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simpjaes · 3 months

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FIRST DATE ETIQUETTE (p.sh)

Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk...he'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.

៸៸៸ minors do not interact!

៸៸៸ PARING: park sunghoon x afab reader

៸៸៸WC: 9.3k

៸៸៸ TAGS: mentions of food (meat), strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, brat taming, mocking and making fun of each other, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky sunghoon, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed

៸៸៸ A/N: what’s that? you’ve read this before? that’s bc i wrote it! I’ve revised the original now to fit sunghoon because I am insatiable in my lust for him. (original title: the bore next door)

smut tags under cut::

SMUT TAGS: dom sunghoon, bratty/sub reader, huge cock agenda (again), he gets the best head he’s ever had, he calls you messy a lot (he likes it messy), face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting, dirty talk, wow i can’t believe I actually wrote a condom being used this time!!!!, sunghoon tries to make you moan because his horny brain wants your parents to know, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

23rd street. The restaurant is on 23rd street, and you can honestly say you’ve managed to hit every street but this one. From 13th to 35th, does the street in question even truly exist? Were you set up by your parents?

In short, you have been single since high school. Maybe a few flings here or there throughout college but you never truly settled on one man or woman in a relationship. You’re almost shocked that your parents are pushing so hard for you to find love. They want you to somehow feel the love from the movies, something like they had felt when they met. In this century, unfortunately, love isn’t quite as predictable.

You can’t just pick a person who has a good job and a decent face and assume love will settle in someday.

Not only is it not predictable but it isn’t a priority in your life. You have no interest in meeting the standard a man could hold for you, nor a woman, or family member. You’re here to exist in your own way, work your way up through the corporate food chain, and live in a home with over thirteen cats before dying a peaceful death in your late eighties. Why do you need a man to do any of this? Why do you need to settle for one cock, one set of hands, and one personality?

Right, because mom wants you to at least try to experience what love is. Surely, it’s just because she desperately wants a grandchild from her one and only daughter. Sorry to disappoint, but that will not happen any time soon. Children were never a thought in your mind, nor was marriage, a honeymoon, or a burial plot next to another person. Your mother knows this, but the least you can do is show some effort to please her, right? To prove that relationships just aren’t your thing, and you’d much rather have the funds to live a comfortable life all on your own.

23rd street is the small thumb tack on a map where there is a restaurant that holds a very, very, annoying arrangement.

Your mother had really sold the idea to you. She says the nice neighbor boy next to her seems to be around your age, he brings her the mail sometimes. He seems to have a job, his own car, his own home that sits in a plot next to theirs. His lawn stays mowed, the siding on his house stays clean, and apparently he seems quite lonely considering your mother appears to have watched him enough to know he doesn’t bring any girls home.

At least that she’s aware of.

She doesn’t mention what he looks like and of course, when you’d asked because, in all honesty, that’s the most important thing to you if you’re going to get anything out of this, she simply states that he dresses well, is handsome, and has dark hair.

For all you know, she just set you up on a date with Antonio Banderas.

What you weren’t expecting though, is to find this restaurant almost an hour late and walk in to find an already half-eaten meal in front of a man who looked at you as if you were any stranger on the street.

A stranger you were, and so was he, but honestly, he is attractive. That alone made you feel a bit guilty for not having found this place sooner. The idea that the man in front of you did not wait for you shows that he also has priorities that aren’t you. This is probably a huge inconvenience for him too, if anything.

Imagine your nice neighbor lady telling you to go to a restaurant to meet her daughter? God. The first words out of your mouth are an apology. Not for being late, and not for not even wanting to be here, but for your mother for even trying.

“Sorry about my mom,” you mutter, plopping down into the booth with a sigh. You eye over his food, already knowing that the check will likely be split. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Why the rush?” The man immediately says, pushing an untouched glass of water your way. “I don’t mind that you were late, I was just really hungry.”

You hum at him, waiting for the waitress to come over so you can place the most obnoxious order in the world because you’re really not in the mood to even look at the menu or the prices. Chicken strips and fries, obviously.

“So, what did you order?” You state, eyeing his plate.

“Steak?” He says it like a question, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and it definitely is. Clearly there is a half-eaten steak that probably costs over twenty dollars on his plate. Still, you were just trying to make small talk.

The man says nothing after this, offering nothing but an awkward atmosphere. It doesn’t take long at all for you to stop caring about the entire arrangement, as if you cared in the first place.

“Look—” You try to offer, and the handsome man in front of you doesn’t even quirk a brow as he sips his own drink. “I don’t even remember your name, and I know my mom is trying to set us up but—”

“You’re not interested, and you have better places to be?” The man finishes for you as he sits his drink down with a gulp that makes much less sound than your own. “That’s fair. My name is Sunghoon, by the way.”

You nod at him, already deciding that you’ll get chicken strips somewhere else on your own so that you can eat them in the comfort of your own home, alone, without a stupidly handsome man in front of you that has, probably, less interest than you do.

“Well, I’m interested, and I don’t have anywhere better to be,” Sunghoon says, shooting his eyes up at you. “And to be quite honest with you, your mother was right. You are pretty.”

Taken aback, you’re somehow comforted by his forwardness towards you. He acts just as uninterested as you do but counters that demeanor with his words. You can’t imagine that this is how the man picks up women, there’s honestly no way he would win that way. No wonder he is single. Then again, you kind of do the same thing. You see an attractive person and you act much the same as Sunghoon right now. Uninterested in anything long-term but clearly interested in something.

“I’m pretty, huh?” You laugh, sipping the water and internally giving this man an extra three minutes to fully sell the idea of this date to you. “Imagine my surprise to walk in and find that I was set up on a date with someone that is actually attractive.”

“Oh?” Sunghoon quirks a brow. “Is this how you return a compliment?”

You shrug.

“Is this how a date normally goes for you—you know, where you’ve already eaten your food and would probably rather pay and leave before she even gets a chance to order?”

“No,” he responds pointedly. “Would you rather me throw a tantrum that you were late?”

“You’d be a lot less dull if you did.” You throw back, eyeing a waitress as she heads over.

Sunghoon watches as you place your order and watches a bit harder at the way you smirk at yourself through nearly everything you say. You must think you’re clever, you must think he’s willing to chase you or something.

“I’m dull?” He questions, staring you down with narrowed eyes when the waitress walks away. “You just ordered chicken strips at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.”

You’re taken aback a bit, shaking off his little insults and sitting straight up. Interesting date, truly.

“Okay then, Sunghoon—” You say his name as if it’s a joke or something, but you don’t really let him react to it. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a systems software developer,” he deadpans, swirling his very nonalcoholic water in his hand. “Not that you’d know what that is or anything. And you?”

In all honesty, you don’t really know what that means, but it isn’t hard to figure it out. Assuming he must make programs or something, assuming he probably flew through college in order to do it in the way he seems proud of what he does. In all honesty, it still sounds like such a bore. He must talk in code or something in his free time.

“I’m—uh—I’m a teacher.” You try to laugh, realizing that you’re kind of putting him down when he very clearly must make more money than you do.

Only now does it set in that your mother stated he has his own home. One that sits directly beside theirs in a neighborhood that you grew up in. One that you tried to find your own home in but ended up in a shitty apartment in the city because it is all you could afford. Sunghoon must make good money.

“Oh yeah? What do you teach?” He perks up in interest, no longer acting as if he is trying to insult you and instead offering conversation to you with such ease that you almost forget you’re supposed to be getting through the date in discomfort.

“I teach everything, I guess. It’s just first grade. I swear, I teach them how to pull up their pants properly more than how to spell words.” You smile to yourself thinking of the loud and obnoxious children you teach five days a week.

Your job is why you don’t want children though. Your job is why you’d rather stay single. All you hear about is how the third-grade english teacher is fucking the fifth-grade science teacher even though he has a wife who is pregnant with their second child. Sometimes you hear gossip about the students themselves. Who in their right mind as an adult would gossip about elementary school kids? It’s no wonder you’re not a favored teacher. You’re sure they’ve said something about you for not having a significant other or a child on the way too.

Sunghoon smiles through your endearment towards your class, eyes perking up at the plate of chicken strips on their way to you. He doesn’t say much when you thank the waitress and doesn’t really pay attention to the way you devour the first strip in nearly one bite.

“Seems like a lively job. I just sit around all day staring at a computer screen…” He begins to drone on about his own job, sounding more like background noise in your head if you’re being honest. You can barely hear him over the crunching of your chicken and you’re a bit thankful for that.

“And I think that it was really worth the—” You interrupt his long string of sentences with a call of his name. “Sunghoon, do you have any other interests?” You ask, sipping your water.

He deadpans at your rudeness of interrupting him. Sunghoon doesn’t often go out on dates, nor does he often get asked about these types of things so, he goes quiet, flicking his eyes down to his hands and then back up to you.

“I like to go hiking, I guess? Watching movies? Sometimes I like to cook—”

Ah. He’s one of those guys.

“Those are like, the most common interests a person can have. You don’t have any special hobbies or weird quirky things you like to do?” You question, trying to see something in him past the fact that he’s nice to look at and has a decent paycheck.

“I don’t really have the time to put into other things. When I’m not working, I’m busy cleaning my house or doing yard work since I’m usually too tired during the week to do it.”

“God, you are such a bore.”

Sunghoon realizes now that maybe you’re not just throwing around banter. Sure, neither of you really wanted to come on this date but he could have used the time away from a computer screen to look at his neighbor’s daughter. If anything, it was an interesting offer, and those don’t come by him too often. He had seen photos of you. He knew you were pretty, and he also should have known you were a bit stubborn with the way your mother warned him before the date.

“If I was so boring, would I be sitting here on a date with a woman I don’t know?” He glares over at you.

“I don’t know, probably. It isn’t the riskiest thing in the world. What? You don’t have tinder?”

Sunghoon looks down again, because no, he doesn’t have fucking tinder and he doesn’t understand why that matters. “Why does that matter?”

“Ah, so we are similar.” You smile to yourself in a small win, and you’re not even sure if it’s even an argument at this point. “No time for hobbies, so no time for dating either?”

He nods slowly at you, completely confused by the way you go from picking his personality apart to finding some way to connect with him.

“We can wrap this up then if you want?” You offer, still picking at the food on your plate. “I can pay for mine, so I release you from this arrangement.”

He just sits there staring at you. What a peculiar woman. Do you really assume he isn’t somehow finding the fun in all of this? In all honesty, this date is going off without a hitch compared to many other dates he’s been on. He has never been on a date where he is criticized, nor has he ever criticized a date himself before.

It’s almost kind of nice, like a breath of fresh air being able to meet someone who isn’t trying to show their best aspects. Someone who is sitting in front of him being as real as they possibly can be. Sure, you’re attractive, but your lack of interest in this date is somehow—flooring.

“What if I want to stay?” He makes eye contact with you. “What if I want to pay for your overcooked chicken?”

“I’d be letting you win if you pay for me, but you’re free to stay.” You wave him off with your hand, realizing that the chicken is very dry and wasn’t hitting the spot like you’d been pretending. “So, what now then?” You add with a tilt of the head.

“Admitting I’m interested in you?” He says it with so much confidence that you’re a little bit surprised, because this entire time you’ve been trying to act as uninterested as possible, despite finding some amount of attraction to Sunghoon.

“Poor you,” You coo, pushing your plate away from you and pulling your almost-empty water closer. “Okay, let’s try and make this worth something then.”

Sunghoon prepares himself to listen, but honestly, he couldn’t have prepared for what you’re about to say to him.

“Neither of us are looking for anything serious right?” You ask, continuing after he nods. “So,” you pause briefly, thinking a bit too hard on how to word it. “Why don’t we just treat it like a tinder date?”

You’re definitely implying that the night could continue together, only to never speak of or see each other again after the sun rises.

“Are you suggesting I bring you home with me?” He looks at you with a face you can’t really read.

“Isn’t that what people do when they’re on a date, find each other attractive, but want nothing more?” You reiterate for him, because he seems to have trouble processing what you’re trying to get across to him. “Unless this isn’t your thing?”

Sunghoon pulls his hand up and pushes his hair out of his face for a moment. He’s thinking about it, barely even realizing that you’ve known each other for less than an hour.

“I didn’t take you for the type of fuck on the first date.” He cocks his head, looking at you in a lazy way.

It feels a little painful that the first curse word he says out loud is describing something that involves you and your offer.

“I’m not, usually, but it has been a while for me and I can’t help but think we could have fun with it.”

He nods, eyeing you down. “Do you want to drive to my house then? Or do I need to bring you back to get your car?”

“Nah, I can drive. I know where you live, considering I grew up next door and all. I can just crash at my parent’s house once we are done.”

Sunghoon kind of shifts his eyes nervously, looking down at the table and then back at you with a lick against his bottom lip. “Speaking of, your parents—” He pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Look, they probably wouldn’t expect me to be the type to uh, get intimate with their daughter on the first date.”

“Only date,” you correct him, amused. “What, you thought we would meet again after this?”

Sunghoon waves you off dismissively. “That’s not the point. I don’t want my neighbors thinking I’m some fuckboy, and I’d rather them not find out because I’m sure your mom would slap the shit out of me the next time I bring her the mail.”

“Sunghoon—” You snort in a mocking tone. “My mom set you up on a date with me, you’re gonna take me home and show me a good time within an hour of meeting me. Imagine if she found out you’re not as sweet and innocent as she thinks–”

His face goes warm, but his eyes darken a bit as he looks at you. “Listen, I don’t usually do this.”

“Well yeah, you seem too boring to actually have some fun.”

Offense taken.

And when he says nothing else to that, you speak up again, this time a bit more gentle.

“Don’t feel like you have to. I can go home and we can pretend this never happened.”

“No, no,” Sunghoon assures, making eye contact with the waitress as if to silently ask for the check. “I could use the distraction.”

He was slim when he stood up, obnoxiously attractive getting into his stupidly expensive car, and even the way he drove in front of you pissed you off. He drove the speed limit all the way to the familiar street of your childhood. What a boring, boring man.

When he pulls into his driveway, you aren’t sure if you should park at his house or your own. You realize if you park at either your parents will wonder why you’re parking in their driveway but not in their living room, or wonder why you’re parked in the clean-cut Sunghoon’s driveway because he would never fuck their daughter on the first date.

You opt to park a block away, walking to Sunghoon’s house and feeling a bit silly for hiding.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Fitting,” you say as you step into his living room and scan the way he is entirely boring.

“What?” He asks from behind you, watching you judge his space.

“Very monotonous, very you.”

Sunghoon sighs at your constant critiques of him, but he’s smiling through it because you’re still here, and you’re the one who suggested coming home with him.

“I’ve gotta say, I’ve never brought a woman home just to have her insult me,” he laughs, stepping around you and placing his jacket on the end of the couch. “I can imagine that your place hasn’t been cleaned since you moved in.”

You glare at him, slipping your own jacket off and throwing it on his floor out of spite.

“I am a comfortable mess, Sunghoon, and you–” you scan the room once more, “are very clearly uncomfortable.”

He shifts his eyes for a second because, yeah. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy having colorful photos on the walls or a couple of knick-knacks lying around. Arguing about it isn’t your purpose for being here though, and he’d much rather skip the banter at this point.

“I can admit that your jacket looks good on my floor,” he takes a step forward, attempting to be as bold as he typically would be with a woman who knows how he is in bed. He’s never had to play off of his own cleanliness though. “I’m willing to make a mess of this house if you take more off.”

Oh, okay.

“Oh, so you can be interesting?” You mock him once again, reaching for the hem of your dress (yes, dress.) and looking at him. “You want to see my clothes on your floor?”

Sunghoon watches you intently, seeing your thighs being exposed more and more as the dress raises. His body is already reacting, becoming more attracted to your witty sense of displeasure toward his entire personality and lifestyle. After all, he’s a computer whizz and you deal with screaming children all day. He wonders why he expected anything less. Little do you know though, he fully intends to have you praising him before the night is up.

“I’d like to see you on my floor,” he answers, reaching for your dress and pulling it up further and above your head. “If I’m being honest, anyway.”

You were trying to go slow with the removal of your dress, mostly to see how he reacts to seeing a woman nearly naked in front of him but damn. You weren’t quite expecting how forward he’s being about it. Here you were expecting to be fucked missionary without any foreplay in a bed with all white sheets, right next to a washer and dryer, socks on, lights off.

“Oh,” you gasp, slightly out of character in his opinion but his body reacts even more to that. He’s already allowing himself to get aroused so, naturally, his confidence is also bubbling up through each thought and word he decides to say to you.

“What, you’re shocked?” He laughs, dropping your dress to the floor and scanning your body. “I can admit that I’m a little shocked too.”

You look at him in confusion, moving your arms over your chest and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about.

“You wore a matching set for a first date? With a complete stranger?” He mocks you this time, stepping even closer and running his fingers along the hem of your bra. You can feel the warmth from his thumb gently rubbing the skin as he does it and instantly your body tells on you in the form of goosebumps.

“I’ll have you know,” you’re the one stepping closer this time, “I always wear matching sets, because I like to feel sexy.”

You’re a liar. You definitely wore them just in case.

He hums, mere inches from your face as he looks down at you. It feels like he’s fucking looming, it feels like he must have his heat set too high or something.

It gets even worse when his eyes don’t leave yours, but you feel his hand drop from your chest only to hear the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. He stares at you while he does it, his hair falling in his face at the movement of what he’s doing waist down. For some reason, that does it for you, and you’re already rubbing your legs together as you stare right back at him.

“I think that’s bullshit,” he smirks, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing that to the floor as well, and then he brings his face another inch closer, “and don’t think I can’t tell that you’re turned on.”

You don’t back down, nor do you admit that he’s absolutely right. You just look at him, watching a strand of his hair fall in front of his eyes that are beginning to darken by the second.

“I’m not turned on, believe me, it’ll take a lot more than–” You’re cut off by him planting his hand directly between your legs, two fingers pressing your panties slightly into you.

“Hm?” He encourages you to say that again, but you’ve got your breath caught in your throat at his extreme change in demeanor.

Still, he’s looking directly at your face, watching the way you try to think of a lie.

“You wanna keep pretending that I’m boring?” He asks, sliding his fingers up and pressing against your clit.

You shake your head, finally dropping the act and blinking at him with empty thoughts.

“That’s what I thought,” He ticks his tongue at you, now pulling his fingers away and showing you that even through your panties, his fingers are already soaked. “Now take the rest off.”

You do as he says, watching him step away with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. You note that he grabs a condom, which for some reason reminds you that you’re definitely about to get railed into the next dimension if that bulge behind those pants implies anything.

Standing there with all of your clothes thrown around his living room, you watch him harder than you already had been. He’s slow when he sets the condom down on the table, and even slower when he walks up to you and places a hand on the top of your head before guiding you to sink down.

“Wha–right here?” You ask, feeling the clean carpet offer relief for your knees rather than the hard wood floors of the room over.

“I said I wanted to see you on my floor, didn’t I?” He smiles, already admiring how shameful you’d appear to be if your parents saw you naked and on your knees for him.

You nod, looking up at him. When you reach forward to actually lower his pants though, he steps back and continues to create distance between the two of you as he backs himself up to the wall and lounges against it.

“Crawl to me,” he instructs, wondering if it’s too much for you but letting out a pleased sound of relief when you instantly do it.

Would you normally let a man tell you to do that? No. Would you ever actually listen to a man who speaks to you like this? Fuck no. You can’t defend your actions when you do it and you also can’t lie that you’re absolutely fucking dripping over it. Like, honestly, he’s going to have to deep clean this fucking carpet by the time you leave this house.

When you reach him, you can feel the heat in your cheeks at the very idea of him from this angle. You sit on your knees, lifting your hands to his pants and lowering them before he can try to draw the process out even longer. You can hear him let out a short chuckle at the way you try to be quick with it, and you already know he’s about to say some shit.

“I didn’t expect you to be this eager.” He talks down to you with a deep and raspy voice, one that sounds entirely sensual. In terms of what he says though, honestly, you shouldn’t expect much more considering how the two of you practically roasted each other before this very instant.

You ignore his words, letting his pants drop to the floor and now reaching to pull his briefs down. You were incredibly unprepared for his size as you watched it stand stiff and raging in front of your face. Not a single hint of precum is seen, and it makes you feel kind of pathetic for how wet you’ve already gotten. It almost feels like a challenge now, to make him feel just as desperate as you do now.

Thankfully, your throat is fairly trained for sucking men until they’re trembling. Hopefully, all those dudes you’ve fucked around with before come in handy and don’t let you down this time around.

Sunghoon watches you from above, smiling over the way you stare at his length before finally touching it. He keeps his cool though, wondering how just over an hour ago you were ordering the worst food a restaurant has to offer, scoffing at his job, his hobbies, and now look at you. What a sight.

“Go on,” he encourages you, pressing his hips forward so that the head of his cock hits your cheek, “let me see how messy you are.”

You roll your eyes at him, gripping the base before closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose. The very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. You’d think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he pushes his hips forward after four whole seconds.

So, he’s not going to guide your mouth, he’s going to hold it there? Okay, you guess. Thankfully, he’s not being super rough with it like you anticipated. If anything, he’s sliding himself into your mouth much as you’d do on your own.

He hums out at the feeling of your inner cheeks hugging against his length, pressing in more and more with each thrust of his hips until he finally gets the majority of his length past your lips. He can see you breathe through your nose, but he doesn’t feel resistance at all so he presses his hips in even more, essentially until he’s blocking your airways and your throat is restricted around him in a gag.

Instead of pulling your head back though, he feels your fingers grip the back of his legs, you’re trying. He holds your head there in place, feeling your throat massage his cock in probably one of the best ways he’s ever felt.

“Shit,” he seethes out between a bite of his lip, “you’ve done this before?”

The very thought of you letting your throat be used is enough for him to want to keep doing it, but hearing your response as a half-moaned gag vibrating around his length is a whole other story.

He releases his hands from behind your head just to see if what he thinks you’re implying with those vibrations of sounds is right, and god is he thrown for a loop. You stay there, and even when he pulls his hips back before fucking into your throat once more, you still stay there.

He’s going to lose his goddamn mind because never has a woman been able to withstand this amount in their throat for this long for him. Enough to actually have him a little worried that you’re essentially suffocating on him.

Sunghoon snaps his hips back, pulling out of your mouth and leaning down just a bit to grab your chin and guide your eyes up to him.

“Breathe,” he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you’ve won some sort of award. He narrows his eyes at you, “You can choke all you want babe, but you’re gonna have to not be this cock drunk if you want to pretend that you’ve got the upper hand.”

That motherfucker. You’re trying to make him show just a hint of desperation for you and he completely flips the tables on you?

Before you can even argue again, he’s guiding your lips back on him. You decide that it’s not over yet, he can talk down to you all he wants, but you’re going to be the one laughing at him by the end of the night.

You allow him to place his hands back on your head, and you kind of like the weight of his cock on your tongue if you’re being honest, but god damn does he have a harsh rhythm. His hips snap languidly but he buries himself deep. Even when you try to look up at him as your nose presses against his pubic bone, he’s looking down at you so casually. Like he feels okay. Just okay.

This time, when he pulls his hips back, he doesn’t have to hold your head steady. You chase his length even as it tries to slide from your mouth, and you start to move your head back and forth in time with his hips. You finally receive a moan from him when you reach a hand up and cup his balls, massaging them in one hand as your saliva bubbles out from around your lips.

“So fucking messy–” he chokes out in a surprised moan, praising you for somehow making this feel even better than it already did.

You hum around him again, feeling the weight of his cock pulse against your tongue and you start to taste more of his precum. Shamefully, you’re starting to want this more and more. You want him to call you messy, you want him to bruise your throat. You don’t mind, now that you’ve seen a snippet of what he’s like when he shows his pleasure.

Just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him.

“Just like that, yeah,” his moans echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. When you gag, he moans again. “Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Then, he releases you and watches with a smirk at the way you pull back in a deep breath before wiping your mouth.

You’re not sure why, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel proud. Maybe it’s because he’s managed to pull out this weird, needy side of you, or maybe it’s because he looks incredibly good looking at you like this after the two of you spit insults at each other all night.

“Do you want me to return the favor?” He asks, finally unbuttoning and removing his shirt.

Seeing him now, you stare at his chest and toned arms, wanting to grab onto them and feel him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. He, on the other hand, can’t tell if you’re nodding to his question or looking him up and down slowly.

“You were so talkative earlier, what happened?” He smiles, stepping forward and falling to his knees himself, nudging your legs open in one go as he presses you back against his floor. “Do you want to fuck my tongue, or no?”

He continues to smile at your silence, eyes trained between your legs as he spreads them and then looks up at your face. “No?”

You shake your head, leaning back on your elbows to watch him and take a breath in.

“It’s hard to talk when you’re like,” you motions towards him, “that.”

He chuckles, taking it as a compliment before snatching a pillow off of his couch and tapping your thigh to get you to lift up. You do so, allowing him to place the pillow under your ass before he settles himself there.

His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers start to trail to your core, slipping through your folds with such ease that your embarrassment shows plainly on your face.

“Messy,” he compliments, lightly tapping against your clit before lowering his head and blowing softly against the glistening heat you offer to him. “Keep your legs spread for me, darling.”

You still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your slit, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he’s tasting. You’re not sure what it is about him but goddamn, he must know he looks good when he’s pleasuring a woman.

Despite him asking you to keep your legs spread for him, it appears that he doesn’t trust you to do it because he’s still got one hand prying one of your legs apart and his head moving in all sorts of ways as he allows his tongue to lap every part of you besides your clit. Even his other hand, exploring and gently placing pressure against your entrance– the way he’s doing this makes you want to press forward, it makes you want to do exactly as he asked.

You roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. You stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. You grind forward, he’s right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you.

This time though, when you roll your hips back, he takes both hands and presses your legs open as far as he can get them, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. He nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. Now, he’s sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside to taste your plush and wet walls.

God, you’re gonna lose it. Even if you didn’t want to, you’d think the way he’s moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. You moan, pressing forward and back against his mouth as your own fingers fall to your clit. You rub when you press forward, feeling his warm and wet saliva drip from your slit and down to your ass, and you rub harder when you pull back, watching his eyes flutter open and still somehow manage to glare at you.

And just as soon as it started, you blink and his face is right there. You would have let out a shocked sound, because jumpscare much? But you moan instead, because he hovers over you with a smirk and an arm between the two of you, his fingers instantly sliding into you as he attaches his lips to yours with little more than a moan of his own.

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” He asks, licking against your lips and scissoring his fingers open inside of you.

You have, but for some reason it tasted better this time when he prods his tongue against yours. Perhaps it’s because it’s from him, or maybe it’s because you are a little obsessed with the way he navigates sex.

When he pulls back from your mouth, now losing himself a little bit in the heat of the faces you make when you feel good, he can’t help but give you a moan along with your own. You sound so fucking good when you’re not talking your shit, and god he knew that mouth could do more than be annoying.

“Open up,” he whispers against your lips, licking your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, “let me hear you.”

You can’t really help it. When you open your mouth, you’re practically panting for him. His arm is moving harshly as he fucks his fingers into you and causing you to nearly lose balance on your elbows, but he holds you there with his other arm wrapped around your waist, still licking against your lip and smirking when you still can’t say anything.

“Louder,” He instructs, at least wanting you to moan louder for him if you’re going to act like this when he’s touching you. “Let your momma hear how good it feels, babe, go on.”

Your eyes shoot open after that, and god, he is the fucking worst. Or maybe not, you can tell he does it on purpose. His fingers curling up inside of you and putting intense pressure against a spot that takes every man ages to find if they manage to even remember it.

“Sunghoon,” you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, “can’t you just fuck me already?”

He chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot.

“Soak my fingers first.” He says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked.

He continues to suck and bite against your nipple, and that sends shocks of pleasure straight down to where his fingers meet your g-spot. You could come right now if he’d just–

You roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. He moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath. It seems like you like not being able to breath, which is just fucking great for him. Your mom would be so heartbroken, honestly.

“You think you can ride my cock like this?” He asks, popping your nipple out of his mouth and moving those bites up your neck and to your ear, “Think you can take it?”

You nod with heat rushing through your body, feeling his wrist stiffen up for your pleasure to grind against.

Fuck, he can feel your cunt gripping his fingers as you work yourself up and it takes everything in him not to pull his fingers from you and absolutely bury himself into the tight heat you’re offering, but he holds back, pulling from your neck and watching the way your brows furrow and your mouth falls slack.

“Yeah, that’s it babe, ride it.” he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.

You shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. You feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit.

“Let it go for me,” he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain. He moves further back and watches your body soak both him and his floor. “Fuck, yes, such a fucking mess.”

Well, that’s never happened before and the fact that you’re still orgasming is also new. You feel so sensitive, releasing in waves that offer little in terms of self control. Your hands shoot to his arm, gripping him so tightly as you try to hear his moans for you, but to be honest, you can’t hear a fucking thing through this wall of arousal in your head.

Finally, you open your eyes and he’s just looking at you, smirking at the dripping against his legs and the wet spot on the floor.

“Messy, messy girl.” He says with a chuckle. “Dirtying up my living room like this? Come on, get up.”

This is the first time Sunghoon has ever had a woman squirt for him, and honestly he’s been trying for ages to let someone experience this through him, goddamn was it sexy to see. You look absolutely fucking gone at this moment, and he might be fucking in love with the image. So badly does he want to see those shaking legs try to stand for him, so badly, does he want to see you fucking buckle.

“Come on,” he says again, not giving you enough time to even think about standing before he’s pulling you up on wobbling legs and pressing your toward the couch.

He watches how you wobble over, shuffling your feet with your knees turned inward with each step. He can’t help but lick his lips, seeing how your arousal drips down both of your legs in a shameless show of how much his fingers alone could do for you.

“Sorry,” You rasp out as you make your way over, brain fogged from the orgasm and unable to feel much at all outside of the pulsing inside of you. “I’ve never–”

“Don’t worry, I like the mess.” He smiles, snatching up the condom and tearing the wrapper open with ease before rolling it down his length, staring at you.

Oh, right, he still hasn’t even fucked you yet. Fuck, he’s good.

He sits himself next to you, pulling an arm around your waist and guiding you on top of him. He doesn’t even think twice at your shaking legs, soothing them as you follow his hand and position yourself against his long neglected cock being held up with his other hand.

“Gonna keep that promise?” he asks, still smoothing his hands over your legs and looking up at you. “Gonna take my cock better than you did my fingers?”

You nod, feeling a pulse of electricity inside of you. Willing you to take more, wanting to be stretched further.

Besides, you know that once you’re seated with his length fucking impaling you, you’ll at least have his broad shoulders to hold onto if you need to stay steady.

And when you sink down, you hear the sound you’ve been trying to pull from him all night. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper if you think hard enough about it, and it ignites a brand new fire in you as you take him in inch by inch. Feeling the searing stretch offer a bit of pain despite the sheer amount of wet you have collected between your legs.

He can feel you clench around him in the attempt to adjust, and your legs shaking only offer even more in terms of pleasure as you envelope him entirely with your heat. He can’t help but moan, almost unable to keep up his dominant persona with a pussy so sweet wrapped around him. God, he loves blind dates, honestly.

“Mhm,” he hums, rubbing both of his hands now against your thighs as you sit yourself flush against him and wait to adjust to his size, “I definitely like you.”

You fall forward with a small laugh, the irony of the situation a bit too much on top of your mind falling helplessly and embarrassingly fast at how lucky you are to have a mother to set you up with such a man.

He’s a bit soft at this moment, wrapping both arms around your waist and listening to your breathless laughs against his neck. Loving the way each inhaled chuckle forces your body to squeeze his cock delightfully tight.

God, You’re pretty, and so fucking annoying. Just his type.

“I’m still going to fuck you senseless though.” he finally says, feeling your body still at his words as you lift a bit, just to slide back down on him.

“Is that a promise?” You ask weakly, pretending that he didn’t already manage to do it with his hands alone.

He nods, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly when he feels the drag of your cunt hug his length. He doesn’t hold back his moaning for you this time though, and he shows no shame in slapping your ass, and guiding you even closer to his chest.

You stand on your knees a bit on top of him, watching his eyes zone in on your tits in his face. Hopefully, he’s going to keep that promise too.

His hips snap up harshly as his hands grope your ass and spread you apart. He snaps his hips again and again, nearly pulling his entire length out of you each time just to fill you up once again. Stretching you open and loosening you up, the pleasure of it hitting him right in the throat each time with small grunts against your nipple when you bounce at the movement.

You whimper out, the sounds still echoing throughout his house along with the sounds of your thighs slapping against his. His grunts are deeper, and all of the sounds together sound like a desperate soundtrack of what you’ve always wished sex was like. He fucks you good, despite your legs still shaking, and despite the pain of his teeth biting against your skin now.

You can’t help it when you fall forward again, hugging around his head as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. His thick cock easily pressing against that same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier. You choke out at the feeling, legs jolting and causing you to sit again out of sensitivity.

He doesn’t falter at your failure to stay in position for him, and instead he gropes your ass harder, swirling your hips around him. You can feel how hard he is inside of you, splitting you open and pulsing at a near constant pace.

“Ride it,” he instructs, much like he did with his fingers and you follow suit, lifting just slightly and sliding back down again. “Harder,” he demands, pulling his head from your grasp and looking up at you with a wild smirk.

You look down at him, wondering how pitiful you must look up here. He appears to be loving it though, absolutely in love with the way you struggle to do what you swore you’d be able to.

Trying again, you begin to bounce on him and he grants you his fingers on your clit for that, moaning at your own choice of rhythm and leaning forward yet again to pop his presumed favorite nipple back into his mouth.

The ministrations of his fingers paired with his mouth sends you spiraling once again into a world of pleasure. The shaking in your legs become more of a driving factor than anything as you ride him better than you’ve ever ridden anyone.

Finally, he’s the one moaning out and trying to string together choked words of praise.

“Your grip is so tight,” he mutters out, kissing up your chest and to your neck, “i can fucking feel you dripping down my legs.” He adds in a moan, losing himself in the way you move your hands through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck. He wants to ruin you so badly, and he’s already drenched in you. He wants more.

You knew you’d have him just as desperate as you by the end of the night. Now look at him, muttering out strings of curse words as you do nothing but ride and pet him. He’s melting under you, and you’ll be damned if he comes before you get that second orgasm.

Shooting your hand to your clit to replace his lazy movements, you work yourself up to your second orgasm and he just watches you, taking in the image of you practically riding him into oblivion until you’re clenching even tighter around him, throwing your head back and shooting your hands to his shoulders as you harshly roll your hips into his. You’re working yourself through it when he starts pumping into you again, short and tight thrusts pushing you through your orgasm until he’s gripping you equally as hard, holding you down on him as he spills out and into the condom in more of a purr than a moan.

You watch him, dazed out of your fucking mind as he bites against his bottom lip and slowly blinks through his orgasm as you. Part of you wishes he just did it raw, wanting so badly for him to make a mess of you like you did to him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You find yourself with him at your parent’s house just a week later, eating lunch in the chaotic mess of your mother’s kitchen. It’s funny, really, how he’s trying to be polite to her as if he’s not about to take you next door and probably fuck you against an open window just to blow his own cover.

“I told you he was a keeper,” your mother compliments him as she lays a plate of croissants on the table. “Just yesterday he offered to mow our lawn when we head off for vacation this weekend!”

She’s praising him much like you wouldn’t, and you kick him under the table for trying to suck up to her even more now that he’s fucked you several times already.

“Did he now?” You ask, glaring over at him and then smiling sweetly at your mother. “Guess he is kind of a keeper, maybe.”

His eyes shoot to you and he smiles around his bite of croissant at you.

“You were right though,” he counters you towards your mother, “she’s definitely a handful.”

Your mother crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, looking between the both of you.

“How many dates have you been on without telling me?” She asks, looking at you.

“A few…” If she considers it a date to meet up and fuck every other day this week.

“We had lunch a few days ago.” he adds, backing you up. It’s just that the lunch wasn’t exactly like–you know, at a restaurant, and if she knew that cum was on the menu, perhaps you both would be slapped shitless.

“So, are you guys going to be exclusive, or?”

Sunghoon looks at you curiously, and you look back at him.

“I dunno, it’s only been a week, Mom.”

She nods, clapping once before pushing off of the counter and leaving the kitchen.

It’s silent between you and Sunghoon for a few moments before he speaks up.

“I wouldn’t be against it.”

“Against what?” You ask, looking at him with a raised brow.

“You know, like, dating. I can’t imagine anyone actually putting up with you besides me, anyway.”

You kick him again from under the table, causing him to wince out in pain before glaring at you. You smile in return though, giving him a shrug and now rubbing your foot against the bruise you probably just caused.

“I find myself agreeing with that statement,” You laugh thinking hard about your next words. “But for some reason, agreeing with you pisses me off more.”

Sunghoon nods, smiling through the pain of the bruise forming on his shin.

“Good thing I know how to fix that, huh?” He finishes the conversation, fully aware that he knows how to shut you up and make you love it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

#enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enha smut

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boydepartment · 6 months

Text

three strikes - nishimura riki x fem! reader

a/n: HIIIIII this was a request from my 🧈 anon :3 i hope you love it my dear

warnings- jealousy! nothing insane tho, mostly fluff 😋 i added a small inside joke that riki would call ricky from zb1 “discount ricky” all jokes tho (pls don’t kill me)

wc- honestly over 750

MASTERLIST

“here.” you looked over to riki setting your drink down on the table, you looked up at him and smiled as he sat down across from you at the cafe table.

“did you-“

“ask for extra peppermint? yes. even though it’s gross..” riki mumbled, you giggled and sipped your hot coco. it was freezing cold at least to you and so the coco helped a lot.

“when is your project partner arriving?” riki mumbled, sipping his coffee.

you shrugged, “any minute.” setting your coco down riki watched you, he wasn’t necessarily happy over this whole project partner thing. riki knew your project partner, and safe to say he was just irritated by his presence. he didn’t know why, but he was just irked.

so when the OTHER ricky walked in, he just waved and watched as the other boy sat next to you.

“hey y/n!” he smiled, you grinned back at him.

“hey! it’s cold outside are you sure you’re bundled up enough?” you asked, grabbing your books. riki just decided to go on his phone to pass time.

“yeah! it’s crazy how quickly the weather changed huh? are you warm enough?”

you and ricky made small talk which didn’t bother your best friend. that was until one sentence.

“your hands are freezing y/n!”

riki’s eyes shot up to see the discount ricky’s hands on yours. if stares could kill a man, discount ricky would be six feet under.

“oh! yeah that’s why riki, well, my riki got me hot coco.” you let go of his hand and turned to your hot beverage.

nishimura riki would be lying if he said some pride didn’t bubble up inside him, which didn’t go unnoticed by the boy sitting next to you.

riki didn’t take notice and he went back on his phone, he just wanted your project to be over so he could walk back to the car with you and just be away from people. by people he meant discount ricky. this was strike one for his patience.

“i think we should work more on the details of the piece of art itself. like things that normal people look past in monet’s art. there’s a story everywhere.” you suggested, this art project was pretty big for your grade. and you were just relieved that your project partner agreed to do monet.

“that’s such a good idea y/n.” ricky smiled.

oh please riki thought to himself, at that point discount ricky should just get on his hands and knees and beg for your attention. that’d be way less embarrassing than kissing your ass at every little- wait what the hell

to riki’s horror, discount ricky, was readjusting your beanie so your hair didn’t get in your face. this pissed him off, strike two of his patience gone. riki was the one who spent HOURS trying to crochet you that beanie last year and now he’s going to have to make you another one because discount ricky’s grimy hands touched it! riki felt his eye twitch, he ended up making eye contact with the boy next to you. a smirk ghosting his features.

riki wanted to kick his shin under the table or maybe throw his hot coffee-

“i think we should also choose one of monet’s less known works aswe- oh ouch…” you mumbled rubbing your hands, whenever you wrote or sketched too long your hands would hurt. riki always took notice of this so he looked up proper hand massages- safe to say he could be certified- WHAT THE SHIT?

discount ricky grabbed your hands and started massaging them.

strike three

“can you get your hands off her?!” riki finally snapped, “god at this point it’s revolting! i’m right in front of both of you!”

your eyes widened as you watched you best friend actually lose his temper, yeah you’d seen him bicker but this was different.

“what are you two dating?” ricky asked, if you were in a tv show you’d see the angry lightening bolt hit both of them. this was not good, you quickly packed your bags and grabbed your best friend. apologizing to your project partner.

“what’s his fucking problem?!” riki stomped through the fresh snow to your car.

“what’s his problem?! what’s your problem? what the hell was that?! are you okay?!” you had a million questions. and they were flying out.

“i- what- how is this my fault!? he had his grimy discount ricky hands all over you! only i’m allowed to do that as your best friend!”

it was really hard to take him seriously as you finally got to the car laughing. you leaned against the hood trying to catch your breath.

“y/n this isn’t funny!” he stood right next to you.

you finally caught your breath, “i’m sorry where did the nickname discount ricky come from?”

“well obviously i’m the better one way more deserving of, um hello, touching your hair, massaging your hands because im youtube certified, AND THE COLD HANDS THING?! he was flirting with you shamelessly in front of me!” riki swung his arms around like a crazy person trying to explain that the end was near.

your hat fell slightly as you laughed again which riki fixed gently before speaking again, “then he’d smirk at me like he knew he was getting on my nerves! like that discount version of ME KNEW HE WAS MAKING ME ANGRY!”

“should i take my hat off and give you sanitizer? since you touched my discount ricky infected beanie?” you asked, unlocking the car and throwing your backpack in the back. you turned around and bumped into riki.

“actually yeah take off that hat. i will sanitize it and crochet you a new one.” riki grabbed the hat off your head and gave you his own beanie.

“should i sanitize my hands too?” you asked giggling, going to open your door but slipping on black ice.

riki immediately caught you, “um guess who couldn’t catch you- discount ricky. i’m clearly better for you so.”

you started laughing again, hitting his chest playfully, “you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend.”

“is that a bad thing?” riki asked quickly, suddenly unsure of himself.

you shook your head no, “it’s cute.”

riki smiled down at you; it was obvious he was at least a little smug.

“you know what he didn’t contaminate?” you asked, still giggling, your eyes flickered from riki’s eyes to his lips. immediately he got the hint and took his chance.

discount ricky is out and nishimura riki hit a home run

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

Show Me*

Summary: The second part to Teach Me*

Class is in session, and this time, Harry needs a little help exploring his favorite kinks. Like...how to get somebody off underneath a table.

And you're more than happy to lend a helping...hand.

Word Count: 6k

“So…how did she like it?”

Harry laughs as he slips out of his car. “Wow, I think that’s a new record. Waited a whole thirty seconds to ask me.”

“Bite me,” you retort as he makes his way toward where you’re waiting on the sidewalk. “Well?”

He shrugs, hands shoving into his pockets. “Dunno. We never got to it.”

“So, just straight to the fucking, then, huh?” you question. “No foreplay at all? I mean, hey…if that’s what she’s into…great. But, personally, I think the foreplay is the best—”

“All right,” he interjects with a wicked yet amused grin. “That’s not what I meant. She got called into work before we could.”

“Oh.” You offer him a pitiful frown. “Sorry, bud.”

“Bite me,” he mimics as he brushes past you. “S’fine. It’ll happen when it happens.”

“That’s the spirit,” you encourage as you fall in-line beside him. “Gives you more time to find your nerve.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, glancing down at the concrete. “Or more time to practice…other things.”

“Other things?”

“Yeah,” he says again, one brow raising as he looks back over. “You know, like…how to eat ass.”

Finally catching onto his joke, you groan and reach out to shove him away from you, watching as he stumbles with a laugh. “Fucking hilarious.”

“Listen, I was actually looking forward to it,” he continues, hand over his heart as if disappointed. “I bet you really know how to eat some ass.”

“Ha…ha.”

“What? You do, don’t you? Cause of…Eric?”

The familiar but dreaded name sends a shiver down your spine as you recoil away and scrunch your nose in horror. “Ew.”

He looks proud. “Well? Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” you huff before sighing. “…no. But he wasn’t that great of a teacher, anyhow.”

“No fucking kidding,” Harry snorts with a smile. “You’re much better.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he beams, reaching out for the door of the restaurant to swing it open. “After you.”

“As it should be,” you tease, winking to hint at the double entendre, and his eyes roll.

You find your large group of friends already gathered around a table near the back of the room, and quickly make your way over.

For the next few minutes, you all exchange pleasantries, catch-up, and tease Harry about his failed attempt at mating.

He’s a good sport about it, flipping everyone off with a smile before changing the subject.

Because, despite the jokes, all of you know that Harry could have anybody he wanted. Maybe his experience in the bedroom is lacking but that’s only because it was a personal choice that he made. And everybody knows it. As far as charm and seduction go? Harry Styles is a king.

Perhaps even a God.

…no, that’s giving him too much credit.

You shake your head, clearing the thought away as you listen to your friends gossip about the newest celebrity drama and reality TV scandals.

And you try to care. Really, you do.

But your mind keeps…drifting.

To Eric.

God, you could just kill Harry for re-planting that seed in your subconscious and reminding you of the worst mistake you’ve ever made.

Because there was a time when Eric was everything to you. When you were closer to him than you were to Harry. When you trusted him—completely—with your mind, soul, and body.

And of course, he just had to shit all over the self-growth and progress you’d made.

You feel your phone vibrate from its place on your thigh, and you glance down to see Harry’s name flashing across the screen.

Sneaking a curious sideways peek his way, you swipe up to read his text.

So…Pete Davidson is Kim Kardashian’s stepfather now? Am I hearing that right?

Confused, your brows pull together as you look over at him.

His explanation is to nod at your friends across the table with a smirk, and you laugh.

I don’t know, you type. I wasn’t listening.

Oh? Why not? This is fascinating stuff.

Idk. Just wasn’t.

Harry’s expression seems to fall as he studies you before his fingers are flying across the screen. You were thinking about Eric, weren’t you?

…nooooooo.

His eyes narrow.

So what if I was?

Bee…you can do better than that. Even in your head.

See, you say that, and yet…here I am.

Because you’re not doing better. You can…you just aren’t.

Yeah? And how exactly would I do better?

You catch the way his lips pull back into a Cheshire-like grin as he begins to type.

Well, you kind of already did do better. With me. The other day.

Swallowing a scoff, you type, That was only because I felt bad for you.

Think you felt a lot of things that day, Bee. But bad wasn’t one of them.

You toss him a playful glare. Are you ever gonna let that go?

Not likely. After all, you did promise me another lesson.

You don’t need another lesson, you just need to stop being so goddamn annoying.

Come on, you can’t deprive me now. Not when I know I have so much to learn.

Google it.

Ouch.

You’ll live.

It’s not living if it’s not with you.

This time, you do groan, and reach over to swat his arm. “Stop,” you hiss. “You really are fucking annoying.”

“Learned from the best,” he retorts, leaning closer to you in an attempt to conceal the conversation. “Learned a lot of things from you, actually.”

“Harry,” you huff again, but you’re smirking. “My god, you don’t really wanna learn how to eat ass do you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t really know what I wanna learn. That’s why I need a teacher. To teach me what I want.”

You know he’s fucking with you. You can see it all over his face and yet, for some reason…your interest is piqued. “Thought that was a one-time deal.”

“It was,” he agrees. “But…the door to knowledge is never closed.”

He follows this up with a devious chuckle to let you know he’s teasing, and you nudge him again. “See? Annoying.”

For a moment, you both put the topic to bed and return to the conversation happening across the table.

But again, your mind wanders.

Wanders all the way back to your bedroom and the image of Harry’s curls wound around your knuckles.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about that afternoon quite a few times since it happened. After all, you’re only human. And Harry had done a rather excellent job. Sure, you’ve had a tad better. But for his first time…it wasn’t half bad.

And you’d waited to feel weird about it after the fact…but you never did. Which was strange. The two of you returned to your normal routine as if it had never happened.

And you were certainly glad for that. So why is it that now, as the opportunity for a relapse is placed so obviously in your lap, are you not repulsed by it?

Why is it that you haven’t immediately shut the idea down? Laughed it off? Why is it that you’re…considering it?

Again?

You almost want to shudder at the very thought, but as you look over to the chair beside you and take in Harry’s relaxed smile as he listens to your friends talk…something seems to shift.

You will admit, since your little…experiment…you’ve begun to equate those kinds of memories and feelings with Harry instead of Eric.

And that’s another thing you wouldn’t dare complain about. You like the idea of being able to associate pleasure with someone that makes you feel safe. Secure instead of unhinged.

And perhaps this is a huge mistake…but suddenly, you can’t seem to see the harm?

He gets to learn how to make a woman feel good and you get to erase Eric from your past permanently.

What could possibly be so wrong with that?

Subtly, you clear your throat as you turn your head to him, calling his attention away as he raises a brow.

“Okay, so…if I were to agree to another lesson…” you begin hesitantly as his eyes grow wide. “I’d need a little…information.”

He angles his body toward you as well, murmuring, “Yeah? Like what?”

You think for a moment. “I don’t know…what kinds of kinks do you have?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats smugly, nodding his chin at you. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me find out?”

You quickly glance across the table to make sure nobody is listening as you lean in and whisper, “Well…I don’t even know where to start with you. You’re a virgin, it’s hard.”

“I’m not a virgin,” he corrects with a scoff. “I just…haven’t done it a lot since the first time.”

“Mhm,” you snort. “Doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t know what you like, there’s no way I’ll know.”

He studies you for a second, seeming to think. “Well…why don’t you tell me what you like? Maybe I’ll get some ideas.”

You hesitate. What do you like? “Uh…okay. I mean, I like pretty much everything, I guess.”

“Yeah? Like what? Name something.”

Well…shit. “Um…I don’t know. Have you ever heard of…exhibitionism?”

He runs his tongue over his teeth in thought, brows lifting up with intrigue. “I’m 27, I’m not dead.”

“Hilarious.”

“Why? S’that something you’re into?”

You swallow but force a relaxed and nonchalant demeanor. “Kind of, yeah. Fun to play with what’s mine when anybody could see.”

He almost seems impressed, leaning back as he looks at you. Really looks at you. “You don’t fucking say.”

“Okay, don’t make it a whole thing,” you whisper urgently, already swatting at him in warning. “It was just an idea. We can always think of something—”

“Show me.”

You pause. “Show you…what?”

He nods his chin at you. “Show me how you’d play with what’s yours when anybody could see.”

Your expression falls. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He nods. “I’m a vessel. Show me. Teach me.”

And maybe it’s the glass of wine offering you an extra ounce of courage, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already done this once before, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s Harry…

But whatever it is, you reach out, and smooth your palm along his upper thigh, just to watch his breath catch. “Are you sure?” you ask softly, careful to keep beneath the suspicion of the group across the table. “Because I need to know if you can…handle it.”

You feel him tense, his fingers flexing across the tablecloth as he regards you. “I’ll handle anything you want me to.”

Your hand drifts a little higher. “And you’ll sit here? And be a good student?”

He shoots you a coy smile. “The best.”

A little higher. “And you know your safe word?”

“‘Stop,’” he answers, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Don’t think I’ll need it, though.”

“You might.”

“Won’t.”

“Maybe.”

“No fucking way.”

You slow to a stop, centimeters away from the rather obvious dip in his pants. “Don’t say that. Just use it. If you need to.”

His expression softens. “I know, Bee. I will. Promise.”

“Good.” So, with that and a deep breath, you take the plunge, ghosting your touch over his covered cock.

And it’s different this time because it’s you touching him. It’s his body in your hands and this far exceeds your usual high-five.

You aren’t sure what you expected. You kind of already know he’s big from the few times you guys have gone swimming together. And he’s accidently brushed up against you before when scooting past you and worn sweatpants that did absolutely nothing to help him hide an erection (another reason why you’re never watching a Margot Robbie movie with him again).

But feeling it now…knowing exactly what this man is in possession of…feels forbidden.

You keep your expression stoic, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your awe as you watch the way his lashes flutter.

“Easy,” you warn in a delicate whisper. “Rule number one…make a sound and I stop.”

His teeth grit as he leans back against his seat. “Fine.”

“Good.” You bring your fingers together until you can cup your palm around him, adding just the slightest amount of pressure before glancing back at your friends.

They’re laughing about something, you don’t really know what, but you smile and nod along as if absolutely enthralled.

And as the seconds pass, you feel Harry grow harder in your hand. Needier. He shifts at least three times a minute, clearly struggling to keep from bucking up into your touch.

You’re being as easy on him as you can. A few squeezes, a bit of palming, and some light brushing just to tease him.

He’s gripping onto the edge of the table so tight, you’re surprised it’s not shaking. But he’s restraining himself, as best he can, and you feel oddly…proud.

You maneuver a little closer, head dipping until your lips are close to his ear. To anyone else, it might look like you're merely trying to be heard over the loud music.

But Harry knows better.

"This...is where the fun is," you tell him. "Knowing it would be so easy to have you coming in your pants. Right here, right now. In front of everybody."

You add a bit more pressure and watch the way the veins in his arms begin to strain against his skin. The way the muscles in his jaw constrict and the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

“You feel it, don’t you?” you murmur as his fingers begin to scratch down the table, desperate to grab onto something. “Feel what it does to you…to be played with. Just like this…exactly like you wanted.”

He sucks in a quiet gasp for air as his head threatens to drop back, little curls falling across his forehead.

He’s not stopping you. And you know he won’t. He’ll happily let himself go right into his trousers, in front of the whole goddamn resturant. Right here, right now.

But that wasn’t apart of the lesson.

So, just when you can feel his resolve begin to crumble…you stop.

He exhales a long, deep breath, slumping into the chair as if completely drained of all energy, and you almost want to laugh.

“So…what did you learn?” you ask softly as you lean back in.

“That Eric’s a fucking ass,” he replies instantly, shooting you a lazy grin. “And that we’re definitely not kids in a tree house anymore.”

“No kidding,” you agree. “Anything else?”

He mulls this over, eyeing you closely. “That I think I’m more of a…hands-on learner.”

Your brow raises. “What does that mean?”

His answer comes in the form of his touch, hand outstretching for your leg, long fingers brushing across the hem of your dress. “It means…I need to see for myself.”

He pauses down by your knee in order to allow you the time to understand and either accept him or reject him.

But you simply blink, focus falling from his face down to your lap. “Ah…I suppose that makes sense.”

His lips roll into his mouth. “Mhm…what do you say, Teach?”

Your nose scrunches at the nickname but you smile. “I say practice makes perfect.”

And he wastes no more time in slipping beneath the fabric to travel up your thigh and toward your hips.

Now, you’re the one forced into restraint, a gasp immediately hitching in your throat as he brushes his thumb down the front of your underwear.

It instantly brings you back to the last time, and his touch, while familiar and oddly reassuring, makes your head spin.

You slowly look over at him, taking note of the way he’s so goddamn proud of your reaction, and the way he returns his attention to your friends.

Exactly like you had.

Because this is the lesson after all. The concept of teasing and torture and watching somebody come undone so easily.

The idea of getting caught.

You could tell from the moment you reached for him that this was something he was into. But even when he was trying not to thrust up into your hand, it was obvious that his interest lied with you and your pleasure.

With the idea of putting you under this sort of duress.

He really is a sadist.

Good to know.

"How's this for practice?" you hear him murmur as you become vaguely aware of the way he's scooted his chair closer to you.

You open your mouth, lips parted and ready to respond, but you can feel the beginning of a whimper threatening its escape.

So you swallow—thickly—and nod your head once.

"Good, then?" he asks, and you have to fight the urge to cross your legs over his hand. "Bee...I need you to speak."

But you can't fucking speak. The pressure of his touch has increased, and it feels so...so fucking good. "It's....yeah. Fine. It's fi—"

Suddenly, you gasp, and thankfully, it's lost beneath the jazz music still loudly playing through the restaurant.

But it's not lost on Harry, and you watch his smug smile expand as his teasing begins to slow. "Uh-uh," he tuts softly. "You know the rules. Make a sound...and I stop."

You exhale the singular word, "Har," and he hums.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What?"

You have to physically fight the urge to whimper with desperation. Truth be told, he’s hardly even doing anything, but his hands…

You’d fucked up by sneaking a glance down at the tattooed skin disappearing beneath your dress. Because it’s sinful to feel the cold, metal of his rings brush against your warm thighs. Sinful to know he’s pressing his thumb into you just to feel the way you’ve begun to soak the material he’s so effortlessly playing with.

He…is sinful.

And then suddenly…his touch disappears. Retreats from between your legs as your mouth just about drops open.

And you could cry at the loss of contact because it felt so safe and so exciting. Teasing or not, it was so fucking good, and you hate him for making you go without.

But then…you learn why.

His fingers move to wrap around the edge of your seat, getting a good grip on it…before he yanks.

Your chair is forced closer to his, squeaking against the floor as he begins to smirk victoriously.

“There,” he declares quietly before his hand is returning to your lap. “Much better, don’t you think?”

And it is better because now he’s so much closer, and has so much more room, and you’re so fucking close to just throwing in the towel and hurling yourself at him. Friends be damned.

“Speak, Bee,” he repriminds after a minute of your silence, and instantly, you begin to squirm.

“Har,” you whisper, both begging him for his mercy and for his cruelty.

“What?” he replies evenly. “What do you need, hm?”

You, you think. “Can’t…s’just…”

“Come on,” he tsks. “Think you can do better than that, can’t you?”

But you can’t.

“Please,” you try again, a faint request.

“Please…what?”

“Har…”

“Uh-uh. Tell me. What?”

Again, you swallow, willing yourself to stay silent. "Har—”

“No.”

“Harry—"

"...Harry?"

This time, it's Charlie calling his name, and immediately, you go deathly still as you turn back toward your friends.

However, Harry is calm as he raises a brow. "Yeah?"

For a moment, the three across from you simply stare, rather curiously before Charlie says, "Oh, I was just asking how Tina is?"

You could almost moan with relief.

“She’s good, yeah,” Harry answers cooly, pointer finger hooking around the edge of the material on your thighs to pull it aside. “Yeah, real good. Been working a lot, so I haven’t seen her much.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Jackie offers with a pout. “Is she nice? Will we like her?”

Harry laughs, head shaking with amusement as if he’s not dragging his thumb down your clit while you swallow a rather desperate whine. “She’s nice. I don’t know if we’ll ever make it that far, though.”

Caleb’s head tilts. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ve hung out, like…twice. S’not really that serious yet.”

And you almost snort, because to you…he seemed pretty serious about her.

But you suppose eating pussy doesn’t exactly require an engagement ring, and maybe he just wants a fuck buddy.

“Well…she still needs to pass the approval test,” Jackie argues with a wink. “And the fact that she strung you along for two months is not doing her any favors.”

“She was just making him work for it,” Charlie teases. “And he needs to be humbled, so I say good for her.”

“Please. Look at him,” she snorts. “He’s too pretty to be this dumb. Okay, he can do better than Tammy—”

“Tina,” Harry corrects before slowly easing the tip of his finger in, and your entire body goes rigid.

“—yeah, whatever. The point is…you can do better,” Jackie finishes proudly, shooting a pointed look toward Charlie.

Harry begins to smirk, slowly stealing a glance at you. “Yeah. Maybe we can all do better.”

Now curious, Caleb nods at you, and you do your best to control your reactions as he says, “Yeah, speaking of which…have you heard from…him?”

You shake your head quickly, mentally damning Harry to hell as he pushes in a bit further just to make it harder for you to reply. “Uh…no. Nope. Not since that night.”

“I’ll kill him,” Jackie tells you. “No, really. I will. I’ll hit him with my car and drag his dead body out to the woods, and watch the bears eat him.”

You breathe out a laugh, but it’s outrageously forced, and Harry can tell. “It’s…it’s fine. He’s…you know, we all move on. I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Harry says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Yeah, you seem fine.”

“Oh, I am,” you murmur through a tight-lipped smile. “Fucking fantastic.”

“Good,” he hums before you can feel him curl upward. “Hope it stays that way.”

Your hands drop to the chair beneath you, and you grip onto the sides for dear life in an attempt to keep from reeling. “Thanks for your…concern.”

“Anytime,” he beams as you feel him slip out. “Just want you to…do and feel the best that you can.”

The wet pad of his finger then returns to your clit as he presses into it just to push it in a teasing circle.

Your eyes just about roll back as you quickly turn your face toward your shoulder and fake a cough. “Fuck…sorry,” you apologize hoarsely as your friends look on.

“Are you all right?” Jackie asks softly. “Sorry, we shouldn’t have brought him up. We can change the subject.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” you sigh, hoping to sound casual, despite the fact that you’re teetering on the edge of a wail. “Really, he’s just…a guy. Just some…stupid…sadistic…evil fucking…guy.”

And while the group across the table snorts their agreement, you see that Harry knows that jab was aimed directly at him.

He winks.

“I, uh…I need to go to the bathroom,” you suddenly declare, grabbing onto his wrist to forcefully shove it away before standing to your feet. “Be right back.”

“Feeling all right?” Harry asks innocently as he watches you push your chair in.

“Just delightful,” you reply before brushing your hands down the front of your dress. “Seriously, keep eating. I won’t be long.”

You leave the table before Harry can make another quippy remark, quickly making your way for the extravagant restroom in the back of the restaurant.

Honestly, you thought you had a little more self-control. You thought it wouldn’t be so easy to get you so on edge, and yet here Harry is, making you clench so hard in your chair, you nearly burst a blood vessel.

You lock the door behind you and make a beeline for the sink. You flip on the cool water and gently trail it down your arms and chest to cool yourself down as you will the ache between your legs to subside.

It’ll be easy to take care of once you get home, but you’re rather impressed with Harry’s commitment to…education.

And something about looking your friends in the eye as he played with your cunt like a toy was oddly invigorating.

Far more invigorating than it ever had been with…Eric.

You’ve no sooner smirked at this thought when your phone begins to buzz from its place on the counter.

Glancing down, you aren’t surprised to see a text from Harry, but it does make you laugh.

How’s it going?

Good. Just getting myself off before I come back, you answer.

Yeah? Texting me while you touch yourself? Hot.

Well, it’s not the first time.

A good minute passes before he responds, and you can easily imagine the way his eyes went wide.

Seriously?

Seriously. Why, is that weird?

Are you fucking kidding? No, it’s…I mean, it’s hot. Very, very hot.

Your brow raises. Yeah?

Kind of rude you never told me, though. Clearly I would have been of great help.

In my defense, I was a little…busy. It’s already hard enough to type with one hand.

And even if you aren’t exactly touching yourself right now…you aren’t lying about having done it before. Not on purpose, of course. He just happened to text you right in the middle of your alone time and needed an answer ASAP.

So…you’d answered.

Yeah? Do you need an extra hand? he replies next, and you chuckle under your breath as you lean against the sink.

Why, do you know someone?

Funny.

Thank you, I thought so.

Is that a yes, then?

I think I’m managing just fine.

Yeah? So you’re pinching your clit nice and tight for me?

You feel your breath hitch. This certainly isn’t helping. Obviously.

And you’re clenching around your fingers for me? How many you using? One? Two? Maybe three? Know you like to feel stretched.

“Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you glance off into the bathroom. He’s trying to kill you.

Can’t really clench around anything when I have to keep answering these texts. Go eat your food and leave me to it.

And what kind of student would I be if I did that?

An obedient one.

And does that sound like me?

“Nope,” you respond aloud, but type, You have been so far.

Think I’d be more obedient if I finished what I started.

I mean…maybe if you knew how.

You wait to watch the bubbles roll across your screen, but when they don’t come, your heart sinks.

And then…there’s a knock.

A rather fervent and determined knock that makes you jump as you look toward the door.

“Bee…let me in.”

Shit. “I…uh, I’m a little busy.”

“I know,” comes the deep, sultry reply. “So, let me in.”

“Har—”

“Open the goddamn door, Bee, before I break it down.”

Clearing your throat, you put your phone aside and cautiously tiptoe toward the door.

After sliding the lock over, you pull it back just a hair, and peek through the crack. “Uh, hi. Sorry, this bathroom is a little occupied at the moment—”

His large hand comes out to press against the wood as he forces it open and steps inside. “Are you okay?”

You blink at him before scrambling to push it closed and relock it. “Uh…yeah? Why?”

He strides a bit further into the bathroom before turning around to look at you, almost as if suspicious. “Honestly? I kind of thought you came in here to hide from me.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know.” His arms cross over his chest. “I know you didn’t actually come in here to fuck yourself, so I thought…maybe you just felt uncomfortable.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you know I didn’t come in here to do that?” you retort.

He smirks. “’Cause you always use both hands. And if you were texting me…you weren’t fucking yourself.”

“And how do you know I use both hands?”

He shrugs. “You told me once.”

Oh…right. “Well…maybe I was multi-tasking.”

“You weren’t,” he rejects immediately. “No, I think you either came in here to hide from me…or because you were upset about what they said. You know, about…him.”

An invisible fist snaps closed around your heart as you stare at the man across from you. The devious intentions and teasing from before are long gone as the man you’ve known for years, your best friend…stands before you.

The concern is evident on his face as you take a step closer. “Har…honestly, I’m fine. I wasn’t hiding from you, and I really don’t care about Eric. I came in here to keep myself from coming all over your fucking hand.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with the temptation to smile, but his gaze remains skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You nod, taking another step. “Come on, I think it’s a little late to start questioning me now, don’t you?”

He sucks on his teeth. “Well…I can never tell with you.”

“I feel like I made my enjoyment quite clear.”

“I thought so, too. Until you made me stop.”

Now, only inches away from him, you come to a halt. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly feel like explaining why I moaned to our friends, you know?”

His thumb rubs across the skin of his arm as he peers down at you. “Thought that was the whole point of exhibitionism.”

You shrug, eyes falling across his features. “Yeah…or maybe I just wanted to keep you to myself.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know…like a secret.”

Instantly, he grins, exhaling a laugh at the reminder of the pact you two made when you were younger. “We are good at secrets.”

“The best,” you agree giddily before the laughter dies out, and something seems to shift within his expression.

“Then I think it’s only fair we finish the lesson,” he says quietly, leaning a bit closer as you begin to still. “After all…I still need to show my work.”

Your lashes flutter, the smell of his cologne beginning to overwhelm you. God, why does he always smell so good? “Guess…guess that’s only fair,” you agree faintly, and he seems pleased.

His head dips, nose brushing yours as he works to catch you off guard. “Then tell me what to do, Bee. And I’ll do it.”

It comes out before you can stop it. “Kiss me.”

He’s surprised by this request, going momentarily quiet but you don’t miss the way his focus falls to your lips, as if pondering.

“Kiss me,” you repeat, fingers itching to latch onto the back of his neck. “And this time…do it right.”

He seems impressed as he fights an arrogant smirk. “Right, huh?”

“Yeah.” You straighten up, bringing your mouths a tad closer, but still without contact. “Know you can. Know you know how to be gentle, don’t you?”

And almost as if in retaliation, his hands find your hips, squeezing rather harshly as he begins to back you up toward the wall.

When you collide with it, he grins. “Dunno about that.”

“Try,” you whisper, hands dancing up his chest. “Trust me, you’ll get a lot more points that way. The right kiss can do everything, and I promise…she’ll love it.”

He considers this for a moment, studying you closely before you feel his palm delicately cup your cheek.

He tilts your head back as he moves in, deliberately slow. “Everything, huh?”

You smile, nodding once. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Everything.”

He kisses you.

Soft, and careful, and sadistically tame. He kisses around your mouth, peppers kisses to your bottom lip, to your cheek, to the line of your jaw.

He keeps his tongue from you, and you almost huff because after everything, you think you at least deserve a taste.

And finally, once you’re moments away from wilting in his hands, he takes that taste for himself.

Your head spins and your mind goes blank and everything makes sense.

Because kissing him is fun, and it makes you want to laugh, and kiss him forever, and never leave this one spot.

And you’re so enchanted by this revelation that you don’t notice his hand traveling between your bodies to return to its home between your thighs.

But he slips underneath your dress without a moment's delay, fingers returning to their work of pulling your panties aside to finish what he started. And when you gasp into the kiss…he swallows the sound with ease.

“Is that right, hm?” he teases as he slides in. “That good?”

Your lashes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to yours, and you don’t offer a response because he already knows.

His precision just about kills you. In, out, in, curl, twist, pinch, pull. You can feel the drip down your thighs, can hear the sounds he’s making, can taste his desperation in each kiss he gives you.

And when you suddenly whine and squirm in his hold, he smiles. “There it is, yeah? Right there…s’what you needed, isn’t it?”

It is. It’s exactly what you’d needed, and he strokes the spot with fervor and just a touch of wonder.

It’s cruel and it’s wonderful and it feels so fucking good, and nothing else makes sense to you except him.

Just him and the way you’re about to come undone by his hand for a second time.

You nuzzle your face into his neck, lazily kissing under his ear, and he seems to sigh with contentment as he braces you both against the wall to continue.

“Come on, Bee…know it’s gotta hurt, doesn’t it?” he coos, but his voice is thick. “Know it hurts, so give it to me, yeah? Just give it to me. Let me make it better.”

And it overwhelms you, consumes you, controls you. His smell, his touch, his words. The past, the present, him. Just him. Only him. Right now. Everything.

The sound that rips from your throat feels foreign to you. It’s loud and desperate and eager, and he presses his lips to yours to be a part of it.

It goes for what feels like hours, but time doesn’t have a place here. It could have been ten seconds; it could have been ten minutes. You don’t know, you don’t care.

You just…let it.

And you don’t realize the way you’ve slumped into his embrace as he holds you up, keeps you steady.

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you, murmuring words of encouragement with just a hint of teasing.

You don’t realize he’s refusing to let go.

But once you do, you realize something else, too:

You don’t want him to let go.

"Think we might have a problem," he whispers after a moment, lips following the curve of your shoulder as he offers a few parting kisses.

Your head falls back against the wall and you take a few deep breaths. "Yeah? And what's that?"

"Well...you kind of fucked up," he begins as he moves to the other side of your neck, sucking on the vein just below your ear. "You gave me a taste, showed me what I've been missing."

You can feel yourself smile through the haze as his hands continue to grope at your waist.

"I mean, just knowing..." he continues, nosing under your jaw, "...you've been keeping so much knowledge from me...this whole time."

Your laugh is airy as you reach up to comb through his curls. "Is that right?"

He hums as he nods, the palm of his hand slowly smoothing up your stomach, pushing the hem of your dress along with it. "And now I don't know if I can go without. Feel so fucking insatiable...just thinking about what else you might be hiding from me."

With this, his fingers delicately ghost under the curve of your tit, forcing you to arch into his touch as he smirks.

"And what is it...you want to know?" you manage to reply, voice soft and nearly inaudible.

He pulls back and meets your eye.

"Everything."

Shit.

"Everything?" you murmur, subtly tugging him closer.

"Everything," he repeats. "Anything. All of it. You. Me. Us. Every fucking second, every fucking way."

You know what he's proposing. Know exactly what this means, but you don't know if a friendship would survive.

And you don't know which is more important.

"So...what do you expect me to do?" you ask breathlessly, still squirming beneath his hold.

He smiles. "I expect you...to show me."

"Show you," you repeat, as if in a trance.

"Show me," he whispers, moving back in to lick at your bottom lip. "Teach me. How to be better. How to be right. How take care of you. Wanna give you everything you need."

"Everything," you breathe.

"Everything." His other hand gently comes up to cradle the back of your neck. "Whatever you want, whatever you need. Tell me and I'll give it to you. Promise."

But what do you need?

"Are you sure?" you ask, softly pushing on his chest to garner his attention. "It's not like teaching you to play pool, Har. Exploring kinks is...delicate. Sacred. It's not a game."

"I know," he replies, sobering ever-so-slightly. "That's why it can't be anybody else. It has to be you."

It has to be you.

"Why?" you challenge.

He simply offers you a knowing look. "Why wouldn't it be?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking for a reason to say no. Looking for the strength to know better.

But maybe you don't know better.

Maybe you just know him.

"Teach me," he says again, thumb stroking your jaw as those familiar eyes bleed right through to your heart. "Make me better."

Better.

Everything.

Nothing else makes sense. Nothing else feels right.

Just him.

"Okay," you agree quietly, and his entire face lights up. "For science."

"For science," he repeats, dipping down to press his lips to your cheek in thanks. "But only if you're sure. I'd never want you to agree just because of me. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

He leans back. Frowns. He's unconvinced. "I mean it, Bee. I'm not asking just because I can. I’m asking because…it feels like something we both want. But if it's not—"

You kiss him again, stealing the rest of his argument. "I know how to say no to you, Harry. Think you should know that by now."

He smiles against your mouth. "Guess so."

For the next minute or so, you don't speak. He simply takes hold of your face with both hands and paints his gratitude across your tongue.

"So...where do you wanna start?" you ask when he finally allows you a second of reprieve.

"You tell me," he reminds you, and you feel yourself smirk.

"All right," you agree before slipping your fingers through the loops on his pants.

His eyes go wide.

Then, you tug.

"Let's start...with everything."

You bet your ass there’s gonna be a part 3, because now that they’ve opened the door…there’s no closing it 😗 and Harry’s got a long list of new kinks to discover! And I’m strangely excited about it?? This is concerning?? Pray for me???

Next Part:

~ Hurt Me* (Pt. 3)

Previous Part:

~ Teach Me* (Pt. 1)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags:

@tiaamberxx @harrystylesfan2686

4K notes · View notes

apocalypseornaw · 4 months

Text

What If

Dean Winchester x Reader

You make assumptions after a night in Dean's bed that prove to be false

Warnings: Mention of steamy times, cursing, hurt feelings

Heat was the first sensation that hit you. The heat of a warm body curled up to your back. A strong arm laid across your stomach and warm breath hitting the back of your neck as he slept. How the hell had you ended up in this position when the two of you had simply set out to watch a movie last night after Sam had gone to bed?

You'd been in your room, laid across the bed reading a book Alex had sent you for your birthday. It was pretty good so far but you knew you wouldn't get far in it when you heard Dean singing lightly as his footsteps got closer to your open door.

You slid a bookmark in place and laid the book on your nightstand before your green eyed best friend ever Madeira to your door. You glanced up about the time he knocked “What's up Dean?” He smiled slightly “Well Sammy's gone to bed but Claire sent me a list of the top five rated horror movies. The top two we have on streaming”

A grin split your face “Go get them up, I'll grab drinks and meet you in the TV room” he winked at you “that's my girl” then turned to walk off down the hall.

You let out a sigh if only he knew what it did to you when he did shit like that. That wink, calling you his girl. The way he always invited you to watch movies, go for late night drives or how gentle he was patching you up after hunts. You shook your head to clear those thoughts out, he was your best friend. Yeah he was drop dead gorgeous but you couldn't help that you had eyes. You wouldn't ever cross a line he'd never acted as if he wanted to cross and risk that relationship.

____________________________

You were sitting next to Dean on the couch, your feet were curled up under you and Dean's favorite blanket was draped across you both. About halfway through the second movie a jumpscare actually got to you and without thinking you curled into his side, hiding your face in his chest.

He chuckled lightly as he tucked his arm around your body “Oh come on sweetheart. I've seen you take on shit a lot scarier than that and not blink!” You looked up at him and stuck your tongue out, trying to ignore just how close your faces were “Bite me Winchester. Real life doesn't bother me because if it can touch me and hurt me I can touch it and hurt it”

He shook his head “You're something else” you raised an eyebrow “What you mean by that” he raised his hand that wasn't curled around you to push your hair back that had fallen into your face “Beautiful, smart, badass. Pretty damn close to perfect” you could feel your cheeks warm slightly. It wasn't unusual for Dean to compliment you but it always made your stomach flip. “Oh shut up” you pushed against his chest hoping to turn this semi flirtatious moment into a teasing one but damn him if he didn't cup your chin gently and lift your head to meet his eyes before a smirk slipped onto his face “Make me”

You don't know what came over you at that moment. Maybe temporary insanity? Regardless you found yourself moving forward until your lips met his. It was just a simple kiss but something you'd dreamt of for far too long. It didn't take him even half a second to react. His hands went down to your hips, pulling you over into his lap and when the action caused a light gasp to leave your lips he slipped his tongue into your mouth rolling it against yours in a way that had you melting into him.

When you ground your hips down against his and a deep groan left him that was when reality set in. You were currently straddling your best friend, making out with him and damn near dry humping on the couch. You broke the kiss and damn near jumped off his lap. “I am so sorry Dean. I don't…I don't know what was going through my head”

He stood up, adjusting his jeans as he did so and your eyes flicked down to see a bulge that made your legs weak. The look in his eyes, damn how many waitresses and barmaids had you cussed over the years for having that look focused on them and now you couldn't think straight. “I wasn't exactly shoving you off” he replied taking a step closer and when you didn't back up he quickly covered the space between you pulling you into his arms “You're my best friend Y/N. Besides Sam no one on earth means as much to me as you do but that kiss was….fuck…if you want then this never happened. We'll turn on a different movie and nothing more”

“Or?” You asked, feeling your heart leap into your throat. A smirk slipped back onto his lips “Or we could go to my room and talk” “talk?” You repeated and he nodded “nothing has to happen”

________________________

A moan of Dean's name left your lips as he kissed a trail down your neck, his fingers slipping inside of you easily. “Fuck I love hear you say my name like that” he teased. It didn't take him long to find that one spot inside of you that had you clenching around his fingers and your legs shaking around his wrist.

He continued to pump his fingers lazily in and out of you as he worked you through the orgasm. When you weakly pushed at his wrist he caught your eyes before licking his fingers into his mouth, those sinful lips working as he sucked your juices off his fingers. “Taste as good as you look” you shook your head with a laugh “Take your pants off and get up here Dean” he grinned “Yes ma'am”

He stood long enough to slip his pants off then crawled up the bed, kissing his way up your body until he got to your lips. He caught them in a searing kiss that let you taste yourself on him. He pulled back enough to meet your eyes “Are you sure about this?” You nodded and felt his hardness pressed against your inner thigh “I want this”

He pressed another kiss to your lips before lining himself up with your entrance. When he slipped inside of you a moan left both of you at the feeling. He dropped his head down against your chest once he was fully inside of you to give you time to adjust. His lips left a trail across your collarbone “you feel so damn amazing sweetheart” After a moment the discomfort of the fullness of his gave way to pleasure so you turned his face to kiss him “Move Dean”

He began to roll his hips tentatively against yours and when your reaction was your eyes rolling back slightly at the feeling that was all the clearance he needed. “Eyes on me, beautiful. I want to see you come undone” it took you a minute to focus your eyes back on him and when you did he smiled almost shyly “look at you Y/N. Damn you're perfect” he pulled almost completely out of you then slammed back in. Your hands went to his shoulders, fingernails cutting into the skin as he sat a grueling pace that filled the room with the sound of skin hitting skin and both of you moaning the other's name.

When you felt yourself reaching that peak he bit down gently on your neck “Let yourself go baby. I'm not far behind. I want to feel you come around my cock, please” Dean Winchester of all men begging you to come? Christ, that pushed you over the edge with a scream of pleasure ripping from your lips.

His thrusts faltered slightly and through gritted teeth he asked “Don't you have an iud?” You nodded and he buried himself inside of you with one final thrust. The feeling of him coming worked another small orgasm out of you that had your legs shaking around him.

When he pulled out you whimpered slightly and he apologized with a light kiss “Just gonna grab my shirt to clean you up some baby ok?” You nodded weakly and felt the bed dip before Dean was knelt between your knees “Open up for me beautiful” you slowly spread your legs and he smiled “you look so fucking gorgeous like this. All fucked out” he used his shirt to clean you up as best as he could before tossing it back to the floor.

When he laid back down next to you he ran a finger down your side which caused you to squirm. “I'll go to my room once my legs work” He slipped his arm around you to pull you back against him “Take your time. No rush”

Every insecurity and what if started to flip through your head. Dean wasn't a settling down type. He didn't like attachments because he knew that put a target on them. He cared about you enough as a friend to put himself in danger. This wouldn't work. Either he'd not want this and feel some sort of obligation from your years of friendship or worse he would feel for you what you truly felt for him and it would end with him getting himself killed to keep you safe.

______________

It took some work to slip out the bed without waking him but you managed it and slipped your clothes on quickly. You needed a shower and to get the hell out of the bunker for a few minutes. You just needed to clear your head. It was supply run day. Groceries were needed and mail needed to be checked. You'd tell Sam to let you handle it. That would give you breathing room.

When you parked your car back at the bunker Sam came out to meet you and help with bags. When you glanced behind him he shrugged one shoulder “Can I ask something that may not only be none of my business but may be uncomfortable too?”

You nodded “We've known each other for a good chunk of our lives so I'd say yeah” he grimaced as he ran a hand across the back of his neck “I heard you and Dean last night so I thought…I don't know what I thought but did something happen? Because he seemed upset that you left while he was asleep”

“Sam, I didn't want to make things weird for Dean. You know my feelings” he nodded “but did you ask him his or just assume?” You didn't have to say anything Sam saw the look in your eyes. “He's in the library cleaning guns. I've got the bags”

________________

You could hear the clinking of metal when you got closer to the library. You stopped right inside the doorway and watched Dean for a moment. The way he handled the guns was a thing of beauty. He could probably break them down, clean them and put them back together in his sleep at this point.

He didn't look up from the colt before saying “You made it back in one piece” you nodded lamely “Dean can we talk?” He laid the colt down and raised his eyes to meet yours “Let me guess where this is going. You had a good night but don't want nothing to change”

You swallowed hard under the intensity of his stare “Can I talk without you putting words in my mouth?” He waved a hand to say go ahead “Dean you're my best friend and I love you, I fell in love with you. Last night was fucking amazing but I don't want to make you regrets things, you don't do love, you don't do relationships”

“because why? Dean's a man whore that just bed hops? Because Dean is incapable of love? Because despite us being best friends for over a decade there's no possibility that I fell in love with you too? There's no possibility i fucking wanted to wake up with the woman I love in my arms?” You flinched at his tone despite your heart flipping at his words “You love me?” He stood up and walked around the table “How could I not?”

You took a step back putting your back to the wall. He stood right in front of you, leaning a hand on the wall just over your head but giving you room to move “I love you Y/N. I'm in love with you. Last night was everything. Now what other demons are lurking in your head cause you know I don't mind taking on each and every one of those sons of bitches”

“What if you get hurt protecting me?” You asked and he smiled “baby I'd do that now but I know for the most part you can handle yourself and don't act like you're not self sacrificing either” you laughed despite yourself “What if you get bored of one woman?” He grinned “unlikely but we can always role play sweetheart. Believe me I mean it when I say you're fucking perfect for me”

“What if…” he cut you off by saying “What if you stop giving me excuses and let me kiss you? We could both die tomorrow and if that happens it happens but I'd rather have a day knowing you were completely my girl then live the rest of our lives just having part of you. I'm yours, you mine?” You nodded “Always. Now kiss me” He grinned “Yes ma'am”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff

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after-witch · 5 months

Text

The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Title: The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Synopsis: You're a District 2 school graduate who comes to the Capitol with her father before the 11th Hunger Games. You don't expect to meet anyone kind, especially not someone named Coriolanus Snow who offers you his arm, his smile, and treats in secret.

Word Count: 5270

notes: yandere, abusive relationship, non-graphic descriptions of torture and death (not against reader); uses a mixture of book and movie canon

The Capitol was not as dazzling as your father described it but then, he had seen it before the war. Though perhaps it was your own bitterness that made you ignore the signs of returning prosperity that sets it above everywhere else.

The repaired elaborate buildings, the fresh pungent smell of plaster and paint. The cars pumping exhaust fumes into the air. The low rumble of garbage trucks that pick up bright green garbage cans, some of which are actually teeming with plastic trash bags. Such waste was unheard of, even in the oh-so-loyal District 2, where only the lowest of the low find themselves starving.

Although not-starving didn’t mean that everything was plentiful.

You, though, were lucky enough to avoid the lima bean heavy diet that some of your classmates (now former--graduation was months ago) lived on. Or were you? The meat that graced your family’s dinner table, the pats of butter on toast, were all courtesy of your father’s immense talent in building creative weapons that allowed the Capitol to stamp out every last bit of rebellion in the Districts. That allowed them to regain control. That allowed them to create the Hunger Games.

Which is why you were in the Capitol now. Oh, not to participate in them. Your father’s status in District 2 had seen to that; it would be a scandal if the name of his beloved daughter were to ever be pulled.

You were there because your father had been given a lucrative contract, one that was sure to cement your family’s wealth for generations: a contract to build high-tech weapons for the Hunger Games themselves.

They would still be killing. But on a much smaller scale, you supposed, than the weapons your father designed during the war.

Still. Blood was blood. And if it had to be spilled, well, there was nothing you could do about it except hope they died quickly. Especially the ones from District 2.

Last year’s Games’ had been awful enough. Your family had watched the Games on a modest television set in the privacy of your living room, sent courtesy of the Capitol.

You wondered if you would ever get the sight of Marcus’ battered, bloated face from your mind; if you would ever unhear the way his body thumped to the ground when that girl had killed him, out of mercy. If you would ever stop imagining what it must have felt like in those last moments.

But it wasn’t all horror. You’d liked Lucy Gray well enough, even though she was from 12. She had a wild way of dressing and the singing--it was practically theatrical, compared to what you’d heard about the previous games.

Maybe that was why your father got this contract: theatrics. Maybe the games would be more dramatic from now on. Maybe they wanted tributes like Lucy Gray, who sang and spit and poisoned her way to Victory. It was strange, really, that there’d been hardly any talk of her since her win.

“Father?” You asked, quietly as you could.

Both of you were standing in the foyer of the grand university in the Capitol. The outside was still a little ravaged, but inside, it was perfectly lovely. Walls lined with books--perhaps some of them were fake--and marble floors and marble busts dotting the sight lines.

“Mm?” He replied, eyes scanning over his clipboard. He flips it, here and there.

“I was just thinking. About last year’s games. About Lucy Gray, and how the Games--”

Your father rounded on you, eyes suddenly serious and blazing.

“Quiet. Weren’t you paying attention on the way here?” Admittedly, you were not. You’d been daydreaming about what you might do now that you were done with school. There was no university in District 2, and your father hadn’t even mentioned a job. “You’re not supposed to mention--”

“Not supposed to mention whom? Ah, ah, ah. Lucy Gray Baird?” called a voice, almost in sing-song.

Your father stood up stiff, and the life seemed to drain from his face.

Both of you look towards the sound of the voice, and now it’s your turn to stiffen. The voice came from a woman standing in the doorway of the very office that your father was waiting to enter. She was wearing an elaborate jacket made of what looked like rainbow snake scales. Her hair was gray and curly. She had, you realized, two different colored eyes.

Your father swallowed, and you could see the apple of it bob up and down. It made you think, abruptly, of suckling pigs.

“Dr. Gaul,” he said, in a voice far too tight to be relaxed. “I apologize for my daughter’s insubordination, I assure you, she meant no--”

Dr. Gaul waved her hands at him and approached you.

“Did you like last year’s games?” She didn’t look angry. No, she looked delighted.

“I…” It was your turn to swallow, your turn to feel that tightness. “It-it was the first time I’ve watched them, ma’am.” You want to ask this woman: do you think I liked watching someone from my District 2 so horribly? Or any District, really? Did I like it?

Her smile grew wider.

“I’m glad. You’ll be watching them every year from now on, I hope. We have big plans.” Her eyebrows raised high. “Big changes. Thanks to men like your father.” She glanced at him and you saw disdain flicker across her gaze.

And then another door opened, and you heard the sound of polished shoes on the marble floor. Dr. Gaul’s attention dropped away from you like you were nothing at all. She turned to meet the sound of these footsteps, and you did too.

It was a young man. Probably your age, you thought, with light blonde hair and eyes that your mother would have described as “baby blue.” He didn’t look at you, or your father. But that was nothing new. You’d only been in the Capitol for 2 days, and you’d already gotten used to being treated as lesser than. Though, at least, you were not so far down on the food chain that you lost your tongue.

“Ah, my protege,” said Dr. Gaul, giving the young man a grin. The smile on her face almost looked warm, which was somehow far more terrifying than her manic smile from earlier. “Ever the earnest student. Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying the day off, Mr. Snow?”

The young man, this “Snow,” chuckled and lowered his gaze. “I couldn’t stay away once I heard you were discussing some of the new prototypes for this year’s games.”

He finally looked at your father, and then at you. But only briefly.

“Can I assume that this is…?”

Dr. Gaul nodded.

“Yes. My little designer from District 2. And his daughter.” Her voice dropped a few octaves when she referred to you. She probably didn’t want you here, you thought. You weren’t supposed to come, but your father had begged the Capitol for a pass; it would probably be your only chance to see it, he said, so you may as well take advantage of the chance.

Snow nodded to your father. It was a surprising gesture, almost respectful. But cold, too, like it was done from necessity rather than anything else.

Your father stammered a bit and nodded back, and you felt shame begin to creep into your bones. It wasn’t fair, to be lesser-than. But weren’t others lesser-than you in your own District, where you ate better food and never worried that your name would get picked, that your blood would be spilled?

Everyone

But when Snow turned to you, he smiled. It gave him dimples.

It was the first kind smile anyone in the Capitol gave you.

“My name is Coriolanus Snow. I doubt you’ve heard of me, but if Dr. Gaul’s teachings have anything to say about it, perhaps one day you’ll know me as a Gamemaker.”

You didn’t know what to say. Congratulations, one day you’ll be coordinating Games that kill people? Instead, you gave your name, voice squeakier than you meant it. But it was fitting, you supposed. Here, you were a mouse, hoping you would get a bite of cheese and make it home unpoisoned.

Dr. Gaul’s face seemed to react slowly, as if she couldn’t decide what she thought about his words or your interaction, but a small smile grew on it, eventually. “I do have high hopes for you, Mr. Snow. Now, shall we?”

She gestured for your father to follow, face once again impassive with a sprinkle of disdain, as she led the two of them into her office.

Snow gave you a smile and a nod before he left.

You waved, stupidly.

Your father didn’t even look back.

I’m dead. I’m dead. I might as well be dead.

Your heartbeat kept time with your racing thoughts as you went up and down corridors, begging your shoes to be silent, wishing your breath would catch and stop coming out in terrible pants.

You were lost. You weren’t where you were supposed to be. If someone found you, if the wrong person found you, they would think you were running, trying to get lost in the Capitol; they’d think you were a rebel. They’d shoot you.

Just when you thought you might collapse and die from your own nervous exhaustion, you heard the most wonderful sound in the world.

Your name.

It was only the moment after that you realized it didn’t come from your father’s mouth, but the lips of--what his name--Coriolanus Snow. The young man who was a Gamemaker-in-training, or so your father said. But that’s all he would say. He kept tight about anything that went on behind closed doors.

But this Coriolanus Snow smiled at you, and didn’t look at you like you were some kind of insect he might want to pin on a board, and so when you whirled around to look at him you were smiling.

Ah--for a moment. For just a moment, you saw his muscles tense. You saw the expression on his face falter in worry. Like he thought he was about to miss a step on a staircase, and corrected himself; like he thought you were a wolf and you were only somebody’s dog, off their leash.

But it wasn’t too surprising. You knew most people in the Capitol thought anyone from the Districts wanted to rip out their throats.

Well, the worry was mutual. Except in your case, you were forced to walk around with the living proof of that worry--all those “Avoxes,” they called them. Without tongues, without freedom.

But you swallow all that. Because he smiled at you. Because maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend. Especially right now.

“I’m--I’m lost,” you tell him, giving a shaky smile. “I was waiting for my father, but you see, I got to thinking, and I started to wander around and now I’m… well. I don’t know where I am, actually.”

His smile wasn’t very deep, was it? It was like the gloss of paint on the outside of the Capitol buildings. Pretty to look at, but there must be more underneath.

You expected him to lead you right back to where you’re supposed to be.

Instead, he asked you something.

“What were you thinking about?

You couldn’t tell him. Could you? But something about

“About… the Games.”

You don’t tell him that you were thinking about Lucy Gray and all those snakes, and the way that Dr. Gaul’s outfit that first day made you think of them. Because your father had slapped you across the face when you got back to your lodgings that night, and told you to never, ever bring up Lucy Gray Baird or the 10th Games unless you were directly asked. And you would probably never be asked.

Coriolanus gave a little snort through his nose. You liked it. It was nice to know that even Capitol people could seem a little dorky.

“They aren’t for another 3 months. Are you that eager to see them?”

You didn’t know what expression you made, exactly. It was so instinctive and fast that you didn’t have time to control it.

You only knew that it made him shake his head and offer you a sympathetic look.

“I apologize. That was rude, wasn’t it?”

And then he did a strange thing.

He offered you his arm.

Like you were Capitol, like you were a real person, and not some visiting District wench walking on the coattails of her arms-dealing father.

“Let me walk you back to the waiting area.”

And the stranger thing?

You took it.

You and your father were quickly moved into a small apartment within the university, once it became clear that he would be staying in the Capitol through the duration of the Games. It was best, he said, because ordinary people in the Capitol didn’t really want to see new faces from the Districts mingling around unless their tongue had been cut out first. It made them nervous. The rebel bombings, and all that.

You didn’t mind, because it meant you didn’t have to be flanked by Peacekeepers on the streets.

And, well.

You got to see Coriolanus more often. Sometimes he greeted you, sometimes he didn’t. He did it less often when Dr. Gaul was there, unless she was talking to your father and it gave him an opportunity.

He asked you things, too, when he caught you walking back to your father’s little apartment. Like what you did back home. What you liked to do. Whether you went to school, and what you planned to do now that you have graduated.

This morning, he caught you drawing while you waited in a chair outside Dr. Gaul’s office. Sometimes you waited there--you would admit to no one that it was to catch a glimpse of the kindest person you’d met in the Capitol--and other times you stayed in your temporary home.

“What are you drawing?” He asked. But he had a way of speaking that you’d quickly clocked into. He can make a demand sound like a polite little question. Oh, he wasn’t mean about it, but it reminded you of the way your father talked to his underlings back in District 2. On his home turf, he was far smoother than he was here, where his voice stammered and sweat beaded on his neck.

So you handed it over, even though, to your greatest embarrassment, you’d drawn… him.

“Why me?” He had a smile on his lips. His smiles were nice. Kind. The kindest you’d seen since you came here. But they always felt like that fresh coat of paint; like you didn’t know what he really meant by them, and that was how he liked it.

“You’re… important,” is all you could come up with. You felt small, then. He would dismiss and probably never want to talk to you again. What a stupid answer from a stupid girl.

But he just smiled. It was like paint peeling a little. You could see underneath that he liked what you said, although you weren’t exactly sure why. And his expression tightened up so quickly, protecting what you’d seen, that you weren’t entirely sure if it was real or not.

“I’m just a humble student at this university. Not so important. Not yet.”

You were really going to die, now. This wasn’t some panicked imagination gone wrong, some flight of fancy that took a wrong turn.

A pair of stony-faced Peacekeepers had walked up to where you sat in the waiting area near Dr. Gaul’s office and ordered you to come with them.

You asked to talk to your father. They said no. You asked where you were going. They yanked you up.

And now they were leading you down hallways that you’d never seen before, where there weren’t even Avoxes roaming the halls with brooms and dustpans.

They didn’t even answer, just spun around and walked back the way they came. You pushed the door open reluctantly--what the hell was going to be on the other side?--and it was--it was--

It was Coriolanus. Standing there in a nice suit, eyes downcast on a book. Until the door creaked and he looked up.

“What--why did you bring me here? Did I do something wrong?” The thought went through you, that perhaps this had all been a test, to see if you were loyal to the Capitol and he’d found you wanting.

“No,” he said, simply enough. He set the book down and gestured for you to step inside. You did, because what else were you going to do, in some strange room in a Capitol University where you’d been forcibly brought by Peacekeepers.

Snow studied your face. Your eyes darted around, from him, to the room, to the door.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, a little softer. “In private.”

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But… why?”

He smiled. “Come now, you’re a smart girl, even if you aren’t in university.”

You really didn’t know. Not at first. But then you watched the way his expression softened, and you remembered it, or glimpses of it, that he’d given you before. When he complimented your drawing. When he said your name. When he escorted you back from the maze of hallways. And his smiles, all his smiles, although you were never sure how much they meant coming from home.

He took a step closer. You didn’t dare step back. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back, but it didn’t matter, either way.

He pressed his lips to yours and took your first kiss, in a secluded little study in the heart of the Capitol University.

Your days became routine, although the routine was strictly forbidden and could have probably gotten you executed or at best, gotten you a one-way ticket to a tasteless existence.

You wake up. You stay in your apartment. You wait for the Peacekeepers. You get summoned here and there, always private rooms, secret rooms, rooms out of the way. You meet Snow--Coriolanus, he said, call him that--and you talk (well, mostly him) and kiss and sometimes a little bit more. He gives you gifts. Trinkets, necklaces that you can only wear under your shirt. Food, flaky pastries made with mountains of sugar, sandwiches made with cream and cucumber.

But how much longer could it go on? The Games were going to start soon. As soon as they were over, you were going back to your District. There would be no more meetings, no more kisses. No more wondering how far he wanted to go or why he liked you or even if he even liked you as anything more than someone to keep him busy.

You didn’t dare talk about the Games, but you did talk about this. In the kindest way you knew how for such a sensitive subject.

“I’ll miss you,” you told Coriolanus after one meeting, when you’re both sitting on a sofa and he’s got your fingers tightly wound in his. He squeezed them tight.

“Miss me?”

“After the Games,” you clarified. “We’re being sent home right after.”

He squeezed your fingers until it hurt a little. Then he looked up at you. To see if you would say something? Or did he not know how strong he was?

“Oh, that. I can arrange for you to stay.”

Your chest began to feel sick.

“Stay? In the Capitol?” You were torn about Coriolanus, but you didn’t want to stay here. You couldn’t.

“Yes,” he said, as if it was the simplest answer in the world. “You wouldn’t be the first person from the District granted such an extreme privilege. I’m sure I could--”

“But I don’t know if I want to stay.”

His gaze narrowed and you felt your stomach clench. He looked at the necklace you’d pulled out as soon as the door was shut, at your lips where a dollop of strawberry cream still rested.

“I treat you so well, and you don’t know if you want to stay with me?”

His voice was calm, and that scared you. It would have been better if he flew off the handle.

Instead, he simply stood up and gently sent you out the door, and called the Peacekeepers to bring you back to your apartment.

Every night for the last week, you have cried yourself to sleep. Because every day for the last week, Coriolanus Snow has not sent for you. Not even once.

What if he told someone? What if you got sent back early, and your father was shamed? What if they broke his contract? Or--worse, worse, worse. There were so many worse things than merely being sent back to District 2.

And then he sent for you, and it was the longest walk of your life, though it was no farther than any of the times you’ve been escorted to your secret meetings.

This time, when you pushed open the door, Coriolanus was not alone.

There was an Avox in the room.

It was someone from District 2.

You didn’t know her. Not personally. But you saw her, before. She worked in one of the munitions factories and you watched her walk to work from your classroom window sometimes. Then she stopped showing up, and you thought perhaps she got married.

That delusion was shattered the moment you saw her, eyes downcast to the floor, wearing a simple gray tunic.

It’s not until Coriolanus tells you to hurry up and come in that you’re able to move. Even then, you weren’t sure how your body did it; how your arms managed to gain the mobility to shut the door, to twist the lock; how your legs moved, one foot in front of the other, until you were standing stiffly in front of him.

The Avox--you wish you knew her name, but she couldn’t give it to you now, even if you asked--moved seamlessly to a table set up nearby. There was tea and sweets. The sort of thing that you and Coriolanus had been enjoying together for the past few weeks. The sort of thing that you were sure would sit sour in your stomach, now.

The cup shook in your hands when she handed it to you, and your tears dripped right into the tea.

Coriolanus glanced at the Avox and waved his hand. She left obediently. She would never tell the secret she witnessed in his room, that much was certain.

And then he looked back at you.

“Don’t cry,” he said. Soft but firm. A command, not a coo. “You shouldn’t cry here, in the Capitol. You should be grateful to be here. You should be grateful that I’ve arranged all this for you.”

“I am,” you whispered.

“Then show me that you are.”

And you did.

You said what he wanted and looked to him to show you how he wanted you to act, and did just that. You didn’t argue, even to lightly banter. You kissed him and nodded along when he told you about how things would be after the Games, when he had arranged for you to stay.

All you had to do was keep him happy until the Games were over, and then you could go home.

Bitterly, all of this made you realize just how much of your father is in you; he knew how to appease the Capitol. You could do the same with Coriolanus Snow. At least until the Games were over. Just keep him happy until the Games were done and the blood was spilled, and you would go home.

They wouldn’t let him keep you here after the games. You were sure of that. You’d overheard some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants murmuring how glad they would be to send the District profiteers like your father home once the Games were over. And you? You’re just his useless daughter, an appendage he brought like an unwelcome suitcase. Why would you be allowed to stay?

The Games were over. The winner was from District 1.

You were going home any day now. Just as soon as your father finished tinkering with the designs, gave his notes on improvements that might be made for next year.

The thought gave you a delightful bounce in your step. It was like having a pat of sweet butter in your shoe on a day when you needed good luck-- District 2 superstition, although the strict rationing meant most people didn’t have even a pat to slip into their shoes anymore.

The sweetness didn’t even disappear when the Peacekeepers showed up to bring you to Snow. It was going to be a bittersweet farewell, you were sure. He might be angry. But you would kiss him and tell him that there was nothing he could do, and how sorry you were not to be able to stay, but that was how things had to be.

Except they didn’t bring you down a maze of corridors that led to a secluded room.

They brought you right into Dr. Gaul’s office.

Breakfast threatened to evacuate your stomach with every step. Not just because of nerves, but because of what you saw. Rows of experiments in glass tubes; some of them move. You walk by a room with a half-open door that showed someone strapped to a gurney, face contorted in a silent scream as they fought against restraints. You almost did lose breakfast, then.

But somehow you made it to the desk of Dr. Gaul without a dribble of vomit to show for it.

The Peacekeepers left with no fanfare and you stood there, ramrod straight. Did she know? Was she going to tell you that you were going to be strapped to one of those gurneys, now?

“I’m keenly aware,” she said, keeping her hands primly folded, “on how much you’ve enthralled my star pupil.”

Toast. That’s what will come up first, you thought . The toast.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.” Your voice was so thin and tinny that you didn’t even believe yourself.

And then the prim facade cracked, and Dr. Gaul threw her head back and grinned.

“You really think I don’t know everything that goes on within these walls? I know every time one of my lab assistants runs into the bathroom to throw up after a particularly nasty experiment. I know every time one of our university professors sneaks into a closet to down a vial of morphling with a student. And I certainly know when my newest protege is having an adorable little District girl brought to him for… canoodling.”

You weren’t even embarrassed. No. You just felt terrified to the bone. You only hoped that you’d be killed, shot against a wall, instead of made into an Avox. Let there be some mercy in this world.

”He’s asked to keep you, you know.” Her voice was low, almost a drawl. She tapped her fingers on her desk rhythmically.

“My Coriolanus Snow wants a bird of his own.” Her smile turned darker. “Not a songbird, though. Oh, no. I think he’s had enough of those.”

Her gaze bored into yours, each color magnified by her intense expression. “I think if I let him have his pretty caged bird, he’ll be happy. He’s more productive if he’s happy.” She smiled. “I like productivity. It keeps the Games more interesting.”

She looked you over one more time, and then waved you away.

“I’ve granted his request. You’ll be staying here indefinitely, courtesy of one Mr. Snow. Your father has already been told.”

You were wrong.

It was not the toast that came up first, but the sweet butter you’d patted on top.

You still had your tongue, but you felt as though it was useless, stuck to the roof of your mouth, as Coriolanus fussed over your outfit. Or rather, as he directed an Avox to fuss over it for you. He could afford his own personal servant, now, he told you. He’d almost flinched after he said now, and you didn’t dare press him on it. Had he not been able to afford one before?

“We can’t walk arm-in-arm in public,” he said, walking around you, making sure the outfit was just-right. “But you can stand by me if I stop and direct you forward.” He reached over and fixed one of your buttons. “Don’t speak to anyone unless I’ve told you to, or they speak to you first. Always address someone older as ‘sir,’ or ‘ma’am.” He pointed at your hair, and the Avox began to fuss with it, eventually covering it in a colorful wrap that Coriolanus said was popular right now. “Address someone our age by the last name and Mr. or Ms.”

When he was satisfied with your appearance, he sent the Avox away. You liked it better that way, it was one last reminder of the horrors in the Capitol, even for someone “privileged” like you. You’d only been without your father for 3 days, but you felt like your nerves were continually on fire. You wanted to go home. You wanted your family. You wanted out of this place.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

For now, you were still living in the small university apartment the Capitol had given your father. Coriolanus insisted on it, until he could figure out how to move you into his own sprawling apartment that he shared with his cousin, Tigris (who, at least, genuinely sounded lovely) and his grandmother, Grandma’am. She was the sticking point, or so you were told, with a thin smile. She hated Districts, and she ought to, he said. They killed her son. His father.

She would hate you, too. Even if Coriolanus wanted you enough to make you stay with him; wanted you enough to keep you. But for how long? And would he change his mind, if you couldn’t fit in?

He said your name, and you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. He held you by your shoulders. Gently. Like one would an unruly child that hadn’t yet learned that there were such things as salad forks and dinner forks, as polite conversation and etiquette.

You got the feeling you wouldn’t have long to learn all of those things and more, to make him happy.

“Remember,” he said. “You’re District. You’re here because the Capitol has recognized that your loyalty can benefit us in some way. Be grateful.”

“I am,” you said, reflectively.

“Be happy..”

“I am,” you said again, your chest hitching.

He smiled at you. Was it real or not real?

You smiled back, regardless. And he liked that, evidently, because he leaned forward and kissed you. Then he scrutinized your face and wiped at your lips with his thumb--the kiss had smeared your lipstick.

“Good.”

He gestured towards the open doorway. This time, he didn’t take your arm. There would be too many people lingering in the university hallways, all making their way to the soiree held to celebrate the end of this year’s Games and discuss what improvements might be made for the next year.

You dutifully walked behind him, just like he said. And you would do exactly what he said in all respects. You would stay quiet unless you were spoken to, you would certainly never bring up anything confrontational or controversial, and you would make a good impression. You would be a loyal, grateful District citizen who was given the opportunity of a lifetime thanks to the graciousness of Coriolanus Snow.

Of course you would.

Your life depended on it.

#yandere coriolanus snow #yandere hunger games #yandere #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #/slaps trunk #this baby can fit so many references to the books & movie in it.#... well not SO MANY #but enough

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f1fnatic · 7 months

Text

HORROR GAMES ⤿ l. norris 4

→ ( in which. . . ) you get bored while lando is streaming a popular horror game, so you decide to pull a prank on him.

→ ( fanfic genre. . . ) written

→ ( pairing. . . ) lando norris x reader (gender not specified)

→ ( content warnings/disclaimers. . . ) none

→ ( author's note. . . ) this one is shorter than the others, but its short and sweet. i hope you enjoy! see end for more

→ ( masterlist )

screams were heard coming from down the hall. you were sat underneath a knitted blanket, watching some new show on the tv. lando was in his office streaming something on twitch. he mentioned it was a horror game.

in the past, lando had voiced to you that he was not a fan of horror games. "they're unnecessary. what's the point?" he'd said.

"they're funny. especially when scaredy cats like you play them and freak out." you responded, poking his chest with your finger. he swatted your hand away and giggled. "maybe you should try one out, play with ria and max." you suggested, shrugging.

"that would be hell." he deadpanned.

"oh, c'mon, lando! they're not that bad!" you tried to reason with him. but you knew once lando was set on something, no amount of convincing could sway him.

while watching your show, a thought came to mind. you could pull a little prank on lando. i mean, you were bored and he was too engrossed in his horror game to pay attention to anything going on outside of his office, and maybe even inside of it.

you grabbed the tv remote and pressed paused, the audio stopped, and frames froze. you got up from the couch and quietly made your way down the hall to lando's office.

slowly opening the door, you saw the back of his fluffy head of curls as well as the back of his gaming chair. the way his office was set up was his desk was on the wall adjacent to the door. meaning, his chat saw you in the doorway before he did.

on your tiptoes, you stalked toward his desk. he was talking nonsense. nonsense about the game, about how he got into this situation, and about how stupid he was for listening to you and actually playing the game.

the chat was moving quickly, but lando was too focused on his monitor and the game to pay attention to it. you noticed a few people were trying to catch his attention, so you placed your pointer finger to your lips in a shushing motion.

you slowly brought your hands to grab lando's chair, at the same time, you mentally prepared for his reaction. knowing him, it was going to be big.

finally, you shook his chair and yelled. lando flew out of his chair and onto the floor. his headphones falling off and landing next to him. you stepped back and doubled over in laughter.

he looked up from where he was lying on the floor, a look of pure horror was displayed on his face. you quickly snapped a picture of him on your phone for safekeeping.

"y/n!" he shouted. "what was that for?!"

you couldn't stop laughing. your stomach hurt, so bad. everything from his reaction to his face was priceless. you knew his chat was enjoying this as much as were.

"y/n!" he whined.

"i-i'm sorry, lan!" you respond trying to catch your breath. tears were starting to catch on your waterline. "it was the perfect opportunity! i couldn't pass it up!"

he got up on his knees and kneeled in front of his desk. he put on a pouty face while looking at chat. "it wasn't that funny chat. i almost had a heart attack!"

"oh lan," you start, moving forward to stand behind him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and bending down to rest your chin on his head atop his curls, "you can't have a heart attack, who will i scare in the future?"

lando rolls his eyes playfully and smiles. "uh huh, just wait till i scare you. i'm sure you won't be laughing then, love." butterflies fluttered in your stomach. you loved it when he called you that.

you couldn't help but let out a small giggle at his response. this type of banter was a staple in your relationship.

"whatever you say, lan. whatever you say."

ahhhh its been so long since i posted </3 i have been slammed with soccer, school, and i have had no motivation or ideas on what to post. this has been in my drafts for so long. its not the best or longest ever, i just wanted to get something out and posted. thank you for reading! as usual, feedback and requests are welcome, and make sure to leave a comment and kudos! (only if you want :P)

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rowanswriting · 1 month

Note

Requesting some Eddie smut where he did cheat and he’s so desperate and needy to get you back. Pathetic, pathetic man shit. Reader’s kinda mean with good reason and the end is loveyish… maybe she’s gonna make him work for it.

Possibly taking place at a bar when Eddie see’s someone flirting with her.

Hehehehe

🧎🏻‍♀️ thank you

OUTTA YOUR MIND//EM X FEM READER

Oh honey this request was so delicious. Thank you I hope you enjoy this! ❤️ (( also I kinda changed up how this ends I hope that’s okay!)) feedback is welcome! Thanks for reading! 18+

Warnings: oral (female) receiving, Eddie is a cheater, reader is in charge. Angst, biting, p in v sex, reader is mean, if I miss something please let me know so I can add it up here!!

wordcount- 2K

The grimy bar in town is the last place you’d usually be seen, especially on a regular night. You’d found yourself grinding up against some guy you didn’t even know, his large hands wrapping themselves around your waist. He squeezes you tightly back against as you sigh, the loud music thumping all around you vibrating your entire body.

You’d lost count of how many drinks you’ve downed since you got here, but at this moment you didn’t care. The past few months had been a shit show, coming home to your boyfriend in bed with another woman, her moaning for him as your mouth dropped in horror. Not your Eddie. You’d never thought he would do something like that to you, but you got a smack from reality as you watched him fuck her like his life depended on it.

So here you were, six months later, single and passing the time by going out. You tried to forget him, but that was impossible, you couldn’t deny he had been the love of your life, but he had shattered all the hopes and dreams your heart had created. The fight after you walked in was horrible, you kicked him out. He had the audacity to beg at the door for you to ‘not do this’ but you laughed and slammed the door in his face. Leaning against it before sobbing to yourself quietly.

“Want another drink baby?” The man holding you whispered, his breath fanning against your ear. Your eyes scanned the bar, watching people even more inebriated than you were right now making complete fools of themselves. Your eyes stopped, catching a glimpse of wild black curls, a leather jacket, and tattoos. Oh shit. You turn around to the man and smile politely as you can, “Actually, I think I’m gonna head out but thank you.” You say, kissing his cheek gently before walking away. Eddie spotted you, his blood boiling at the sight of you actually enjoying some other man’s company.

He had this coming, he should’ve known better, but it still hurt. He knew he had fucked up with you, but he still loved you. He knew you’d never believe him again. You hurried after him, watching as he walked down the hall towards the bathrooms. He stopped mid walk, turning around slowly and looking at you like some sort of sad puppy. “What are you doing here?” You ask, approaching him. You feel mixed emotions, he looks so good, but you knew thinking that way was playing a dangerous game.

“What, am I not allowed to go out?” He snapped back at you, raising his eyebrows as you picked at one of your nails nervously. Your eyes trail from his face down, down, down. You fight the urge to bite your lip and you notice the new rings on his hands, shining in the yellow light. “Don’t get an attitude Eddie, it was a simple question.” You say, going to brush by him, he grabs your wrist quickly. A sick smile breaks out on your face as you turn around to look at him.

He’s beautiful, there's no denying that. “Something you want Eddie?” He stares at you, his brown eyes darkened. He licks over his bottom lip before he pushes you back towards the bathrooms. A thrill runs through your body, you still had him wrapped around your finger, and even though you didn’t want to be with him anymore you loved that he still wanted you. You could do anything you wanted and you knew he would be under your complete control.

You stumble backwards, letting him push you inside before he turns around and locks the door. “One last time, please?” He whispers, stepping up closer to you, his hand trembling slightly as he reaches out to touch your arm gently. You fake a disgusted look, huffing and crossing your arms. He was going to work for this. “And why should I let you get anywhere near me Munson?” You spit back at him. He scoffs, looking down at you. “What did you just call me?” You laugh, swaying slightly before stepping up closer, your noses almost pressed up against each other. “Munson.” You can see the rage flash in his eyes, Eddie hated being called by his last name and you knew that.

Eddie opens his mouth to speak but you don’t give him the chance, cutting him off as you reach out for his jacket, pulling him close to you. “Fine, you get tonight only and that’s it, get on your fucking knees and show me how sorry you are.” You’d never seen him move so quickly before, kneeling down on the dirty floor in front of you. His trembling hands reach up for your thighs, sliding over them quickly before he’s working the button of your pants open.

You stare down at him, fighting the urge to smirk, he looked so good on his knees. Eddie finally yanked your pants down, his rough fingers hooking into your panties and sliding them down your legs. You step out of them and kick them, not caring where they went. Reaching down you grab the back of his head, tangling your fingers into his wild curls. “Show me how badly you miss this Eddie.” You whisper.

He leans forward, kissing your thigh sweetly before hovering right where you need him the most. The first swipe of his tongue sends electric shock waves throughout your body. Your knees threaten to buckle as he flicks his tongue against your clit, the tongue ring that he likes to show off rubs against you just right. You laugh as you look down at him, his big brown eyes shining in the dim light, glazed over with lust. “You missed me didn’t you? Poor baby, it’s too bad that other girl can’t compare to me can she?” You ask, yanking his hair slightly, making him pull away from your pussy for a minute.

His lips and chin are wet as he looks up at you. “I missed this so bad.” He whines out, leaning back in, licking a long stripe up slowly before sucking your clit into his mouth, your thighs almost hooked over his shoulders. It felt like heaven on earth, but you didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction of knowing that. “That's all you got Eddie? Steve did it so much better.” A shocked noise rips its way out of his throat but he doesn’t stop, only going at you even harder. His big fingers grip your thighs, bruising your skin. “You’re so pathetic, aren’t you? Crawling back to me when you fucked me over.” You whisper, pushing his head back and stepping away from him.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, staying on his knees with his hands fidgeting nervously in his lap. “As much as I hate you now, I can’t deny that I want you one last time, get your pants off, now.” He stands up quickly, unbuckling the handcuff belt on his waist before pushing his pants and boxers down, his cock is leaking and harder than you’ve ever seen it before. “That looks painful.” You say, leaning back against the sink behind you. He rolls his eyes at you, waiting for your next order as you pull your top off, throwing it at him.

You shuffle yourself up onto the counter, spreading your legs while looking into his eyes, he trails them down your body, moaning audibly when he sees just how wet you are. “Beg me for it.” Eddie huffs in annoyance, but it doesn’t stop him from walking closer to you, biting his lip softly before placing both his hands on the counter next to you. “Please.” He whispers, leaning close to you, the smell of his cinnamon gum that he had been chewing filling your senses. “Surely you can do better than that Eddie.” You say, reaching up and grabbing his face between your thumb and pointer finger.

“I said, beg me.” You squeeze his face, pulling him closer to you. “Please let me fuck you, please. I’ll do anything you ask of me, I need it baby please..” He whines out as you smile up at him. You let go of his face, leaning back and pulling your legs up, spreading them wider so he can get between them. “Cmon then, give it to me.” You bite your lip as

Eddie strokes himself a few times, the pre-cum that had been beading at the head of his cock now running down over his fingers.” He guides himself to you, not giving you any time to relax before he’s pushing inside. You’d almost forgotten how big he was, the stretch sending a fire throughout your body.

He hooks his strong arms under your legs, his muscles flexing as he lifts them up, putting them on his shoulder, he slides in even deeper until he’s right against you. His hips pressed up against your ass as he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Fuck, forgot how fucking tight you are, feel so good baby, so wet.” He whispers, closing his eyes tightly before drawing himself back out slowly, you fight back the moans threatening to slip from your lips but can no longer contain yourself when he thrusts right back in. You trail your fingers down his back, digging your nails in hard enough to leave marks.

You hoped that if he was still with the woman he left you for, she would see the markings you were leaving on him. He may be with her but he would always belong to you, all you’d have to do is snap your fingers and he would run right back. Sad really. You snap back from being inside your head when you feel him shaking, he’s pounding into you harder than ever before, each drag of his cock making you let out loud sobs that you didn’t realize you were making until now. The sound of your skin mixed with wetness fills the dinghy bathroom, his moans creating a delicious melody as they combine with yours.

Eddie leans down close to you, resting his forehead against yours, his curls falling down around the both of you and framing you from your surroundings. “Can I cum inside you?” He whispers, his hands pushing your legs off of his shoulders, holding them apart. You moan loudly, leaning up to bite his lip, nodding slightly before placing a hand on his face. “Look at me.” You whisper, his brown eyes snapping open to stare into yours. You saw love still in them, but now it would get no reaction from you, the love you’d had was crushed a long time ago. “Go ahead, cum for me, fill me up.”

He lets out a choked sob, one of his fingers reaching down to rub your clit as he thrusts into you faster, his rhythm faltering slightly. You feel your orgasm threatening to snap at any moment as he leans down, biting hard onto your shoulder. It sends you both over the edge, bodies rocking against each other as you cum together. You can feel him leaking out of you as he slowly pulls himself back. The emptiness causes you to whine as your breathing returns to normal. You sit up slowly, watching him. He grabs his pants off the floor slowly putting them back on as you hop off the counter, finding your scattered clothing. The silence between you creates an awkward tension. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

You feel him place a hand on your arm, turning slowly to look at him. “W-when can I see you again?” He says softly. You smile up at him, wicked. “Oh Eddie, you must be outta your mind.” His face falls as you finish putting your clothes on. You make your way to the door, turning around to see him dumbfounded, his hands hanging by his sides. Blowing him a kiss, you walk out of the bathroom and out of his life, for good.

taglist-

@goosterroose @corkadymu @feral-pumpkin-energy @ali-r3n @koskeepsake @mothellie @jasminelafleur @hippiegoth97 @lildrunkjkk @astxroiid @emilyj444 @gri959 @lovebird-s @voyeurmunson @littlexdeaths @xxbimbobunnyxx @inourtownofhawkins

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson angst

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loveinhawkins · 10 months

Text

Eddie lingers by the Lite-Brite, while Robin and Nancy thunder downstairs in search of the bikes; Steve can hear the echo of their voices as they go, Robin insisting that she get, “—the coolest looking bike, Nance, that’s only fair considering your goddamn outfit nearly strangled me,” followed by Nancy’s answering laughter.

Eddie doesn’t look like he’s heard them at all. Looks like he’s in a world of his own, actually.

His fingers trail through the air, creating a path of golden shimmers. His eyes are wide, entranced, and he suddenly looks so peaceful that the sight actually threatens to choke Steve up.

Maybe it’s a small thing compared to everything else. But Steve thinks it’s monumental: how despite every horror that he’s witnessed, despite everything, Eddie’s still reaching for the light.

The thought is familiar, a reminder of how he’d felt just minutes before, hearing Dustin and Erica’s triumphant giggles—hope and affection catching in his throat.

He’d almost forgotten that all of this could be fun, too.

Eddie’s fingers keep weaving—he doubles back on himself several times, like he’s trying to draw the light into his palm. There’s no discernible pattern to his movements, no half-formed words Steve can make out—he only sees Eddie’s complete and utter contentment in doing nothing but this: just drinking the moment in.

It makes Steve think of how he used to consider the Fourth of July as a kid. Before the big fireworks show, when it felt like time had slowed, like the whole world had narrowed down to just him and a dazzling sparkler in his hand.

Steve watches on, leaning against the doorframe; he wants—suddenly, desperately—to give Eddie all the time in the world.

But he has to settle for counting out increasingly long seconds in his head. Then he suppresses a sigh, gives a gentle tap, tap along the wall.

“Eddie,” Steve says softly. Then, when Eddie still hasn’t heard, just a touch louder: “Eddie.”

Eddie startles, blinking rapidly. His eyes refocus, land on Steve—but a slightly dreamy, captivated quality remains, as if he’s still seeing an afterimage of the lights.

“Oh,” he says, sounds almost sheepish.

“Hey,” Steve says, smiling. “You doing good over there? You look like you found proof that, like, Santa’s real or something.”

Eddie chuckles under his breath, but he doesn’t reply.

His hand returns to that spot again, dipping in and out of the light like he’s sat by a creek, fingers dragging through the water.

“Y’know,” Eddie begins, so quietly. Achingly wistful. “If it was all like this… I wouldn’t mind it.”

The feeling hits, tugs on Steve’s breastbone. It doesn’t hurt.

He keeps looking at Eddie, at the flickers of gold reflected in his pupils, and he silences the part of himself that insists he shouldn’t have time for this, and just thinks it anyway.

You’re beautiful, Eddie Munson.

That’s all. Nothing else, no qualifications.

Maybe here, things can be simple. Just this once.

Eddie drops his hand. The light fades away, but he’s staring at Steve, like something else has inexplicably been lit up right in front of him.

“What?” Steve says.

“Nothing,” Eddie says, almost a whisper. “Sometimes I just. I just think. You, um—you look at me like…”

Slowly, slowly, Steve steps further into the room.

“Like what?”

Another step.

Eddie shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. Adds nonsensically, “Must’ve been a trick of the light.”

“I don’t think so,” Steve says.

He reaches out a hand. Feels the warmth beneath his palm.

Eddie lifts his hand, so hesitantly. He edges ever closer, until the shimmery trails from their fingertips begin to merge into one.

Until their hands intertwine.

For a moment, Eddie stands frozen, and Steve’s ready to draw back.

But then Eddie inhales. He’s not looking at the lights, not anymore.

He’s looking at me, Steve thinks.

Perhaps has been for a while.

“Yes?” Eddie murmurs, lips barely moving.

“Yes,” Steve says.

He leans in.

The kiss is a small thing, really. Warm, tentative touches—a stumble before finding each other in the dark.

Such a small thing.

But to Steve, it’s monumental.

He feels it in his chest, like a tidal wave, and as he brings a hand up to cradle the side of Eddie’s face, he thinks that the lights are somehow in his chest too, like they’re both swallowing flecks of gold until they’re glowing with it, until the beams’ll shoot out of their fingers, their toes, the ends of their hair.

And here, in this house that’s frozen in time, it somehow feels like they’re stealing more of it, precious seconds, minutes—hell, give me hours, Steve thinks euphorically, give me years—

“Steve!” calls Robin’s voice distantly, and they both jump. “Get your ass in gear or I’m gonna slash your tires.”

“Uh, have a little patience, puh-lease!” Steve returns, a role reversal from all the times she’s run late for him to pick her up.

Eddie blinks, looks as if he’s holding his breath again; his eyes flicker over Steve’s face, like he’s expecting him to pull away.

Steve doesn’t.

A tender, lovely smile spreads across Eddie’s face.

And then they’re laughing into each other’s mouths.

And laughing leads to more…

“Harrington,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling too much for it to come across as remotely serious.

“Just a little longer,” Steve says—feels like he’s back in high school, joyful and silly.

Eddie laughs breathily; Steve presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, swallows the sound.

“If Buckley slashes your tires, you’re gonna have to, like, book it alongside us.”

“Or we could share a bike.”

A disbelieving, fond chuckle. “Steve.”

Eddie breaks away only to lean back in and kiss Steve’s cheek instead—and for some reason that’s the thing to make Steve’s breathing truly catch.

They’re still holding hands; he rediscovers that fact when Eddie grins slyly and pulls him to the door.

“Let’s go.”

“All right, all right, jeez.”

The room is left in darkness, but they’re laughing as they race each other downstairs—and though the shimmers have dissolved, they’re still leaving light in their wake, wherever they go next.

#missing moments we meet again ❤️#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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plushish · 2 months

Note

Adam with a reader who’s very witty and quick with comebacks?

just some silly pre-conference banter! | Adam x Reader

headcanon/drabble — how would Adam be like with a reader who is sharp-witted?

content & warnings — NSFW, fem reader, fem pronouns, fingering & cunnilingus, sexual act happening in a public place (workplace).

a/n — this takes place in some sort of office-setting, i dont know what goes on up there in heaven but i like to think its similar to what we've seen so far in hell, so i'm sure conferences aren't unheard of. i wasn't sure what format this idea should take, so it begins like a headcanon list but finishes up with a drabble. it's also rushed and i struggled with it a lot but. we ball!!!!!!

Adam considers himself to be a pretty funny guy, always dishing out 'sick burns' on others, but his pride gets hurt really easily. When it comes to a reader who can keep up with him in comebacks; he's definitely impressed by it, thinks it's hot as fuck, but he'd never openly admit it because it also a ignites a strong sense of competition in him.

The tension between the two of you is uncomfortably palpable, how you twist him through every conversation and leave him to stammer like a fool just when he thinks he's bested you. Watching him seethe is endlessly entertaining to you, it brings you satisfaction, finding your own sense of pride in seeing that bad boy persona crack little by little.

The two of you will be going back-and-forth every time Sera calls for a conference, taking up half of the allotted time with your back-and-forths, and everyone graced with the luck to have been summoned there just wishes the two of you would fuck already so they didn't have to keep sitting through this.

But he secretly likes it, your flippancy towards his status and identity as First Man, how you're always so quick to shut down his sleazy remarks with an air of arrogance, going toe-to-toe with his own. Cute.

Until one day, you finally give into him– He somehow manages to get you to fuck him, and for days after, his bragging around the office is incessant: "[Name] cries when she cums!", "Her orgasm face is just the cutest fuckin' thing, I mean could you imagine? Wait, actually don't, don't picture it–"

You start to get fed up, not only annoyed at his oversharing and his ceaseless bragging about things that simply weren't true, but because you hadn't even gotten to cum from the experience. Instead of confronting him, you had a plan in place that would get you what you wanted, so you instead opted to ignore the hushed whisperings around you all day.

...Until a little later, when you're in an empty conference room together, and he's sitting across the table from you. Licking the lid of his yogurt container with a smug look. Mimicking the disappointingly tepid treatment he'd given to you the night before.

"Should we... address what happened, [Name]?" He asks smugly, like it was a topic of business, leaning forward onto the table with his hands clasped together.

"No, I'm good."

"Noooo?" Adam's voice is as sugary as the extra pumps of syrup he'd overloaded his coffee with this morning in the breakroom. You'd seen that diabetes-inducing horror as it happened. "Why not? I feel like it's something we should talk about."

"Why?" You ask simply. "It happened, and that's it."

That gets him a little annoyed. Confused, too; why weren't you playing along?

"Didn't mean a thing to you, then?"

"Nah."

"Oh please, [Name]," he scoffs. He’s getting offended at the thought now, his wings giving a small flap in indignance. He’s supposed to be the aloof one! You should be begging for it to happen again.

"Don't fuckin' play. My dick gave you the best fuck you've ever had and now you don’t know how to feel."

“The best? At putting me to sleep, maybe. I did get a good nap out of it afterward, so.”

To Adam, the only thing better than your negative attention is your positive attention, and the only thing worse than that is your indifference. He hates feeling desperate, but you bring him to that shameful peak.

“You were on my dick like you had a fuckin' crush,” Adam continues to ramble on, trying to find a weak spot. “Fucking me probably meant a lot to you, huh?”

"I hump my pillow before bed and it means as much."

"Your pillow can't plow you like I do."

"No, but at least it actually gets me to cum."

Adam’s dick twitches in his pants. You know exactly what you're doing. Those words, delivered with that cruel flippancy he loves and hates so much, are precisely tailored-- All to drive him over the edge.

“Then maybe that was just a trial run,” He says after a long, fervent pause. "Maybe you need another taste."

You smirk a little, but only offer more disdain.

"No thanks, I've had enough to decide I'm no longer interested."

"Oh come on," He finally says. He's desperate at another chance now, he needs the validation of making you cum for his pride to be restored.

"Just give me one more shot?"

And so there you are, bottoms down, legs spread, Adam's fingers inside you, sitting on the edge of the table where a meeting is supposed to happen in about 25 minutes.

You're sopping wet. He drags a finger over your cunt before spreading it. "You're so cute, all blushing and shit. Makes me crazy hard."

"Your vocabulary is fucking terrible. Stop talking."

"You like it, though." He grins, teasingly lifting his fingers away from your aching cunt to show you your own wetness. You let out a small whine at the absence. "You sure you want me to stop?"

"Shut up, I said," You grab him by his hair and shove his mouth where you want it, aggressive and impatient. "-and start eating."

Normally Adam is not one to take demands like that. But in this position-- looking up at your stern face from between your legs--he obeys. He kisses at your cunt over and over, sweet little pecks like a first crush. The sensation makes your core tighten around nothing. Adam was not one to take his time; he was teasing you like this on purpose. You weren't having it.

And so pettily, you decide to say: "You can do better than that."

So naively, he does, he takes your dare and you're practically gushing all over the conference table by the time he gets in there and starts eating for real. Desperately suckling your clit between those smirking lips, that mouth that never fucking shuts up.

You cum with a satisfied sigh, as if you'd just had a good stretch rather than an orgasm on his face. He looks up at you expectantly, lips glistening with your aftertaste. Eyes wide and eager, waiting for the praise that is to come, only for you to lean in and whisper:

"Look who has a crush now."

a/n — pls forgive me for taking so long to answer this! i don't think it's exactly what you're looking for but i tried. it's more of an "adam with a reader who he has a sexually-charged, competitive work relationship with" type of deal. you just like to play with him and you know exactly how to make him desperate

#adam headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam smut

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toournextadventure · 3 months

Text

when you love it

Summary: When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it - Caitlyn Siehl

Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: swearing, injury mention, suggestive themes, blood mention, hurt no comfort (hopeful ending), extreme guilt Pairing: Wenclair x Vampire!Reader

“We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty on the charge of murder in the first degree.”

Your fangs caught on your lip as you did your best not to smile. With the slightest turn of your body, you patted your client on the shoulder and congratulated him for getting off on murder. He was guilty as sin. You could practically smell the tainted blood coursing through his veins. It was abysmal; he was a horror to work with. Doubtless he would be murdered before he even left the courthouse.

His money was still just as good as anyone else’s.

The judge continued his usual spiel, the one you personally had heard many times over. Something about understanding the severity of the charges, how one must persevere to become more, to prevent such a situation from occurring again. She was getting much more emotional about the speech, putting more of a motherly spin on it. It was a lovely touch.

It wouldn’t work. But it was lovely.

“Don’t get yourself in too much trouble,” you said once the judge was finished and you could shake your client’s hand.

His smile was sinister. “I’ll be calling on you again.”

You made sure to show your fangs in your own smile. “I’ll be expecting it.”

The man gave you the creeps, more so than most of the clients you represented. Which was precisely why you allowed your shadow to escort him out of the courthouse to the freedom he had unjustly earned. You watched as he left with a smile that betrayed your actual thoughts.

If he called again, your rates would double.

“You did your job masterfully.”

You turned around, watching people continue to mill out of the courtroom. No one was facing you, not even the usual suspects. Even your best friend Detective Faus had already left. There was no one left to talk or discuss the events of the case. A pity.

Maybe it had been another hallucination; they were more frequent this time of year. Sounds of blood spilling, pouring down your throat like the first drink at the bar. The door opening, muffled words, wood splintering. The sounds made themselves known in your mind, drowning out everything else around you.

“Looking for someone in particular?”

No. No, that was no hallucination. You looked down to see a young man no older than 20 - though his spectacular mustache looked a bit old for him - standing beside you. It was no wonder you hadn’t noticed him, he was rather short. With a stunning crop of slicked back raven black hair, he reminded you of someone. Someone you did your best to forget.

“Thank you, mister…,” your voice trailed off.

“Pubert Addams,” he said with a charming smile as he held out his hand toward you. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

A wet gasp-

-a snarl-

-relief-

-pain-

“-A pleasure, Mr. Addams,” you said, grasping his hand as gently as you possibly could. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long while.”

“I believe you knew my sister and her wife in college, did you not?” He asked as he let go of your hand.

A breathy moan-

-airy laughter-

-a warm sigh-

“-Quite a long time ago,” you said, “but yes.”

“Yes, I knew it was you,” he said with a smile that was far too familiar. Eerily so. “Are you free for a short while?” He asked. “I have a proposition for you.”

You sighed and shifted the weight to your good leg. It left an ache that rarely eased, though certainly not for lack of trying. Thanks to the glasses, you were confident your distrust was hidden. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust the young Addams boy; he seemed decent enough. You had worked with enough sleazy people to know who to trust and who to be wary of.

There was just the little problem of not wanting anything to do with an Addams.

Though, you supposed you could give the boy the benefit of the doubt. After all, what would it hurt? If he was anything like Wednesday - and it was beyond clear he was - he would love the danger. The thrill of propositioning you would far outweigh the danger of having you near. A brave boy.

Just like his older sister.

“I suppose I have time,” you finally said with a toothy grin. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Oh, I’m not old enough to drink,” he said quickly as he fell into step beside you. Exactly like his sister.

“A coffee then,” you amended.

He had no objections.

His hands were shoved into his pockets as he walked out of the courtroom with you. The stench of rancid blood filled your senses before you saw the commotion outside. Your client’s body lay sprawled along the steps, his blood flowing from the tips of his fingers; no one dared try to stop the bleeding. At the bottom, the police were shoving the victim’s brother into their cruiser.

“An eye for an eye turns the whole world blind,” Mr. Addams said with a shake of his head.

You didn’t dare hide your smile. “A beautiful sentiment.” You continued to walk past the scene, not looking back to see if Mr. Addams was following.

His footsteps quickened their pace to match yours before he stood beside you once again. It was a short, silent walk to the little cafe you had started to call your own. The barista was a wonderful young girl; she had easily fallen victim to the vampire charm you did your best not to throw around. Though you were a little less careful nowadays, but that was your little secret.

“What can I get for you, sugar?” The young waitress asked once you sat down. She, too, had fallen victim to your supernatural charm.

“A quad?” You asked once Mr. Addams sat across from you at the little table in the corner.

“Heavens no,” he said with his own charming smile, “I’ll take a mocha, thank you.”

“An espresso, darling,” you said with a smile at the waitress.

Her cheeks flushed. “I’ll have it for you in a moment.”

You tried not to mention your surprise at the young Addams going against what his older sister had made seem like tradition. Or perhaps she had changed over the years; it was a possibility she had come to enjoy the sweeter things in life. After all, Enid certainly did, so it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. She always had been a lovestruck fool for Enid.

So were you.

You promptly ignored the thought.

“What is your proposition, Mr. Addams?” You asked as you continued to wait for your drinks.

“Ah, of course,” he said. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. “I would like to invite you to a soiree we happen to be hosting.”

“I’m nothing but a stranger to you,” you said simply. “What about me warrants an invitation?”

“My sister and her wife still talk of you,” he said. “Incessantly.” His smile was gentle; genuine. “I believe inviting you would make them happy.”

You didn’t grace that thought with a reply. If they still talked of you, that was their issue. Wednesday was certainly psychotic enough to desire your presence. Enid, also, could certainly be delusional enough. Seeing you again should bring them no sense of joy or peace; if anything, it should cause nightmares.

It didn’t matter that you often found yourself thinking of them in return. When you talked with clients who had a penchant for breaking the law, much like Wednesday. Committing their crimes guiltlessly for one reason or another. There was a difference in that Wednesday always had a good reason - even when you tried to make her believe she didn’t - but that could be easily overlooked when her cold brown eyes appeared in your mind.

And Enid was often seen in the young intern at your firm. Possessing a giddiness that was so often lost in people. Her colourful nails that you had been unable to forbid were like a flash of the past. The only difference was those nails were typing away at a computer instead of leaving scratches along your back. It was difficult, on occasion, to differentiate the two.

The waitress set the drinks on the table, giving you a wink and smile in the process. You smiled back, showcasing your fangs as she turned and walked back to the counter. If Mr. Addams hadn’t accompanied you, you would have flirted with the woman. Flashed a bit of cash, invited her home for a quick drink of your own before sending her back on her way.

You stirred your espresso for no good reason. At least it gave you time to think of your answer. Mr. Addams was gracious enough not to push. A wonderful change of pace from Wednesday, who would push until she regretted it. Which she had. Oh, she had, and you had all suffered for it.

There was no way you could tell Mr. Addams why you wanted to decline his invitation. If you even so much as hinted at the carnage you had caused, there was a high probability he would not only rescind his offer, but paint you as the monster you had already claimed for yourself. With good reason, of course, you hadn’t earned the title by sitting around.

On the other hand, just the mere thought of seeing Enid and Wednesday made your dead heart feel alive again. You had done your best to fill your nights with women. One after the other, never keeping them long enough to even learn their names. Each a new attempt to forget the two women who had taken your heart all those years ago. They never filled the hole; if anything, they made it bigger.

Perhaps…

“When is this little soiree of yours taking place?” You asked with a sigh, finally looking up from your espresso.

Now that smile was identical to his sister’s.

“I’ll fetch you the invitation.”

—---

You stood on the balcony of your apartment. Smoke curled around your fingers as the cigarette rested between them. The heat from the lit end was almost unbearable on your skin; it was a welcome feeling. City lights twinkled around you, creating constellations yet unnamed by the human race. Perhaps one day they would be prominent enough to fit in with the constellations of old.

It was the night before the soiree at the Addams residence. You had done your best to remain in control of your emotions the days leading up to it. Hell, you had even gone so far as to hire a few women just a few hours earlier to keep your thirst in check. You would rather receive a stake to the heart than risk another incident like the one that had created this situation in the first place.

And yet, even with all your preparations, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that had carved a home into the center of your chest.

The balcony door slid open.

“You coming back, baby?” The woman asked.

It was a shame you didn’t remember her name.

“Come on, baby,” she said, and you felt warm arms wrap around your waist. “I know you want another drink.”

You did. God you did. Just the thought of another drink left your throat searing. You tried to swallow, but all it did was burn like liquid fire trickling down your throat. With a sigh, you lifted the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. If you were going to be in pain, you may as well finish off your cigarette.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” you said with an exhale that left smoke falling from your lips.

The warmth left your waist as she went back inside, and you heard her talking to… the… other woman. God, you really needed to learn the names of the people you drank from. If anything, it was the least you could do; it was polite. But you didn’t particularly care. All you knew was they weren’t Enid, and they weren’t Wednesday.

You were pathetic.

You took one more drag of your cigarette, feeling the heat burn the skin on your knuckles. The thick smoke left the taste of ash on your tongue and did nothing to ease the scorching pain in your throat. You dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it with your heel. You hissed when it singed your heel; you had forgotten you were barefoot.

If you had possessed any sort of soul, you would have felt guilt. There was something tugging on your invisible heart strings, begging you to care about the women you were surrounding yourself with. No, that wasn’t accurate. It wasn’t something tugging at your heart strings; it was two voices that had haunted you for years.

They single handedly ruined your night. With no shame and no clue that they had even done so, they had ruined it. The women around you weren’t the right women. Their skin was soft, but it wasn’t the same. Their freckles were in the wrong spots, and their nails and hair were the wrong colour. Each and every moan was the wrong tone, and these women just weren’t right.

It was a struggle, but by the time the night was over, you had more than gotten your fill. There was no possible way you would still be thirsty by the time you made it to the Addams residence. Though that didn’t stop you from grabbing a blood bag from the fridge and tucking it into your pocket before you left your apartment.

You stopped by the mirror in your hall to make sure you looked alright. It was custom made to not contain any silver, allowing you to see at least a semblance of your reflection. It wasn’t perfect, but it was like looking at someone through water. A little blurry, slightly distorted, but you could tell it was a person.

Your eyes were drawn to the dark scars that weren’t entirely hidden by your shirt collar. The majority of the scars were hidden, but not those. They were a stark contrast on your neck; a stark reminder of your monstrosity. Subconsciously, you lifted your hand to run your fingers over the taut flesh. They still ached.

Teeth ripping through flesh. You could hear the blood pumping from the wounds, pouring out over your hands as you tried desperately to stop the flow. Your own blood cascaded down your throat, erasing any satisfaction you had previously received.

You could still smell the blood. It made your mouth water.

You still wanted more.

You recoiled as if burned. Out of all the times you could have that memory, this wasn’t the optimal day. It didn’t require any consideration before you walked back to the fridge and grabbed a second bag, placing it right beside the first within your jacket. You had one shot; you weren't going to blow it.

It was a beautiful day outside as you approached the Addams mansion. The sky was overcast, almost allowing you to take your glasses off. Not that you would have, but it would have been a nice option to have. Large groups of people made their way up the steps and into the mansion. It truly was a stunning building; you had missed it.

You fell into the back of a group, ensuring you were silent and could walk in unnoticed. Yes, of course someone would notice eventually, but you wanted a chance to settle back into the excessively large house. The smell of the slightly-rotting wood was enough to ease your racing pulse. It smelled like home.

While everyone continued to slowly make their way into the ballroom, you went the opposite direction. Your hand trailed against the walls, maneuvering around each and every item that was hanging. The paintings and knick knacks and more recent looking photos. Some were new, or at least newer than you. They certainly hadn’t been hanging on the wall the last time you had visited.

The idle chatter of the crowd started to fade the further you went.The hallway turned into a slightly larger room filled with framed photos and awards. You let your fingers hover over the nameplates on the awards. Spelling Bee, First Place. A smile tugged at your lips as you moved on. Silver, Figure Skating. Down and down the line, you looked at award after award. There were names underneath, but you didn’t waste your time looking at them.

After the awards were the photos. You picked up the first one with gentle hands; a wedding photo deserved care. It was no surprise to see Wednesday in black and Enid in something so bright it was almost blinding. The image alone had your chest aching. They looked rather happy.

Their happiness didn’t distract you from the scars down the side of Enid’s face. The ones that traveled from the corner of her eyes to her jaw. Based on the colour in the photo, they were freshly healed. You couldn’t see Wednesday’s; she had a black lace wrapped around her wrist. From the look of Enid’s, you could imagine.

You set the frame back down on the table and stepped back. The curiosity had disappeared, quickly replaced with something heavy. With a tight chest, you backed out of the room and made your way to the ballroom with everyone else. The slight limp in your step worsened. A sigh fell from your lips as you had to lean against the wall and reach down to tighten the brace. Your jaw clenched almost painfully as the brace became insufferably tight around your leg, but at least it gave you the ability to stand on your own once again.

Until you were nearly knocked over by children running down the hall.

“Excuse me!” One of them called back. A chorus of the same words were quick to follow as the other children ran after the first.

“Behave!” You froze. “And don’t push people!”

“Yes ma’am!” The children shouted.

If you had known you would have such a visceral reaction just to her voice, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation. You had no idea your body itself would react to her voice. If you could sweat, you would have been. Your fingers twitched. Don’t turn, your mind told you. Begged, even. Desperate, feral, pathetic.

“Cara mia.” You forced yourself to take a step. “You forgot your shawl upstairs.”

Don’t turn around, your mind said. It was frantic. You forced another step. And another. Each one heavier than the last, as if your body was fighting with your mind. You truly were a fool to accept the invitation, and there wasn’t even a word to describe yourself for actually daring to appear. Stupid. That was the best word.

“Are you a vampire?”

You sighed and took a moment to calm your emotions before looking down. One of the children that had been running around was now standing beside you, looking up at you with bright eyes and a cocked head. It reminded you of- no, you wouldn’t think of that. You turned to face the child and shifted your weight to rest on your good leg.

“I am,” you said with a singular nod of your head. “And you are?”

“Oh,” they said with a smile. A large, wolfish smile. “I’m an Addams.”

You were thankful they couldn’t see your eyes. “Charmed.”

Of course they were an Addams. How could you ever think differently? The Addamses were magnets for trouble, and you didn’t have to know the child to deduct that they were, in fact, trouble. You turned away from them and looked back out into the ballroom.

“My mothers have a picture of you on their nightstand,” the child continued.

You wished they would leave.

“But you have scars, and the person in their picture doesn’t.”

You would have no shame in killing a child.

“My momma has scars too.” It would be simple. “They almost match yours.”

“Don’t harass the guests, dear.”

Or perhaps you would simply kill yourself. It would certainly be less painful than whatever was about to happen. You could hear the echo of your dead heart beating loudly in your ears. Perhaps if you refused to turn around, she would continue walking. Walk right past you and into the crowd, leaving you behind as you so very much deserved.

But she didn’t continue walking as you desperately wished she would. She didn’t move out into the crowd, saying her greetings to the others as was customary. You could barely hear her footsteps at all above the incessant noise that you were wishing would get louder. Drown out all the thoughts and emotions bubbling up inside you.

“We weren’t sure you would come.”

You still refused to turn around. Even when you felt her sidle up next to you, her arm brushing lightly against yours. Oh, her warmth was glorious. You had forgotten just how lovely it was to feel her warming you up. To bring life to your soul in a way that only she was capable of. No amount of women in your bed had ever held a candle to her warmth.

“You look good.” Her voice was impossibly soft against the rising chaos of the soiree.

Growls and screaming echoed in your mind’s ear as you finally made the brave - or stupid - decision to turn your head. If you had thought your anxiety was bad before, you would have been impressed with your anxiety at that moment. The first thing your eyes took notice of were the healed, lightly coloured scars on her jaw.

The scars you had caused.

“You look healthy,” Enid said with a soft smile.

She looked so very grown. That childish glint in her eyes was still present, but she held herself with far more respect. The insecurity had long faded away, much like the scars that continued down her neck. The child was right; you almost matched.

“I fed before arriving,” you said. Your words felt like ash in your mouth. “No need for history to repeat itself.”

“We have more in the kitchen,” she said quickly. “If you need it.”

You opened your coat to show the two bags in the pocket. “I came prepared, thank you.”

She smiled a closed mouth smile and nodded before looking back out at the ballroom. That heavy feeling settled in your chest once again. After so many years, that was all you had to say to her? That you had fed already? Of course, that was probably the one thing she wanted to hear after so long. You were a fool. A damned fool.

“I hope the kids weren’t bothering you,” Enid said. “They get excited when we host gatherings.”

“They seem decent,” you said. Decent?? That’s the best you can come up with? “That one-” you pointed to the one with the bright eyes “-is rather talkative.”

Enid giggled, and for a moment, you felt young again. “Willa says she gets it from me.”

Willa. You could have laughed if it didn’t hurt so bad. Wednesday had always attempted to claim she hated it. Yet it never stopped the lightest blush on her cheeks when you or Enid would use the unassuming nickname. When was the last time you had even heard it?

Come on, Willa, put it down, I’m being serious.

You turned your body ever so slightly. You didn’t want Enid to see the scars creeping down your neck. Her hand brushed against yours. It was shameful how quickly you pulled your hand back, shoving it into your pocket. No good could come from her feeling the shake of your hand, or the scars that hid below the cloth of your clothes.

“Oh, there she is,” Enid said, this time reaching out to grab your arm a little harder than she probably meant to. “Stay right here, I’ll bring her over!”

The moment she left your side, the cold started to crawl back over your skin. It sunk into every vessel, every inch of your body, both inside and out. Attending the soiree was a mistake. A mistake that you couldn’t take back. Just like that night. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. You could leave before they came back and continue your miserable existence as you had been.

But then you saw them together, hand in hand. It was an unexpected thing to see Wednesday practically smiling at Enid. In public, that was. You couldn’t recall a single time she had smiled at anything in public. Yet there she was, walking closer and showing some semblance of physical affection in public. It was stunning. Your heart was almost beating.

Until your eyes landed on all the black lace that you knew covered scars no one could comprehend.

“I told you I saw them,” you heard Enid say as they both approached where you were frozen in place. “And I was right.”

Wednesday looked up at you with those stunning brown eyes. “So you were.”

Your fingers twitched in your pocket. Now that she was so close, you could smell her blood flowing through her veins. No matter how much you swallowed, you couldn’t ease the burn that was rising up your throat. You clenched your jaw tight, ignoring the sting of your fang piercing your lip.

Wednesday!

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? “Hello Wednesday, I’m sorry for nearly draining you while you attempted to prove I wasn’t a monster.” Or even to Enid. “I apologise for trying to kill you when you stopped me from killing our girlfriend.” There was nothing you could say, to either of them, to justify what you had done. What you couldn’t forget.

“I told them you had their picture,” the previous child said as they approached along with the rest of the herd.

For the first time, you were thankful for children.

“So you told our secrets?” Wednesday asked. “You know what happens to those who tell our secrets.”

The old Wednesday would have sounded more intimidating and borderline threatening. Yet, even as her words said one thing, the soft look on her face said another. The children all smiled and tried to hide their laughter as they continued to look up at her.

“You’d better run,” Enid whispered.

Each of the children shared a look before running off, laughter following in their wake. It was almost… cute? Adorable, even? God, you needed to escape this place, you were almost turning soft. You needed to get back to your murderers and criminals, this was turning pathetic.

“As intimidating as ever, my love,” Enid said as she leaned down and placed a soft chaste kiss on Wednesday’s cheek.

It made you sick. The burn in your throat spread, turning into a searing pain in your chest and stomach. All that was left was the tingling in your fingers and legs and you were finished. You wished the inferno would swallow you whole, reducing you to nothing more than ash and bone.

“You seem pale,” Wednesday said.

It seemed you wouldn’t combust soon enough.

“I only arrived out of courtesy,” you said as you stood taller. “Now that I have said my hellos, I must say my goodbyes.”

You tried to act like the looks on Enid’s and Wednesday’s faces didn’t kill you inside. It was like a silver stake to the heart, spreading its carnage down every muscle fiber and blood vessel. After all these years, you had managed to hurt them again within only a few moments. And you didn’t even possess the decency to apologise for the first sleight against them.

“Do you have to?” Enid asked. “You could stay.” Her eyes fell. “We could talk.”

“Did Enid tell you we have more blood in the fridge?” Wednesday asked.

She circled her fingers around her lace-covered wrist.

“I don’t do house calls,” you said. You could hear Wednesday’s pulse over the crowd. “Especially with those I cannot pay penance to.”

And yet, you didn’t make a single move. Against your better wishes, your feet stayed glued to the floor. Each beat of Wednesday’s heart was enough to have your mouth salivating, yet you couldn’t leave. A memory popped into your head of Enid almost seeming disappointed that her blood wasn’t appetising to you. It was a fond memory, one you replayed often enough for it to seem like a core memory of your relationship.

“You could stay,” Enid said.

“We can go somewhere quieter,” Wednesday continued.

You didn’t want to go somewhere quiet, you wanted to go home. You internally scoffed at the word; you didn’t live in a home. It was just a building, with four walls and a new blood bag or two every night. You barely lived in it, instead opting to spend all your time in your office where nothing could remind you of the two women standing in front of you.

They were your home.

“Please?” Enid asked softly. Almost too softly. Even with your enhanced hearing you could barely discern the words over the jazz band that had started playing.

You sighed. Would it truly hurt to spend a few moments with them? To give you some semblance of normalcy that only they could provide? After all, you could see the muscles underneath Enid’s skin. If you truly lost control, surely she could stop you. She had stopped you before.

The scars reminded you of it every day.

“Very well,” you said with a slight nod.

Enid was the one to reach out and grab your hand, pulling it out of its pocket and linking her fingers with yours. Her nails dug into the back of your hand, drawing out a sting that was a welcome distraction. The ache in your throat was ever present as Wednesday walked right beside you while Enid led you out of the ballroom.

The hustle and bustle of the ballroom slowly faded into oblivion as you were led down the corridors of the Addams mansion. You could recall memories from each room you passed. Each with their own story to tell. Stories of stolen kisses, scandalous rendezvous, silent moments with the women you loved, but together and separate.

When Enid stopped in the kitchen, you would have laughed had it been under any other circumstance. It was clear they had the same thoughts on their minds when Enid sat you down and Wednesday retrieved a blood bag from the fridge. She placed it between you and her when she sat opposite you at the table.

How comical.

They both stared at you with unwavering gazes. What was going through their minds, you wondered. Were they feeling the same way you had? Broken, anxious about fucking up, convinced you had blown your chance? Or perhaps they were waiting for you to break and recreate what had happened on that fated night all those years ago.

You sighed when you deduced they wouldn’t speak first.

“You both look well,” you said in a croaky voice that, if they were wise, was indicative of the state of your instincts. Think of something else to say. “Are all those children yours?”

Think of something less ridiculous.

“Yes they are,” Wednesday said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was almost condescending; you loved it.

“Pubert said you’re a lawyer?” Enid asked.

“Defence attorney,” you said with a nod, “yes.”

“Is it, ah, fun?” She asked.

You sighed. If the entire night was going to go along those lines - awkward and uncomfortable, tip toeing around every word - you would rather leave. Not a single positive thing could come from such a conversation. It was talking for talking sake. You all hated small talk, that was something that you knew had never changed, yet there you were, struggling to find any sort of conversation.

“It’s acceptable,” you said before placing both palms on the table. “I believe I really should be getting on.”

You attempted to push yourself up from the seat. Attempted being the key word. It wasn’t often your bad knee would buckle when standing; usually reserved for long nights in your office where you had barely managed to take bathroom breaks. Yet when you pushed yourself up, you felt the strain in your knee. It was a familiar feeling, that weakness before a painful tightness that so often forced you back into your seat.

And it did. Your grip on the table meant nothing as your knee shook for a nanosecond before giving out underneath you. Thankfully the gasp never actually left your lips. You could taste the copper in your mouth as you bit your tongue in an effort to stay silent. In the end, your entire leg trembled.

Enid and Wednesday stood up quickly, knocking their chairs back and watching your every move. You wished they would come to you; you were glad they didn’t. The looks on their faces was terrifying enough. Identical looks to the ones they had had that night.

“Wednesday, put it down,” you said when she refused to remove the knife from her hand.

“Your fears of being a monster are unwarranted,” she said as she gripped the blade tighter. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

She had barely broken the skin before the scent hit you. It had been months since you had fed, and she had broken the floodgates. Everything about her disappeared except for the small drop of blood pooling at the bottom of her hand.

You didn’t feel yourself practically jumping toward her. You didn’t hear her gasp when you ripped the knife from her hand. You didn’t see the look on her face as you licked up the blood on her palm, or when you moved up her hand to bite the pulse point on her wrist.

But you tasted the nectar that flowed through her veins. You felt the strong pulse beneath your lips. You felt the scorching hot blood falling down your chin before you simply couldn’t keep up with the flow. Something vaguely pushed against your neck, but it was little more than a nuisance. All you knew was the blood in your mouth and the warmth on your lips.

Vaguely, you heard something. A scream, a growl, something breaking, you couldn’t tell the difference. It was nothing compared to the relief you were getting. How could you care about something in the outside world when you had such a delicious-

-something solid slammed into your body. The skin underneath your lips vanished, replaced by the cold air around you. When your body stopped rolling, you could feel the aches already starting to form. It didn’t matter. You zeroed in on Wednesday’s wrist again.

You were met with what felt like a truck slamming into your leg. Bones cracked, stretching the tendons and muscles with the new direction they were facing. It wouldn’t hold any weight when you tried to stand up. No matter; that was why you had two legs.

Something large and furry stepped in between you and Wednesday. Nothing about it was familiar in that moment. Instinct told you it was nothing but an obstacle in the way of your feed. It charged, and you swiped. Your fingers clipped something even as you felt its claws rake across your skin.

You tried to stand. Something sharp crossed your chest; the air was cold on your skin. When you stood up again, it was met with similar results. The third attempt got you closer to Wednesday. When something sharp clasped around your shoulder and threw you back to the ground, you stilled.

That hot blood you had gorged yourself on started to feel hot on your neck. Not in it, on it. You opened your mouth to speak and felt the liquid spew from your lips, falling down your face in all directions. Your hand lifted to the side of your neck. Your fingers pushed past the skin and then-exposed muscle.

As you pushed harder on the wounds, doing your best to staunch the flow of blood, the world started to come back to you. Blackness peeled back from your vision. The blurry world started to come into focus along with the sounds that you could finally discern as gasps and growls.

So did the pain.

You were drowning in the blood you had stolen. Your head lolled to the side even as you coughed again, spewing blood into the air like some demented fountain. A werewolf was across the room, hovering over Wednesday even as it transformed back into a person. Back into Enid. Her bare skin was shredded in places.

Wednesday was bleeding out from more than one bite mark.

You had attacked them. Both of them. The women you loved. They were bleeding out. Because of you.

You released the pressure from your neck and felt the blood continue to fall.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. Something wet fell down your cheeks.

“I know,” Wednesday answered just as softly. It was humiliating.

It was lovely.

“Please stay,” Enid said. You looked down to see her reach her hand across the table.

You shouldn’t. You had nearly killed them, had gone into a frenzy that you hadn’t experienced ever again. What if it happened again with them? After all those years, you still loved them. You would never admit to anyone, but you kept their photos on your desk at work. You couldn’t risk hurting them again. Couldn’t risk killing them. You were a monster, and that fact alone was never going to change.

They looked at you expectantly.

For when is a monster not a monster?

You reached forward and placed your hand on top of Enid’s.

Oh, when you love it.

#wenclair x reader #wednesday addams x reader #enid sinclair x reader #wednesday x enid

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xuchiya · 2 months

Text

need to know [j.yunho]

₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

₊˚.༄ I heard from a friend of a friend That dick was a ten out of ten ₊˚.༄

Yunho has been busy lately and you were not liking one bit of it. It has been weeks since you wanted to hang out with him and considering that he had been rejecting your invites; maybe it is time to spend some days without and let yourselves be on your own stories.

You can't blame Yunho for taking responsibility for his father's company so why would be a bad friend to him?

You dress up in less clothing for your stream much less by a short crop hoodie that shows a little of your cleavage then your tiny boxer shorts. A streamer of summer, that was your nickname given by your fans— Summer. You have always been a streamer for playing horror whether be a psychological or thrill chasing games, maybe sometimes by playing valorant.

You were at first called out for dressing way too– short nonetheless you explain that you tend to be really comfortable with playing in less clothing and people see your excellence in playing. You throw on anti-rad glasses before starting your stream, “What is up my dudes! It’s your streamer– Summer and we’ll continue playing Poppy Playtime!”

While waiting for the game to load, you read the comments, “Looking good as always … Thank you … Playing alone today? Yeah since they didn’t want to play this one. San is too scared … Where’s Yunho? Oh he’s currently busy— he’s been busy nowadays so I had to play this alone. “

After the chapter ended, you were left with a heart attack and sore throat from getting sudden jump scare but overall you enjoy the whole game, you look towards at the camera, “Well that is it for the chapter 2 since the chapter 3 will be out soon and …” glancing at the time to see that you have been playing for just an hour, “aye it’s still early. Do you guys want me to play or just talk with you guys?”

Some comments were saying to talk since it has been a while since you went live so you went with their request, “Okay okay I’ll answer some questions then …”

“Since when did I start playing? I think it was around 3 years ago that I started streaming through the gameplays? I was 14 when I started doing my gameplays …”

“You dance? Of course, Yeosang and Wooyoung are actually my classmates in a studio we enrolled in.”

“Where’s Yunho? Oh he’s at work, I’m little sad he has not been spending time with me like … Tell me your schedule, I got a lotta new tricks for you .. I’M KIDDING HAHAHA!”

“Do you like Doja Cat? Yes, a hundred percent yes, I’m a huge fan of hers speaking of that …” You opened your phone to show them your last song you listened to, “I swear this is my go to song when I’m feeling myself you know…” You chuckle showing them a hand gesture down to our body. Some of your fans ask you to play the song, some of them want you to sing or mouth the lyrics, you cackle at the last one.

“I can’t do that, it looks weird but we can still let this play and talk …” The music plays—affecting not only your fans, not you who is feeling the actual lyrics but the one who has been watching from their phone ever since you started streaming.

“Do you want to know a french word? Je suis excite.. Je suis excite, that means I’m excited right? Excite probably is exciting .. Am I right?” you said your eyes were widened a little bit, looking at the comment section for confirmation and you see some were saying yes, right and correct.

But little did you know, it meant something different else.

Their pants had made themselves quite uncomfortable, tight and suffocating as their eyes not only stare at your gameplay but at your display cleavage. As much as they tried to not to look like a pervert but how could he— He has desires that he tried to stir away; afraid to ruin your friendship but with you said those words as if telling him that you are horny. Adding to the fact you just said something along the line of having ‘tricks’.

“Ohmygosh I should go to sleep or Seonghwa-oppa would smack me in the head … I’ll see you guys soon.” You did your outro and the live ended.

Yunho tucked back his phone, walking inside your shared apartment. He and you were able to share an apartment under your brother’s permission since they both work for the same company and he did not mind as long as you both had an agreement or house rules settled.

Those words were a huge trigger to him as he had been evading your presence; as much as dumb it sounds, his dick can not cooperate with him. Whether you were in your hoodie or favourite pajamas, nothing beats when he wants you all for himself. Love you, praise you, worship you, choke you, dick you down—

“Oh yuyu!” You were startled when you exit your room to see Yunho leaning on the counter with a cold drink in his hand, his eyes landing on your figure and all his last string snap when you just walk in with your zipper open, exposing your tits out.

You tried to cover them last minute but Yunho was faster, grabbing your wrist, spinning you to pin you on his chest. He leaned down, voice gruff from the pain in his pants and overwhelming horniness spilling out of his body, “nice way to greet me … tits out? Do you walk around with this …” his other free hand ran up to your chest, playing with your nipple and giving it a squeeze, making you moan a little too loud but to Yunho's liking.

“I-I thought you won’t be home … fuck! “ Yunho breathy laugh, giving your other boob the same treatment but this time adding a slap on it, your back arching in the pain and pleasure making your ass brush up on his hard dick in his pants.

“Feel that? you’re the cause of it … now be a good girl for me and choke yourself on my cock.”

“F-fuck! … Yunho– Oh my God!” your face was red and sweaty from how many hours Yunho had you pinned down on your bed, taking you from behind; had his dick ramming himself back and forth, hitting every inch of your walls then his tip knocking at your cervix several times as if trying to reach a deeper part of you to bury his cum.

“You don’t know how long i wanted to fuck you so dumb that it makes me want to go faster and harder on you .. do you like that? Do you want me to keep hammering you down on this bed like a bitch on heat?” You never knew Yunho was into this kind of thing, rough and mouthy.

You were crying out of pleasure as Yunho drilled his cock deeper and deeper until you clench around him that had him smacking his (veiny) hands on your ass, “Yu-Yunho— eugh fuck– I’m gonna cum, gonna cum– !” Yunho continues slamming his hips as your eyes roll back as you reach your orgasm, creaming his dick and milking him dry. Yunho chuckles, wrapping one of his hands around your throat, pulling you closer, bottomless.

“You like that huh? You like it when I fuck you this hard?” You dive on the sheets, Yunho's pace persistent in making his dick wet and creamy on your puffy pussy. You look over your shoulders, engulfed in overwhelming bliss, you speak with assertive tone, “clap me, choke me, bite me Yunho.”

Yunho pulls out, leaving just the tip inside as he adjust his grip from your throat down to your hips, in spite of that he shoves back while you pulling back, “FUCK!” you cried, your fingers circling around his wrist, “Yu-yu — wait you’re going too fast.”

He shakes his head, his eyebrows arching, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, “I haven’t cum yet and we can fuck all night baby.” He keep thrusting back and forth,leaning forward to grasp both of your nipples in his fingers, twisting, pulling them.

Your head swirling with so much euphoria that it sent electricity vibrating down your pussy as you were reaching your second orgasm quickly, this time a little different from the last one, long strings of ‘oh’ and ‘fuck’.

“Tell me baby, i need to know one thing …” He licks his lips, pressing you on his bare chest, continue to pound inside of you, almost nearing his climax, “come on baby, i didn’t fuck you that dumb did i? Now answer me.”

You were breathing hastily, orgasm around the corner but you know best that if you don’t speak now, Yunho won’t let you cum, “Wh-What is it?”

“Have you been fantasising about this one? Did someone tell you?” You nodded, your head moving swiftly, you felt his chest vibrate as he breathy laughs, “Yeah?

“ y-yes…”

“From who?”

Your throat clogged yet you oblique, moaning when his tip brushes on your cervix once again, your dignity slowly crashing but who could you blame? You were fantasising all of this for the longest time that you slipped out to one of your friends about your huge daydream to Yunho that one of your friends may or may not slip about him.

�� “I heard .. I heard from a friend of a friend … that your dick is better than their exes.” His hip halted, pulling out— groaning at the emptiness but you were taken back when Yunho pulled you off the bed and towards your balcony; your eyes widened as he pushes you the makeshift knitted lounge chair.

“Well one …” yunho’s lips brush on your ears warmly, “I have never met your friends …” He inserted himself back in, slamming back on your pussy, “And second well .. they’re not wrong.”

Yunho pace didn’t falter as he locked his arms on yours, your arms pulled on your back; your chest full on display, bouncing each time Yunho hammered back. Broken groans left Yunho and you were also reaching your climax, “Fuck yunho!”

“Take my cum like a good girl!” Your eyes were clouded in euphoria, feeling full as he spurted all his cum inside you, painting your walls white. Your hole clenches on his dick before gushes of your juice burst, wetting his dick and the lounge chair.

Yunho let go of your arms and replace his softening dick with his fingers, brushing them left and right as you squirt, your lips puckering

“Oh look at that, such a good girl. Keep squirting baby~” Yunho slaps, wipe your pussy letting you ride on your orgasm before he pulls away. Your knees gave out, thankfully Yunho caught you, wrapping his arms around your shoulder and at the back of your knees. He leads you both to your bathroom, setting you on the cold marble tile of your sink.

Yunho settles you on the bathtub, warm water with bubbles of rose were floating on the water. You sigh contentedly, “Is this what I get for flashing you my boobs to you?”

He laughs, shaking his head as he settles at the other end of the tub, “You want a princess treatment?” His eyes watch you carefully, cheek flaring. You played with the foam bubbles, “If you don’t mind me being your girlfriend then yeah, I want a princess treatment.”

Yunho leans towards you, leaving a soft kiss on your lips, "Deal."

It was something you and Yunho had in common. Straightforwardness. Yet here you both are, in a situation you thought is just all in your head and fantasy.

#ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez hard thoughts #ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez fic #atz #jeong yunho #ateez jeong yunho #yunho smut #ateez yunho #yunho #yunho x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #atz smut

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taintedcigs · 1 year

Text

YOU'RE NOT SCARED, ARE YA?

wc: 4.1k+

pairing: ghost face!eddie munson x final girl!reader

warnings: 18+ !!smut, smut smut!!, MINORS DNI!! absolutely no minors!! p in v, dom/sub elements, dark!dom!eddie, naive and innocent!reader, final girl!reader, mean!eddie, fingering, kinda manipulation, slight dubcon, this is kinda dark so if this kind of stuff bothers u DO NOT READ!!, minor character death, dom!eddie, squirting (??), sub!reader, heavy/graphic smut, knife kink kind of, very brief choking kink, kind of a breeding kink??, praising, degradation (name-calling etc), mean!soft!eddie JUST OVERALL FILTH MINORS DNI!!!

summary: you were happy to be a survivor and finally ready to get back to your life after ghost face was caught, but was he actually caught?

authors note: okay so i watched scream 6 yesterday and i had to i just had to write ghost face!eddie !! NOo SCREAM 6 SPOILERS DON'T WORRY OFC !! this is for u wyv OMG hope u like it i kinda have doubts abt it but oh well!! also hope u enjoyed scream 6 omg @sleepy-wyvern the reader is very forgiving and just gives in im sorry for that okay ill write another darker one maybe later pls send me ur ghost face!eddie requests and help me indulge in this fantasy omg xo, em <3 line divider creds to @attxnt

The breeze from the window had you chilling up before you could realize. Your head popping in the direction of the window as your eyebrows furrowed, you never noticed that you had left a window open.

With a sigh you get up to close it, as it's already freezing inside, a creak on the floors causes your head to pop up again, more confused than ever, you look around.

The TV is faintly playing in the background, screams of a woman in the horror movie you are watching is pitching your ears as you hurry to turn the TV off, wanting to see what the noise is about.

As soon as you turn the TV off, you hear another creak, the sound is now familiar to you in an eery way, you feel uneasy as you tiptoe around the living room, looking around to see what is causing the noise.

You shake your head at your paranoid thoughts, it's probably just the noises an old house makes.

Huffing, you make your way into the kitchen, re-opening the fridge for the hundredth time that day as you wait for a meal to magically appear.

Another windy noise behind you catches your attention, you swiftly turn around. Nothing.

Then the loud rang of the phone causes you to jump.

The phone ringing isn't easing your worries, you know the Ghostface murderer who has been roaming around town, killing a bunch of teenagers in Hawkins was caught, but still, it didn't give you comfort as you saw the face of Jason Carver who was being arrested, he looked innocent —as innocent as he could look for someone who was an awful person.

You shake your thoughts as you realize you are being paranoid, the Ghostface killer is caught, you need to calm down, you remind yourself.

"Hello?" You answer the phone calmly, hoping that it's Eddie, ready for him to ease your worries.

"Hello," The distorted voice speaks at the end of the line.

"Yes?" You ask, curiously now, wanting to know who the caller is. You shake off the feeling that the distorted voice reminds you of the ghost face killer, you don't want to believe it.

"Who is this?" The voice asks, and you furrow your brows.

"Who are you trying to reach?" Your voice comes out small, you're still uneasy from the creaking noises and what had happened in town before the killer was caught.

"I don't know." The distorted voice sounds careless.

"You have the wrong number." You answer, any sort of phone call still gives you anxiety. "I'm hanging up" You almost huff, annoyed that it's not Eddie, just some random guy.

"Wait, don't hang up." The voice is soft now

"Why?" You reply, your eyes narrowing.

"Because I think you need to hear this." The voice is mysterious.

"Hear what?" You ask, confused.

"They got the wrong guy." The voice is taunting, and the uneasy, chilling feeling from before is back.

"What? What the fuck are you talking about?" You ask, getting more uncomfortable, you look around, the paranoid feeling setting into your stomach once again.

You thought you had left the ghost face killer thing behind, happy that you survived.

"Jason Carver is innocent." The voice is more direct now, it sends shivers down your spine. "Well, he isn't innocent, but he sure isn't the ghostface killer." The voice chuckles.

"Who's this?" You ask, your voice getting shaky now.

“The question isn’t who am I, the question is, where am I?”

"Fuck you, asshole. This isn't funny." You spit, ready to hang up the phone.

"Oh, I'm sure you would beg me to."

"You know what-" Your words are quick to cut off as you are swayed by a mysterious figure, hooded hands cover your mouth as you attempt to scream and squirm.

"That's not going to do you any good, sweetheart." The distorted voice is enough to make you shaky again.

A scream dies out in your throat from the shock, you are left speechless and you feel almost paralyzed.

"Let me go." Your voice is muffled, tears are prickling your eyes.

"You want me to let you go?" The ghostface masked figure tilts its head to the side, you eye him curiously, nodding slowly.

"Don't you wanna know who I am?" The voice is taunting you again, and as much as you want to know, you don't want to give whoever it is the satisfaction.

"Let me go." Your voice is still muffled, a chuckle is heard from the other end.

"I think you know who I am, sweetheart." The voice is oh so familiar now, but you are still in denial as you shake your head.

"I- I don't." You manage to let out in your shocked state, the ghost masked figure chuckles, and the distorting voice is now going back to normal as you are finally hit with the realization.

The figure lets you go as he rips off the ghost face mask off his face, you first see the curls, those curls that you twirled your finger around as you laid in his bed, are now taunting you.

A grinning Eddie is revealed under the mask, you are now shaking as your face is contorted.

No words come out of your lips as you stare at him in shock, hoping for this to be his idea of a sick twisted joke.

"Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?" He is fully smirking, you are speechless, you can't believe that it was Eddie, your Eddie who had been behind the sick killings.

"Eds...?" Your words linger in the air, you feel small, so small.

"Yes, doll." The nickname should make you feel disgusted, you should feel disgusted. But you can't help but still be so enamored with him, you feel disgusted by yourself.

"What... why- How?" Your questions are spiraling, your eyes never leaving his, you want answers.

"It's... you?" You are dumbfounded, and the expression on Eddie's face is something you have never seen before.

"Yup." He's quick to let you know that he really is ghost face.

"I- I don't understand..." You are fighting your tears now, and Eddie walks closer to you to cup your face, still gentle, and you are too shocked to push him away, too comfortable with him that you let him.

"It's not that hard to understand, sweetheart." He chuckles almost, your eyebrows furrow. "Why?" You dare to ask, he clicks his tongue.

"It's simple really."

"You- you killed them, Eddie." Your voice is meek again, it's cracking as your tears freely escape your cheeks, he's quick to wipe them away. His other hand still holding onto the knife.

"Shhh, angel. There's no need to cry, they don't deserve your tears." He attempts to comfort you, but you squirm. "Don't be scared of me angel, 'm not gonna hurt you, I promise." He reassures, and you want to believe him, as much as you're scared, he's Eddie, your Eddie.

"Why- why did you kill them?" You manage to ask between your tears, Eddie's head tilts to the side.

"You're looking for a motive?" He asks. "How about the town "freak" is getting sick and tired of all those assholes calling him a "freak" and a "satanist", so he decides to finally show them how much of a freak he can be, how's that motive for you, hmm?" He taunts, the knife is still behind him, but you feel uneasy.

"Vicki, Tommy H., Carol, Tina..." You name every one of his victims, and it brings a smile to his face.

"I had to do it, sweetheart." His voice is calm and collected.

"Why... why..." You are still in shock.

"Oh, it's easy, sweetheart. Vicki, Carol and Tina were awful to you, d'you remember how they splashed you with their drinks, and laughed while you ran away sobbing, d'you remember that? Cause I never fucking forgot." His voice was harsh now, he was feeling the anger, the pain you had endured in their hands.

"Thought it was funny to humiliate my girl, make her feel bad, and they thought they could fucking get away with it? No chance." He hummed.

"Tommy H. was a fucking asshole, he got what was coming to him, no real loss there." He was talking about these people as if they were disposable, and you hated to admit he was right, you would probably never admit it out loud, but all of them were terrible people, destroying all the people they didn't deem to be "popular".

You look at him, still in shock, you don't know what to say, what to think, especially when Eddie is standing this close to you.

"And Jason?" You asked, your voice was less trembling now, what Eddie had done was horrible, but you didn't feel as scared anymore.

"Oh, he was easy to frame." He grinned. "I couldn't let him get away with fucking touching you at that party, princess." His hands were caressing your cheek now, and you gulped.

"I knew you tried to hide that from me, you knew how angry I would get, you didn't want me to get involved or hurt myself... Robin told me." His voice was more vulnerable now.

"But I'd do anything, fucking anything to protect you, princess. And I did. All of them, deserved what was fucking coming for them." His eyes squinted, you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

"S'all good, now. You have me, to protect you, princess." His hands drooped down from your cheeks, as they traveled across your body, you couldn't help but get chills all over where he touched, you felt disgusted with yourself that you were enjoying this, but you had waited so long, so long for him, and now he was actually giving you what you had waited so long for.

"Eds..." You get his attention.

"They tried to hurt what's mine, they tried to take my girl away from me." He murmured into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your face, and you can feel the smirk forming on his lips.

"But I've got you now, princess. No need to be afraid." His words were late to register in your head, the infamous ghost face killer was in front of you, his body is pressed against yours, and he was telling you all about his murders, and for some reason, you were still not screaming and running away.

"I- I can't." You squirmed, your eyes were getting teary again.

"C'mon, Y/N. No need to make this harder than it is." His hand raised the knife, you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

"You- you killed them, Eddie." Your voice was shaking, you eyed his movements.

"You taunted me... with your calls." Your voice was shaky. "How the fuck am I supposed to trust you?" You gulped, trying to push him away, but he held you in place.

"Baby, I just had to warn you of them... they were supposed to be your friends, do you remember everytime you defended them to me, telling me that they were your friends and that I should be nice, hmm?" He asked, you were ashamed to nod, he was right, he had tried to warn you of them but he never listened.

"But they ditched you the moment you told them what Jason had tried to do to you, they humiliated you... you deserved so much better." His voice was calm as he attempted to comfort you with the knife still in his hand.

"I had to taunt you a little for not listening to me, but whatever I said to you wasn't bad." He reassured, you shook your head.

"But killing them was the only way?" You raised your voice this time, getting confidence from the way Eddie saw you as his soft spot.

"I was protecting you." His calm voice was more irritated now, his gaze landed on yours, and it was piercingly sharp.

"I- I didn't ask you to do that for me." Your voice was shaky, and Eddie tssked as he dragged the knife along your face, you squeezed your eyes shut, afraid.

He noticed your movements, and he was quick to drag the knife away, knowing it had scared you. "No need to be scared of me, princess." He still had that smirk on his face, but he was gentle now.

"Let me go or I'll scream." You demanded, but he just chuckled.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet, angel." He hissed, but he let you go. And you look at him dumbfounded.

"Go on, then. Call the cops, tell them it was Eddie, your Eddie." His eyes narrowed as they watched you, you gulped. He knew where to hit you.

You didn't want him to be in trouble, even after everything, even after how you had tried to hate him in these last five minutes.

"I- I..." You stuttered, and Eddie chuckled.

"Do it, princess, turn me in." He taunted again, and it's like you were unable to move.

"Can't do it, can ya?" The taunting voice was back again. But he wasted no time as he pinned you against the wall this time, standing closer to you than he ever did.

"Knew you wanted me, as much as I wanted you princess." His voice was sultry, the knife that was supposed to scare you was now running against your clothes, and he felt you shiver under him, it makes him feel more in control, and he loved every second of it.

"Look how you squirm with just my touch, princess. I bet you're s'soaked under that tiny little skirt, aren't you?" He questioned, you squeezed your eyes shut, you hated how much you were enjoying this, and you felt disgusted with yourself.

"Let's see." His hands were cold as they landed on your thigh, riding up your skirt as you sucked in a breath.

His touch was so soft and demanding that as soon as his ringed fingers circled around your panties you let out a whimper, Eddie’s pants tightening at the sound.

“You really needed this, huh?” He whispered against your ear, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Look at you, squirming under my touch, holding out your pretty little whimpers from me, you want this as much as I do, sweetheart, don't lie to me."

The hand that was holding the knife grazed your thighs, the knife's coldness caused a gasp out of you, and Eddie smirked. "Such a slut." He almost chuckled, and you whimpered at the nickname, Eddie knew you like the back of his hand.

"You enjoying this, princess? You enjoy me making you squirm with the knife I killed the assholes that tried to hurt you?" He questioned darkly, you didn't want to answer, you felt ashamed.

Eddie's hand that circled your panties cut contact, and you gasped, your eyes opening, he cupped your face harshly. "Fucking answer me." You looked into his dark eyes, and you nodded, simply. You needed him.

"Words, need your words." His grip on your cheeks was harsh.

"Yes- yes! I- I need you!" You stuttered over your words but it was good enough for Eddie now as he smirked.

Eddie's rough and demanding demeanor, as well as his protectiveness, was sickly making your panties dampen, you hated to admit it.

His hands let go of your face as they returned to their place, and his finger easily slipped past your panties as they entered into you without warning, you whimpered loudly.

“S’fucking soaked for me, angel.” He purred against your ear, his hands gliding in and out of you easily as your whimpers were blissful to his ears.

The knife in his hand was still gliding your thighs, his lips harshly collided against yours as you were left out of breath.

“Eds…” The words slipped past your lips in a state pure of euphoria. He focused his one finger on your spot, causing you to almost scream out, as he pushed his other thick fingers into your dripping cunt.

“Look at you, doll…” He murmured.

“I haven’t even fucked you and you’re already dripping. Waiting to get fucked by me, my little slut” He chuckled as his fingers stretched you out, making you gasp.

You were captivated by him and willing to comply to all of his demands. You had been yearning for him to touch you, for you to feel him, for his cock to wreck you utterly.

"Need to get rid of these." He hummed as he swiftly used his knife to cut your panties, you gasped, as the air hit your cunt, whimpering.

"Need... need you." You couldn't take it anymore, you looked up at him doe-eyed, and he almost melted with your words.

"What do you need pretty girl?" He needed more from you.

“Need you between my thighs.” You whimper as he groaned at your words. “Need your cock.”

"Need your cock, inside of me, fillin' me all the way up." Your words are enough for him to quickly free himself from his pants and boxers.

He hissed as his angry red tip, oozing with pre-cum, faced you.

You licked your lips at the sight, spitting in your free hand and taking him in your hand hungrily, giving his cock a few strokes.

"Atta girl... but no fucking, teasin'" His hands were quick to swat yours away, you pouted.

He took the knife again, this time he freed you of your almost transparent blouse. He recognized that blouse immediately, he could almost always see your tits from them, enjoying the way they jumped up and down when he purposefully hit the curbs when you were inside his van. But now he wanted to see them, fully exposed.

The knife was quick to get rid of the tiny blouse. His eyes devoured your bare breasts flashing him, and he groaned at the sight.

The hand that was free of the knife played with your nipple as he latched onto it, hungrily, sucking, pulling and everything filthy he could possibly think of.

The other hand with the knife was still travelling across your stomach, and then getting closer to your other nipple. always grazing to give you a bit of pain, but a hell lot of pleasure.

"Please, Eds, please." You were begging now, and he loved it.

"Such a lil' slut... begging for me to fuck you, after I just told you I killed all those people..." He mocked, chuckling. You felt your cheeks flush with his words, you were ashamed, but he was far from wrong.

He still had your nipple in his mouth, kissing and nibbling.

"You were fucking made for me." He murmurs.

"This fucking cunt was made for me." He lets go of your nipple, now his hands give your clit a tight pinch.

Eddie lined his angry red tip to your entrance, groaning at the sight of your glistening cunt, waiting to be ruined by him.

Without warning, he pinned you further against the wall and pushed himself inside of you, your cunt engulfed him almost instantly as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

It was as if your cunt was made for him, gripping him nicely.

He groaned, your pussy was milking him as he felt nuzzled by your warmthness, he was in pure ecstacy, and he never wanted to let you go.

Your whimpers were getting so much louder now, and he never felt more proud. He growled against your ear and choked you out with his free hand, muzzling out your cries. He watched the way your tits rose up and down, enjoying the sight, making him sink lower into you.

"Look at you, fuck, princess. Takin' my cock so fuckin' well." He groaned.

"This tight fucking cunt was made for me. Made for me to fuckin' use, perfectly made just for me."

Eddie was sure he was in heaven as he rocked his hips roughly and deeper into you, splitting you open until he was sure you were stuffed with his cock.

“D’you know how long I wanted to this, princess?” He asks.

You shake your head, whimpering.

"Up." He demands as he taps your thighs, you oblige immediately wrapping your legs around him.

His thick thighs are pushing your legs wider, “I waited so fucking long to take you. To take this fucking cunt and make it mine, make you mine.”

“D'you know how much I wanted to stuff you with my cock, fill you to the brim till all that pretty little head of yours would be able to think would be my cock.” He growled, harshly gripping into you, your hands tugged on his hair guiding him to go faster.

"You wanted this as much as I do, doll. I can tell, I can tell by the way your sweet little cunt is milkin' my cock, lookin' so fuckin' pretty when you're s'fucked out." His voice was dark now, and being filled fully by him made you whimper once again. You nodded your head.

“S’stuffed with my cock that you can’t even speak, baby?” He asked, smirking. You nodded, needing more, you were moaning loudly now.

“Lookin’ so pretty beggin' for my cock, I knew you would love the idea of me killing for you, didn't you? You love the fact that I'd do any fucking thing for you” He purred, his hips pushing against you.

You knew it was wrong, what Eddie did was wrong, and you surely knew that him stretching you open with his cock right after he told you he was a murderer was wrong, but fuck, he just felt so damn good.

“Needed this so badly, needed to stuff this tight lil’cunt to the brim, show you who owns it.” He moaned loudly.

He was quick to slip out of you, and you gasped, he didn't give you any time to process anything as he plunged himself inside your walls in a glorious thrust once again, stretching you open once again, and making you scream out.

“Yours, yours, yours” You murmured, trying your best to adjust to his huge cock again.

Eddie eyed you as you squeezed your eyes shut again, your head fell back from pleasure, your pretty lips were shaped in an 'o' form, and he could tell you were getting close.

“F-fuck, baby. You're squeezing so tight around my cock. You gonna cum, sweetheart?" He asked, groaning.

With both of his hands he was now holding onto your waist, the knife in his hands was dangerously close to your skin, grazing every once in a while, and he couldn't help but sickly smile as you had a terrified look in your face as it did so.

Eddie decided you looked so pretty when you couldn't decide if you were terrified of him or you wanted him inside of you forever.

He was pounding into you harder now, and you couldn't help but nod, you wanted to, you needed to cum.

"Needa cum..." You whined and Eddie's eyes glimmered with lust.

“Look at my lil' cockslut.” He purred.

“Cum for me, slut.”

"Cream my cock, sweetheart." He didn’t stop his movements as he roughly rutted his cock inside of you, your sweet cunt taking all of him as you released around him, gush of wetness pulsing out of you.

"Shit... shit... Look at you, f-fuck." He praised.

"Squirtin' all over my cock, f-fuck, made just for me."

Strained moans escaped your lips as the sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with Eddie's groans were all that was filling the room.

"Your cunt gets so tight right after you cum, shit- shit." He moaned, his movements were animalistic now, he wasn't stopping.

"Don't think I can hold much anymore, sweetheart. Need to fill up your sweet fucking cunt." He cooed.

“Fuckin’ made for me. You’re mine and mine only.” He grunted as he pounded deeper into you now.

“Gonna fill that tight lil' cunt so deep with my cum, sweets. Paint your walls white” He cooed. "Gonna dump my load so fuckin' deep inside you, you'll never get it out, sweetheart."

Eddie’s deep growls and his animalistic noises filled the room as he sheathed himself further into you before releasing his warm seeds within your waiting cunt, his hot cum quick to fill your insides, causing you to groan once again.

He let out a last groan as he slowly attempted to come down from his high. He felt ecstatic, his big smirk never leaving his face.

After he caught his breath, his cock growing soft inside of you, he sighed. Finally relaxed, he pulled out of you with a huge grin plastered onto his face as he looked down to admire his work.

His warm cum was leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs. He was quick to stuff back all of his cum that tried to leave your pretty glistening pussy.

"Mine." He murmured as he placed a sloppy kiss against your lips, taking you in his arms as he carried you to your bed, so you could have your well-deserved rest.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #ghostface!eddie #ghostface!eddie munson #stranger things imagine

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