, he descends on your body, going achingly slow as he searches out his goal. He ends up digging two thumbs into the very top of your ass. He isn’t downright groping you but there’s a hesitation each time he pushes into the plump flesh there. Teasingly, you push up into his hands.

“You’re so sexy like this,” he mutters and you can hear him move on the floor, crawling backward so he can kiss the small of your back when he leans down. 

“With a sore back?” You snort to hide how excited this is making you, a dull ache settling between your thighs.

“In any way,” he clarifies. He doesn’t even hesitate when he starts pulling down both your pants and your underwear, and you don’t protest but instead lift your hips to help him yank them down until they sit around your ankles. 

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he dips a finger inside of you, pushing down towards your stomach to make you squirm on the floor. You whimper. He makes a come-hither motion to rub against your g-spot and you immediately move your arms forward to grab at the ground. Your cunt squelches and Javier swears again, “You’re soaked.”

“Of course, I am, was so fucking good the way you were touching me, and… I’m like a damn clock with being wet for you when I ovulate,” you moan, pushing back against his hand. He groans at the realization of what time of the month it is. He gets to put a baby in you.

His fingers work you open, teasing you towards an orgasm by doing exactly what he knows gets you there quickly. The sounds of your wetness are obscene, only getting more lewd when you come right there on the floor with your pants around your thighs. 

“Baby, shit, more,” you pant with a desperate whine, clenching around Javier’s digits as they continue rubbing against your front wall even though your orgasm has long subsided. He doesn’t relent but you don’t mind, relishing in the pressure inside of your cunt. It’s good but it’s not his cock, “Fuck me, baby. Please, I— I need you in me.”

You hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone and then the shuffle of denim being pulled down. You look over your shoulder to find him with his jeans sitting around his knees, too desperate himself to get fully undressed. 

“Eyes forward,” he commands you and ignores his own desire until you do as you are told. You hold onto the floorboards with flat hands, only spreading your legs slightly to make him as tight a fit inside of you as possible. 

His whole weight crushes you so heavenly in the next moment, and his generous length sheaths itself in the warm embrace of your soaked walls with ease until he bottoms out. Your face screws up with the intensity especially because he leans down over you to groan hotly into your ear. 

“Love this little pussy,” he moans as you both adjust to being connected like this. He rests a forearm beside your head, biting into your shoulder and soothing the mark with his wet tongue. It drives you insane that he is not moving inside of you yet, and he seems to know with how he taunts you, “Want me to fuck her silly?”

“Javi,” you whimper and nod frantically, “I’ll come so good for you, milk your big cock with my pussy. Please, baby.” 

“I bet you will, mi chica sucía (my dirty girl),” he answers before giving you exactly what you want; the first roll of his hips makes your mind go blank, even moreso when he starts fucking you into the floor like an animal. 

His legs frame yours, his pelvis crashes into the plump flesh of your ass with a dirty smack each time, and he is burning hot against your back. You won’t last long with him reaching so deep inside of you, the thick head of his stiff cock sliding over your g-spot like his fingers had earlier. Each nudge makes your cunt suck him further in, and he starts panting above you with the effort he puts into fucking you. It doesn’t even occur to you that your knees are aching when he has you like this. 

“Please,” you beg without exactly knowing what you want from him; everything he is giving you has you dizzy with lust. You tense up as your orgasm approaches with rapid motions, and he goes even harder now that you don’t fly forwards with the slamming of his body into yours, “Gonna come— I’m… oh, I’m coming, fuck, baby, I’m coming!”

“I can feel you,” he growls and barely moves inside of you anymore, having replaced it with grinding against you to not miss a single pulse of your spasming, peaking cunt. You writhe underneath him, and he treats you to a messy kiss as one of his hands comes up to cup your chin so he can turn your head. 

“Come in me, please, baby, need your babies in me,” you cry against his mouth with furrowed eyebrows. He whimpers at your request, faltering in his rhythm for the first time since he started fucking you. 

“I’ll make you come so hard again, mi amor (my love), want you to spasm around my dick,” he stutters a bit when he speaks. The hand on your chin slips down your body and then underneath it too, his flat palm against your pelvis until he presses up into it to angle your hips. You stay in this new position, back arched to perfection - dopamine in your body making you forget the ache - so he can stab at your g-spot and follow it up by rubbing your needy clit with no buildup. 

The neighbors are bound to hear you screaming as you come again a minute later. The clenching shocks of pleasure are mind-altering and enough for Javier to finish alongside you, spreading his warm seed inside of you with a desperate groan. 

You both collapse with him still buried in you. Your clothes are sticky with how much you have sweated, your knees ache with reality slowly coming back, and your body feels warm and sated despite it all. 

“Let’s just lie here for a while,” you say and reach behind you to grab at him as he starts to remove himself from you, “I think this was it. I know it sounds stupid but—“

“Nothing you say sounds stupid, mi amor (my love),” he still breathes hard, brushing your hair away to kiss your neck, “Love making babies with you.” 

You make a noise of agreement. Then you rest your cheek against the floor whilst he nibbles on your neck, humming softly at the feeling of it combined with the lingering pressure of him in your cunt when he finally slips out. 

“Te quiero tanto (I love you so much),” you say with closed eyes and a satisfied smile. 

“Love you too, baby,” he says back and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javi p #javi peña #javi pena #javier peña #javier pena one shot #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena fluff #javi pena x you #javi pena x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #my writing #husband!javi #narcos fanfiction #narcos

[aothotties]

Sneaky Link w/ Onyankopon

Warnings: MDNI, Public sex, mirror sex, multiple orgasms, squirting.

Wprd Count: 822

_______

Ony has played soccer for as long as he could remember. Soccer is his safe haven, it’s how he met his teammates and best friends.

It’s also how he met you, his pretty little thing. 

One day during his off season you came to one of their practices with your cousin, Connie’s sister. Onyakopon immediately caught your attention and once you set your eye on something you always seem to get it. 

“Ay Connie!” You call your cousin over and lean against the railing to talk to him.

“Introduce me to your friend over there.” You smile as you lock eyes with the man in question.

“Absolutely not, try again.” He says and you roll your eyes. 

“I’ll give you the information to the girl who does my tattoos damn!” You cross your arms over your chest and he smiles proudly. 

“He’ll be over at the end of practice, thank you prima!” He skips off like the dumb ass he is and you sit back on the bleachers.

And he was right, by the end of the game Ony came up to you and introduced himself to you, lord his smile could light up a damn room. 

“So you’re Connie’s cousin? Are you here to stay or just visiting?” He asks before taking a drink of water.

“I’m visiting for a few weeks, I’m flying back home in a month.” You stand closer to him and he nods his head.

“You should come to this kickback tonight, me and the boys will be there.” He takes your phone and puts his information in it. 

You make sure to graze your fingers over his as you take it back from him with a smile.

“As long as you’re there, then I’m there.” You kiss his cheek and walk off. 

You catch him at the party later that night and can’t help but bite your lip at the sight of him in something beside his uniform.

“Aren’t you stylish? He chuckles and shrugs his shoulders slyly.

“What can I say, I’m smooth on and off the field.” He leans against a counter and sips his drink.

“Is that so?” You tilt your head and he raises an eyebrow in return.

“You want to find out?”

That’s the last thing you remember before you ended up where you are currently. His large hand slapped over your mouth as you cream sll over his thich shaft.

“P-papa, you feel so good!” You moan out into the bathroom you both ran into.

“I know baby girl, you take me so good.” He smooths his hand up your back and into your hair, grabbing it in his hand. You come around him without a warning at the feelings of his hand in your hair.

“Shit girl! I got you cumming like that?” He grins, you whimper and nod in response. He grabs your hips and pounds into your pussy faster.

Wet squelching noises fill up the bathroom, if the music were to shut off you two would be so screwed. That’s the last thing on y’alls mind as Ony’s thick tip nudges your g-spot. 

“Look at you, such a nasty fucking slut.” He forces you to watch him fuck you in the mirror, you clench around him tightly and grip the counter.

“Y-yes, ‘m so nasty papi!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head in ecstasy, his big ball slap against your clit.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you again and you bite your fist as another orgasm rips through you. You whine as his hips never lose speed and continue tapping your g-spot. 

“I want you to squirt for me, we’re not leaving until you do.” He slowly trails a hand to your clit and you squeeze your eyes shut at the command.

“O-ony I c-can’t.” You bite down on you lip at the mixture of pain and pleasure you’re feeling. 

You swear you can feel him tapping your cervix, but you only want him to go further. You’re up on your tip toes as he continues drilling in and out of you, loving the mess you make on his pelvis and thighs.

“We gotta make this month worth your stay mami.” He leans down and whispers in your ear, locking eyes with you in the mirror.

He bites down on your neck and at that same moment you squeeze around his cock for the final time and come hard. You scream into your hand as you release splashes against his thighs and the floor.

“Oh fuck.” He groans loudly. Pulling out quickly before stroking himself and finishing on your lower back.

“Damn baby, what can I do to get you to stay here forever?” He asks, somewhat playfully but also in all seriousness. 

You chuckle at the question and he begins to clean you up with some toilet paper nearby.

“You keep fucking me like that and I’ll take it into consideration.” 

“Deal.”

Ari

#aot smut #aot x black reader #aot scenarios #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot x female reader #aot x black y/n #onyankopon x black y/n #ony x black reader

[slut4thebroken]

Needs

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary | Tommy’s been so busy with work that he’s been neglecting your needs… So you come up with a plan to finally get some attention.

Warnings | Smut, semi public sex, rough sex, spanking, creampie, degradation, humiliation, praise, brat taming, gunplay, established relationship.

Words | 2.3 k

Notes | I feel like I still don’t really have his characterization down tbh :/ oh well😭

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Smut prompts 4. "what would they think if they saw you right now?" 36. “You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don’t push your luck.” 48. “no panties. you need me that bad?” 50. “i bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. we’ll see how cute you look later when i get you home” 52. “you keep acting like a brat and i’ll take you over my knee right here. i don’t care how many people are watching” 75. "You wanted this. You can take it."

This definitely was not your proudest moment… but you’re pent up and Tommy has been too busy to take care of you for almost two weeks now. You’re desperately craving some rough, hard fucking. And you know exactly how to get it.  

Placing your hand on the man’s bicep, you laughed along with his “joke” and glanced at Tommy from across the room. He still hadn’t noticed you yet and you prayed he would soon because you’ve never met a man more bland and boring than the one in front of you. He’s also either completely stupid, or just doesn’t know that you’re with Tommy since he’s openly flirting with you. 

“You know, you truly are very beautiful.” He said, the joking tone now completely gone. 

“Oh- thank you..” You smiled, trying not to cringe. 

“May I dance with you?” You glanced at Tommy again— still nothing. 

“Sure.” He led you over to the center of the room and grabbed your hand, placing his other hand on your back, far too low. He started up another conversation and all you could do was nod or hum in agreement, too focused on looking at Tommy every chance you had. 

When you finally, finally met his gaze.. you immediately recognized his expression. You forced your eyes back on the man in front of you and smiled, trusting that Tommy would be over here any second now. 

“Hello, darling.” You stopped and tried not to smirk as you turned around. Tommy was looking between you and the man who quickly let go of you and stepped back. 

“Mr. Shelby.” He greeted, giving an awkward smile. He looked between the two of you and seemed to suddenly understand the situation. His smile slowly dropped as he took another step back. “I- I’m going to..” 

“Yeah, you do that.” Tommy sneered, waiting until the man scurried away before turning to you. He didn’t bother asking before grabbing your hand and pulling you into him by your lower back. 

“I bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you…” He murmured, making you smile a little. “We’ll see how cute you look later when we’re home.”

“We were just dancing.” You said, in a tone that implied that you weren’t just dancing. 

“Right.” He scoffed. 

“There’s no need to get insecure, Tommy.” You said innocently, watching as his cheeks tensed when he clenched his jaw. His piercing blue eyes practically stared through you and if it were anyone else, they would’ve backed down immediately. 

“You keep acting like a brat and I'll take you over my knee right here. I don’t care how many people are watching.” He spoke in a low, menacing voice, making your stomach flutter. 

“Really? You’re not too busy for that?” You snarked and his expression shifted into one of realization, then amusement.

“Is that what this is about? My girl is a bit needy so she turns into a whore?” As soon as he started teasing, you knew you had to do more for this plan to actually work. 

“Screw you.” You spat, pushing him back by his chest. His eyes darkened and without paying any attention to the people who were now watching this encounter, he grabbed your wrist and started dragging you somewhere. “Let go!” You tried yanking yourself free, but his grip wouldn’t budge. He pulled you through a few hallways until you reached the kitchen, then shoved you into the room and slammed the door shut. 

“Quit it. I won’t tell you again.” He warned. 

“I didn’t even do anything! You’re the one who made a scene and dragged me away from the party.” 

“Oh, I made a scene?” He chuckled and you clenched your jaw, letting out a heavy breath through your nose. “Does no cock for less than two weeks really turn you into a complete brat?” He was still so fucking amused, so you shoved his chest again. He suddenly gripped your neck and pushed you back a few steps until you hit the counter. “I said quit it.” He growled, tightening his grip on your neck. 

“Fucking make me, Thomas.” You spat, purposefully using his full name. 

“You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter right now… Don’t push your luck.” 

“Oh, are you? Do you even have time for that?” You don’t think you’ve ever sounded more bratty before in your life. 

“Fine. You want to be fucked?” He quickly spun you around and pushed your chest down onto the counter, then bunched your dress up, letting it rest on your back. “Really, no panties? You need it that bad?” He snickered, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You don’t regret your decision to go without them though. 

The sound of clothes rustling as he opened his pants had you squeezing your thighs together, eager for what was to come. Without any warning he fully sheathed himself inside you, making you cry out and scramble for purchase on the counter. 

“Fuck! Tommy— what the hell?” He didn’t even give you a second to adjust before starting a brutal pace. Grabbing your hips tight enough to bruise, he bucked into you wildly with little care for your own pleasure. But for some pathetic reason that only made all of this hotter. “God- Tommy, slow down.” You whined, trying to squirm away. 

“You wanted this. You can take it." He gruffed, letting out quiet grunts now. Honestly, you’ve been a little horny since the moment you decided not to wear any underwear, but it’s been longer than usual since he’s been inside you and he didn’t do anything else to prep you, so the stretch burned a little. It was quickly turning into overwhelming pleasure though. When you reached a hand down to rub your clit, he twisted your arm behind your back almost painfully. 

“Brats don’t get to touch. You’ll be lucky if I decide to let you come at all.” You cursed under your breath and closed your eyes, only getting more worked up by his words and the way he said them. 

“Fine. When we’re done, we’ll go back out there and I’ll tell everyone about how Tommy Shelby can’t make a girl come.” You snarked. He pulled out with a low growl, making you smirk a little. You watched him walk across the kitchen, opening and closing drawers quickly. When he picked up a wooden spoon and started walking back over, you smirk dropped and you lifted yourself off the counter. “Tommy… Not here.” You warned, stepping away from him when he approached. 

“Get the fuck over the counter or I’ll make you.” When you didn’t move, he unholstered his gun and pointed it at you lazily. “Now.” Your eyes widened and you swallowed thickly, glancing between the weapon, the spoon, and his face. Even though you knew he’d never actually shoot you, the fear was still there. So you tentatively walked back over and leaned on the counter again. He lifted your dress, then immediately resumed fucking you, dragging the spoon over your ass to make you tense up. 

“I have responsibilities other than satisfying your needs.” He started, placing a firm smack on your ass with the spoon, making you curse loudly. “I run a business,” another smack, this one even harder, “I have a family…” The third hit brought tears to your eyes. “You are not my only priority, you understand?” You whimpered at the fourth smack, but even through all of this, he never stopped fucking you. 

“Answer me.” He growled, and this hit forced a choked sob out of you. 

“Yes! I- I understand.” You cried, clinging to the counter to ground yourself a little. 

“Your libido is inconsequential,” He continued, landing another hit on your already burning ass, “and I will not tolerate my woman acting like a whore because of it.” 

“Tommy..” You whimpered pathetically. 

“Do you have anything you want to say for yourself?” He spanked you twice in quick succession and you let your head fall onto the counter as a tear finally escaped your waterline. 

“I’m sorry!” You sobbed out, only crying harder when he hit you again. 

“Try again.” 

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” You whimpered. 

“Last fucking chance.” He spat, spanking you again. 

“I’m sorry for… acting like a whore.” You choked out and he landed one more hit on each cheek before dropping the spoon onto the counter. 

“There you go.” He cooed, rapidly snapping his hips into you, adding more pain to your already burning ass. “What would they think if they saw you right now?" He asked amusedly and you whined as your cheeks heated up. “Bent over some random rich asshole’s kitchen counter, getting spanked and fucked stupid…” 

“Tommy…” You whimpered, voice barely audible. Your hips were digging into the edge of the counter painfully and your legs were trembling from the intensity of the pain and pleasure. With each thrust, his balls were smacking your clit, teasing you with the slightest amount of touch where you really needed it. 

“From now on, when this cunt is needy, you come to me before whoring yourself around, got it?” You nodded desperately, feeling so close to pleasure that was just out of reach. 

“Yes— yes.” You choked out. “Please, Tommy, I can’t take this.” Your voice was a weak whimper and you hoped it’d be enough to get him to cave. 

“Do you need to come, darling?” He cooed mockingly, making you frown a little. 

“Yes! Please make me come,” 

“You can come. But you’re not using your hands.” He said cruelly. 

“Tommy, please..” You whined, needing more. You knew he wouldn’t give it to you though. 

“Better hurry too cause I’m getting close.” He chuckled quietly, obviously enjoying your suffering. 

“I can’t! Please!” You can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve been able to come from penetration alone. 

“Do you need help, my love?” He asked softly, voice contrasting his actions as he fisted your hair and yanked your body up until your back was against his chest. The cold barrel of his gun dragged down your cheek, making you stiffen and close your eyes with a strangled whimper. “Is this better?” You let out a choked sob even though, yes, it was helping you get closer to the edge. “You’re trembling… Like a little lamb.” He murmured against your ear, sounding uncharacteristically endeared. 

“Tommy..” You whispered, unconsciously flinching away from the gun. 

“Are you scared?” He whispered back and you just barely nodded in response. “Good girl. I like you like this.” He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek and you mewled, feeling your orgasm barreling toward you. He never stopped thrusting, but based on his breathing and the quiet sounds he was making, you knew he was close. Which meant that if you wanted to come, you had to do it now. His lips moved down to your neck and began kissing and licking the sensitive skin, occasionally sucking it into his mouth to leave a mark. 

“Come on, love. Drench my fucking cock, I know you can do it.” The gun brushed over your trembling lips teasingly. “This cunt isn't useful to me if it can’t come.” The degrading words forced a strangled moan out of you. When he cocked the gun, your body immediately went completely rigid. “If it’s not useful, then I don’t need it...” He said coyly and you whimpered in response, feeling so incredibly close to release. 

“So be a good toy and let that cunt show me why I should keep you around.” That was all you needed to finally fall over the edge. You sobbed out a moan and your whole body tensed up, then started almost shaking as all of the tension was finally released. This was your first orgasm in almost two weeks and it had you struggling to breathe properly and keep yourself up with the way your legs were beginning to feel like jelly. 

“Good girl.. I got you.” He cooed, holding you in his arms but never faltering in the movements of his hips. “Let it all out, darling.” 

“Tommy.” You whimpered through all of the moaning. 

“I know. I know, love.” He whispered, holding you tightly. “Ready for my come?” His words made another strong wave of pleasure roll through you and you were mumbling out incoherent pleas before you could stop yourself. You probably missed the feeling of him coming inside you the most out of everything. 

Without another word, his hips stuttered, then he bottomed out, pushing you almost painfully into the edge of the counter with a low groan. You whined at the faint feeling of his cock twitching inside you as he painted your walls with his come. He was grunting quietly, his breathing growing ragged and fanning your neck, getting you worked up again. But he was done far too soon. 

Panting quietly, he set his gun down on the counter, then kissed the crook of your neck, filling your stomach with butterflies. You loved his soft moments like this, especially after how rough and mean he was being. 

“Good girl…” He whispered. “So good for me.” Your cheeks heated up at the praise. 

“Don’t let me go, I’ll fall.” You warned quietly and he released of soft chuckle in response. 

“Lean over the counter, darling.” He murmured, giving one last kiss on your neck before letting you lean back down, resting most of your weight on it. He dragged out slowly, making both of you hiss at the sensitivity. “Fuck… I missed seeing this.” He groaned, enjoying the sight of your walls wrapped around his length. 

You whimpered in pain when he grabbed your sore ass and pulled you open to get a better view of your fluttering holes and his come leaking out. At the first sight of it though, he kicked your legs together, making it drip down your thighs instead. 

“Tommy...” You whined and he gave a teasing slap to your ass as he let out a half hearted chuckle, then pulled your dress back down. 

“Try not to leak all over the floor, love. I’m not sure how you’ll be able to explain that.” 

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @theoraekenslover @kaorisakamotofan @scorpiussage @naevisct @jimmywoosimp @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @monsterfromthewoods @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @milktert @nyxxie.pooh @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @milkytomura @bigbossbabysworld @sheisthedxrkness @ll4n4 @olivialveshbc @feyresqueen @charlottegemyngende @ffionspreach @drcranessweetestdoe @goblinjnr @1nterstellarcha0s @mothhball @anonwrtr @venustusjuliet8 @literishdegree99 @hanawrites404

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby

[brett-is-afraid]

Do you know anything but the Wilbur allegations? I just saw somethings on Twitter and Wilbur also responded

Yeah. So, here's a rundown of the situation so far for anyone who might've missed it or might not know. Each link is going to include a specific timestamp for what was said. TW for detailed abuse

Shubble went live (she begins talking about it at 3:38) and talked about abuse she had experienced from another creator. She talked about how her silence was "only keeping someone else's peace" so she opened up about it.

She specifically did not name any names and stated she was talking about it to help avoid someone else being in the same situation.

She says that in the beginning, he had expressed that he had a tendency to bite and that he'd made sure she was okay with that because he "didn't want her to come back later and say he abused her." And that she had agreed because he had never hurt her, but it had become more often that he bit too hard and hurt her. But that he always seemed, "genuinely sorry" and that they would develop a safeword.

She stated that he would bite her in front of others and that she would have to laugh it off because she was embarrassed.

She specifically talked about being bitten by him and that she had communicated that it was too hard, that she did not like it. She says she was met with him blaming it on her, saying it was her pain tolerance or that she was being dramatic. She states that he would later show off the bruises to their friends and joke that it looked like he abused her. She also states that he would poke at her bruises while they hurt.

She said she had asked him to stop and he said, "this is who he is and he wasn't going to change."

She said he also would constantly contradict himself and would fight her on it sometimes, telling her that he didn't do/say certain things.

She also said he would weaponize the safeword to make sure she was hurting, ignoring their safeword and biting harder for "just a second before letting go" or grinding his teeth down and smile after.

She said she'd express her anxiety to him and he would always reassure her.

She also said she believes he lovebombed her a lot at the beginning and that he'd make really huge romantic gestures. (Calling her his soulmate and writing love letters, etc.)

She stated she'd caught him in lies before, but it had always seemed like it was small things and she didn't address it. He then lied about big things and had been caught by his friends.

She said he insisted he didn't want to break up and expected her to have solutions, but he refused to compromise. And she said he would flaunt that he'd never prioritize her over anything.

He also allegedly stated that he would never prioritize her over anything that would give him more fame and money, admitting that he'd grown to resent her and that was the final push she needed to leave.

She said when they broke up, they'd agree to be friends and that he said he could never imagine not speaking to her again. And then he never talked to her except for when she needed things back. She also said he threw away hundreds of dollars worth of her things.

She said that once, he pinned her down and had her try to get away. When she couldn't, he made that point that he was stronger and she wouldn't be able to fight him back.

She also mentioned that he lived in a really filthy place and that she felt bad for him, believing that he just didn't know how to clean and needed someone to help him. She then states that she found out he had said that he didn't bother cleaning when she wasn't there because he would just wait for her to do it (which she only found out about after they broke up).

She said she did all the cleaning, laundry, paying for all the paper towels/soap. As well as food more than half the time.

She said she also paid for all the tickets and he never offered to pay after the very beginning. She said she also told him that she couldn't afford it and that he never traveled out to see her. He then agreed to pay for the cat sitter and did it once, and never again in the next months they dated.

Shubble never confirmed it was Wilbur, but Wilbur made a statement on it which can be found on his Twitter account.

He stated that allegations had come from an ex-girlfriend and while he claimed that he did not know he was abusing her, that he thought the behavior was consensual. He claimed he had messages that he believed proved it was, but chose not to publish them "out of respect for her."

He stated he was sharing his side to offer his perspective, but not to diminish or invalidate her.

He stated he recognized she felt her and that he wanted to apologize for it, that he had begun therapy and had made changes, committing himself to earning and maintaining trust from those around him.

[Image description in alt ids]

Neither have provided any visual proof or receipts to accompany their side of the story, despite Wilbur claiming to have it. Shubble has also not released any messages that may support her claims, although she never claimed to have them.

Other content creators have spoken about it.

Tubbo said he wanted to wait until Wilbur stated his side and that his response made him angry. He stated people might think he's biased for Wilbur, but they haven't spoken in private often. He also stated the response was "fucking vile" and that Wilbur made it about him. And that people in chat don't have any place in his chat if they're defending domestic abuse and he wants them to unfollow him. That he fully supports watching Shubble for more context.

Niki also spoke about it and stated,

"I see that people expect me to say something about the situation. Truth is that I was freshly 18 years old when I met him, while I did not see a problem with it back then I can now see how harmful he was to my young self and how damaged I am from that time. my time in the uk had some of the darkest moments of my life (and I think people can tell from the way I used to act on stream) I still can’t think too much about everything that happened back then without shaking and I don’t want to, I always felt so unheard whenever I brought up any situation regarding that time. I don’t want to say more as I don’t want to make this situation about myself."

Hannah also encouraged people to support Shubble and that she avoided unfollowing Wilbur at first because she didn't want to out who her abuser. But she has now unfollowed him.

Aimsey also stated Wilbur was not canceled, he was an abuser.

Badlinu also stated he had seen Wilbur be manipulative numerous times.

Billzo also added that he'd also seen Wilbur intimidate and manipulate his friends

As far as I'm aware, that's all that's happened as of now.

Sidenote: this is not an invitation for discourse or me trying to tell anyone how they should feel/react on said situation. This is just me trying to give an objective view of what's happened, please do not start discourse on this post/blog. As always, I will not publish any negativity about any creator as that is not what this blog is for.

#shubble #wilbur soot #abuse tw #abuse mention #shubble allegations #shubble situation #wilbur soot allegations #wilbur soot situation #asks #anon #brett speaks

[mikeysw1fey]

penalty shot

request linked here

pairing: jenna ortega x female reader

warnings: none

a/n: i think i’m also gonna start writing for arcane characters (mostly sevika) , lemme know what u guys want :)

Stress doesn’t even begin to cover the amount of anxiety I feel as I stand under the stadium lights readying myself to kick a penalty goal. My team may be up by one but missing this kick could ruin my chances at moving up the league ladder. Plus it doesn’t help that football fans are never lenient when it comes to penalty goals, miss it and your basically the worst player to ever walk the field.

Taking a deep breathe I glance toward the goalie who stands crouched in the middle of the goal side stepping from side to side ready to dive. With a clench of my jaw and a last glance at my team behind me I manage to calm myself as each member nods their head in encouragement. Finally I begin to run towards the ball, grass kicking up in my wake as I lift my right leg and make contact with the ball.

The stadium is silent, watching as the ball flies through the air looking as if it’s going for top bins. My hopes are quickly squashed however as the goalie manages to get a finger to the ball causing it to fly up and over the goal and straight into first row of the crowd.

An ooh echoes around the stadium as my ball smacks a brown haired woman dead in the middle of her face. Her hands immediately flying up to her nose as she winces in pain. “Shit.” I mumble under my breath seeing the woman on the big screen, my cheeks blushing red as I notice how beautiful she happens to be.

“Dude, you just hit Jenna Ortega in the face.” My teammate Sam whispers, her eyes not leaving the big screen either. “Of course I did. I’ll be right back.” I pat her on the back before heading over towards Jenna who dabs at her nose which runs red blood all down her chin.

“Hey, no you can’t leave the field.” The ref sprints in front of me, an arm extended out before me to prevent me from getting any further. “I just need to see if she’s ok.” I plead gently pushing the refs arm.

“Only time your leaving this field before time is up will be for a red card and if u keep behaving how you are it won’t be far away.” The refs eyes narrow before he picks up his whistle and blows it loudly in my ear.

“Get back on the field.” He seethes, a vein popping on his neck. Holding my hands up in surrender I head back to the field glancing over my shoulder to find Jenna already staring at me. I send her an apologetic smile to which she raises her eyebrows with a tiny smile she tried so hard to hide.

Throughout the rest of the match I can’t help but glance over at the brown haired woman who holds a cloth to her nose yet still cheers loudly. Even with the blood running down her chin and the large cloth covering half her face, her beauty still managed to force the blood to rush to my cheeks.

Finally only two minutes remain with the score now tied. The crowd fades into background noise as I slide across the ground successfully tackling a girl from the opposite team causing her to trip over my foot as it hits the ball from between her legs. Her arms extend as she gasps, glaring at the ref as if trying to force him to give me a yellow card.

Luckily the call never comes allowing me to take the ball that rolls down the field and dribble it towards the goals. Defenders come my way pausing my play as I somehow manage to manoeuvre the ball between their legs until it is just me and the goalie once again.

Kicking hard silence falls over the stadium as my ball flies through the air. Only this time the goalie dives the opposite way allowing the back of the net to catch my ball.

The stadium erupts into cheers and applause, my name echoing across the stadium as the buzzer finally sounds ending the match. I find myself surrounded by my team mates, each one wrapping their arms around me and slapping my back in celebration of our victory but I only have eyes for one person at this time.

“Guys, guys hang on I have to do something. One minute.” I force my way out the group and head towards the crowd once again, only this time no ref stops me as I lean against the barricade where Jenna sits.

“I’m so sorry for hitting you.” I apologise instantly, gently biting my lip as she sticks her tongue out to wet her lips. “You made up for it with that last goal.” She shrugs with a small smile. “Plus it’s not broken so.” Jenna pulls the cloth away from her nose for a second as if to show me her button nose is far from damaged. “Yeah still looks perfect to me.” I flirt holding eye contact with the girl who raises an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” She fakes a pout and I let out a laugh before stepping backwards.

“Well then let me make it up to you.” I pull my jersey over my head leaving me in just a sports bra and shorts. “Got a pen? I can sign it for you too.” I chuckle as Jenna not so subtly eyes my stomach before reaching into her back pocket. “How do you even know I go for your team?” She teases watching me with a grin as I roll my eyes.

“Well the cheering and screaming of my name was a large sign.” I retort leaning my jersey against the barricade so I can write on it.

Signing my name and my number onto the jersey I place it in her hand, ignoring the tingling sensation as her finger graze mine. “Don’t sell it or I’ll have to change my number for the third time.” I playfully threaten. “Ooh I might just have to. Call it revenge.” Jenna chuckles before glancing over my shoulder.

“Looks like people are waiting on you. I’ll text you. Maybe.” She grins. I raise an eyebrow. “I’ll be waiting Miss Ortega. And I promise next time I see you there will be no blood noses involved.” I send her a wink before turning around and heading back to the field.

#wlw post #lesbian #fluff #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x female reader #soccer #football

[belokhvostikova]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | After five months of no reconciliation with the man whose lifestyle became too much for you to manage, you're met with your ex-boyfriend, the rockstar, after an accident leaves you in the hospital, and you face the realization that Eddie Munson is still your emergency contact.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, crying, mentions of alcohol consumption, hard drug use, insecurities, minor jealousy, fighting, breakup, brief mention of infidelity (no cheating, though), hospital setting, head injury, concussion, mentions of stitches, mentions of blood, and mentions of seizures.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Y'all, I'm 19! So, as a gift to you (whatever logic that is) here's a fic that takes place around Christmas, so I guess, also a belated Christmas gift. Happy birthday and Merry Christmas! Also, the extent of my knowledge on injuries is purely based on the fact that I took both Health Science I and II in high school, and, well, that's it. So, if anything is inaccurate, NO IT'S NOT (because I said so).

“Will you-” so vividly, you heard his boisterous laughter dense the air sweetly, his face glowing with the ever peaking sunlight that glimmered the sparkling snow outside each time you peered up to his extended height. “It’s like you’re trying to make me fall!” His dramatic accusations were merely met with your fits of giggles, something he so gladly wished to always be met with, as the graze of your cold fingers buzzed his skin with the excitement of what used to be your touch. “Seriously, baby, I can’t finish this if you’re attacking me.” 

But you made no effort to stop, continuing your precise placement of delicate ornaments upon the belt loops of his jeans, the links of his chain, the pockets of his backside, perhaps even one snuggly secured in the threaded rips of his pants. With your boyfriend at your mercy—stuck a couple feet higher atop the fifth step of the ladder to fulfill your dreams of draping green garland to surround your high rise windows—you couldn’t help the ebullient urge to decorate him as you pleased, bringing some loving festivities to the black denim ensemble he regularly sported. 

Effervescent balls of sparkling reds and yellows accompanied the hanging bandana of his back pocket. “You’re like my very own personal Christmas tree!” You beamed upwards, watching a smile that was personal to himself, as he lavished in the innocence this holiday expelled from you. “C’mon,” a fatuous whine that had him chuckling with strings of fake green leaving his hand to secure around the window frame, “have a little spirit!”

And perhaps, that’s all you were trying to have now: spirit.

Because in the blink of an eye, the purity of crystalline, white snow had turned into sludges of watery dirt to meet the once twinkling hues to stringing lights that now simply became the bane of your existence. Because to you, everything embellished itself as a mockery to the happily ever after you now no longer had. 

But it never hurt to try, and yet, trying became the very literal thing that hurt you. 

“…What occurred in the midst of their fourth track, Corroded Coffin’s notable ‘Goliath’s Wrath,’ left fans in a frenzy, when frontma…” Your eyes blurred with exhaustion, attempting to fight back the heaviness of your eyelids that left your vision impaired by spotty shades of blacks and whites. Various pitches of ringing clashing with static voices began provoking that throbbing ache in your head that pounded your brain to mush. “…Information falls scarcely upon accuracy, though there were mentions of a family emergency as to the reaso…” One harsh breath for your dense chest left your nose to be invaded by the artificial, bitterness of antiseptic. All more of a reason for your eyes to screw shut in a brutal endeavor to appease the gnawing of your head. “…Demanding refunds for a set that had to go on without the leading m-”

“You’re up!” Your eyes shot open. His aging skin told stories of his life, crinkling into an abundance of creases that welcomed your startled awakening. “I know things may seem a little scary and confusing here, kid.” Heaving became an understatement when your eyes accepted the burning tiles of white around the room, and suddenly, whatever news outlet that was recounting the upheaval of 90s Hollywood from the tiny television that served its purpose of passing time was becoming drowned out by the abrasive beeping of monitors that clung to your body with tubes. “But just bare with me, alright, everything’s going to be okay.”

Okay? Your body felt cold under the roughness of hospital linen. “I-I…” A reckless try at sitting up left your mouth soaring with an agonizing groan from the pain, your sore body all too weak for the heavy lifting at your head, that suddenly felt the density of a dozen bricks that smashed together. 

“Take it easy, alright.” The older gentleman smiled, urging you to lay back against the flat pillow with his simple gestures. “I know things are a little hazy here, but my name is Dr. Rosenthal, would you be able to tell me yours?” Your brows scowled at the disparaging child-talk the man thirty years your senior was showcasing you. 

With a roll to your eyes—something instantly regretted because of the pain in your head—you dryly croaked. “Y-Y/N.” It was all too bright. God, what would it give to flip off the overhead lights? You never really were a fan of overhead lights, but his excuse of, “we have money now, these lights can stay on,” had a knack for making you giggle. It’d been five months since those overhead lights were ever turned on again. You wondered how often Ed-

“That’s great!” Dr. Rosenthal smiled, and you accepted the scraping scribble of his pen against his papered clipboard to satiate the buzz of your brain. “Tell me, Y/N can you remember anything about how you may have gotten here? Any recollections you may-”

“Where is- is she here?!” You fought the throb of your head to snap into the direction of the door, where Dr. Rosenthal mimicked your concern. In truth, the smell hadn’t been all too great; beads of perspiration coated his body in part with the concoction of spiced cologne and the bitter bourbon he regularly downed before coming face-to-face with thousands in a packed arena. “Y/N- she’s- what, what happe- oh, shit!” Cindy Jaurick had been a renowned makeup artist in Hollywood, but with the dryness of his skin, even she couldn’t conceal the bruising of his sleep-deprived eyes; splotches of alabaster cream became patchy upon his bags that smeared with the waxiness of black liner. 

Eddie Munson, all leather and chains that clashed with his truest self of denims and tees. A facade so greatly curated by the hands of top executives that in a span of three years, millions were acquired to his name. Such a stupid name, you now thought. 

A heavy step forward left his booted foot clanking against the white tiles, a movement too abrasive for your liking, as his incoming hand has you pushing back from his reaching touch. “Excuse me, sir, you need to step back and calm down.” Dr. Rosenthal proclaimed, a man of loyalty to his position, clearly perturbed by any bothersome that came to his patients. 

“I just- what the hell happened, are you okay?!” His jewelry—the real kind, far from the fake silver he once adorned that periodically fused his fingers green, but loved them more than anything—jingled to the admission of his distress, hands harshly raking through the chunks of sweaty hair over the sight of your damaged self. 

An audible clap came with the hit of Dr. Rosenthal’s clipboard to Eddie’s exposed chest, where the buttons of his designer brand had been deliberate to showcase the permanent markings of his tattooed skin. “Sir, unless you are a relative or partner of-”

“Yes! Yes, I’m her boyfriend-”

Your memory hadn’t served you right for the occasions that brought you to the hospital, but you knew enough that Eddie Munson no longer brandished the title of such, given the circumstances that occurred five months ago. “N-No, he’s, um, not… anymore.”

“Then, sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave-”

“No, I- do you even know who I am?” Eddie watched your face scrunch with disgust at his language to the doctor, but whatever damage control he attempted fell short on your solidified opinion of a distasteful eye roll against him. “Shit, no- like, I mean you called me. I-I’m her emergency contact! I swear it, I’m Eddie!” 

And you slumped back against your bed. Clear as day, you remembered the cursive handwriting that marked the page with the name and number of your ex-boyfriend. When a year ago, months apart finally came to a halt as Eddie’s touring schedule cleared for the coming holidays. It would suffice to say the bedroom of your quaint Indianapolis townhouse saw little abandonment, with silk sheets becoming imprinted with the weight of your bodies that refused to leave the warmth of each other’s depraved company. In doing so, your judgment became clouded from the usual routine of bathroom care that came after a heated rendezvous. But could you be blamed? Believe it or not, there actually was a time when Eddie’s embrace brought you comfort and peace. What eventually transpired into a run-of-mill UTI had actually worsened quicker than expected. Over-the-counter medication did little to relieve you from the infection, and when your back suddenly began to ache, you knew a trip to St. George's Hospital was in need. With a close call, your kidneys were able to stay intact to your body, and the use of dialysis was spared from your future. And yet, who knew the most haunting occasion of that experience would come with the boyish smile of Eddie Munson, as he watched with lovesick eyes as you entrusted him as the man you’d want in the case of an emergency.

My god, how times have changed… 

“Um, yeah, yeah, he is.” You swallowed the dryness of your throat, hoping the commotion of everything would finally settle to alleviate the stress of your head. 

“Well, Ms. Y/L/N, it’s up to you if you’d like him here.” Dr. Rosenthal sighed, a harsh click to his pen that surely cemented his dislike for the gaudy man upon him. “Your neighbor has already left, but I can assure you that the nurses will make frequent routines to keep you in care.”

Neighbor? “I- um, Trevor?” Your head spun with the lack thereof details that painfully tried to piece themselves together. 

Eddie's hair flew with the snap of his head to your doctor, as his scowl silently demanded the explanation you both were desperate to hear. Dr. Rosenthal cleared his throat. “Ms. Y/L/N, you took quite the fall off a ladder in your home. After a while, your neighbor had found you, and did the deed of bringing you over. He mentioned you had borrowed his ladder to put up-”

“Christmas decorations.” What a wonderful feeling it was to have the epiphany that was as simple as regained memory. Where you no longer had a boyfriend to gladly bear the brunt work of Christmas decorations for your sole enjoyment, you now had to dish out yourself. Unloading dusty boxes had usually accompanied a teasing compliment to the muscles that bulged from his arms, though now, your back felt the strain of heavy lifting, because you refused to properly use your legs. “Um, y-yeah, I remember- well, I don’t remember falling, but, uh, I used Trevor’s ladder for the, um, y’know, what do you call them? The green, leaf stringy-”

“Garlands?” Dr. Rosenthal and Eddie spoke simultaneously.

And you perked up as best as your body would allow. “Yeah, garlands!” Your voice excitedly croaked. “You, uh, y-you remember?” For once, in five months, you actually acknowledged him. Eddie. “I-I like those garlands around our- my windows.”

He remembered. Your giggles ringing in his ears like magical sleigh bells. Your touch warming his skin against the burning cold. Your eyes twinkling over the simplicity of green garlands… something he couldn’t even provide you with now.

“That’s good.” Dr. Rosenthal smiled. “You’re recalling events and… history,” he pursed his lips against Eddie’s cold demeanor, “wonderfully. It’s a good sign of minimal memory loss, which falls quite commonly against those in situations as yours. When you fell, Ms. Y/L/N, your neighbor had informed us of a seizure-”

“Seizure?!” Eddie spat.

“Yes, seizure; fifteen seconds.” He clarified. “And with that, an immediate grade II concussion. We ran a necessary EEG and CT scan prior to your waking, as such classification can offer some findings. Fortunately, all we saw was the inevitable stretching of your neurons which caused a burst of electrical impulses in your brain explaining the seizure. Checking for any fracturing of the skull, or swelling, and bleeding, and you were quite lucky. Completely cleared.” His smile broke through his wrinkled face. “Though, you were brought in with quite the gash on the left side of your head, right between the parietal and occipital bone. Nothing too extreme on the severity scale, but in order to stop the bleeding we did have to repair the tissue damage with stitching.” A vapid explanation of the overly tight gauze that somehow felt like a ton of bricks around your cranium. “But other than that, your vitals are excellent.” Check, check, check off his clipboard. “It’s very likely you’ll continue experiencing a headache, perhaps some nausea, or dizziness. I do recommend an overnight stay to ensure secondary swelling doesn’t occur, and to guarantee your memory continues to function properly. But a morning discharge should be fine.”

A deep breath allowed your head to nod along. “Yeah, um, thank you… really.” You earnestly smiled.

But where you could muster a staid beam of politeness, Eddie Munson gleamed a smile so faux, even Dr. Rosenthal piqued him with a scowl—though miniscule for his professional aptitude. The heavy click of the door closing behind Dr. Rosenthal granted the heaviest breath to escape from Eddie before his attention scrutinized you. 

“What the hell were you thinkin’?!” He ambushed. Seriously, he knew you for seven years. Seven years of his fucking life, and not once had you ever dared to lift a finger for manual labor. Okay, call him old fashioned, but that’s exactly what he liked about you; you know, the whole damsel in distress that needed him whenever something fell loose or broken. That’s it, just the need for him. The need to want him around. “I-I mean, seriously, you- why couldn’t you just call me- or, or, like, Steve, or someone, so you wouldn’t get hurt?” Okay, so maybe calling him wouldn’t have been your first option. If the fact of being no contact for five months wasn’t enough, surely living across the country would have ruled him out. You stopped keeping up with his whereabouts weeks ago. But that wouldn’t stop him. It was you, for Christ sake! You wanted your garlands, Eddie would have given you your garlands. No matter the lack of communication. No matter the distance.

Eddie Munson would have given you everything. 

You dryly blinked. Twice. If only he felt like that when you both were still together. “Get out.” 

“Okay, no- wait, I’m not trying to blame you-”

“Really? Because that’s exactly what you’re doing. Get out!” Your tired voice tried to muster. 

“No, sweetheart, c’mon, I-I know- I just worded it wrong, okay? Please, I just- I don’t know why you would try to do something that would get you hurt like that. You could have, I don’t know, asked for help, like called me up, I promise I would have answered to help you-”

Your eyes rolled against his sentiment. “What, so I’m just too dimwitted to use a couple of tools?!”

“Well, you did fall.” By your stare, Eddie Munson had two seconds to live. “N-No, I didn’t say that- I, look, I just wish you would have called or someth-”

“And I wish you would just get out!” But your rash endeavor to sit up and shove him away legitimized the pitiless reality of your gnawing head hazing your vision and dismantling your balance, forcing Eddie to rush to your assistance. 

“I- okay, I’ll shut up, just lay back, relax, please, sweetheart. I don’t want you hurting yourself more.” 

“I’m fine.” You gritted. 

“There’s a chunk of your head missing.” Eddie retaliated with a deadpan so infuriating mocking.

A huff of disbelief rippled from your dry lips. “Dr. Rosenthal just said it was no big deal.”

“Like I care what that old fuck has to say.” Your scolding eyes ripped him a new one. “Okay, geez, didn’t know you two were such close friends.”

With no energy to fight back, you permitted his touch to push you back against stiff pillows, where his ink-engraved hands worked swiftly to cover your frail body from the harsh chills of the hospital air conditioning. “I’ll be quiet, promise.” He whispered, adhering to his words, as he silently watched you close your eyes away from him, now that his presence has garnered a throbbing headache. 

By the seventh beep, you no longer found interest in counting the indications of your working monitors. But where your mind lost the simple activity, you also gained attention to the whirring voices of the television. Sat by your side on the hardened chair, Eddie’s tapping toes forced your eyes to tear back-in-forth from his stance to the static colors of live footage coverage. 

“Man, all I hope is for a refund!” Drunk out of his mind, as the lights of cameras began emphasizing the drugged redness of the young man’s eyes. “Like, seriously, we’re all here for The Freak, and for him to just run off like that, dude, we paid for a Corroded Coffin show, and we’re gonna get it, or else we want our money back!”

A pan to the well-dressed reporter stocked drastically to the metalheads on scene. “Well, you heard it here first, folks. As we wait for more updates on the events that occurred that left Eddie Munson running off stage to what would have been his biggest performance in his home state, fans are pressuring for a refu-”

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere right now?” Eddie's head pulled itself from his intense stare that followed the grout of the tiled floors. 

“Huh?” His gaze followed yours which briefly led to the boxed television that delivered MTV’s insistent need to showcase a replay of Eddie “The Freak” Munson, lead guitarist and singer of Corroded Coffin, running off stage in the midst of their newest single, ‘Goliath’s Wrath.’ “Oh, um,” his hand waved you off, “my team will rip me a new one later, it’s fine.” 

You sighed. “And just for the record, I am self aware, so I did have someone there to help me.” You muttered, leaving his brows to furrow. “Trevor?” 

“Oh.” Eddie’s lips maneuvered awkwardly. “Trevor, right.” Knee bouncing, fingers tapping, Eddie knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but the question burned his mind for too long not to suddenly blurt out. “So what, are you seeing him or something?” And perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut, given the death glare you killed him with that had him reeling back his words. “I- sorry.” 

“Trevor has a girlfriend. And a ladder.” You scoffed. “And you of all people cannot be talking.”

Three weeks post the headlines that announced the separation between rockstar, Eddie Munson, and his longtime girlfriend, new reports were eager to air Hollywood’s newest romance between the amoral and Playboy’s finest, Lindsey Sawyer. To say you cried for weeks was quite the understatement, when your body physically impaired you from leaving the shielding comfort of your bed. While you rotted, Eddie danced on the grave of your love with his new girlfriend, whose six inch stilettos pierced your bludgeoned heart. Granted, it lasted nothing but a couple days, though it didn’t stop from the new pattern of recurrence in which Eddie found Hollywood’s new recycled “it” girl to accompany the image of a rager rockstar. Gisele Camarella, Pam Densely, Yvonne Huntsford; a new name, face, and body to compare yourself to. 

“I-” his shame flooded his cheeks crimsen, “those were never real- not, like- not like you, not you and me real. Just what management thought looked best.” Though, his quiet admission did nothing to soothe over painful memories. “I’m sorry.” Three scrapes of wooden legs scratching against white tiles was all it took to have Eddie Munson sitting by your side. “How do you feel?” His eyes fervently raked your face. “Honestly.”

“My head hurts.”

“About seeing me?” He clarified. 

Silence crept up in a suffocating manner, as Eddie watched your stoic lines revise his being. “I don’t like seeing your face anymore, Eddie.” How were you able to speak those words so calmly? Eddie’s throat choked him with unbearable bitterness that burned his insides. “You look stupid. You used to never look stupid.” 

Eddie Munson had a haunting past of failures; D’s and F’s marked such a bloody red over white papers, tainting any scribble of hard work he, at least, attempted at times. And what followed failed tests and quizzes only came with the taunting laughter of jocks and cheerleaders, jeering their distaste for his “kind” that branded his leather and denim as the epitome of all things they deemed nauseating. For a while, Eddie Munson believed himself to be nothing but stupid. The grades and reputation being all the evidence needed to solidify his self worth to him. Every compliment to your intelligence he gave you knew came with an underlying insecurity within him. Because you were smart, so smart. What was a smart girl like you doing with a stupid guy like him? 

So, yeah, your words hurt. As they intended to. 

Eddie’s eyes dropped with shame, his Adam’s apple following suit with a thick bobbing gulp of guilt. His eyes casted upon his tight leather jeans that felt insufferable under a building layer of sweat; too much eyeliner, at times clouding his vision from the very fans he loved seeing; sheer shirts waving in a draft of uncomfortableness, forcing him to long for prized t-shirts that gave him the movement to be him on stage; and a god awful personality detailed so preciously by management to make his name a headliner’s favorite. 

Yeah, Eddie Munson looked so fucking stupid. 

“I-I don’t like ‘em.” He stammered. 

“You used to.” 

-

July once brought Los Angeles, California a blistering heat. You hate heat.

Five months ago. 

“No, no, no, he’s full of shit, I was the one who came up with ‘Goliath’s Wrath!’” The cigar browning of Gareth Emerson’s scotch dribbled his lips wet with his drunken blubber, as men surrounding—all big money and titles alike—huffed out laughter worth millions to the men that provided them such wealth. 

Eddie’s nose burned with the ecstasy of white powder, dusting his beautiful features with the hedonism of all glory and power… for once, right in his hands. “Oh, fuck off, you were passed out drunk laying in your own piss when we wrote that god awful fucking song!” He laughed, joining in on the obnoxious cacophony of guffaws that held no sense of reality. 

A shoulder knocked into his. Greased slicked hair, gold rings, and a suit worth your car payment; Iverson Green. And Eddie had no fucking clue what he did. “You really don’t like the upcoming song?” He whispered.

And Eddie would never know. Information as such mattered little, as long as the man helped pay his check. “These braindeads approve of all this rock shit for the image.” Eddie bit back. “If I had it my way, I’d show ‘em real metal.” He smiled. 

A blood red stiletto acrylic stabbed at his shoulder before a cloud of Chanel °5 invaded his itching nose. “Got you booked.” She spoke, her breath tickling his ear over the sheer closeness needed over the vibrating base of stereos. 

Eddie turned his head to see her, a smiling Judy Carawan that had him beaming right back. “For what this time? I’m not doing some late night news bullshit again.” After the way Larry Parsons of Hollywood’s Friday Nights called out his delinquent behavior, executives were buzzing for another clash between Eddie “The Freak” Munson and talk show hosts to get the papers running. 

“Hilfiger.” Judy leaned in, a smirk of confidence for her work truly accomplished. “A fitting, then you wear one of his suits to the VMA’s, and that’s cash in your pockets. And mine.” 

Eddie’s face glowered with disgust, as he attempted to move away, her smell becoming too strong for his liking. “Save me a line.” He instructed to the man breaking rows of snow on the mahogany table. “Fuck no, I’m not wearing some posh-y model shit in front of the fucking cameras.”

“It’ll be one time, and a check worth a lifetime.” She rolled her eyes, a habitual stance against the troubles that came with personally assisting Eddie Munson. “Also, see.” Her slender finger pointed to the lengthy body of Cierra Kalahi, perched against the marbling chimney of your Hollywood Hills home. “Miss America’s Next Top Model will be wearing Hilfiger, too. You and some Shalom Harlow wannabe wearing the same designer is just enough to spark some attraction to your name.”

Eddie knew the venomous implications of her suggestion. “I’m not playin’ into your bullshit dating rumors.” A vicious cycle you two had to go through; you hurting more than the other, though. 

“Okay, fine, then we get your pretty, little girlfriend to wear a matching dress… that is if she’ll stop being a bummer.” 

“Don’t fucking do that, alright?” Eddie huffed, dragging his sweaty hands down the heat of his cheeks. His eyes felt like they were going to crack out of his skull from the dryness of being opened for the past forty-three hours. But the umpteenth swig of Old Fashioned was fueling him alongside the unstoppable fuel of crystalline cocaine. “She just- I- look, I’m not putting her out there where she doesn’t want to go. S-She’s too good- she’s too good for the cameras.” 

“She’s not good for your career.” Eddie felt her words echo into a repeated ringtone that irritated his ears. His vision grew blurred with his impulsive movements against her face. 

His hot, alcoholic breath fanned her bangs with each huff of his chest. “Remember who pays your fucking bills!” Nothing but the voices of Mötley Crüe tormented the background, as everyone but the music quieted to bask in the events of another Eddie Munson meltdown. “You say one more fucking word about her, and I’ll leave you to the fucking street.”

Judy Carawan cinched her eyes against his lost ones. Whatever bad boy facade he drugged himself into every night never scared her. Hell, she fed into it. “Eddie, I’m going to be quite frank with you, since no one else will be. You and your goody girlfriend will never last. If she truly cared for you like she says she does, she would do anything to keep your name in the spotlight. And if you truly cared for her like you say you do, you wouldn’t be snorting snow on your fucking anniversary.” Eddie's hardened muscles fell from realization. And Judy smiled such a sick smile. “And FYI, I was someone before you.” Eight years of work with Hollywood’s hottest clientele. “Can you say the same?”

Your lip wobbled under the harsh bite of your teeth to suppress the stinging tears from an embarrassing downpour. Despite his promises of a private evening, you braced your arms over your chest, where it became exposed from the strapless dress you uncomfortably endured, after too many magazine headlines criticized your lack of “looks” for the hottest rockstar in town. You’d never admit it, always brushing him off whenever he became concerned for your well being because of the tabloids, but he always noticed the subtle changes you made to look like the women in the city that felt like another plant from olde Indiana. 

And now, unwarranted flashes of cameras settled outside the Michelin Star restaurant that burrowed burdening humiliation into your skin, as a cautious peer around the setting allowed you to notice the pitying and gossip of the goers around you. 

Every minute that passed, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. But an hour and fifteen minutes just prevailed you to be a doormat. But could you be blamed? Seven years ago today, you ran into the man, himself, who turned the dreaded day of Hawkin’s High open house into a new adventure. Where you had the excuse of an actively involved mother, who became adamant on touring the unknown environment of the orange and green halls after your father’s relocation to the rural town, Eddie had an intransigent uncle who refused to watch his nephew lose another year of his life to failing high school, and imposed the young man to abide by the staff’s fake smiles, as they greeted parents and students for the coming school year. 

It’s funny how one sullen face can find another in a crowd of PTA parents and their goody-two-shoe children alike. Meeting eyes and a devilish smirk on his face was all it took for two strangers to find trust in one another, and sneak away in the depths of bushy, green woods. In retrospect, asking Eddie Munson to be your boyfriend after only three hours of knowing him was quite rash—he, himself, was quite taken aback, as well—but the worst that could happen was it didn’t work out. I mean, what high school relationship ever does? But his informative trek across lush grass, a shared cigarette, and talks that had your stomach cramping from fits of giggles was enough to solidify your decision at heart. And who was Eddie Munson to ever say no to a pretty face and soul like yours. 

And it worked out… surprisingly. 

It was quite the experience learning the ins and outs of someone you already called your boyfriend, but the pureness of it all bloomed into the most innocent love of two people navigating the world and finding themselves together. 

But suddenly, the world had a place in your relationship. The people had a say. In what you wore, what you looked like, who you had to be. And he allowed it. Allowed everyone to measle their way in. After the first promise to you that nothing would change, every single one to follow became a lie. 

Because he changed. 

You mustered the will to sniffle away any tears. He no longer became worth it to you. And it broke your heart. Your heels clicked their way out of the restaurant, where your being was blurred under the paralyzing flashes of people who invaded your life, capturing and exploiting your lowest moment for a check, and branding you the girl that held the greatest rockstar back.

Eddie stumbled back on wobbly feet, his mind too disorientated to care about the bodies he shoved that consequently left glasses of cocktails to shatter against the polished flooring of his home. Though, nothing mattered as long as he got to the door. But your crying self had beat him to it from the other side, swinging the grand doors that were always too heavy for your liking, and entering your home that was invaded by strangers and their substances, and Eddie… your Eddie standing in the middle of it all. 

His red, beclouded eyes had disallowed him the privilege of blinking your beauty straight, but through the haze of blear lines, he saw your face so clearly fall from disappointment.

From pure defeat. 

“W-Wait!” Eddie fought the incoordination of his legs to follow you outside, leaving his guest to watch in awe. “Baby, I- fuck! I-I’m sorry- ugh, I just- I forgot!”

Los Angeles’ humidity suffocated his airways that were already constricting from his sobbing chokes. His insides burned from the concoction of drugs and sweltering heat that only fueled at the sight of your broken face. “You forgot?!” You cried, swinging your body around to face the man you no longer recognized. “For the past seven years you’ve never forgotten, but now you do! What, is it no longer important for you?!”

Spit blubbered with his words, as his lips moved a mile a minute to keep your love preserved. “N-No, I mean- yes, of course, it’s i-important-” 

“Then why weren’t you there?!” Mascara stained the softness of your cheeks, now too darkened for Eddie to ever kiss the pain away. “Why aren’t you ever there?! For me!”

“I-It wasn’t my fault.” He heaved. “J-Jude, she-she said this s-stupid thing was scheduled, and-and she said it’d be quick-”

“Of course, it’s never your fault!” You bit back with the deflation of your arms. “It’s always the alcohol, or the drugs, or Judy, but it can never be your fault, can it, Eddie?!” His fist balled into his eyes, as snot caved down his nose. 

“N-No, it is my fault! I’m sorry, Y/N- I’ll fix it! I’ll do anything, I’ll make it up to you, I swear!”

“Don’t you get it?!” You marched up to his wrecked body. “Your promises mean nothing to me anymore!”

“Don’t, please!” Eddie sobbed. Shameful embarrassment ate him alive in the middle of your Hollywood Hills driveway. “I-I’ll stop all this, th-the drugs,” his arm smeared away the remnants of snot and cocaine against his nose, “the drinking, partying, everything, I mean it!” Because something deep within Eddie Munson knew this was the last straw.

You were done.

“Stop lying to me!” Your eyes stung with tears. “Why are you so comfortable lying to me, and h-hurting me?!” His head adamantly refused your words with a harsh shake to his head, but the history of abandonment that brought you to your wits end weighed more than his inebriated actions. “You touch me and it feels like a lie. You k-kiss me and it feels like a lie. E-Everything you do has become bullshit, Eddie! I don’t trust you. I-I just worry. Worried that anytime you’re not next to me you’ve drugged yourself dead, or-or knocked out somewhere, or… with women-”

“Don’t fucking say that! I’d never do something like that to you!”

“The Eddie I knew would never leave me to snort coke with strangers, but here we are!” You bawled in retaliation, forcing his mouth quiet in disbelief. “You’re not Eddie anymore! So, don’t stand here and tell me you wouldn’t do these things, when everything you do leads me to believe you are capable of doing something like that… something to hurt me! Because you do, Eddie! You hurt me.”

“I’m so fucking sorry! Please, Y/N, baby, I fucking love you, everything’s just been too much, a-and I forget things, I’ll be better!” You scoffed at his utter patheticism that grossed you out, turning your heel, but his large hand caught a tightening grip to your wrist. “No, I’m serious, sweetheart, I’ll change! I-I’m still Eddie!”

“Get off.” You quietly pleaded, exhausted from the sobs that wrecked your body. 

“Y-You can’t leave me, Y/N, no, I-I need you.” He choked. “I love you. So much. With everything in me. Please. We don’t do this to each other!”

“Then why do you keep doing this to me?!”

“Darling, Ms. Y/L/N?” Yours and Eddie’s head parted to the soft voice of Debby Weiser. Nearly a year ago, your elderly neighbor—who came into stardom in the 50s for her acts that revolutionized the spreading use of colored television—welcomed you into the gated neighborhood with a gluten-free muffin basket that had tasted like pure shit. But the kindness of her effort garnered a budding friendship with the mature woman who offered her wisdom on enduring Hollywood’s notoriety. “You alright there, sweetie?” Her southern accent never had assimilated to the Valley. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You turned to his eyes, staring down the saddened roundness that no longer held the precious life they once used to. “I was just leaving.”

That night, you left to your shared Indianapolis townhouse that became your starter home when Eddie’s career was first taking off. You were so happy then. 

And he hadn’t seen you since. 

Until now.

-

Eddie Munson had fallen quiet. 

Everything had, in fact.

The constant beeping of your medical instruments drove him to madness, but he figured the insanity was substantial punishment for the hurt he caused you. He’d been suffering for five months already, what’s a couple more minutes? If anything, he’d be suffering for the rest of his life should it continue without you. 

But it didn’t have to. 

Eddie knew he had no right to gain your love once more, and the vulnerability of your state worsened the situation tenfold, but there was a reason Eddie received that call. A reason why his heart sank amidst a phone call that identified your beautiful name in an emergency, that left him dropping everything in front of thousands that cheered his name. Whatever cynicism that tainted his heart had long left upon your sweet arrival; a ‘thank you’ filled with such gratitude towards his uncle, when Eddie busted into the trailer with a smile too large to be because of Hawkins High’s yearly open house. Wayne Munson had never asked, mostly due to the fact that his nephew locked himself in his bedroom, where the nineteen-year-old worked endlessly for his new upcoming Dungeons and Dragons campaign that followed the grounds of fate and destiny. 

In the mere three hours of your presence, you gave Eddie Munson hope.

He’d be damned not to devote his eternal life to you. 

“Y/N, I…” his eyes laid low, examining the threads of linen that covered you, as his fingers twiddled with his rings to appease the constant bounce of his anxious knee. “I need you to know how terribly sorry I am for everything I did. All the times I hurt you.” He sighed, as his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. “I- uh, I just really need you to understand that everything that happened to us was not your fault. At all. You-” his breath shook with a tremble, “You really were so fucking perfect during everything. So patience, so communicative, and I-I never listened to you the way you deserved, I just- I don’t know, I thought maybe-maybe if I gave it my all to this career, I could finally give you everything you deserve.”

His eyes attempted to blink away searing tears, but his emotions were getting the better of him. “A-And I know how fucking selfish that is, I had- fuck, I had no right to assume what you wanted from me, and-and put you in a position where you had to go through all my bullshit, all because I thought that in the end it would make you happy… without even speaking to you about it.” Eddie's voice cracked with a harsh sniffle to gather his strength. 

“I-I’m getting clean, um, it’s been really fucking hard, but I-I got the boys s-setting me straight everyday. Especially after I practically tortured them with my cries after you left.” His pity laughter softly broke through. “B-But yeah, sweetheart, I-I’m doing pretty good for myself- well, tryin’ to, at least. Still kinda always, constantly, forever feel like shit,” Eddie chuckled, “but I’m managing. T-The drugs n’ everything flushed n’ all, n-now just trying to hold off the booze, y’know? But fuckin’ hell does a beer get me through it.”

A smile began etching upon his face, where the history of all the laughter you provided him with creased his face with the lines of joy that only truly showcased in your presence. “Talked to our manager, he sure as hell was pissed when I insisted on getting rid of Jude. And she sure as hell went out with a bang, and smeared by name to the tabloids, but, uh, you probably already read about that- or not, I don’t, like, expect you to keep up with me or anything, honestly I kinda hope you didn’t, because, well, those first couple of weeks after everything real-really, uh… brought the worst out.” A deep breath escaped his mouth, as his fingers dug into the temples of his head to alleviate the dull pain. 

“I-I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m really… trying.” Eddie swallowed thickly. “F-For my fans, the boys, myself, a-and you, Y/N. And I c-can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am for taking, y’know, taking this long t-to get better, and for not trying better before, for having to h-hurt you just to learn, I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. A-And I’m not askin’ for a second chance- well, I know I don’t deserve one, not now or-or ever if you feel like it, I just need you to know I’m Eddie, somewhere inside- I’m working really hard on just being me- oh, but, of course, I do want to be with you. T-That wasn’t me saying I didn’t. I do, I-I always wanna be with you, I just- I, okay, I’ll shut up now.”

The deliberation was excruciating. 

The process of his words that rambled on for an eternity was too much to process, especially with a head injury, and he understood that to the fullest, but the quietness was becoming deafening, as he waited for your words… your rejection… your reciprocation. 

Anything.

And he couldn’t dare look you in the eyes, the ones that pierced his soul so deeply, and he desperately urged you to say something. Anything!

“Y/N?” Beep. Beep. Beep. “Sweetheart…?” His eyes fluttered forward. “Jesus H. Christ, Y/N!” Your peaceful sleep had garnered a frightful reaction from Eddie, as he jumped to his feet to urgently caress your face awake. Of course, when doing so, your eyes tiredly awoke to his face all too close for your liking, and a frown broke your face, as you attempted to move from him. 

“Christ, Eddie.” You debilitatingly rasped. “What are you doing?”

“Me?! What are you doing? Are you okay? You shouldn’t be going to sleep, you have a concussion! I-Isn’t that, like, something you shouldn’t do?!” He cupped your face straight to the blinding ceiling light, that had you mewling with annoyance. 

“Eddie, I can remember Reagan’s speech, and the fall of the Berlin Wall.” You dragged, prying his concerned hands off your face. “I think I’ll be just fine going to sleep. God, did you just expect me to stay up all night?”

A shuddering breath left his strangling throat, as his hands flexed at the electricity of the touch of your skin. His body tensed, as his round eyes worriedly followed the contours of features. “You didn’t- did you hear me, like, anything that I just said? B-Before you- I woke you up?” 

Your brows concave with a furrow of confusion, as you peered up at him through wispy lashes. “What’d you say?”

A deep sigh left his dry lips, as he flashed you a small smile filled with sincerity. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It was nothing.” His hands gently worked to cover your body further with blankets to keep you warm, as your suspicious stare hesitantly nodded in acceptance to his words. “Y-You hungry, or-or need more blankets? Painkillers, anything?”

You delicately rejected his help with a shake of your head. “Just tired.” You softly answered. “And you should probably leave, too. Get some sleep.”

Despite his mind refusing your proposal, he knew your rest was vital for recovery, and he watched you slowly turn your back to him, as his slow steps marked his way to the door. So lonely, he gazed at your tired body curl up into itself like it once did when his presence was actually yearned by you; all safety once found in his embrace, as he promised to never let go. And though he never did, his actions forced you to let go, as he now had to bear witness to seeing you become content with yourself. Something he could never imagine doing so. 

His finger flipped the switch. You never were a fan of the overhead lights. And once so, a peaceful sigh buried its way from your parted lips, as your mind rested in tranquil darkness. 

Eddie’s hand wrapped around the doorknob that allowed the hallway light to bleed in. But his eyes couldn’t dare leave you once more. Five months of deprivation killed him every passing day, and one glimpse of your beaten self made him feel like an addict breaking their withdrawal. There was once a time in which he was beckoned with the devastating occurrence of you leaving him no choice but to watch you walk away. Now, he had an opportunity. A chance. To walk away. Or stay. Leaving you alone, hurting, in a cold, empty hospital room was too heartbreaking of an option to ever endure, and he was vowing to his words of never hurting you again. 

He gently closed the door with no intent to deceive you, but rather care for you. Right now, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. And his mind felt at peace knowing he could watch over you; his heart dissipating to the rhythm of calmness only you could bring him to. His quiet steps guided him back to the stiff chair that numbed his bottom and stabbed at his back. But it all became worth it, finally seeing you at peace, after the last weeks he ever got to see you your face had been permanently etched in distress, because of him. 

Despite being awake for nearly twenty-two hours now, Eddie Munson spared a couple more just to look at you.

The morning to follow, Dr. Rosenthal had commented greatly on the normalcy of your brain. And Eddie felt envious. You could take thirty more blows to the head, and your brain would still function far better than his ever could. You, unfortunately, had no chance to question his lingering presence, since your body had been awakened by the prodding of a nurse who kindly checked if your vitals were up to par. You figured you’d save her the awkwardness of interrogating your ex-boyfriend, the rockstar.

“If necessary, just some acetaminophen of your choice once every four to six hours depending on the instructions. But if your pain seems to not be improving, I’ll surely write you a prescription for a triptan, whichever one we can work out best for you.” You nodded along, subtly watching Eddie in the corner of your eye, who was listening too intently for someone who was bound to leave in a couple minutes. “And for your stitches, twice a day, remove the old coverage, clean off, and apply a new gauze. After a while, you should be okay with doing it once, and by the two, two and half week mark, I’ll have a referral to remove them when the time comes.” You sighed, taking a minute to let your head process the instructions of the older gentleman before you. “Alrighty, any questions?”

“No, really, you’ve been so helpful with everything-”

“She can’t drive, right?” Eddie butted in. 

Dr. Rosenthal took a long second to peer at him, before clearing his throat. “Wouldn’t recommend it under your symptoms. Nausea and dizziness can impair your ability, so we can call someone, arrange transp-”

“I already got that covered.” Eddie spat a smirk back in retaliation. 

“As long as it’s okay with you.” Dr. Rosenthal sympathetically smiled at you.

You drew out a defeated sigh, and watched Eddie react like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Fine.” You begrudged. 

“Alright then, you go ahead and take the time needed to gather your things, and you can check out at the front desk.” Your trusted doctor assured you. “Call me if you have any questions or concerns, and I’ll gladly help. You have a Merry Christmas, Ms. Y/L/N.” Eddie was spared from a polite holiday goodbye. 

You gently smiled. “Thank you, have a Merry Christmas, as well.” 

With a click of the door behind him, Eddie was quick to let out a breath of relief, as though Dr. Rosenthal lifted a burden off his shoulders. His hasty movements brought your bag of clothes from beneath your hospital bed to plop against your legs. “These yours?” He pried the drawstrings open. 

“No, they’re the lady’s who gave birth before this became my room.” Eddie deadpanned, continuing to rummage through your belongings.

He snorted. “Psh, no pregnant lady would wear an Anthrax tee.” Something that very much still belonged to him, as he threw your t-shirt to your chest. 

“Did you stay here after I told you not to?” Your eyes glared in a deadly squint that challenged his snarkiness. 

“N-No.” A big, fat lie. His gaze was avoidant of yours, as his hands worked hurriedly to empty the bag of your pants… a brown flannel… your right Reebok… then the left, of course… an earring that stabbed him… the other that didn’t, because he learned his lesson… and some pretty, pretty pink panti-

“Stop looking at those!” You snatched the lacy material from his hands, as he threw his arms up in defense. “And if you didn’t stay, why are you still wearing the same clothes?” You prodded further. 

“Oh, my god, I didn’t stay.” He huffed. And you hated the portion of your heart that allowed his words to hurt you, because how come he didn’t stay? “Just headed back to the hotel, took a nap, and came back here early.”

You allowed your hurt to bite back. “That’s gross, you smell.” But he’ll permit your chastising insults if it meant you wouldn’t be angry at him for going against your wishes. 

“Can you just hurry up and change, so I can take you home.” He rolled his eyes. “I arranged a car to have us picked up, and take you home.” 

“I hope you know how pretentious that sounds.” And Eddie Munson stared and stared, as you balled your clothes into the sanctity of your lap. “Well, don’t look, turn around.”

Eddie’s mouth gaped, laughing in disbelief. “Please, sweetheart, I’ve been staring at you naked for the past seven years of my life.”

“You know what? Just for that, you can go to the bathroom and wait, until I say so.” You smiled, so pleased to watch Eddie scoff incredulously. 

Eddie turned on his heels with an exhale of exasperation to match, as he strutted his way into the tiny bathroom. “Can just close my eyes, and picture you naked.” Luckily with his back turned, he wouldn’t dare notice the small smile that cracked your face. 

Eddie’s mind had been buzzing with thoughts for the entire forty-five minutes it took for the chauffeur to pull up and parallel park in front of your townhouse. Like clockwork, your brow arched upon seeing the movements that followed yours: Eddie clicking his seatbelt. “Look, don’t give me that look, I already know what you’re about to say, but please, just let me come in, and help you.” You huffed, letting your eyes bounce from the window to his face that was hardened with determination. “C’mon, let me make it up to you this one time.”

Another defeated ‘fine’ was murmured under your breath, as Eddie made the quick trip to help you out of the car. “Just head back, man, I’ll call you when I need to.” Numerous bills were discreetly slid into the hands of the driver, before he took his cue to leave the neighborhood. 

“Hey, Y/N!” The blizzarding winter left the precisely planted trees along the sidewalk to lose their green shrubbery; your one shield from the sun that still blazed its light down the Demember wind. But through the glares, you matched that voice to the friendly neighbor who lent you his ladder… and subsequently took you to the hospital once you fell off. 

“Oh, hi, Trevor!” You waved to him from atop of his stairs, as you caught sight of the reusable bags of groceries in his hand. 

“Hm, Trevor.” Eddie hummed quietly beside you. 

Despite the cold, he took the needed steps down to speak to you at a volume that didn’t require yelling. “Hey, I’m sorry for leaving you at the hospital so suddenly, Andreas’ car broke down when she tried to leave from work, and I had to go help her-”

“Oh, please, don’t worry about it, it’s okay!” You reassured him from any guilt. “Seriously, I was out for most of my time there, and you already helped so much with bringing me there.”

“Yeah, and I was going to head back to check on you, but they told me your partner-”

“Yeah, me! Y’know…” Eddie interjected with a wave, as you suppressed the roll from your eye, watching him proudly identify himself as such with an eager point of his finger. 

“Yeah, hey, Eddie, been a long time since I’ve seen ya, man-”

“Oh, Y/N! Trevor told me all about you!” Andreas' voice echoed from the front door, as her robe clung closely to her body in an effort to house any warmth she could. “How are you feeling? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, nothing to worry about, just a couple stitches and a concussion.” As polite as they were, your flannel was only doing so much to shield you from the cold, which was already in hand causing that throb to return from the sharp blinding of the sun. Why wouldn’t they shut up?

Eddie watched the twitch of your eye succumb to your expression. If anything from the last seven years taught him anything, it was that you were two sentences away from a fully engraved scowl chiseling your face; always so unaware of how blatant your emotions showcased. “Speaking of which, I should probably go get her to lay down, and rest!” Eddie smiled, as he took your hand up the stairs to your front door. 

“Of course, no problem.” Trevor kindly smiled. “And, hey, keep my ladder as long as you need, don’t worry about it.” 

An exchange of ‘thank you’s’ finally allowed your neighbor to leave you be, as the key slid into the lock of your door. “That was Andrea, his girlfriend. Are you gonna be jealous if I speak to her, too?”

His laughter warmed the chilled air that smoked his breath. “Fuck off, sweetheart.”

Your house had been all but welcoming upon the first steps. A puddle of blood had stained your wooden floor with the injuries of your head, as fallen garlands messily draped down your walls from your lack of skills with a hammer and nail. You’d never admit to him in a lifetime, but Eddie Munson was surely right that you, personally, were too dimwitted to use tools with no guidance. Turns out a leveler and stud sensor were actually quite useful in keeping your house from being hammered with the countless holes that now decorated your walls. You watched Eddie take in the amateur scenery, his will working overtime to stifle the chuckle that quivered his lips thin. “You make any comments, and I’ll kick you out.”

His hands flew up in defense. “I wasn’t going to say anything- although, how gnarly would a photo of your blood be as our next album cover?”

Giggles of shock coming from you rang in his ear like a catchy melody. “Listen, you came here to help, so please do. I want to shower, and sleep-”

“And eat. That hospital food was shit.” He prioritized. “Go shower, I’ll make you some breakfast,” his watch proved otherwise, “or lunch, I guess, and you can eat before you sleep- oh! And take your medicine, as well. I’ll switch out your bandages when you’re done showering. Don’t worry about anything here, okay? Just relax for me.”

And you did just so, following the words of his advice brought you to the warmth of your shower, where your limbs fell slack from destressing. You worked around the stitching of your head that stung under hot water, as you maneuvered your hair through the rainfall of the showerhead. But too much steam was beginning to blur your vision, and your shower was cut unfortunately short after you swiftly rid your body of any lingering antiseptic smell that clung to you. 

“Ow, Eddie!” Your hand squeezed his, as your forehead became cushioned by the tone of his torso, where he stood before you. 

As you sat on the toilet, he looked down, and caressed your head gently. “Sorry, sweetheart, just gotta get it clean, ‘s all.” A new square of gauze concealed your wound, before a long strip of bandage secured itself around your forehead. Your head lifted from the comfort of his belly, and he bent at the waist to examine your face. A smile grew so naturally. “There… beautiful as always.” There was no denying the lunge in your heart that soared at his words, but your stubbornness withheld the swoon that would have usually followed with a new inure look to your face. Eddie guffawed at your pertinaciousness. “Fine, I hope you know you have a bald spot on the back of your head.”

And he devilishly smiled at your sudden movements to feel around your hair. “It’s only because of the stitches.” You gruffed in protest. “Plus, what the back of my head looks like is none of my business.”

“Still, you’re balding before me.”

And you wanted so desperately to wipe that smirk off his face. “Push back your bangs right now.”

Touche. “You should really eat your food before I spit in it.”

You had the liberty of delving into Eddie Munson’s personally made lukewarm tomato soup, and a sandwich so untimely perfect, the burnt bread did little to match the cheese that surely did not melt. And yet, it did everything to fill that little hole in your heart, as one bite brought you back to the cozy trailer, where endless nights were spent concocting meals from ingredients that scientifically went together, but for some reason refused to work when Eddie touched them. 

He left you alone in the comfort of your bedroom that was once shared with him, as you quietly endured enjoyed your meal, and sat with the events that came about. Seeing Eddie had tumultuously screwed with your already bruised head, and set you back a mile on the path to peace. Where you blamed yourself over the rise of bubbling feelings, you also gave yourself the grace of remembering this man had been the love of your life for seven years. Facing him would be anything but peaceful, and yet, his stupid, round face managed to conjure that settling tranquility of deep contentment within your heart that only ever built under his hands of love and care. But he also managed to tear it, and that was something beyond the repairs of five months apart. No matter how brutal. Your pillow still stained with the tears of endless cries over the insecurities of no longer being good enough for him. But if you sniffed deep enough, his burrowed cologne would fume into your nose at night that allowed you to gain a safe sleep during the dark hours. 

How polarizing he could be was beyond the study of any scientist. 

Between the last slurp of your soup, your eyes succumbed to the heaviness of your eyelids, as what was intended to be a half an hour nap prolonged into a five hour doze, until the sun decided to rest for the evening, bleeding its red into a darkening sky. As advised by your doctor, a couple pills were to be popped to alleviate that ache that would haunt you for days to come, so with a march to the kitchen ahead, you called for the man you needed most. “Eddie!” Drowned by your tiredness, your voice did little to amplify his name from the second floor. “Eddie!” But a second call of his name proved to be useless when nothing followed in return.

Dr. Rosenthal surely hadn’t been lying about the aftermath of dizziness, as the simple event of walking down your staircase had turned into an olympic sport that nearly caused another blow to your head if it hadn’t been for the obscene tightness of your grip on the railing that descended. “Eddie, seriously! I’ve been calling you, can’t you hear?!”

The quietness of your home answered back, as you approached the bottom steps of the stairs, where suddenly soft lights straightened the blurred lines of your eyes to the clarity of a beautiful glow. Warm lanterns and sticks of candles kindled your chimney and center table, where red bows of various sizes decorated themselves along your living room to match the ribbon of your Christmas tree that had not been put up prior to your waking. Sweet scents of cinnamon and pines worked magically to calm the agitated nerves of your head, and your eyes dragged in awe to the breathtaking display of green garlands that dressed your home to the Christmas perfection you always dreamed of. 

Your eyes watered, and though you knew he wouldn’t answer, you still quietly spoke. “Eddie?”

So simple, yet so fulfilling, your heart soared at the work of his hands that ached for your happiness. While it did not amount to the pain he once dragged you through, a meaningful smile that hadn’t been flashed in months finally etched its place onto your face where it perfectly belonged.

And much to your dismay, but simultaneously your biggest hope… it was because of him. 

While it broke your spirit for his efforts to take so long to return, you smiled through your hurting cries, as you finally gained the wish for your Eddie—once lost, now running through the wooded path to be found—to return. And with it, a note to keep your heart content with the soundness of peace. Whether it be with Eddie. Whether it not be with Eddie. 

At the very least, you got your Christmas spirit. 

Management wants to bitch me out, I’m sorry I had to leave you :( but I’m gonna convince ‘em to let me stay in Indy for a while. Kinda hard to say no to a face like mine, you know? You know. Call me to make sure you’re okay, sweetheart, or I’ll break into your house! - Love, Eddie

P.S, gave Trevor his ladder back, so don’t speak to him :)

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

What You Like

Marc Spector x F!Reader x Steven Grant • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Marc gets in his head about being with you, Steven talks him through it.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: There was a post about Marc talking Steven through his first time with reader, which I adored and couldn't stop thinking about. And then my brain went... but what if... the other way around? (I'm so sure I reblogged the post, or maybe it's in my queue, but I cannot for the life of me find it. Please if you know the one I'm talking about, let me know! I really would like to link it here. Also I'm so sorry I forgot who wrote it as well.)

Warnings: oral, fingering, so much swearing, some self loathing from Marc, I have used 'mate' far too much, as well as 'yeah?', kind of Marc being sort of into Steven talking to him, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 2213

“She doesn’t like it so much like that, if you tilt your head to the side a little and-”

Marc snaps his eyes open and glares at Steven in the far-off mirror. “Fuck off.” He thinks hard, and Steven doesn’t have to hear him to read his expression.

“I’m just trying to help, mate.” He holds up his hands like all he had done is hold the door open for him or something. 

Marc glares harder, about to flip him off when you pull back from the kiss. 

“You okay?” 

Marc swallows, “Sorry, I, erm…” He hadn’t realised you’d noticed his distraction.

You smile at him and stroke his cheek. "You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you shift a little on the bed, giving him a fraction more space.

“No, no, that wasn’t…” he gives you a small smile in return and leans forward again to kiss you. “Steven, I need you to be quiet now, okay?” 

“I was just-”

“Steven.”

He tuts. “Okay, okay, I promise.” 

Marc inches a little closer, recovering the space you’d previously offered up. His thigh nudges against yours and you let out a little moan into his mouth as he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip. 

He didn’t know why he felt so nervous, anxiety like eels swimming in his belly, you were Steven’s girlfriend (and technically, his now? Or was that too forward?) you’d been in this bed, with this body before. And strictly speaking, Marc had looked in on you and Steven a few times in more… intimate moments. Accidentally, of course. 

This should be fine. Practically second nature. 

He tries to clear his head, to be more in the moment, and runs his hands down your back as he presses closer, leaning into you slightly to urge you to lay back onto the mattress. 

You move with him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him against you. Parting your legs slightly so that he can situate himself between them. 

He nips lightly at your lip, licking softly but confidently into your mouth as he just grinds his hardening cock against your core. Oh, and your barely muffled moan is delicious, the way you dig your fingers into his shoulders makes his head spin, if-

“Oh, that’s a good move. She definitely likes that.” 

“Steven! For fuck’s sake! I trusted you to be quiet!” 

“Sorry!”

Marc tries not to let the interruption show, but he jumps a little when Steven speaks and it’s impossible for you to have missed it. A small thorn of anxiety settles in his chest, piercing between his ribs. 

“Kiss her neck, she really likes that.” 

“Steven-”

“I’m just giving helpful tips!” He can feel more than see Steven shrug his shoulders. “You’re the one without any game.”

“Without any game? I’ve got more game than you.” 

Steven sorts. “Unlikely. When’s the last time you got laid? God only knows. I, however, had sex this morning.” 

“Steven.” 

“Just saying.” 

“Yeah, well, I'm gonna be having sex in a minute, so shut up.”

There was a moment of blissful silence and Marc let out a breath of relief. 

You hooked your legs over his hips, urging him closer and bucking up so that you could grind against him. The heavy drag of his jeans sending sparks of pleasure along your spine. 

He slips his left hand down, sneaking the tips of his warm fingers under your top and stroking at the soft skin of your side. 

“She’s ticklish there.” 

“Steven-”

You can’t help but giggle a little, squirming away from his touch and breaking the kiss. “Sorry,” you bite your lip, “I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“You’re ticklish.” Marc finishes and you nod smiling. 

“Sorry.” You mouth again. 

Marc shakes his head and smiles as he leans back down. “It’s fine, don’t worry.” He moves his hand away from your side. 

He’s barely pressed his lips against you for a second before Steven speaks again. “Told you.”

Marc inwardly grunts, rolling his eyes as he kisses along your jaw to your neck. He nips lightly at your skin, before sucking gently.

“Bit lower mate, that’s the spot.”

Marc scowled but followed the instruction, hatching onto the spot Steven suggested and you moan loudly, arching your back off the mattress. 

“See, she really likes that. Now if you just move your hand down and-”

Marc clenches his jaw instinctively, letting his frustration bubble over. Unfortunately, your neck is still between his teeth when they snap shut. 

You let out a little gasp of pain and Marc nearly blacks out from panic, instinctively moving to jerk backwards and away from you. But your arms tighten on his shoulders, your thighs clenching around his hips. 

You whimper and buck against him instantly. “Marc, fuck, please do that again.” 

He relaxes, tension easing out of his limbs as he growls faintly and does as you ask. 

“It’s okay mate, really. She’s not made of glass.” 

“Steven. I’m fucking gonna-”

“Hey,” Steven protested, “look, I don’t mind when you’re watching us go at it all the time, yeah?” 

Marc flushed. “I do not.”

“Yes, you do. And don’t think you’re being sneaky about it either. I can tell.” 

“I don’t mean to, it’s just…”

“Just what mate?” 

“It just… happens.” 

“Yeah, right.” 

Marc stays quiet, knowing that whatever he says won’t make him look good. He tries to ignore Steven, to just focus on you. To grind against you just right. But he could feel Steven hovering just in the background. 

You run your hands through Marc’s hair, pulling highly as you writhe under him and he can’t help but risk a sneaky look up at you, at how your eyebrows are pinched together, eyes closed in pleasure and…

Was it real? Or was it just for show? Did you always look like that when Steven…? He thinks back trying to recall the memories of watching in as much detail as possible. 

“Marc.” Steven’s voice is soft. 

But he doesn’t answer.

“Stop getting in your head about it, yeah? She’s here with you. She likes you. She wouldn’t pretend to be into something she doesn’t, ‘kay?” 

Marc swallows, trying to take Steven’s words on board and calm his quickly spiralling thoughts. 

But it doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right, it’s all stiff and unsettled. Like his joints are just a fraction out of place. 

You can tell. He’s so sure that you can tell. Even if you are moaning and writhing against him, you must know. Must sense it. How out of alignment he is. How much of a failure. 

“Steven?"

There’s a fraction of a pause before he answers. “Hmm?” 

“What does she like?”

He can feel Steven’s frown. 

“What does she like? What should I do? You were full of tips a second ago, don’t lea-”

“Move your hand down,” his voice is a little softer than before. Compassionate. And Marc knows his emotions have bled through. “Slower.” 

Marc slowly runs his hand down your body, careful not to tickle your side, stopping just short of the top button of your trousers. 

“Kiss lower on her neck, just above her collarbone... that’s it.”

Marc feels a little warm at the praise, giddy even. 

“And just start to undo her trousers, yeah?”

He flicks the top button open and you whine, bucking up against him. You urge his face up with your hands so you can kiss his lips and slide your tongue into his mouth. A deep shiver runs along Marc’s spine, forcing his hips to buck mindlessly. 

You pull back for a second, just to lift your top up and over your head before dropping it to the side and his breath catches in his throat. 

“Trousers.” 

Marc all but jumps despite the soft tone of Steven’s voice and he quickly snaps his eyes away from your skin to focus on undoing your pants.

You grin at his eagerness and help him by wiggling out of your trousers and kicking them off your feet. You kiss Marc’s neck, your hands moving desperately to his jeans. 

“Touch her.”

Marc lets out a little moan as you suck on his pulse point. “Wha-”

Marc’s left hand moves under Steven’s control, slipping his fingers under the elastic of your panties and pressing two thick fingers inside of your heat. 

You gasp in surprise, your thighs twitching at the sudden intrusion, shifting wider to allow him easier access. 

Steven strokes two fingers languidly against your walls for a second, enjoying the little tremors and flutters before placing his thumb on your clit. “Can you feel that?” 

Marc nods inwardly, “fuck.”

“See how wet she is?” 

“So fucking wet.” 

Steven smiles, continuing the long, slow strokes for a second before retreating back and leaving their hand once more completely under Marc’s control. He falters for half a second before he quickly resumes the tortuous pace set up by Steven. 

You gasp and whine, flinging your head back against the pillow as you arch up your hips towards him, trying to buck and urge him to move faster. 

“Go nice and slow… yeah… like that…” Steven whispers in his ear and there’s something strangely comforting about it, something exciting at having him there, right with him. 

Marc bites his bottom lips between his teeth, watching your face with rapt attention. 

“Nice slow circles and nice slow strokes.” 

“Slow circles.” He mutters under his breath, almost inaudible. He glides his fingers back and forth, barely leaving you before pushing back in, revelling in the sound of your wetness. 

You buck and whine, grabbing hold of his forearm like you were hanging onto a lifesaver. “Marc- ah, please!” Your words are cut off by desperate half choked sobs. 

He continues to circle your clit gently, barely allowing any pressure so that you can only just feel the slightly calloused glide of his thumb. Your thighs started to shake, your movements becoming sloppy. 

“Take her panties off completely, yeah? She’s gonna cum in a second, you’re gonna want to see.” 

Marc obeyed without thinking, using his free hand to pull them down and groaning softly when you lifted your hips as best you could to help him. 

Fuck you looked so pretty laid out all before him- before them. 

You moaned particularly needily, already looking fucked out of your head and Marc hissed, unable to stop himself as he hurriedly leant down and flicked his tongue along your clit. 

Your little high-pitched cry made him go light-headed. 

“Fuck, god yeah, give it to her.” Steven’s arousal bled into his own, making him dizzyingly high. “God, make her cum, make her cum in our mouth Marc, please.” 

“Marc, oh god, please!” You whine at almost the same moment, your and Steven’s voice blending together in a harmony that made Marc’s dick throb. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth for a moment before running board, flat licks over it, continuing his fingers slow pump as he brought you maddeningly close to the edge. 

Steven moaned loudly, “fuck Marc, please, please, need to taste her cum. Then we can fuck her together, yeah? She feels so good, she makes the best little noises,” he groaned again, “she tastes so sweet doesn’t she?” 

“So sweet,” Marc mumbled against your pussy as he kept moving, kept sucking and licking and practically humping the mattress with his eyes pinched tight in pleasure. 

“Marc,” you whimper and pull on his hair with your free hand, urging him on, “you’re so good at this, so good, ‘m gonna cum-”

“Fuck, Marc, yes.” 

He couldn’t help himself, simply couldn’t. Found himself opening his mouth and letting the words spill out before he had even registered them. “Steven’s here too.” 

“Oh shit!” You gasp, your voice raising in pitch as your orgasm crashes into you, seizing your limbs in pleasure and whiting out your vision, before leaving you boneless and breathless. 

Marc stops moving slowly, trying to prolong your bliss for as long as possible. He bites his lip nervously as he sits up, your release and his spit covering the lower half of his face. Fuck, why had he said that, why had he gone and fucked this all up-

You smile up at him, still trailing your fingers through his thick curls. “Steven’s here too?” 

He nods as heat rises to his face. He stares down at your knee. 

“Look at her, mate.” 

He doesn’t move until you gently tilt his chin up with your hand. 

Your soft smile makes his heart ache. 

“I’m sorry…” he whispers. “Is that… okay? That he’s here?” 

You nod, your grin widening as you sit up and kiss him. It’s messy and deep, and Marc just melts into it. He whines against your lips as you wrap your arms around him, stroking your tongue with his own as you lick into his mouth. 

“Now, how about,” you say between kisses, your fingers tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt. “I get you out of these clothes and suck both of your dick.” You pause and pull a silly face at the odd-sounding, but technically correct singular use. 

Marc giggles and nuzzles into your neck. 

“Say yes mate!” 

“Yes please.” He mumbles as he sucks a love bite into your skin. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[ghostchems]

bad idea right? - raphael x f!tav

your companions have made their stance on making a deal with a devil clear but as the stakes of your quest grow you aren't so certain

a/n: i am shouting out @angellayercake for screaming about this with me and for also having to deal with this:

this is my first raphael fic! i tried :) 2.1k words. smut! mdni! 18+ please. both tav and raphael make bad decisions! ao3 link.

Your muscles and bones ache as you toss and turn in bed, eyes squeezed shut while you try to force yourself to sleep but to no avail. The bed creaks as you shift, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips. Sleeping used to be easier before the tadpole, before your abduction and before you somehow became the hero of this story. Your eyes flicker across your companions, watching as they sleep, their chests rising and falling between soft breaths. You knew booking a room at Elfsong would be good for them, allowing them to sleep in actual beds for the first time during your adventure rather than bedrolls on the hard ground. You care for them, more than you’ve cared about anything before, putting their needs above yours. Perhaps that’s why you’ve taken on the role as the heroic leader.

But you don’t want to be. Not anymore. You’re exhausted from trying to go about this the right way when there is a slightly easier way to go about it.

The second those big, brown eyes fell upon you in the Devil’s Den he knew you were exhausted. You still went about the delicate dance of learning what he truly wanted from you and how you refuse to make a deal with a Devil. But deep down, you wanted to and he knew. The way his lips quirked into a slimy smirk as you left, your eyes met his and you gave him a knowing look. He would be expecting you to come back.

You just didn’t think you would be back so soon but you aren’t able to get your thoughts to quiet down. You need your plans in place to quiet your mind enough to rest. Gravel crunches beneath your boots as you make your way back to Sharess’ Caress, a cautious eye scanning the streets for anything out of the ordinary. You miss the days when you could walk these streets without worry, when signs of danger were few and far between. 

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end once you reach the door to Devil’s Den, a lump forming in your throat. Ever since Raphael showed his smarmy face and performed his rehearsed speech to your group, you couldn’t help but be curious about him. A devil, a cambion to be more specific, coming to you with a deal was never even a possibility that crossed your mind before, let alone having multiple run-ins with him since you escaped the wreckage. There is always something far too tempting about him and his schemes.

I’ve grown fond of you, in my own way. 

You think about the way those words rolled off of his tongue more than you would like to admit. An infernal creature fond of you. You can’t help but feel special. A quick thought blips to the front of your mind, a sudden worry that it’s too late at night for you to be disturbing him. You suck in a deep breath and shrug the thought away — you are his favorite client, after all. The door to his room clicks and you push open the door, revealing Raphael still perched at his desk almost as if he hasn’t moved since you left him earlier.

“Back so soon, mouse?” The devil tilts his head, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You put on quite the performance earlier, I figured you would take a few nights to stew over it before you came crawling back.” His voice drops deliciously low as he curls his fingers underneath his chin, his eyes scanning your body. You feel warmth start to blossom in the pit of your stomach but you choose to brush the feeling off. It’s just like him to continue this little game of his when he knows full well what you are here for. You decide to play along. 

“Where is the hammer, Raphael?” You ask, annoyance dripping from your town while you walk completely past him and into the bedroom. He trails after you curiously, watching as you start to go through the drawers of his bedside table. You know it’s not here but you must play along with him, wanting nothing more than to hold his attention. Raphael lingers behind you, peering over your shoulder with a bemused expression.

“It’s not here, my pet. You’ll receive it at the right time — if you accept my deal.” You feel his warm breath on the back of your neck and your cheeks flush, your grip on the drawer tightening.

“How do I know you won’t screw me over?” You don’t dare turn around, almost afraid how close he is to you. One of his hands grabs you by the waist and you can’t help but give a startled mewl. He snaps his fingers and a contract appears in front of you, the infernal script too complicated for you to understand, and a quill floats beside it.

“You wound me.” Raphael purrs into your ear, savoring the position he has you in. The chase, the seduction is always his favorite part. “My deal is fair. We get what we both want. I promise you, my dear, I would never lie to you. You are my favorite client, after all.” His lips touch your earlobe and he can practically taste your desperation. He sucks in a sharp breath to compose himself while his hand on your waist drifts lower. Raphael has you right where he wants to and he’s relishing in having the hero of the sword coast in his grasp. 

“Raphael—“ His name catches in your throat as his fingers slip inside your waistband. You shudder and your eyes flutter open and shut, your cheeks bright red as he continues lower. For Raphael, this is something that happens every so often with his business — having to sweeten the deal with a little bit of devilish delight, but this felt especially sweet. Raphael is corrupting you himself, in more ways than one. His fingers stroke along your opening, your folds already slick to his pleasant surprise.

“My, my.” He teases and you can feel him smile against your ear. “Seems that you are quite ready to accept my deal, little mouse. Take the quill.” His voice is a mere whisper now, his fingers teasing at your entrance. You hesitate for just a moment, putting on a small act of reluctance before following his command, the quill feeling impossibly light in your hand. Raphael hums his approval and presses one of his long fingers inside your dripping cunt. You dip your head back and lean into him, resting on his shoulder as your eyes close and lips part, an embarrassingly soft moan falling from them. 

A rush of desire courses through Raphael, so strong that it nearly distracts him from the task at hand, a blush rising to his cheeks that unfortunately you can’t see. He gives a low growl, his mouth finding your neck and sucking on the delicate flesh while he starts to curl his finger inside of you. You gasp and drop your hand to grab his forearm, fingers digging into his sleeve as he continues, your body writhing and your toes curling in your boots. Your body is impossibly hot, your mind thinking only about how sinfully good his finger feels, the dangers and worries of signing his contract far away now.

Raphael is lost in your taste. His tongue and lips drifting along your neck, planting wet kisses and sharp bites, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. He slips another fingers inside, stretching you open with deft digits as he sinks them even deeper. You’re putty in his hands and you hate that it feels so right, that this is what you wanted, what you dreamt about after first laying eyes on him. Your knees start to buckle and the tension in your abdomen is almost at its breaking point, stuttering moans and huffs clawing their way from your throat. Raphael nearly forgets himself, so utterly wrapped up in your taste, your scent, but he’s able to catch himself before he takes it too far. He pulls his fingers from you and starts to stroke lightly at your fully drenched entrance.

“Sign the contract, my little mouse, and I’ll finish you off.” His voice is gravelly and you feel the words vibrate from his chest. You don’t hesitate this time, feverishly signing the contract as his fingers lazily circle your cunt. The second you’ve signed the contract ignites into flames and disappears, quill included. Raphael wastes no time, plunging his fingers back inside and thrusting them roughly. Your hips buck and your eyes squeeze shut, riding his fingers to the edge of the precipice. His teeth find your earlobe, grazing it before giving it a rough nibble that is enough to send you toppling over the edge. Your body trembles and convulses, breathing heavy as your vision blurs and it overtakes you.

Normally, Raphael would have slipped away from his mark, leaving them alone to bask in the delicious shame of making a deal with a devil. But he can’t leave you. His nose scrunches as his eyes meet your glassy ones, your cheeks an adorable shade of red and your lips shiny and pink. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, not for you, not for anyone, but he can’t help but want you. Raphael hasn’t felt this kind of want in ages. His heart pounds in his chest, his gaze drifting to your lips. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But he can’t resist you.

Raphael’s lips crash against yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You groan at the taste of him, cherries and musk, and you melt into the kiss. It’s fierce and possessive, his strong hands grabbing you again by the waist and clumsily pressing you back into the nearest wall. It’s like he can’t control himself which is alarming given how carefully he has crafted his image for hundreds of years just for you to tear it all away in a moment of weakness. He can’t stop himself though. His hands are groping you all over, drifting from your ass to your breasts, with one firm hand settling on your throat.

You can’t breathe and you’re sure Raphael has forgotten that you need to breathe. You manage to tear yourself away from the breathless kiss, air filling your lungs as he bites at your jaw, those caramel eyes never leaving yours. He uses his free hand to tug at your pants, ripping them in the process but he doesn’t care. He needs you. He needs nothing but you in this moment. You’re not used to how quickly he moves, suddenly finding your legs wrapped around his waist while he holds you up against the wall with one hand, his hard cock already pressing against your slick entrance. 

You brace yourself against the wall as he slams into you, his sharp nails digging into your ass and a deep moan rumbling from his chest. A scream leaves your lips, your hands pawing at his chest before curling into his doublet to hold on. He keeps the pace desperate, the mere strength of his thighs pounding into your ass enough to leave bruises. You squeeze your legs tighter around his waist and he whines, a sound you want more than anything to hear again. He captures your lips in a kiss again, his burning tongue dominating the kiss as he fills you so deeply, deeper than anyone has before. Your hands drift up his shoulders to settle around his neck, fingertips brushing the soft curls at the nape of his neck and you swear you hear him purr.

Raphael’s teeth, somehow sharper than before, sink into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Your nails dig into the back of his neck as you give a sharp yelp, your body jerking as the pain sears through you. His breath catches in his throat before giving a deep, rumbling snarl against your lips. One last thrust and he’s spilling himself deep inside you, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. Your eyes are wide as you take in his face, his forehead glistening with sweat and a few loose strands of his usually perfect hair, his cheeks flushed red. His gaze meets yours, seeing your reaction and immediately disappearing, only to appear a second later in front of you and tidied up except for a hint of redness in his cheeks. 

Meanwhile your lips and teeth are stained with blood, your hair is a mess and your pants are still around your ankles with the devil’s cum dripping down the inside of your thighs.

“A pleasure doing business with you, mouse. We shall keep this a special secret between us.” Raphael sounds almost angry with you, nearly growling between gritted teeth but there is something else that catches you off guard. His face – his words sound threatening but his face looks unsure, perhaps even worried?

Raphael leaves in a flash of fire.

part two

#raphael x tav #raphael x reader #bg3 raphael x reader #raphael bg3 x reader #bg3 raphael x tav #raphael bg3 x tav #bg 3 fanfic #baldurs gate fanfic #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate raphael

[aspirationalpeony]

Finding Beauty

Summary: You accidentally uncover an insecurity of Melissa's one night when you're in bed, and reassure her just how perfect she is. Content Warnings: Lots of body image talk, references to weight, and a brush with misogyny (thanks, Joe). Also, lots of smut. AO3 Link (also contains an author's note!)

Melissa Schemmenti isn't shy.

You can think of a lot of things she is: brave, intense, smart, intimidating, sexy. But shy? No, never. Still...

There are some times when she withdraws from you--almost cringes away, like you've touched some invisible bruise. A wall comes up between you then, and her eyes--their volatile green always so full of close attention and fierce emotion--go sallow and gray and remote. Her chin ducks to her chest. Her smile vanishes.

Then she hides it, or tries: "What, you think I'm an idiot?" she'll say, bluffing, embarrassed, and you'll understand you've accidentally nudged that hurt child who thought she was stupid for years. "Oh, yeah, thanks for your opinion," she'll tell you dryly on another occasion, when you've told her that you love the way her blouse shows the soft curve of her belly, and you'll know she's thinking of all the times Joe and Kristen-Marie and everyone else in her life called her fat.

Those moments are rare at first. Just a glimmer, here and there, quickly forgotten in the early fun of your relationship. Then more. More, because you're getting closer to her. More, because Melissa Schemmenti never lets anyone in, and she's letting you in, and you can see how much that scares her.

In bed, though, you've never seen that version of her, retreating, nervous, afraid. When Melissa has her hands on you, it's heat and lightning. Her confidence is unreal. She initiated your first kiss, not the cautious thing you'd have given her if you were in control; she'd just grabbed your face and gone for it, straining on her tiptoes to meet you and slotting her mouth against hers, and all you tasted at first was the slippery gloss on her lips. Then you felt her tongue, and you melted. You were hers, right then.

There was never any time for you to be timid about it. From the first night you spent together, she just yanked off your clothes and went for it, the same way she'd kissed you, touching you with intent and urgency and focus. Her fingernails scratching lightly at your scalp, her mouth biting and sucking at your clavicle, her breasts pressed hard against yours, her hips rocking, rocking, and you couldn't get enough; you could never get enough of her fingers buried inside you, of her lips on your nipple, her cunt riding your thigh, drowning in the mingled scents of skin and hairspray and perfume and sex.

Then, one night--then, she gets shy.

You've always reciprocated in bed with her, but usually after she's put you through a few pulverizing rounds; when you're exhausted and the lights are already low and it takes little for her to come. She usually needs a little lube to help her along ("when you're my age, hon...") but it's not a detraction; far from it. You like trying flavors and letting them mingle with her taste, or slicking your fingers and stroking her so slowly that even with that hair-trigger clit, she can't quite come, not until she's cursed you out to hell and back.

Tonight, though, you're hungry for her; craving in a way that speaks to the long weeks of standardized test prep that have eaten both of you alive with mental load and exhaustion. You need her. You need to have her, in the same way she usually has you, turn her pliant and desperate and needy and make her melt across the mattress. The overhead light is still on when you're peeling her panties down her legs and kissing her belly and hips and ready to settle between her thighs, to lick her until she passes out. Then she squirms. Not in the sexy way.

You look up her body. She's picture-perfect like this, all plump hips and thighs and belly and her crinkle-tipped breasts, so sexy you can't get enough, but she's staring up at the ceiling like she's lying in the chair at the dentist's office.

"Mel?" you say.

She looks down at you and you see the closed door behind her eyes. She's gone shy.

"What is it, baby?" You push yourself up on one elbow and her leg slides off your shoulder. "You okay? You want me to stop?"

Her eyes go back up and search the ceiling. The pink in her cheeks isn't all arousal, you know that. "Maybe we can turn the light off?"

You frown. She loves fucking you with the lights on: lets her map every inch, every freckle, coo over old hickeys and leave you some new ones.

"You know, just, you're gonna be..." She clears her throat. She's struggling, you can see: can't smother her vulnerability with bravado, that old war between honesty and tactical retreat showing on her face. "You're gonna be lookin', and, well..."

"I love looking at you," you say.

"I mean," she says, "at my--you know, you're gonna be lookin' at my pussy, and--"

"What's wrong with your pussy?"

She groans, putting her hands over her face.

You imitate her a little, trying to coax her out from behind those hands, voice tender and warm with humor. "Still works, don't it?"

"That's not what I mean," she says, voice muffled by her palms. "I mean you're gonna be lookin' at it, and I know it's sort of--busted-lookin', I mean, Joe always said, all the guys before him, you know, kinda fucked it up, so it's ugly, and--"

"What?" You gape at her. You know she's really scared, really humiliated, when she peeks at you from behind her hands then swiftly retreats again, burying her bright-red face in them. "You--what?"

"It's ugly," she repeats. "I don't want you to have to... See it."

Something clicks into place. You've had sex plenty of times before--on her terms. That always seemed natural to you; she was older, her personality stronger, and she loved to boss people around. Why not you, too, especially when you enjoyed it so much? But suddenly you're realizing just how stage-managed sex has been between the two of you: moments picked by Mel, lingerie sets under her daily clothes, her toys, her lube, usually her bed, too, and she decides when the lights go off. Rarely anything in broad daylight, rarely her getting off first, except when she'll take your hand and tuck it into her jeans or rub herself on your hip for fun. Usually she wears you out before you ever touch her.

Because she thinks this intimate part of her is ugly? Because Joe told her something--and maybe other people in her life--and it's stuck, about a part of her body that should only bring her pleasure. All that planning so you'd never be face-to-face with a piece of her that might repulse you.

Anger flows down your body in white-hot rivulets. You hate Joe. You're going to rip his stupid dick off. You hate him and every person who ever told Mel something so stupid, like having sex could alter her body that way, could make her look busted, as if there was any wrong way for her pussy to look.

She peeks at you again from under her hands. The look is so un-Melissa, so sensitive and uncertain, that your anger dies all at once. Suddenly all that matters is protecting, loving, that tender piece of her that's showing on her face right now; a little node deep inside that's vulnerability through-and-through, her secret, sensitive heart. The feeling swells inside your chest.

You lean back down and slide your arms under her thighs, slotting yourself back into place, right where you want to be. She makes a little "uh" sound, surprised and uneasy. Now you're where she was so scared to have you, face to face with her cunt. You've explored it before, but in the dark, by feel or in glimpses.

She shaves, but keeps a patch of curls on her mound; it's as much gray as dark auburn, hinting at the real color of the hair on her head. Below is her flushed, swelling cunt. You can smell her, musky and saline. The lips of her pussy are big and plump; they have a natural spread, showing their tender interior like the open petals of an orchid. Her clit crowns them, already reddening. You know from experience how incredible this part of her body is, made for pleasure.

Maybe Joe meant her labia, that they were too long or something. Busted. Fucking busted? You lower your head and rub your face right into her. She gasps aloud and her hands go to your hair, grabbing hard. She's not dripping--won't be without the lube--but she's plenty wet enough for you to know she's turned on, to have slick to ease the way you drag your nose up through her folds and against her clit, making her buck and whimper.

"Oh, shit," she says feebly as you run the flat of your tongue up the same path, flicking her clit with the tip. "Oh, shit--I--baby--" you start to play with those labia, sucking them into your mouth with a hum, one then the other, tasting and feeling, loving their texture, the delicacy of the skin. Then you have to put your tongue inside her, even if all she feels is the drag of it over the sensitive nerves at the twitching entrance to her sex, have to feel her from the inside, velvet walls gripping you hard.

"I, I," she's saying, but you're not paying attention. You can't help it. Everything's focused to a fine point right where your face and her pussy intersect.

You love this part of her. Every part of her, even when she doesn't--all those parts of her body that are soft instead of taut and slim, all the places where cellulite shows on her thighs and her perfect ass, the way her stomach folds into tender rolls, how the delicate skin of her neck records her age--and you love this perfect pussy, how much of her there is to fill your mouth, how sensitive she is, how you don't even need to touch her twitching clit for her hips to buck and her body to writhe.

You drag your tongue up and circle her clit. She arches like you've touched her with a live wire. You moan into her and nose that little bud; she keens. Her hips start to grind, trying to find a rhythm against your face. It's classic Mel, trying to take control. You shift so you can throw your arm across her hips and pin her down and you feel more than hear the way she gasps, your face still bracketed by her soft thighs. Her hand scrabbles at yours and when you offer it up, she grips it hard.

Love you, you think, trying to paint the words into her with your tongue, to make her feel loved in a way she'll believe. Love you, love you, love you... You have mercy and suck her clit into your mouth. The hand still in your hair yanks hard. It won't take much for her to come: get her worked up far enough and Mel barely needs anything to go over the edge. Someday, maybe, when she feels more okay about this, you'll play with that--play with working her up and up and up, denying her the thing that will tip her over.

You suck on her, rock your mouth against her twice, three times, and she's gone. Her thighs close around your head but you can still hear her wail, loud enough to wake the neighbors, voice cracking, going hoarse halfway. You tilt your head and try a few more experimental sucks, feeling the jump of her hips in answer. She starts babbling somewhere over your head, "Baby, baby, I, oh, oh--" and you've never heard her like that, ever, voice faint and airy and desperate, so you keep going. "Oh God!"

She's over the edge again; you can tell by the way her back arches and strains, and that powerful grip she's still got on your hair. You hum into her and she answers with a broken little sound you want to hear every night for the rest of your life. You give her clit an experimental lick--third time's the charm?--but she lets go of your hair and pushes a little at your forehead, feebly, so you take the hint and move back down to slide your tongue back into her.

She's so delicious, so good. You just want to taste her like this forever, tease her and play with her until she can't take it. She's giving you little moans and whimpers from above, but her body has relaxed down onto the bed, the tension wrenched out of her by two orgasms. You can't help it, you give her clit a little kiss before you let go--it makes her squeak--and let her legs slide off your shoulders.

She looks so good when she's just-fucked, her hair damp at the hairline and starting to frizz a little, her face bright red and glistening, a patchy blush showing on her chest. She has a look on her face, though, that you can't interpret, almost like the person sitting up between her legs wasn't who she expected--like you're a stranger. She's panting, staring at you, green eyes full of all that feeling, and a little knot of doubt starts to tie low in your belly. Did you cross a line?

"C'mere," she croaks. You move up the bed. She reaches up to take your shoulders and pull you into her and she licks a broad stripe up your wet chin--her juices, your saliva--and puts her tongue right in your mouth. It's so sudden, so direct and intense, so Mel that you moan aloud.

She wraps her legs around you to hold you securely against her body. For good measure, she grabs your ass, too, and her nails prickle at the soft flesh. You relax against her. You could spend forever like this, right here, cradled against the abundance of her curves, her breasts pushing against yours, her teeth on your lower lip.

You part for air. The look of bewilderment on her face has eased, mellowing into something that's still a little confused, but tender and open, too. She might close up again soon--that's just Mel, and you understand it; she can't be vulnerable for too long, can't let her weakness show. You know there are stories to explain it, and someday she'll trust you enough to tell you all of it; the same way she trusted you, tonight, to hear what she really felt. To let you help, even a little, and make it better.

"I love you," you tell her. Her gaze stays on yours, trusting. "I love you so much." You peck a damp kiss onto her jaw. "And for the record," you add, sliding into your gruff imitation of her thick South accent, deepening your voice to do it, "this thing--" you drop your hand between her legs and cup her swollen pussy, squeezing; she actually squeals. "Is so pretty, Georgia O'Keeffe would'a begged to paint it."

She laughs aloud. You don't know that you've heard that exact laugh from her before, so free and happy. You turn it into a gasp when you thread your fingers into the coarse curls on her mound and gently tug. "Okay, okay," she says weakly, breathlessly. Obligingly you stop; she follows up with a slap to your ass that makes you squeal and laugh.

Her head rolls back onto the pillows. She looks exhausted, as much by the emotions of the night as by the sex itself. Exhausted, but happy. You lean down and nuzzle her cheek.

"I really love ya," she says, very softly, like a child whispering their secret. Her hand rubs up your back. "Th--thank you." She says it even more timidly, like you might make fun of her, reject the simple gratitude she's offering.

"It's okay," you tell her gently. Her eyes search yours. You see her smile start there, before it comes to her lips, when you tell her, with all the love in your heart, "You're safe."

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti

[hailsatanacab]

a father's son

Happy holiday truce, @dashing-through-ecto!! I was your gifter this year, I hope you enjoy the fic! Based on your prompt: "Do you need any help, Dad?"

Word count 2.2k - ao3 link

Things have not been going well for Danny Fenton.

Not only did he fail in intercepting Lancer’s call home, so now Mom and Dad know about his latest grades—he didn’t even get enough answers for an F this time, not when he fell asleep within the first five minutes—but they also caught Jazz taking the trash out for him.

“That’s one of your chores, young man! Heaven knows you don’t have many of them, which is why you need to be responsible and actually do the ones that we give you! It’s just not good enough, Daniel James Fenton, do you hear me?”

The full name.

It’s not often he gets it, but it sucks each and every time he does.

What sucks even more is that now, with what little free time he has, he’s cleaning the lab. It’s just not fair!

Broken glass skitters along the floor as he sweeps it up into the dustpan, ectoplasm still clinging to the bottom of the beaker. 

He can’t even goof off—can’t even use his powers to finish quicker—because his dad is sitting at the workbench tinkering with whatever his newest interest is.

Great. Looks like he’s stuck cleaning the boring, human way.

The lab is quiet, but it isn’t silent. 

Ectoplasm drips, maddeningly, from the gloop stuck on the ceiling. That’s a form of torture, isn’t it? Danny’s pretty sure he’s heard that before, that the constant sound of water droplets will drive someone insane. He can relate, because this is certainly testing him.

Dad’s talking to himself, too, little murmurs about what he’s doing, where he should be soldering, how it should be working and why it isn’t. 

Vaguely, Danny wonders what he’s working on. Sure, it’s probably some ghost thing, but that’s not all they do! His parents made some pretty great advances before the portal switched on and monopolised all of their thoughts.

Yeah, that might be wishful thinking, but stranger things have happened! You never know.

Every 30 seconds, the motor on the ecto-filter whirrs into life, syphoning off the excess, pure ectoplasm from the portal and filtering it into something less volatile. In theory.

Underneath everything, the portal hums.

A droning beat that pulses in the same rhythm as his heart. Sometimes, he catches himself staring at it, leaning closer as it calls to him.

It scares him.

“Shit!” his dad shouts, dropping the soldering iron with a loud clang. 

It’s enough to knock Danny out of whatever daydream he’d lost himself in and he whirls around to see his dad sucking on one of his fingers.

They lock eyes, both widening as they realise what’s happened.

“Ah, I mean, suffering spooks! That really hurt…” He shoves his fingers back into his mouth and his shoulders droop as he considers Danny. “Don’t tell your mother.”

Danny laughs.

“Are you alright?”

“It’d take more than that to put Jack Fenton down! All good, Danno, don’t you worry,” he smiles back before shaking his hand out and turning back to whatever he was working on. “Or, I would be, if this hunk of junk was cooperating with me!”

“What’s up?” Danny asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

Normally, he likes to stay out of the lab, as much as he can. 

Obviously, what Phantom does doesn’t count. Phantom can’t help but come into the lab, set ghosts loose into the Zone, trash whatever weapons his parents have got going on, sneak out into the Zone when he can for some much needed R&R. The ectoplasm just hits different there.

“I’m trying to repurpose this toaster, but the ecto won’t run smoothly through the wiring. I think it keeps getting cooked by the element.”

“Oh? Do you need some help?”

Danny doesn’t like spending time in the lab, because if he’s in the lab then he’s either Phantom and he’s trying hard not to be seen or heard, or he’s Danny and he’s being punished.

But his curiosity is piqued.

“Yeah, come here, have a look! Perhaps another Fenton brain can knock some sense into it!”

So, he does.

Hell, anything beats cleaning the lab.

“You’re trying to run it through here?”

Dad nods and shifts in his seat to give Danny a better view.

“But you can’t, because the ecto is tripping the heating element… which is way higher than a toaster has any right to be, wow. No wonder it’s destabilising the ectoplasm, that would destabilise anything.”

Danny pokes around the casing, wiggling the wires back and forth to get a better look at the absolute mess his dad has made of it all. Sometimes it amazes him that his parents' inventions work at all.

“That’s what I’m thinking! But it has to be that high so we can completely break down the ecto!”

“You want it to break down?”

“Yep!” Dad says, clapping him on the back hard enough that he wheezes. He grins down at him when Danny turns around reproachfully. “Think of it, boyo, if we could figure out how to flash fry that ectoplasm high enough so that it evaporates—which it should do, it’s goopy gross liquid, after all!—then you wouldn’t be stuck down here cleaning for so long! We could take it to the streets after a ghost fight and clean up the whole town!”

Well, it’s not a Nobel Prize level invention… Danny’s pretty sure at this point that his parents would be laughed out by the Nobel committee. But, a quicker cleaning of the lab does sound nice.

It would mean he’d be stuck down here a lot less.

Besides… It's interesting.

“What if we…” Danny trails off and pulls the metal frame towards him, grabbing the tweezers as he goes. Vaguely, he’s aware of his dad leaning over his shoulder, the weight of him watching is a comforting presence that he’s not felt in a long while. 

The real trouble is that you need ectoplasm to affect ectoplasm, and that’s not going to work if the object of the game is to evaporate it. 

So what if they don’t introduce the reactive ecto until the end?

He makes quick work of stripping down what his dad’s already done and starts again, this time focussing on keeping the heat contained separately away from the ectoplasm. Just as he’s piecing together a trigger to concurrently shoot a blast of ecto towards the heated tip, Dad exclaims as he realises where he’s going with it.

“Oh! Danny, you’re a genius! Look at that!” Dad laughs and squints closer at what Danny’s doing. “Just wait until your mother sees this, she’s going to be so happy!”

Danny can’t help but grin as he ductapes everything to a piece of toaster casing to give it the first test try. Dad’s enthusiasm is catching as he whoops when the first puddle of ectoplasm burns off in acrid smoke.

They spend another couple of hours perfecting it, welding a case together and branding it with the Fenton F.

It’s not pretty—but then again, when are his parents’ inventions?—a long stick with a cattle-prod-like taser at the end. Instead of electricity, it launches ectoplasm from one rod and superheats the other. When activated, all you need to do is touch the tip to a puddle and poof! It’s gone.

Danny shivers as he watches another pool go up.

But, no! He’s thinking about it wrong. It’s not a cattle-prod, it’s more like one of those sticks you see people using on the highway to jab at the litter on the floor. It’s for cleaning. It’s going to make his lab cleaning chores way easier! It’s—

“Danny, just look at it!”

Danny looks at it, and then back to his father’s face when he can’t bear to see the smoking ecto anymore. It’s painfully happy and Danny does his best to be happy, too.

“Here!” Dad shoves the contraption into Danny’s arms. “You use that and finish what you’re doing and then when you’re done—I can’t believe I’m saying this, galloping ghouls, I’m so happy, I’m working with my boy—we can get to work transferring it over to the Jack o’ Nine Tails! Imagine it, Danny, with one whip and that pesky poltergeist Phantom will be gone!”

Danny freezes.

It feels as if Dad’s just dumped a bucket of ice water over him.

“Poof! Up in smoke!”

The fumes are getting to him. That must be it. His head is swimming and his stomach is churning. There’s a ringing in his ears and it melds with the sharp, stinging whirr of ectoplasm sizzling. It pulses in time with the portal behind him.

He stumbles, almost goes down—almost throws up—but it doesn’t matter. Dad doesn’t see him, already turned away back to the work bench.

It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter.

You know what, it’s okay! It’ll be okay, Danny can sneak back down here later tonight and he can undo it all, it doesn’t matter!

Take a deep breath, now, finish cleaning the lab, ignore Dad—it doesn’t matter—and get this over with. Being here makes his skin crawl, he needs to finish—

“I’m so proud of you, Danny.”

For the second time, Danny stops.

Dad doesn’t say anything else, just sits with his back to him, opening and closing his hand over a screwdriver with the Jack o’ Nine Tails splayed out in front of him.

It takes longer than Danny wants to find his voice, but he manages to croak out, “What?”

“I’m proud of you, Danno. I know this year hasn’t been easy for you, don’t think we haven’t noticed. Your mom and I have been talking about how you're doing at school. We're not blind. We know kids can be cruel, and that Dash Baxter… But we're so proud of you for not rising to it. We love you so much, Danny.”

A lump grows in Danny’s throat and his eyes prickle.

His fingers bleach white where they grip the Fenton Evaporator too tight.

“Look at what you can do when you try, Danny! This is the boy that I know, this is the Danny that I love. I’m so proud of what we’ve done here today. It’ll make the world a better place, just you wait! Now, come on, boyo, pass me that soldering iron and let’s really get stuck in!”

And… And Danny does.

With shaky limbs and tears threatening to spill, Danny reaches over and passes Dad the soldering iron, watching as he gets to work, and when his dad asks him to get his hands dirty—“Here, run this wire up the rope, there’s a good boy!”—he does.

Danny does it all and he does it well.

He sucks in a deep breath, swipes a hand over his eyes, and he helps his dad.

He laughs when Dad tells his stupid jokes:

“Quick! What’s red, white, and blue all over?”

“I don’t know, Dad, what’s red, white, and blue all over?”

“A ghost that we’ve beaten into oblivion!”

And he hopes that his mom is going to be just as proud as Dad says she will be when she sees what they’ve done.

It’s easy, really.

If he doesn’t think about it, if he tucks his mind away and just lets his hands get on with it, then he’s just helping his dad and he can do that. He can do it.

He can do it.

So, no, he doesn’t sabotage what they’ve built. He doesn’t add in a failsafe. He doesn’t loosen a few screws, or overload the element, or untwist a few wires.

Danny does his best and at the end of the day his dad holds up the new and improved Jack o’ Nine Tails and absolutely beams at him. A work of art, he calls it.

Danny doesn’t sabotage it then and he won’t sabotage it later, because it’s a work of art. This is what he and his dad built. Together.

Danny can’t help but grin back, happiness curling in his belly even as it gives a sickening lurch.

He doesn’t eat dinner that night, he can’t.

He stays downstairs long enough to present the new weapon to Mom—very pointedly ignoring Jazz’s look—and then he heads upstairs. There’s an English essay he needs to get started on, after all.

He doesn’t miss the look Mom and Dad share, the fond tenderness, the love, the hope, all directed at him.

He’s happy.

They’re happy.

They’re proud of him.

And despite it all, he had fun today! 

When he lays down on his bed, he smiles and he can’t stop the laughter bubbling up as he thinks about his dad. At one point, he had been holding up a circular piece of metal he’d cannibalised from the lamp shade to his eyes, moving it back and forth as he pulled his funny faces, and some of that full belly laugh creeps back in as he remembers doing the same back.

He laughs so hard until he cries, and he cries, and he cries. 

Today, he and his dad built a weapon. 

Tomorrow, it'll be used on him, but that's okay. 

It's okay because today, today his dad was proud.

#danny phantom #holiday truce #holiday truce 2023 #jack fenton #angst fic #hope you enjoy!! sorry it's slightly late 😬 #and happy holiday truce!!!!

[mirohlayo]

HATE YOU LOVINGLY | LN4 (pt2)

( you hate him just as he hates you. but maybe it's just his way to show he fell hard for you. )

warning : jealousy, slight angst, fluff

note : i spent my whole evening writing this but it's worth it. also wrote once again more than 5k words i surprised myself because even in french i don't write that much

word count : 5.1k

↳ part 1

!! english is not my first language !!

this season's debut is tough for you. being a new f1 presenter is not as amazing as it looks. of course it's a wonderful job, you couldn't have dreamed better because it's the job you so wanted. you're very passionate about it, but it requires a lot of work and to be honest you're feeling a bit tired since some weeks now.

but the thing that disturbs you and makes you really tense is when you interview lando. actually just lando. of course you still don't like him, but you're sure you don't hate him anymore. you thought you would never say this but you definitely started to appreciate him. because of the post race interviews.

you mostly interview the mclaren drivers. it means that you can share some time with your best friend oscar but it also means you have to face lando. and when it happens it's the most stressful and strained moment. because you can't fully concentrate yourself on the questions.

it's the way he looks at you with this intense gaze, which makes you burn inside of your body. his distracting look always finish to fall on your lips at one point of the interview. it makes you go crazy. he would stare a bit at them before looking you in the eyes like nothing happened.

but to revenge on him you would ask him the most tough questions. about the race, about qualifying. you somehow always manage to prick his weaknesses by asking questions whose answers are almost impossible to find. and he always scoff, he lets a laugh out because he perfectly understands what you always try to do.

and fans notice it. they notice the way you two interact on camera. they'd say both of you look like are going to murder each other with the difficult questions from you and the sassy comments and answers from lando. but if they really analyze the situations, they can caught and feel a link between you. a special link which connects you. they notice lando's wandering eyes on your lips and the way you look at him. and laugh at his jokes.

it seems like you try so hard to show everyone you hate each other but it ends up watching two fools being secretly in love.

but you're still sure lando hates you and he's thinking the same for you.

now the australian grand prix will take place this sunday, and today it is thursday. which means conferences and media duties. the mclaren media team has planned a new sort of video. they want to try different types of content for both the drivers this year. and they organized a video with lando and you as guests. the idea of the video is to make lando choose an outfit for you and you'll try it. it can be a good way to show mclaren's fans your relationship and also lando's style and taste.

"y/n will arrive in a few minutes" stephanie, who oversees media and PR functions for mclaren, informs lando that you'll be here soon. the curly haired just nods and fixes his hoodie's sleeve. his expression is impassive, nobody can't tell what emotion he's feeling right now. however, some of the members are aware of the complex relationship between you and lando so they profoundly hope the video will not be a mess.

you guys just need to cooperate and fake it, fake your emotions only for the video. because it is your jobs.

lando laughs with the makeup artist who is adjusting his makeup. he lifts up his eyes and then he sees you walk in the room. you smile and greet the staff, waving your hand to some acquaintances. and in this moment he daydreams. he stops himself on you. your smile, the way you act with people around you with the kindest words and purest actions. he's mesmerized by you. and he hates it.

you make everything so difficult for him. why do he constantly have this problem ? this need to keep an eye on you, to lay eyes on you at least once a day. to be sure you're present and if you're not then he's always questioning himself, he thinks about you. why he's so attracted by you ? he thinks that he always hated you, that he was sure that this curiosity he had for you at the beginning had turned into hatred. but ultimately maybe he was lying to himself.

he only wanted to protect himself from his lack of self-confidence from trying to approach you without any result, and he decided to bury his true feelings under a shell. he created this false illusion of hatred so as not to hurt his ego, not to remind him that he is completely in love with you. because deep down he always saw you as an inaccessible woman and he always wondered how a guy like him could say a word to a woman like you.

he was too insecure and you seemed to avoid and ignore him, so it hurt him because he wanted to exist in your eyes. and that's why he started to hate you. but this feeling of hatred is simply wrong. it's an excuse to hide his feelings towards you. but he realizes that. he doesn't deny it anymore, he knows how fucking bad he's in love with you.

"lando ? you're still with us ?" your voice rings in lando's ears and he comes back to reality. you're standing next to him, and the staff is ready to start the video. "yeah sorry. i'm ready" he says and gives you a decided look. stephanie checks everything. she adjusts the little details to make everything look perfect. but she frowns when her eyes fall on you. "can you please try to be more relaxed and act like you're actually like each other ?"

she walks quickly over you and put her hands on your shoulders "you need to be closer to him, the framing looks horrible on the camera" she says while moving your position. your feet walk by themselves and you're so close to lando now, your shoulders almost touch together. you have never been so close to him. you can even smell his cologne.

he looks a bit uncomfortable now, he shifts his position and clear his throat. he can also smell your perfume too and he's completely hypnotized by it. and by the closeness of your body. stephanie take a look on the camera and she thumbs up. "perfect !! now we can start the recording. please no noise!" she sits on her chair and gives you the signal.

you inhale deeply. it's going to be funny right ?

"hello everyone !! today we are here with the driver lando norris and we're going to play a little game together" you smile to the camera and then turn around to talk to the driver next to you. he does the same and when your looks meet, his heart starts to beat faster. you continue to speak and explain the game but he doesn't listen, he's stuck on your hand on his shoulder. you have never touch him before, because if you dare brush him you know he'll be so pissed off. and you either don't want to graze his skin.

but it's all for the work, so you have to do it and to obviously fake it.

lando doesn't want to show you and people that he's surprised by the touch and that he actually likes it. so to shield himself he keeps a straight face and glare at your hand before taking a step back. you would be lying if you said he hurts you with this sudden move. but what, you also need to fake your hatred towards him. so you react like nothing happened despite the way your heart pangs.

"so are you ready to choose me an outfit ?" you ask to the driver and he doesn't ever bother to look you in the eyes. "yes, i think i'll do a great job". you try to hold back a roll eyes and you smile while nodding. but stephanie claps and sighs "no it's so bad. i know you two can't barely stand each other but you guys need to grow up and understand that you need to work together. it looks like you're going to fight. please be serious and mature and make an effort to show that you are at least close"

you sigh and nod to agree with her because you know she's right. you can't act like this in front of the camera and millions of people. "we're sorry. we're going to fix this problem and do our best" "who "we"?" lando says and shoot a black look to you. you bite your cheek from the inside and roll your eyes. now you're getting annoyed. "shut your mouth and stop being stupid. do your job." you murmur to him with frowning brows.

"don't talk to me like that. we're not friends and we'll never be" he adds. he says that to look pissed off, but the truth is that he hopes you'll never be friends. because instead he hopes you'll be his girlfriend. "i ask no more" you scoff and you sound genuinely honest and sincere. which twist his heart and feelings. wouldn’t he have said that ? now he starts regretting what he have said. do you really want him to remain your enemy?

he can't argue back because the recording is taking up again. the recording is going pleasantly well and it surprises the staff as much as you two. lando seems to choose with precision and care your outfit. he does his best to match the clothes and he picks up the best items. and it feels like he's doing it not on purpose, but sincerely. it feels like he truly wants to see you well dressed and it kinda disturbs you.

you go change yourself into the outfit. and it's really beautiful. the clothes match perfectly and you can't lie, he did a good job. you found yourself admiring your reflection in the mirror. you're wearing an outfit chosen by your enemy - no wait by the man you secretly love, and you like it a bit too much.

it's time for the outfit reveals. the camera still records and you're hidden behind a curtain. "okay lando are you ready to see the final result ?" you ask a bit excited about it. "yes show me" he only replies. you pull the curtain and lando's eyes immediately land on you. ohh.

wow. he stopped to breathe. he stopped to talk. is it legal to be this pretty? no because you're taking his breath away and it's not good at all. the outfit fits you perfectly, and he's even more proud because he was the one to choose it. but seriously, he sincerely thinks you look gorgeous that he doesn't even realize you were talking to him. "so how do i look ?" you ask with a smile.

he's flustered. he starts to blush so hard and he rapidly looks away. he tries to say something but he stutters so much over his words. you're making him loose all his senses. he doesn't even know how to talk anymore. "y-you look... i mean it looks good". he pulls himself together and names the outfit rather than you because he doesn't want to admit that you are incredibly beautiful.

"yes i agree with you, it definitely looks good" you reply and smile to him. but not a fake smile like you'd usually do. no, it's a sincere smile, the one smile he loves seeing. he blushes even more and he clear his throat. some staff members notice how lando looks destabilized by you and they laugh. he is unmasked. but you see he's starting to get embarrassed and you decide to end the video now.

"you were perfect, thanks for your hard work" stephanie says and the others members thanks you too. the record stops and you rush to go get changed. you don't even glance at lando, you just look like you can't wait to leave the room and the driver. and the curly haired feels a little disappointed. for the first time he really wanted to talk to you and say a few words to you.

he hesitates to follow you. it would be weird if he suddenly come and talk to you when you can't even look at each other properly.

but he doesn't care. he wants to be confident. he rushes to follow you and before you could walk away from him he grabs your wrist. your second touch. it gives him shivers. and you too because he notices how your skin reacted to the sudden touch. wait, do you feel the same as him ?

"what ?" your frown and glare at him. he removes his hand from your wrist and looks away. he wants to speak but his words are running away. why he's like that around you ? "huh... i just wanted to say that you are actually... really pretty in this outfit" he says and blushes so so hard. you stop yourself. are you dreaming ? is this even real ?

is it really lando ? it's not a false lando norris right ? you blink, and he can clearly tell you're surprised. like very surprised. which is stressful because he starts to regret what he have said. he is sure that you will take his compliment badly and that he will be able to go fuck himself. but no. it's not your reaction. "oh... thank you lando. i guess ?" you stutter a bit, you don't even know how to react at this point.

your reaction make him laugh softly and for the first time since you met, a positive interaction took place between you. it's like a dream, it can't be real. you thought you couldn't have a good talk with him. you genuinely thought you and him couldn't make it together. but it seems for once that you are able to do it.

"let me change myself now please" you say because you're too flustered to stay with him right now. it's kinda awkward though. "oh yes sorry" he only replies and walk away without anything else.

now this one was truly surprising. first you managed to work perfectly well together and then he complimented you ? something is off. he couldn't have change in a day no ? it's just so strange. but yet you don't complain. you're happy about your interactions today. because it finally seems that you both can now try to be more friends and to know how each other.

-

two months passed since that day. and surprisingly everything was getting better with lando. now you great each other every day, the post race interviews are definitely entertaining and you both enjoy them now. he's making jokes sometimes when he's around you and he's always excited to record new content with you. your relationship really improved these past months.

and lando is still so fucking in love with you. he fell even harder for you since you started to interact more with him. now he only has eyes for you, you're the only girl he thinks about, the only girl he wants so bad. and you feel the same too. your love for lando doubled and the only thing you wish for is to be with him. to be his girlfriend. just as he wants to be your boyfriend.

today you need to attend a gala. most of the drivers will be there and lot of your colleagues and others presenters will be there too. it's an important event so you need to dress well and of course you must attend it. you finish your hairstyle and spray perfume on your neck. you're ready.

you make it to the place and you're welcomed by a huge crowd of people and fans. a lot of them try to reach out the drivers. every drivers and presenters are on the huge red carpet. there are many cameras and journalists too. it is very vibrant, very lively. flash come from everywhere and you try to find faces you know. and then you find your best friend.

you rush to oscar. he spots you too and he walks towards you. "y/n ! you took a long time to come" he says and hugs you. you wrap your arms around him too and pull back after. "sorry, there was traffic" you reply. he looks good. he wears a suit with a tie and it looks perfect on him. because he's not the kind of man to pull out costume. so seeing the boy you grew up with in this outfit is shocking. it makes you wonder if his teammate is wearing the same as him ?

lando finishes his interview. he gives a small smile to the journalist and joins carlos and charles over there. he's scanning the crowd. he's looking around. he recognizes some f1 presenters and he wonders if you are here too. he wants to see you. he wants to talk to you. but the only person he sees is his old teammate daniel walking to the group of drivers.

"hello guys. how you all feeling ?" he asks and shows his best smile. "good. though i'm tired of these infinite interviews" charles jokes but the boys all know there's some kind of honesty about it. "long time not see" daniel says as he pats lando's shoulder. "c'mon man you played games with me this morning" he rolls his eyes but grin. daniel laughs and wink at him.

a gap settles between the two but it is filled by the voices of the ferrari drivers. and then daniel speak again. "she's pretty" he only says. lando frowns and turns his head to look at his friend. "what ?" "the woman there. she's really pretty. i think she's a presenter. i often see her the paddock" daniel says and a silly smile take place on his face. lando follows daniel's gaze and his look falls on the one only girl he hoped his friend wasn't talking about.

you.

you're laughing so hard with his teammate that you almost trip and you have to hang on to oscar to avoid falling. and yes, indeed you are beautiful tonight. not that you aren't every day because he could literally spend the whole day admiring you but this long black dress which perfectly highlights your body has a lot of effect on him. but he knows he's not the only one you have an effect on. his jaw clench. no, his friend can't be interested in you. he does not have the right. lando was here first, he's the one for you not daniel. he needs to do something. he needs to keep daniel away from you.

"hah, there's much better mate... like this one girl over here, she's prettier by far." lando says in a nonchalant tone, and he points to a brunette who is also one of your colleagues. lie. it's a lie but he needs to do it. "really ? i prefer my girl. but i didn't know you had your eye on this brunette. good to know boy" daniel gives a wink to lando.

my girl ? did he really called you my girl ? jealousy fills lando now. daniel can't allow himself to call you like that. he does not have the right. only lando can call you my girl. you're his girl. well not really actually but still in his eyes you're his precious and favorite girl. he needs to try something else. "no that's not what i meant" "don't worry lando i'll try to get her number for you" he adds with an implicit smile.

the situation gets worse. it's not good at all. "no but i know her and i already know you won't like her. her name is y/n. you know she's horrible and she is like super super annoying. plus she has a terrible sense of humor. doesn't match with you." he ramble about you like you are the most mean person on earth. daniel looks confused but his eyes suddenly sparks. "oh it's the one girl you hate right ?" he asks.

lando hates his behavior now but he needs to save his opportunity. "yes that's her. i wish she could stop existing" he jokes but he's genuinely shocked by his own words. he wants to slap himself. how he hates himself for talking about you like that. he doesn't deserve you at all. "you know what i'm gonna talk to her"

and without realizing it, he sees daniel walking to you. lando's heart skipped a beat. no no no. it can't happen. you're his girl. you don't need daniel. jealousy is running in his blood and he swears he have never been this jealous over someone. he doesn't want to see you talk to an other man than him. he doesn't want to see you laugh with his old teammate because he perfectly knows you love his humor. no you can't give your attention to daniel. it is lando first.

"hello y/n !" daniel greets you with his white teeth smile. you stop talking with oscar and mirror his smile. lando rushes over and joins you. now there are three boys surrounding you. "hello daniel. hi lando !" you say and your smile widen when you look at the mclaren driver. his heart melt from your reaction, he notices how your eyes sparks when you look at him. "you look beautiful" daniel says then he adds "but lando thinks this woman over here his prettier than you. i think he might have a crush on her. but don't worry i'm here for you y/n".

lando sees red now. why daniel said that ? it's fucking bullshit, you're the absolutely only woman he has eyes for. he almost yells at his friend but he pulls himself together. he just hopes you won't listen to his bullshit. he's really pissed of now. you feel strange. like your heart painfully pangs. because you think now that lando already has an other girl in his mind. and it hurts. you thought you were somehow different for him. but you guess not. you try to change the topic because you're getting upset and sad. "wait how do you know my name ?" you frown confused and daniel laughs softly. "lando told me about you" he replies.

your gaze shift on lando. he talked about you to daniel ? it must have been positive then. you show your best smile to him and you can't help but giggle a little. but lando looks impassive, he doesn't even smile to you back. no, he's glaring at you. just like before. just like two months ago when he was hating on you. you don't understand. "oh and what did he say about me ?" you ask curiously.

daniel pats his friend's shoulder with a desolate look. of course it is part of the joke. "well he told me you're the most horrible and annoying person to ever exist. oh he actually said he wish you could stop existing but he was joking about that." daniel laughs but you are not. what ? is that true ? "excuse me... he really said that ? did he actually mean it ?" you ask to be sure.

lando knows he's in shit. he fucked up. he wants to say something but daniel cuts him off. "i think so because he literally said he hates you. but i think you already know that don't you ?"

daniel wasn't doing it on purpose at all. he knows that you both hate each other, which is why he allows himself to joke about your relationship. but he doesn't know that you've gotten a lot closer lately. lando didn't tell him about his feelings for you because he didn't want to show that he loves you. he kept pretending to hate you when he was with daniel and now this is what shit he's in.

"i... sorry i thought we got along well? that our relationship was better..." you look at the driver you love. he shows no expression.

so is he really like that? a big asshole to the end. you felt that he had changed, that he was starting to like you but in the end he is still the same idiot as before. he played with your feelings. and your whole being hurts. your heart pang so hard. "well if you believed it then maybe i should become an actor then" he scoffs and look at you up and down.

what is he doing? his behavior is truly shit and pathetic. he is losing the girl of his dreams because of himself. he is destroying the only person important to him. the only woman he wants to chase. he's so fucking bad he can't even take off this hateful role in front of daniel because he doesn't want to show that he fell in love with the girl he was supposed to hate. he's such a terrible asshole.

oscar doesn't understand either. because unlike daniel he knows lando's feelings towards you. he knows that his teammate is madly in love with you. so why this behavior? why is he doing all this? why is he hurting his best friend ? he looks at lando with a confused and angry gaze. "i'm sorry i need to get some water" you're about to cry in pain. you disappear quickly because you don't want to stay another second next to him. you have never felt like this before. you feel shit for believing in him. now he broke you in pieces.

daniel doesn't understand either what is happening. but some journalists are calling him for an interview and he excuses himself, saying he'll be back soon. now there's lando and oscar who remain together. "fuck" the curly haired curses. "fuck fuck fuck. shit. fucking shit. i fucked up everything" he curses more. oscar sigh and runs a hand in his hair. "indeed you did yes". his teammate looks like he's about to burst into tears. he knows he really did you wrong and shitty.

"see what you have lost" oscar says and shrugs. but him too is pissed off, he's mad at lando because this guy literally hurts in the most painful way his best friend. "why did you do that ? why did you mess up everything? i thought you really loved her!!” "because i do !! i do love her, she's my everything. she's the only person i care about. she's the only one i think about and she's making me loose my mind and i don't see my life without her oscar. for fuck sake i'm so in love with her and i know i don't deserve her"

lando goes around in circles. he's getting tired of it. "you really disappointed me you know. but it makes me feel sorry to see you in this state, so even if i don't like it, go chase after her" oscar pushes his teammate in your direction. he doesn't want to see lando desperate like this. he knows you love him and that lando loves you too. he can't stand seeing you two suffer when you're literally fighting for each other.

lando finds you in a hidden spot. you let a sob out of your mouth and it breaks his heart. his whole being even. he sees tears falling down on your cheeks and he curses at himself for being the reason of them. he carefully approaches you but you notice him. you're about to walk away but he grabs your wrist before you could run. "y/n"

"no. go away. i don't want to be near you" you bluntly pull back your hand from his grab. "no please y/n listen to me" he tries once again. you scoff and roll your eyes. he thinks it works like that ? "what ? i don't want to listen to you." you struggle to not yell at him. "i didn't intend to say theses things you have to trust me"

he digs himself in deeper. "oh what, now i need to trust you like i used to trust you when i thought you liked me ? you're shit lando" you start to walk away but he stops you once again. "leave me. i don't want to hear your excuses" you try to release his hand from your arm but he doesn't let you go. "no. listen to me. i don't even know why i acted like that and you don't realize how much i hate myself right now. this is not what i wanted to do. this is not what i want"

new tears fall on your face but you don't care at this point. you don't even have the energy to argue back. you can't stop crying. "so what do you want then ?"

"you" he answers without hesitation.

oh. you didn't expect this answer. his other hand grab gently your arm and he takes advantage of your lack of reaction to pull you into his arms. "now really listen" he starts and wipe a tear from your cheek. "i know i'm a piece of shit that don't deserve you. i don't even deserve to talk to you. i'm really a dick because i hurt you so bad and trust me it truly breaks my heart because i'm the man who broke your heart when i was supposed to take care of it"

"i never hated you. never. i was always attracted to you and i know i fell in love with you since the first time i laid eyes on you. every single day i begged to have a chance to talk to you. but i wasn't confident enough and i preferred to act like i hated you when all i wanted was to beg you to give me just a chance" he feels your body relaxes and he pulls you even closer. you can fell his breath on your neck.

"you're not even a little annoying. you are the complete opposite of horrible, you are the kindest and most caring person i know. i want to slap myself for saying i wish you didn't exist. because it's a fucking lie. i can't live without your existence. i can't imagine my future without you. you're taking my breath away and you never leave my mind and thoughts. i know you're the love of my life and i waited for you this long. and i'll never let you go now that i found you." he finishes in a sob and you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

"lando..." you hum. "shhh don't talk. it'll be alright baby" he murmurs against your ear. he strokes your hair with one hand and your back with the other. he places a soft kiss on your head. "i fell very hard for you baby. i'm so in love with you. i'll never stop loving you i promise" he says and you just nod. "i love you so much too lan" you simply answer.

"and that one brunette girl daniel talked about ?" you ask with watery eyes. he laughs softly and cup your face "oh babe i don't even remember who she is. but don't worry love i only have eyes for you" he says and you simply smile widely. "i hope so".

he smiles too and look at your lips. "now kiss baby" he says in a whisper and leans in to kiss you tenderly. the kiss is so sweet and gentle, his lips moving perfectly against yours. he's delighted and he softly bites your bottom lip. you pull back and peck his nose. "so do you love me or do you hate me ?" you ask as he wipes away your last tears. he smiles bright and think before speaking again. "i think i hate you lovingly".

and his lips meet once again yours in a passionate kiss...

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you #ln4 fic #lando norris fluff

[slut4thebroken]

Just a Dream

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | dark stepbro!Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | Neil lays with you after having a bad dream.

Warnings | NON CON smut, sexual content, 18+, innocence kink, technically incest, non consensual touching, brief fingering, forced breeding, painful first time, almost somno??, gaslighting lol.

Words | 1.4 k

Notes | oof

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Light flooded your room briefly, but it disappeared as your door clicked shut softly. You sat up in bed a little and rubbed your tired eyes, trying to see in the darkness of your room. 

“Neil?” You hoped it was him… You parents aren’t home for another two days so you’re in trouble if it’s not. 

“It’s me.” He said quietly, walking closer until he was standing by the side of your bed. “I just… I had a nightmare and I couldn’t sleep.” You frowned at that. 

“I’m sorry… Do you want to sleep in here?” Your voice was still laced with sleepiness. 

“If you don’t mind.” He said sheepishly. You scooched over to the other side of the bed and lifted the covers for him. “Did I wake you?” He asked, once he was all settled. 

“I was only half asleep.” You shrugged, then yawned at the reminder of how tired you were. He was quiet for a while and your eyes became too heavy to keep open once again. 

“Can we cuddle? I still can’t sleep.” You mumbled out an agreement. “Turn over.” You didn’t respond and just turned onto your other side, letting him slide in behind you. He wrapped his arm over your torso and pulled your back flush with his front. 

“G’night.” You murmured, placing your hand over his on your stomach. 

“Night.” He said quietly. You smiled and snuggled into him a little more when he kissed the back of your head. 

You’ve done this once or twice before, usually you have a bad dream though. You just feel so safe and comfortable in his arms. Neil told you that your cuddle sessions had to stay a secret, which you didn’t understand but you agreed anyway, just wanting to make him happy. 

You were dozing off again and you could kind of register his hand rubbing up and down your side, relaxing you. His fingertips were under your shirt on your bare skin and when he brushed your side boob, you groaned out a protest and he shushed you. 

“I’m just trying to sleep.” He explained, then cupped your breast and squeezed gently. 

“Neil…” You mumbled. 

“Don’t you want me to fall back asleep?” Of course you do, that’s why he’s laying here right now, but you don’t want him to do this. He gently rolled your nipple between his fingers, making you moan quietly. When his hand traveled back down your stomach, you relaxed again. His fingers teased the waistband of your panties, making you groan and bring a lazy hand down to bat him away. He wasn’t deterred though. 

He slipped his hand beneath the fabric and cupped your sex, letting out a heavy breath as you whined and tried to pull his hand away. He just shushed you and started rubbing his fingers up and down your slit, spreading your arousal. He slipped a finger inside and you whimpered at the new feeling. 

“Fuck you’re so tight.” He whispered, breath fanning the back of your neck. “Are you a virgin? Were you saving yourself for your big brother?” He chuckled, making you mumble out a weak protest. “Shh. Just go back to sleep.” He said quietly. 

He pushed a second finger in and started curling them against your walls, pressing the heel of his hand against your clit. When he groaned and bucked his hips, you suddenly noticed that he was hard. 

“Neil… stop.” You whined. 

“I’m not doing anything.” He chuckled. 

“Y-you’re touching me.” You were frowning now. 

“No I’m not. You’re just dreaming, silly girl.” Are you? It feels real. But you’re also so tired that it’s hard to tell. He slipped a third finger inside and you let out a whimper of discomfort, not used to the stretch— not used to any stretch. 

“Hurts, Neil.” 

“Shh. You can take it. You’re just dreaming, baby.” His hips started rutting into you with more purpose now. When he pulled his hand away, you breathed a sigh of relief, but it was cut short by him freeing his length, then pulling your panties to the side. You could feel his cock brushing your folds, getting ready. 

It’s not real. 

He applied some pressure and you whimpered as you brought a hand back to weakly push his hips away. 

It’s just a dream. 

It took even more force before he was finally able to breach your opening, making you cry out. 

It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream.

It felt real though. Your eyes were watering from the burn and you started crying silently. 

“Neil, no.” You whimpered. Without responding, he grabbed your leg and lifted it up a bit to have easier access. He didn’t push in all the way, or give you a second to adjust. He just started slowly rocking his hips, letting out quiet groans. “Please, stop.” Your words slurred together now, almost incoherent because of the mixture of sleepiness and the way you were moaning in pain. 

“Shh. Just take it.” He whispered, moving a little faster. “Be a good little sister and take your big brother's cock.” He gruffed, ignoring your crying. He started fucking you harder and deeper, chasing his orgasm and relishing in your little whimpers and the way you squeezed his cock so tight that you almost forced him out. 

“Fuck… Are you always this easy? Or is it just because you’re half asleep.” He chuckled, lifting your leg up more. 

“Neil..” You cried. “Stop it… Please stop it, Neil.” He wasn’t listening. All he could hear was you begging and crying for him, and unfortunately for you, the fact that you were begging and crying for him to stop only turned him on more. 

“Shit— You’re gonna make me come.” He was panting now. Heavy breaths fanned your neck as he bucked into you wildly, getting closer to his release. “You gonna be a good little sis and take my come?” You shook your head and babbled out senseless protests, making him laugh quietly. 

“Beg. Beg me not to fill you— not to knock you up.” You let out a choked sob and his hips moved more frantically. 

“Please don’t… Neil, please don’t.” You cried. 

“Fuck— just like that.” He groaned. “Keep begging and maybe I’ll listen.” 

“Please don’t— don’t… come in me.” You whimpered. You weren’t used to saying that word with this meaning and it made you blush. “Please, Neil… I don’t wanna get pregnant.” It was getting harder to speak through the sobbing. 

“Oh fuck… More.” 

“Neil, please! Please stop already— it hurts.” 

“Does it? Is my cock too big for your little pussy?” All you could do was let out a strangled whimper. “That just means we’ll have to do this more often so I can break you in.” 

“No— no please. Not again.” You were babbling out pleas and protests, all of it incoherent through the crying though. 

“Fuck I’m gonna come.” He choked out. 

“Pull out! Please pull out, Neil!” His hips snapped into you harder and faster until he buried himself to the hilt inside you with a low groan. You could feel heat filling you up and it caused a new wave of tears. “Neil…” You sobbed, making him moan louder. Each time he bucked his hips into you, it forced out a quiet whimper because of the intensity of the thrust. 

“Shit…” He breathed, panting heavily as he lowered your leg back down. Your crying slowed a little, but it felt like you were close to hyperventilating with the way you were gasping in breaths between each sob. 

“I- I’m gonna tell mom and dad…” You whimpered, not sure what else you could do. But it was already done. Maybe it would keep this from happening again though. He let out a low chuckle and wrapped his arm around you again, holding you close with his softening cock still inside you. 

“No you’re not.” You tried not to let your fear show from his tone. “If I even think that you plan on telling them, I’ll go to them first. Tell them that you got yourself knocked up by some random guy. With your hysteria, we’ll see who they believe.” He scoffed.  

“…Neil.” You sobbed out, your crying picking back up again. 

“I know— It’s okay…” He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your head. “I'm gonna teach you a lot. Gonna make you into the perfect little sister.” 

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @cillianscrybaby @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @madeinuk

#neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #watching the detectives #cillian murphy

[thatsdemko]

happiness comes in ice cream - m.verstappen

masterlist

requested: n

pairing: max verstappen x reader

warnings: mentions of jos + healing inner childhood

a/n: no f1 this weekend means not being disappointed.. but also if you can donate and help imola please follow the link here. feedback is always appreciated xx

max has a pretty perfect life. he’s got a world championship title, an amazing car and team, perfect support, and a perfect significant other. the one thing that stands in his way for true happiness, his father.

you’ve heard the countless stories of how his father, jos, never treated him like a child always like a pawn of success or an adult at the young ages. it saddens you, that he never had a real childhood, and it hurts even more that he thinks the treatment he got was normal.

you told him your upbringings, they aren’t perfect either, but in comparison you can’t complain. your dad never made you walk home because you lost a race. max deserved true happiness, and everyday you see him fight his father more and more for that distance. the distance for a better life.

“horrible race. p2? you can’t let checo out pace you.” jos scoffs his son, you can see the anger in his fathers eyes. the disappointment, like his son hadn’t done enough and tried his best.

“it just wasn’t in the cards.” max shrugs, it bothers him to get second. he’s a perfectionist at heart and wants every race to be his best, but when he looks at you? all of his anger and frustration diminishes.

“you did well.” you chime in, hand reaching for his, he takes it. lips pressing a sweet soft kiss to your knuckles as he mumbles a thank you.

jos just tries to snap his son out of it, you can see in Max’s eyes he’s exhausted from his routine. even if he gets pole position his father is still not happy, there’s just no win. it’s starting to affect your relationship with his family, you can’t look jos in the eyes yet alone stand to have a decent conversation with him.

you try to push a smile, act like things are fine but max notices when the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. he notices when you’re not okay and how his father makes you uncomfortable.

“just leave us alone, okay?” max drops his helmet on the desk in the drivers room, he’s turning to his dad, who expected it was you he was talking to.

he’s shocked, his eyes dart between you and his son, “we aren’t finished we have to talk about improvement—“

“I want nothing more than to just have a talk not about racing. y/n can give me that, you can’t.” he’s lightly pushing his father out the door until he’s able to close the space between you two and his fathers emotions.

max lets out a deep long sigh, “checo looked happy.” he smiles, arms pulling you into his body, lips gently pressing against your lips. you love your alone time with him, the way he’s so affection it’s different than his composure to the rest of the world.

“you look happy right now.” you reach for the Red Bull hat that’s covering his messy dirty blond hair, you toss it aside, fingers running up and down his cheeks, “I like it when you’re happy.”

a smile spreads across his face, “you make me happy.”

“you want to get ice cream? you deserve it for a good race.” you offer, he always said his father never rewarded him for his hard work as a kid, it’s your turn to try and give him the things he couldn’t have.

“I was thinking more about having sex, but I like ice cream too.”

—

Charles takes pole position in Baku, it’s his first time that high up on the board and you both couldn’t have been prouder for the Ferrari.

you can hear Max’s phone ringing in his bag in his drivers room, and you take it upon yourself to turn it off. you know who’s calling, max knows it as well, but he ignores the sound of the text notifications when he walks in the room and just presses a kiss to your lips and takes his hat.

“I thought you did good out there. lots of challenges.” you rub his back with your finger nails following him out of the room and into the garage, where everyone is congratulating him on, a successful, qualifying.

he turns around, hand bringing your knuckles to his lips, “ice cream afterwards?” he asks, the happy spark in his eyes that make you smile.

“ice cream afterwards.”

—

“nothing tastes better than victory, but this is good.” he licks the drops of the melting strawberry and vanilla cold cream down his cone. you chuckle watching the millions of paper napkins he’s holding disintegrate.

“I told you to get a bowl.” you laugh taking one of your clean napkins and wipe the pink colored cream off his face.

he never splurges to gain weight during the season, always trying to stay fit, but when a wins a win he knows the offer for ice cream is up on the table and he’ll never turn it down. he admits, he wishes he got this during childhood, but he’s happy he gets it with you.

“you got chocolate on your nose.” he licks his thumb before swiping it over your nose gently, he takes what’s on his thumb and tastes it, “a little bit of you and chocolate. I like it.” he hums in satisfaction.

“I heard there’s a playground a couple blocks away, we should go use the swings.” you suggest, watching the white cream slip onto his black shorts. he groans using one of his napkins and water to try to wash it away.

“now I have to go home and change, I can’t show up looking like this.”

“it’s a playground, nobody cares if you’re dirty.” you laugh finishing the bowl and set the styrofoam down on the bench beside you, he lets you take a couple of bites of his ice cream to help him finish.

“thank you.” he says, sticky hand reaching to touch your thigh. you want to grimace at the touch, but you know he never had moments like this with his own family. he never had someone to take him for a treat that he deserves, so you let him.

“for what, max?”

“making me happy.”

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[pursuitseternal]

“The Seventh Day:” filled with self indulgent A!A behavior (Astarbation) in “Antics of the Newly Ascended”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 1.9K of Astarion self-love

🎨 by @marimosalad full nsfw on X 🍆💦

Summary: Left behind, Astarion occupies his Ascended self first with some uncharacteristically (selfishly-motivated) selflessness, followed by some self-served reward in anticipation for your return home.

CW: Male masturbation (Astarbation?), panty sniffer/theif, he’s trying to be a helpful (selfishly), self-indulgent Astarion, Reflection Appreciation™️, he would be such a messy partner (in so many ways)

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

The Seventh Day…

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

“Oh… darling, I’m hurt. I thought we had something special…”

“You always say that, and you’re always hurt…” you fold your arms and tilt your chin up at him.

“Am not,” Astarion fires back, petulant like a child, until he realizes everyone is watching your exchange. He straightens his spine and picks the pretend lint off the cuff of his sleeve. “You go right along… you’re the leader after all, and if you think you can finish your business without the Vampire Ascendant in your ranks, then go, have fun…”

You level that glare at him that lets him know you see right past his facade to the bullshit underneath.

“No, really,” he purrs, “you go, I’ll just stay here while… you do all the hard work.” He gives you that arrogant smirk and tilt of his head, that makes you war inside whether you want to slap him silly or fuck him senseless. He can see it… in your thoughts, in the way your heart pounds slow and harder as his eyes look down your armored figure. “I’ll just stay here, tend the home fires and find little ways to comfort myself over your absence, darling.”

He flashes his fanged smirk at you, your nostrils flaring wide with irritation and lust. “Don’t make a mess,” you taunt. “Enjoy your alone time.” With that you spin on your heel and your chosen three follow.

Wyll in particular laughs loudest. “Don’t worry, once he finds a mirror, he’ll be entertained for hours, I’m sure.”

The group chortles as they shut the door to their rooms in the Elfsong, but not before you throw one more look over your shoulder at your lover. He’s just smirking, irritated and conflated despite his wounded pride, making a show for you in that one moment of unbuckling his armor to drop it at his feet.

You shake your head and smile, all the irritation you have melted into love as you blow him a kiss. Then you shut that door.

The instant the door is shut, Astarion grimaces and throws the rest of his armor to the ground in a huff. Petulant? Yes, but also hurt. He looks around the empty suite of rooms, collecting his armor, he decides to actually put it away properly for once back in his rooms. Your rooms. Besides, he has no interest in watching Scratch nap by the fireplace, or risk any of the other ‘strays’ who have joined along the way come up and bother him.

With a discontented sigh, Astarion slinks his way into your rooms alone. That open chest for his armor is so close inside the door, but he sets it down on the floor. See how she likes that… he smirks, imagining your usual comments made under your breath about his messiness as you insist on tidying up. You’ll have to step over it when you come back exhausted and bloodied.

A slight pang of guilt tweaks his gut, his eyes settle on it again, that pile of his armor… the stack of messy clothes—yours and his— discarded hurriedly last night before your fucked… A slight disgruntled smile crosses his face. Maybe… just this once…. He could entertain himself in a different way.

He starts putting the armor in the trunk piece by piece, and with each one he starts to think about how much you will smile as you see your rooms.

Another piece in the trunk… he can almost feel your blush color your cheeks at his thoughtfulness. Your gratitude will be palpable… and you will want to shower him with affection… willingness… Astarion sighs to think about how you will positively reek of sweat and blood and arousal when you see what he’s done for you, his darling.

He closes the lid of the storage chest with an eager groan, that ache in his groin blooming slightly just at the thought of what will come once you’re home. You’ll positively worship at his feet for taking such good care of you…

That ache burgeons into a full erection at the image he’s conjured in his mind. With one final grunt, he picks up the pile of discarded clothing from last night, setting it properly in the basket, one rumpled thing of fabric at a time in the corner to be laundered later. One hand adjusts his erection, the other holds the last piece of fabric from the floor. Your undergarments.

He pauses, catching your scent in the air just as he wraps his hand around himself…

… he’s just trying to fix that hardness… he tells himself. But he can’t help but give that cock in his grasp a little rub.

He hisses, trying to catch his breath, but his nose only fills with your scent stronger the longer he holds your small clothes in his grip.

“Fuck it,” he growls to himself, unceremoniously sitting himself on the edge of the bed, surrounded by a tidy room. Surely, he deserves his own reward. And your own laziness last night to dispose of your underwear properly has just gifted him with a great incentive. That soft fabric, inundated with your musk, makes his mouth water. He just… has to…

He presses it to his nose, his cock freed from the top of his leathers as he slowly starts to caress it. It feels so good in his hand: the perfect length, the flawless width, the impressive hardness he always gets that makes every vein rise to the surface like marble. The masterpiece of a body that he is, he smirks to himself.

Another deep whiff of that delicious scent, he looks to the side, that large mirror so perfectly placed across from the bed, his idea. His eyes flit between watching his own cock pulse in his fist, staring at the perfection is his own reflection, and closing his eyes to take another deep lung-full of your scent.

Intoxicating, the beat of his own warm hand matches that pulse of his heart, a pounding so insistent in those veins. So steady and growing more pronounced even as he still works himself into bliss. Astarion gives a contented sigh, his thumb catching over that sweet, weeping slit to wet his cock head with early cum.

Indulgent, the way the faded ghost of your musk compliments his own as it grows with every leaking stroke he makes over his own shaft. No wonder you two are so destined for greatness, so perfect together… your bodies made for one another on some primal level, right down to your scents.

A few breaths catch in his throat, the corner of his eye now fixed on that mirror. He pauses to pull his shirt up higher, his leathers down lower, wanting to see more of himself, a body that has ruined so many… Small wonder, he laughs a bit darkly, a bit proudly. The edges of his abdominals protrude, just right, that deep v of his muscles drawing the eye inexorably to that now-glistening cock. Even his balls, so smooth and round and tight now as he feels the pleasure building deep in his core.

For once, now, this body is his to savor, to command and pleasure.

“Ahh…” the thought of reclaiming himself makes his cock leap almost out of his own hand. “Delicious,” he groans to no one but himself. Leaning back, he lets his hips buck into his hand a bit, just for a little extra show… a little more stimulation as his mouth starts to hang slack. He lets that fabric treasure of your underwear slip off his face, just a bit, so he can admire the way his own fangs glint in the sunlight.

Now, those weapons behind his lips, those fangs, those are something just for him, a decadence no one gets to enjoy but you… and himself now of course. With a groan, he longs to sink them into flesh, to feel that first burst of blood as it breaks through skin to coat his hungry tongue. And in his carelessness, he finds it, nipping his own lip to taste his own ascendant blood.

Rich… full… powerful… familiar… he groans. Incredible that you get to drink from him, what a treat for his consort and for himself. The thought of you suckling from his own neck, the play of your breath on his skin as you feed, shivers run down the base of his spine, making his muscles clench and his cock buck harder into his hand.

You’ll be so touched when you see what he’s done for you, his little act of humility to gain your immense gratitude… fuck… it’ll be worth it. The back breaking labor he’s done to please you and make you smile and see his love for you still, even with all he’s become.

Your eyes will sparkle, your lips will arch in that come-hither smile you give him… you won’t be able to resist letting him take you right then and there, however he wants…

His eyes flash to the mirror, the paint of blush on his cheeks and tips of his ears…. It makes his fist grip tighter, his hand beat faster to chase that pressure that needs release. The breath catches in his lungs, his teeth gritting as he feels his balls tighten and cock thicken as he strokes faster and faster…

Another glance at his beloved reflection— that slow seep of pearly cum leaking from his cock… perfection, seduction incarnate, he smirks to himself as he arches and his head cranes backwards. Grunting, sighing, he licks his lips as that pressure in his balls bursts at last, a few more erratic bucks into his fist, as he forces his eyes open to watch.

He juts his hips out forward, almost off the edge of the bed, angled just right to watch his cum explode out gloriously. The reflection, the pulsing he feels, the warmth that drips on his hand…

Head hanging down, tongue licking his lips, he watches as his cock twitches a few more times, that release overwhelming him as he huffs with open mouth. Drips of his cum spatter here and there on the floorboards, the few offending signs of…

The door swings open, you stand panting in its frame, a bit bloodied but none of it your own. Your sharp eyes take in the scene… your love panting, cock in hand, rosy post-coital cheeks flaring a hot pink as you catch him in his indulgence. And all you can do is smirk, knowing you have the upper hand on him, shaking your head as he starts to sputter excuses.

Then you notice what he holds in his other hand, your discarded undergarments from last night. Now your cheeks flame so hot, you’re pretty sure even your undead pale skin is blushing. “What…” but you swallow the question. Why ask it… you know full well what he was doing with your intimates. “I’ll skip the question and just point out that I left you alone for an hour… and you’ve made…” you smirk wickedly as you cross to kneel before him, “… such a mess.”

“Actually, darling, you’ve failed to see that I cleane—”

But before he can get whiny and defensive, you silence him, wrapping your mouth around his still, weeping cock. You moan around his length, not giving it lots of force, just a lazy bob of your head, a slow lick of your tongue. A few swirls of your lips laps all the extra cum from his velvety skin. Then you pull off of him, grinning with all your own self-righteous taunting. “That’s… how you clean, my lord.”

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