#and it makes his giggles rumble through his whole body

[servicpop]

✶ ﹑ㅤspring break flingㅤ﹏

NOW STARRING : deliquent (still not yet) bf Adrien x good student m!reader

「ㅤNSFWㅤ」ㅤSpring break is around the corner and the school plans a trip to the water park! Adrien and reader are still on tough terms but Adrien can't bear another moment to see you with anyone else!

✙ warnings — reader is kinda pervy and is suggested to take interest in their friend | jealous Adrien, risky/semi-public sex, bite marks, degradation, he's very possessive, dubcon(?), slightly overstim

notes ,, mushed both requests for Adrien together

It had been a week or so after the whole cockblocking incident with Adrien, but you've learnt to shake it off. Besides, the more important thing was the trip to the water park that was planned by your school to congratulate the seniors for their hard work in studying! Of course, being the student president, you were assigned to assist in the event and help everything go as smoothly as planned. Unfortunately, this meant that you had to sacrifice your time to actually get in the water and swim to help out, but you didn't mind as much knowing how many little kids have peed in the pools...

On the day of the trip, you were given a badge that adorned your name and the smaller letters of 'helper' underneath it as well as a corny custom shirt with your school's logo on it that was made by your teachers. Getting onto the bus didn't require much from you since your real job was to walk around the park aimlessly and stop any of the students from accidentally— or purposefully— committing a crime that would get the whole school banned. As you ushered your friend to sit on the window seat of the bus, like the gentleman you are, you opted for the isle seat so you could stretch your legs throughout the 3 hours it would take to reach your destination.

One by one your classmates shuffled through the bus, picking and choosing their ideal seats with smiles across their faces; it wasn't often that the school provided a field trip like this. Your eyes locked onto a few of Adrien's friends walk by your seat, but none of them were the man himself. You figured someone like him would rather skip school trips, in fact, you can't remember the last time you actually saw Adrien whenever there was a school trip. It would be nice to have him around sometimes though, just once. But you couldn't think like that! Not after all the stress he's caused you, and— speak of the devil; you hear that familiar rumble of Adrien's laugh as he walks onto the bus. You take the iniative to turn your head away from Adrien in an attempt to ignore him, your friend picked up on your actions and giggled at you.

A lingering brush of warmth against the skin of your forearm made your hairs rise and your body shiver. That bastard purposefully used his calloused fingertips to tease you. Your head whipped back and you caught a glimpse of Adrien's smirk before he turned his head away from your direction. He always found ways to make your heart race, and you couldn't tell if it was endearment or anger.

The sun was harsh against your skin as you wandered the premises of the water park. The whole process of trying to get a shitload of people into the water park was a nightmare and feeling Adrien's piercing gaze on your back 24/7 wasn't helping either. But finally, after that agonising hour, you were left to the peacefulness of your own thoughts as you ventured the park. You felt a tingling sensation of regret in your heart from seeing all your classmates splash around in the water. It must've been heavenly in this heat.

One of your friends must've noticed how flushed you were getting from the heat and called you over to the food court, "You look like you're dying, prez," having your friend call you 'prez' in a shortened version of president was kind of corny but you dismissed it nonetheless. One thing good about this heat was the fact that you could see the builds of all the guys, and your friend was no exception. "Is that the heat making your eyes wander or...?" Your friend let out a light-hearted chuckle when he saw the way your eyes drooped down to peak at his body. Damn, were you really that much of a pervert? You playfully nudge his shoulder in embarrassment before he offered to buy you icecream from one of the food stalls, and you follow him more than willingly.

"Who's that?" Adrien witnessed you get swept away and he couldn't help his jaw from clenching. Without a word, he left the wave pool almost immediately to tail after you, leaving his friends confused by the sudden mood change.

You and your friend bought ice-blocks and sat down together on a nearby bench, unaware that Adrien was watching from a distance. The bystanders shuffled away from him and some mothers even pulled their children away from Adrien. You bought the raspberry flavoured one and your friend bought the pineapple, and surprisingly it was better than the ones you bought at the store. "Hey, let's switch, I wanna taste yours," and before you knew it, your raspberry flavoured ice block was replaced with his pineapple one. You didn't mind too much since you were friends so you shrugged it off and tasted his, the tangy and sweet taste twirled on your tongue with the hint of sourness pricking your taste buds. Not bad, but the raspberry one was better, "I like mine better—" a hand grabs your collar and tugs you off the seat like a kitten being held by its scruff. You knew exactly who it was from the way your friend's eyes widened with slight fear — he was a deliquent after all, people were naturally afraid.

"What is your problem?!" You struggle in his grasp as Adrien dragged you into one of the bathroom stalls, slamming the door shut and locking it. You wince when your back is shoved against the wall and caged in. Adrien really did have a thing for pinning you to a wall in public places huh... "What are you doing with that guy?" You can hear the anger rumbling in his voice as his eyes pierced straight into your soul, his hand gripped your jaw, preventing you from looking away, "Sharing saliva like that? You know that's an indirect kiss right?" You could hear the sand on the floor crunch under the weight of Adrien's foot and you only really noticed now that he was wet. Droplets of water hung at the tips of his hair and created a layer of shine that glossed over his abs.

"If you want a guy so bad, I'm right here you fucker," Adrien's breath hitches at his own statement and he found his hand prying off his swimwear, groaning at how the water stuck to his skin and made it a slight bit more inconvenient to take off. He was impatient, could you really blame him? "He's just a friend," you retaliate, doing nothing to stop him but nothing to encourage him either, "Are you really upset over that—" And once again he's cut you off, flipping you so your back pressed agaisnt his chest. You grimace at your clothes getting damp from the water on his body and you flinch at the sudden coolness that pooled at your back. He doesn't respond to you, rather, he clasps your belt and slides it off. Was he really planning to fuck you in the bathroom of a water park?

"You looked at that guy like you were dating him, are you?" Adrien bit back. Literally. He latched his teeth onto the curve of the side of your neck to your nape, sinking his teeth into your skin, laying his tongue flat agaisnt it. You wanted to respond, you wanted to tell him that you were dating him and that you weren't exclusive. But were you really in the position to speak up when Adrien's pulling your boxers down and rubbing his cock along the line of your ass? As much as you tried to contort you body into turning to look at him, his body pressed you flush against the wall. You couldn't see his face but from the little groan he let out, you could tell he craved this as much as you did if not more.

He spat on his fingers, coating them in his saliva as make-shift lubricant before lining the tips of his fingers to your rim. "Does he know your body like I do, huh?" He skipped the initial step of 'one at a time' and pushed two fingers inside you; the slight burn caused your body to squirm uncomfortably. Your palms lay flat against the wall for stability as Adrien rocks your hips along with his fingers that curl inside you, eliciting a small groan. The way his fingers have already found your prostate was insane and he certainly wasn't going to let this discovery go to waste. Repeated thrusts of his fingers bullied your prostate, your voice spilt out like water, filling the room with lewd sounds. "Fuck," You cursed under your breath; your teeth catching on your bottom lip, biting down in a futile attempt to muffle the noises.

You couldn't see his face but you knew damn well Adrien was grinning like a Cheshire cat. He removed his fingers from your ass, slipping them out with a small pop before slapping his dick agaisnt the curve of your ass connected to your back, "I don't care if we aren't together. I don't care if you don't want me, I want you more than my next breaths and no one can take that away from me." Adrien's voice was heavy and sultry as he spoke to you, and his breath fanned your ear, causing goosebumps to run down your spine. The shuffling behind you indicated that Adrien was moving and suddenly you felt a hand grasp your nape while another found its comfort on your hip. You could barely make it out through Adrien's heavy breathing but he whispered under his breath, "perfect."

The anticipation was eating away at you. You knew Adrien loved taking his sweet time to savour you. Adrien seemed to read your thoughts — or the way your body involuntarily rocked against him — and he finally prodded his tip at your entrance, sliding in slowly with a low growl that reverberated in the tight bathroom stall. Fuck, it felt heavenly. He was able to fit inside you so perfectly, like you were moulded and made just for him. A whine ripped through your throat from both the pain and the pleasure of Adrien thrusting into you. He buried himself to the hilt, circling his hips when he was filly sheathed inside you before pulling out just to pound back into you which pulled out another moan from your lips. All these embarassing noises were saved for him. Just for him.

Adrien had pressed you so close to the wall that every so often the underside of your cock would brush against the cold wall, sending a shock of pleasure up your body. At first Adrien was confused, almost concerned how your body would jerk and his hips stuttered, unsure if he was hurting you. But he later found out the true reason behind it and a grin plastered across his face, "Is it too cold for you?" He cooed with faux concern, "I'll help you warm up," Adrien's voice dropped an octave as the hand that was placed at your nape snaked down to your cock, sliding it between the wall and your poor dick. The sudden warmth was no better, in-fact it was probably worse as now your cock was engulfed in the heat from Adrien's palm. Your mind began blanking when he slid this thumb over your slit, rubbing it repeatedly as he pounded into you from behind. The slow, gentle movement of his thumb contrasted with the harsh and fast thrusting of his hips which didn't help the overstimulation. "Adrien— not both," You whined, trying to pry his hands off your dick weakly but ultimately failing in the end as he pinned your hand back agaisnt the wall, intertwining your fingers with his, "You can take it, c'mon, I know you can," he groaned loving the way you squirmed, trying to escape from the pleasure but also not doing anything to seriously stop it.

Except... you couldn't take it. Adrien rolling his thumb over your tip while he hit your prostate at the same time made you see stars and you couldn't stop yourself from cumming on the spot; white fluid spurted onto the bathroom wall and your moan came out high pitched and shaky. Your voice had always been a turn-on for him so naturally he came too at the sight of you reaching your climax. His hips stuttered before he wrapped both arms around your waist, bear-hugging you as he held you close to his body while he stuffed you full.

The bathroom was now filled with heavy breathing and the slight musk of sweat and sex in the air. "Can you let go of me?" Your words broke the awkward silence and you found yourself unable to move from Adrien's iron grip, "Mm... I wanna stay like this," he groaned like a needy little kid, tightening his grip around your waist as if you were a teddy bear. Adrien grabbed your chin and turned it to the side, allowing him to lean in for a quick kiss which you groan at. He pulls up his swimming shorts and helps you put your clothes back on too, "Don't do that again if you still want your full ability to walk," Adrien warned before swinging the door open and walking out without turning back. Another frustrated groan leaves your throat as you follow him out but in the opposite direction with a slight limp.

"God, do you see him limping?" "What do you think he did for Adrien to beat him up like that?" "Damn, I hope he's okay, that looks like it hurts." You could hear the soft murmurs and whispers of your classmates when you walked out of the stall, they really were clueless, huh?

notes ,, long awaited... more adrien...

#bottom male reader #male reader #oc x male reader #male x reader #mlm #sub male reader #male x male #servicpop — fics/drabbles #servicpop — ocs

[s4no]

TOKREV: STONER HCS

+ feat: ken ryuuguji, keisuke baji, mitsuya takashi, hanma shuji, seishu inui, sanzu haruchiyo, wakasa imaushi & shinichiro sano

+ cw: fem!reader, drugs (weed + cigarettes), nsfw themes (ptv, cockwarming)

+ summary: ever wonder what they're like when they get high?

+ a/n: i am smoking a blunt while writing this so ignore the typos

ಇ  𝗞𝗘𝗡 𝗥𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗝𝗜. after a long day of grueling work, draken likes to relax by smoking a blunt. he'll roll it after he's locked up his shop and walk into your apartment with it behind his ear, his forehead and fingers smudged with motor oil. it's become part of your routine to walk up to him as he places it between his lips and light it for him, watching him take a hit and blow the smoke out to the side. you two pass it back and forth while he cleans up in the bathroom, and then relocate to the living room once he's done, lounging on the couch while discussing your day. the more he smokes, the closer he gets, subconsciously closing the distance and gravitating toward you. he gets touchy when he's high, and you hum as calloused hands absentmindedly wander over the curves and valleys of your body, tracing abstract shapes into your skin. and when you run out of things to talk about, you sit two there in a comfortable silence, merely enjoying each other's presence.

ಇ  𝗞𝗘𝗜𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗝𝗜. the first thing baji likes to do when he wakes up is smoke, especially if it's the weekend. you'll wake up to him packing the bong, bathed in golden light pouring in through the window. "mornin', kitten." he grins down at you, sharp canines poking past his bottom lip, "wake and bake?" the rips he takes from the bong are impressive, and when you try to copy him, you inevitably end up coughing and sputtering. he always snickers and takes the bong from of your hands, rubbing his palm over the center of your chest. "breathe, baby, breathe." by the time you manage to catch your breath, he's finished packing another bowl— one that he single-handedly smokes before finally getting out of bed. without fail, his stomach rumbles and he shoots you a sheepish look, "you want breakfast? i'll make pancakes." throwing the covers off you, you run after him to the kitchen, knowing he'll most likely start a fire if you aren't there to help.

ಇ  𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗜 𝗠𝗜𝗧𝗦𝗨𝗬𝗔. mitsuya mainly smokes in social settings. whenever someone offers him a joint at a party, he always accepts it with a gracious smile. surprisingly, a little weed makes him even more charismatic than usual, and he's able to entertain the whole room without even trying. but he walks a fine line because once he's true and properly stoned, he becomes more introverted and ends up clinging to you like a lost puppy. you'll be dancing in the middle of the floor and he'll walk up to you and just throw his arms around you. "you high, babe?" you giggle, leading him toward the couch. "mhm, feel really good." he hums, and the next thing you know, he's pulled you down onto the sofa and buried his head in your chest. "so comfy.." it doesn't matter that his antics attract the stares of other partygoers, he will cuddle you in front of everybody and he'll do it without a hint of shame.

ಇ  𝗦𝗛𝗨𝗝𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗠𝗔. hanma will swear up and down that nothing's better than a cigarette after sex. but sometimes, he takes it step beyond that— rolling a fat blunt and lighting it up while you two lay naked in bed. he's never embodied his tattoo more than he does when he blows the smoke out from his nose; he's the personification of sin and temptation with the blunt perched between his fingers. he offers it to you but when you go to take it from him, he lifts it up out of your reach. "you want a hit, doll?" there's a smirk on his face as he blows the smoke directly into your face, and it only grows when you start to pout. "open." you follow the simple command without hesitation and you're rewarded for it when he brings the blunt to your parted lips, holding it for you while you inhale. he doesn't miss the way your eyes turn glassy from the high. in fact, it makes him hard all over again and by the time he's putting out the roach on the ashtray, he's ready for round two.

ಇ  𝗦𝗘𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗨 𝗜𝗡𝗨𝗜. inui has a couple of guilty pleasures and one of them is smoking right before bed. he'll pick out an indica that's sure to help him sleep and pack his bowl full of it. you can visibly see the tension leech out of his body, his shoulders sagging lower with every hit he takes. most nights, he'll doze off after finishing it, but if he manages to stay awake long enough for you to join him in bed, he'll pull you close and wrap his arms around you. soft lips pepper kisses against the crook of your neck, and when you laugh and tell him it tickles, he tightens his hold on you and starts sucking a bruise into your skin. "this tickle too?" he murmurs, knowing damn well what he's doing. his hands slip beneath your shirt, squeezing your tits and playing with your nipples until they're poking through the fabric. then, he sheathes himself inside of you, making you warm his cock while he drifts off to sleep.

ಇ  𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗨𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗬𝗢 𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗭𝗨. sanzu is all about optimizing his pleasure and one way he does this is by smoking while he fucks you. you'll be on your hands and knees, back bent into a pretty arch as he thrusts against your backside. his pace is steady but brutal, one hand gripping your hip while the other lifts the joint to his lips. "mm, fuck.." he groans, voice raspy (from the smoke or how tightly you're squeezing him, you're not sure). "that's it— haah, yeah, that's it, angel. take this fuckin' cock." if he's feeling generous, he'll lean over you and extend the joint out for you to take a hit, but oftentimes, you're being fucked too hard to even think about accepting the offer. if, on the off chance, you are able to take a hit or two, you severely start to struggle holding yourself up. but he takes it in stride, pushing you down so your stomach is flat against the bed, cheek pressed against the sheets. "there you go, just lay down and take it."

ಇ  𝗪𝗔𝗞𝗔𝗦𝗔 𝗜𝗠𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜. not only is wakasa a stoner, but he's also a plug. he stays stocked up with flower, wax, and cartridges; and he has a revolving door of customers at his disposal with tokyo university located half an hour away. he smokes several times a day every day, and he's built up an insane tolerance as a result. when you come over to hang out, he'll easily face a blunt while giving you your own to hit as you please. "you tryna keep up with me, princess? don't overdo it." but really, he wouldn't mind if you did. you're so cute when you're high out of your mind, so pliant in his hands. his teasingly lips brush over yours, so lightly it can hardly be considered a kiss, before he shotguns the smoke into your awaiting mouth. though, if you truly do start to get too faded, he'll pluck the blunt right out of your hands and put it out. "aht," he chides, "that's enough. can't have you greenin' out on me, can i?"

ಇ  𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗢 𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗢. shinichiro is a lightweight compared to his best friend, not because he doesn't have access to weed, but because he really only smokes it on special occasions. for his last birthday, wakasa brought over some wax and shinichiro could only blink when his friend pulled a blow torch out from his bag. after some convincing, he took several hits, but he nearly coughed up a lung in the process. that was the highest you've ever seen your boyfriend— too stoned to even keep his head from falling over against his shoulders. "you good, shin?" he nods slowly in response, eyelids drooping as if they're being weighed down by something heavy. he stayed on the couch for the rest of the day, asking you to make him something to eat every couple of hours. "shit.." he mutters to himself, "food really does taste better when you're high." you and wakasa got quite the kick out of his blissed out state.

#♡⃕ tokyo revengers #tw weed #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #draken x reader #draken x you #baji x reader #baji x you #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya x you #hanma x reader #hanma x you #inui x reader #sanzu x reader #sanzu x you #wakasa x reader #wakasa x you #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro x y/n

[bits-and-babs]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐁𝐨𝐲 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Previous Joel Fics: Mule [5.1K], Atta Girl [10.2K]

Summary: Ellie steals one of Bills magazines and you and Joel decide to see what the fuss is about.

Word Count: 3k

CW: Possible spoilers for episode 3, but I haven’t seen it! Based on the game. Heavily inspired by my bestie @foxilayde. A much lighter fic than the last few, a little bit of dry comedy, a little bit of playful Joel, but also a little bashful. Consumption of porn magazine, companions to lovers(?), p in v sex, fingering. Not proof read.

Tease: “Can feel you squeezin’ me. You gonna c** for me?”

“N-Now Ellie, that ain’t for kids-“

“Woaaah!” Ellie had exclaimed, holding up the magazine rustling in her hand by her fingertips, her arm outstretched to take in the whole double page, “How- How the hell would he even walk around with that thing?!”

That had piqued your interest, eyes snapping up to the rearview mirror. Ellie was giggling, grinning from ear to ear as Joel turned in his seat to snatch the paper emblazoned with PLAYGIRL in red lettering from her hand.

“Would you jus’-“

“Hold your horses!” Ellie had insisted, “I wanna see what all the fuss is about!”

You hadn’t said anything at the time, chuckling at the way Joel’s cheeks flushed as Ellie asked all kinds of inappropriate questions. It was only when she discarded the pornographic magazine on the floor of the truck at the end of her smutty inquisition and fell asleep on the back seat upon Joel’s insistence that you made a note of where she had dropped it in the footwell.

Joel, having stopped to rest, slept in the front seat. His head tilted forwards; a gentle snore indicated he was out cold. With some courage and a little luck, you managed to grab the magazine without waking either of the sleeping duo and exit the truck.

Settling back in the bed of the pickup truck now and minding how uncomfortable it was to lean against the metal, you set a flashlight against the floor, open up the worn pages of the filthy magazine and chew nervously on your lower lip.

Of course, you weren’t to judge Bill for his sexuality. You never had before the outbreak, and there certainly wasn’t any point in being a bigot when the world had ended. In fact, thumbing through each crinkled page, you can’t help but thank Bill for his impressive collection of smutty male pages.

Each page had a collection of pictures and articles on everything from the ‘best sex positions for your zodiac signs’ to ‘average penis size of men around the world’. Clearly photographed in the 80s, based on the moustaches alone, each man photographed in a multitude of poses was muscular, slathered in oil, and donning the tiniest speedos while exhibiting the most prominent bulges beneath the aquablade fabric.

Ellie was right, how do they walk around with those things?

One, in particular, caught your eye; the sunset-orange speedos sat snug against the globes of his ass. The muscles in his back were defined, rippling with each of his poses. They were so clear beneath his golden tan you could probably label each picture like an anatomy textbook. He was pretty, and he made your face warm up.

“That your type?” A gruff, rumbling voice makes your body jolt in shock, inhaling a petrified gasp.

Joel had stepped out of the truck while you were distracted by the glutes and pectorals of the gorgeous male models, catching you off guard as he walked up behind you. He crossed his arms over his chest, biceps straining the sleeves of his denim shirt.

“Mhm- N-No! No, I was just reading about how standard American men have a less-than-average dick length,” you lie smoothly to cover up being caught red-handed, using some of the data you had read a few pages back. “What about yours? Is your moody personality compensating for something?”

“You ain’t funny,” he answers flatly, refusing to rise to your childish jabs as he climbs up into the truck bed with you. You catch a glimpse of the pistol buried in the waistband of his jeans, and your pulse races faster than it had with any of the round bums you’d seen in the pages.

“I’d say I’m hilarious. It’s the trauma of experiencing The End. It builds chara-cter,” you ramble, only stuttering when Joel manages to pry the glossy papers from your hands. His eyes scan over the page with a look of disinterest.

“But outta date, don’t you think?” He grumbles in that grumpy, man-child way he does that always has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He’s pointing at the very 80s-style porn staches.

“Dunno, wouldn’t exactly call your facial hair ‘trendy’,” you scoff, watching him flick to the page titled in bold capitals: EXCITING SEX TRICKS TO TRY!

It’s ridiculous. You’re both grown adults, and it’s not as though the two of you were born during the outbreak. You’d both been through high school, and no doubt had sexual partners before Cordyceps took hold of the world. However, the prospect of talking sex with Joel Miller was mortifying.

You can feel the heat creeping up your throat as his eyes scan the sections of information with such indifference that you’re almost sure that he’s bored. Perhaps he was. It wasn’t as though you had caught him taking some time to himself during your great journey.

Joel is so lost in the writing that you allow yourself a moment to take in the slope of his nose, the slant of his cupid's bow framed by his greying moustache. Beneath his creased, frowning brow, his long lashes surround the deep brown of his eyes as they flick back and forth across the page. He was a handsome man. Was there no one waiting for him back in the Boston QZ? He’d never sa-

“The fuck is guddlin’?” Joel speaks out, shocking you from your thoughts with a start. You blink slowly, probably looking really fucking stupid as you choke on the words stuck in your throat when Joel looks up at you with a quirked brow.

“I-“

“I mean, I know guddlin’ in a fishin’ sense,” he interrupts, pointing to the page and prodding it with the tip of his finger, “Not in a-… Not in this sense, though.”

“Does-… Does it not explain?” You ask him quietly, your mouth suddenly very dry. Joel gives a light shrug, his eyes wandering over the page in search of a definition.

“Oh- Here,” he points out. He takes a second to read, his tanned skin tinged with pink as the words sink in. “Uhm… It’s- Well, it’s-“

Poor Joel looks as though he’s seconds away from an aneurysm attempting to explain the bizarre sex act without actually saying it. You scoff, snatching up the crinkled magazine and reading over the asterisk in small print at the bottom of the information page.

‘To insert one's finger(s) into a woman's vagina to pleasure her digitally while simultaneously having penile-vaginal intercourse with her.’

You pause, your lips parting as you look at Joel with a weak laugh. He’s rubbing at the back of his neck, eyes cast somewhere on the horizon in an attempt to avoid your own. He’s as embarrassed as you are, it seems, clearing his throat with a weak chuckle.

“Well,” he mumbled, eyes flicking to the magazine, “Must’a been good for it to end up in that.”

You nod slowly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you glance down at the black and white print that appears to all blur together in embarrassment. “Mhm.”

You can feel your pulse between your thighs, your skin tingling beneath what you assume is Joel’s gaze. It’s crude, utterly filthy, but you can imagine the stretch, the feeling of his weapon-calloused fingertips coaxing your g-spot as he slowly sinks into you.

Slowly, with trembling hands, you close the magazine with a nervous laugh, discarding it with a half-hearted toss over the edge of the truck bed and onto the roadside. “Stupid shit anyway…”

Your aimless comment is met with silence, and you’re far too humiliated to face the notion of looking at Joel. You imagine he thinks you’re insane, having caught you reading and enjoying this filth.

“… Take it you ain’t tried that before?” Joel’s gruff voice cuts through the sound of the crickets in the surrounding grass, and you can’t help but laugh, simply shaking your head and avoiding his gaze.

A delicate brush of skin against your ankle sparks something raw up your spine. You look at it quickly, seeing Joel’s fingertips tracing the rough circumference of the joint beneath them. Your skin prickles pleasantly, and you look up at your partner- your smuggling partner- through your lashes.

His expression is firm, but his eyes betray his outward calm display. They’re flickering between your lips and eyes, his exhale slow as he attempts to force out some words he appears afraid to put out into the atmosphere.

“Do you… Do you wanna try it?”

It’s haphazard, delivered clumsily, and so utterly unlike Joel. You can see the cringe in his expression when the sentence settles in the air, and your heart lurches when you see he’s sincere. That he wants you and that he’s letting you know after years of hiding it from you.

God, you don’t even give him another second to doubt himself. You’re scrambling into his lap, straddling it and pressing your mouth to his in a kiss that hurts more than it pleases, his teeth scraping your lower lip and your tongue tracing his own.

You can feel it through the thin, worn denim of his jeans, the jump of his cock when you settle your crotch down against the seam. His hands are vicious, grasping handfuls of your thighs, your ass, your hips. He could bruise the shape of his fingerprints into you, and you’d thank him, would beg him to put you through the pain again to brand you as his.

He groans out your name into your mouth, but it sounds more like a growl rattling in his chest. You’re fumbling in the low lighting with his belt buckle, the clinking of the clasp bringing you relief when you free Joel’s hips from their leather confines. It’s almost frantic, the pace you set as you try and fail, try and fail before you successfully pop the button of his jeans and yank them over his hips. There’s not enough time to rid him of them completely, so Joel settles with the waistband resting just above his knees.

“C’mere,” Joel husks, his lips brushing yours as he speaks and forces your cargo pants over your hips without even bothering to let down the zip. It hurts a little, smarts, but it sparks something desperate in you when you realise it’s pulled down your underwear too, leaving you exposed to his gropes.

One hand grasps the globe of your asscheek, giving a brutally harsh squeeze. The other sinks between your thighs. Joel’s groan of delight when he finds the insides of your thighs soaked causes your cunt to throb before he’s even touched it.

"Is that all me?" He asks you, his voice dipping to a deep, spine-shuddering hum. He sweeps the calloused pad of his index fingertip up the inside of your thigh and through your pussy lips. You can hear the wetness there when he notches against your clit, when he sinks the very tip of his fingers into your entrance. "That all me, or did you like the pornstache more than I realised?"

You usually would scoff in Joel's face, tell him to stop being so ridiculous and self-absorbed, but he's slowly circling your frayed bundle of nerves with his thumb, and your jaw is slack. You can't even think of a witty retort, just grasping feebly at the collar of his denim shirt.

"I'm gonna take what I want from that lack of response," he fills the silence for you, an infuriating smirk settling on his lips as he sinks his fingers inside of you.

The lack of resistance and eagerness from your cunt catches you both off guard, Joel groaning in delight as you take the length of his digits so easily. "Fuck~”

You whimper out Joel’s name, thighs trembling on either side of his lap as he coaxes his fingers towards him inside of you and wasting no time in finding the spot that would bring tears to your eyes.

“Ah,” he breathes, a smirk playing on his lips when he sees your torso crumple inwards as his touch brushes something electric inside you. “Ah- that’s it, ain’t it?”

It’s pathetic. You want to answer him, even sob out wordlessly as the wave of pleasure crashes through you at the delicate touch, but your words are stalled in your throat as Joel circles that sensitive wall inside you with his nimble fingers.

“C’mere,” he growls, seeing your expression contorted desperately and deciding he can’t wait much longer. One hand is still busy with building your orgasm, and his other clumsily pulls down his boxers and exposes his ruddy length.

Joel gives you barely a moment to absorb what it is you see, managing to process the pink tinge to the velvet skin of his cockhead and the smear of precum that glistens under the low lighting before he’s hoisting you over him, knees on either side of his hips.

It’s filthy and disgusting and raw, the way he uses his free hand to sweep his cock across your clit. It sparks something dangerous deep inside your abdomen, another wave of increasingly unmanageable bliss that wraps around your spinal cord and constricts your lungs. You barely choke out his name, your fist punching his shoulder as if to say, ‘stop teasing!’ before Joel sinks into your wet heat with a broken rasp of your name.

Tight. Everything is coiled up so tightly inside you as the width of Joel’s cock-head pushes past your entrance, your walls swallowing him and squeezing him as he sinks in slowly. Your fingernails are digging into his shoulders through his denim shirt, tears of bliss welling in your eyes as he fills you completely. All the while he continues to circle and poke and prod at your g-spot, simultaneously building up your orgasm and wrecking you.

“That’s it,” he husks, breathless as he helps you settle down to the hilt of his dick. He’s nudging your cervix, and you feel so impossibly full that your body is trembling around him, pushed to its absolute limit as your tears stream down your cheeks. They drip from your chin, leaving deeper wet stains across the faded blue of his shirt.

Then he’s shoving his hips upwards and into you, and it’s like you can’t hold onto him tight enough. You’re scrabbling for some kind of grip that can brace you against the simultaneous stimulation of his thrusts and his fingers circling something mind-numbingly raw inside you. The rusty parts of the van creak beneath the motion, and between your slurred curses and weak cries of his name, you’re trying to warn him to be quiet, not to wake Ellie.

You can barely manage to coax him on, eyes rolling back and forehead falling forward onto his shoulder as you give in entirely to the creeping orgasm that picks up your spine.

“C-Can feel you,” Joel stumbles over his own words and laughs, his cock twitching inside you as he continues to drag in and out of your abused pussy, “Can feel you squeezin’ me. You gonna cum for me?”

You want to slap him. Want to make him walk to Pittsburgh with this cocky attitude, this cavalier facade that is so unlike his usual brusque persona. Instead, you’re keening for him, nodding your head against his collarbone and squeaking out your best impression of a ‘yes, Joel, please, please!’

Shit- it’s coming. You feel it racing through you before he even delivers his devastating blow. You think it can’t get any more intense, that it can’t feel any better than this, until he’s pushing his hips upwards and manoeuvres his hand to brush his thumb against your swollen, sensitive clit.

The print of his thumb doesn’t even make it a full rotation before your orgasm comes roaring forwards, slamming through your body to the point it’s almost painful in the best way. You’re quick to smother your scream of his name, biting down hard on the denim fabric at Joel’s throat and releasing the devastating shout of his name into the fibres between your teeth.

Poor Joel stumbles with how hard your body clamps down on him, his galloping thrusts reduced to sloppy stutters of his hips as a grating, pained groan rattles through his ribs beside your ear. Distantly, you can feel him pulsing inside you, filling you until his cum is spilling down the sides of his cock.

“God-“ He chokes out, voice catching in his throat as you heave for breath. It’s not as though he has the energy to lift you from him, still buzzing. You’re somewhere else entirely, vision blurry and consciousness far outside the dermis walls of your body.

Slumped against Joel, you focus on breathing. How do you do it again? In and out… In and out. It’s embarrassing, the way he’s left you unsure of essential bodily functions. The ease with which he’s numbed your mind and body.

Ironically, though, he makes it easier to find your way back to yourself. His steady, albeit heavy, breathing ticks like a metronome, easing you down from the impossible high you’ve ascended beneath his touch. He smells like salty sweat, like mud that cakes his boots and the truck's tyres.

“You think maybe we should pick that magazine back up?” Joel mumbled into your hair, oddly quiet and almost shy despite the blunt delivery of the query.

Pausing, you glance up at him through your lashes and catch a tinge of embarrassment on his cheeks. He’s staring down at the sidewalk next to the tyres, no doubt eyeing up the pages strewn across the cement flags.

“… Well,” you whisper, voice hoarse, “You never know what survival skills we might need. With your blueprints for Molotovs and upgrading weapons and my articles on ‘bizarre sex positions’, we’re bound to survive the apocalypse-“

“Alright, darlin’,” Joel attempts to speak you down from your amused ramblings, made awkward by the crudeness of the conversation once again.

“I mean, what the fuck is the ‘Pretzel Dip’?”

“Fuck if I know,” he admits with an air of chagrin.

“… You’re not much of a playboy, are you Miller?”

“Shut up and put your pants on.”

END

@hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @welcometostayingawake @syrma-sensei @ethanhoewke @polaroidpetal @foxilayde @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @astroboots @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @hold-our-destiny @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @cottagebunny9 @bit-dodgy-innit @peachyproserpina

#joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader #the last of us #hbo the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #1k+ club

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

You teach Ghost a new skill

PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader 

WARNINGS: smut || 18+ only MDNI ||

A/N: ...it's so horny...

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

____

It’s been a long evening, and you’re tired.   Wrung out.

And so your first instinct (governed solely by delirious tiredness at this point) is to laugh at Ghost’s words.  Not because they’re funny, but because they’re—quite literally—unbelievable.   You look from him to Johnny, and then back to him, before your smile falters and falls entirely.  Oh fuck, he’s serious.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve never eaten pussy.”

“No.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter.  “Lt…I’m finding that very hard to believe.”

“Believe what y’want, Sergeant.”

Usually, Johnny would intervene, ever the peace-maker between the two of you.  But not tonight.  Tonight he just watches the two of you, his baby blues brighter and wider than usual as they swing between the two of you as though he’s watching a tennis match. 

“So…what?  You want to try?”

“Mm.”

“You want me to…show you what I like.  While you’re going down on me.”

Ghost looks at you like you’re an idiot, which, in his defence, is how he looks at everyone.  

You’re not entirely sure what to do, so you look to Johnny for help.  What the fuck, you mouth at him, and only when you hear a rumble from Ghost do you turn back to him.      

“Okay…yeah.  Fine. Okay, fine.”  You giggle nervously.  “Can Johnny show you?  He knows what I like.”  When you glance over at Johnny, he’s helpful as ever—nodding sagely at your words.  

He does know what you like, after all.

Ghost only crosses his arms over his chest, and the whole thing makes him look bigger.  More intimidating.  He takes up more room like this, and you may have even called it posturing, except you know that it isn’t.  There is neither the need nor the expectation of posturing between the three of you. 

“Take your clothes off,” Ghost orders, and you scramble to obey immediately.  (Hours in the future from this moment, you’ll think about how they’re the last coherent words he says for a while.  What a man your mighty Lieutenant is, commendable in the absolute dedication and discipline he shows in learning a new craft.)

You watch them as they watch you strip.  You take your time with it—too awkward to make it sexy for them, but enjoying how their eyes greedily linger on the skin your fingertips brush.  They make you feel sexy with just their eyes on you, and at one point, you watch with a sly smile on your face as Johnny touches himself through his trousers.  Just the one hard tug, and his resultant raspy exhale has white-hot arousal coursing through your veins. 

They don’t undress, they don’t even move from their positions, really, and you suppose there are worse things than being the main course for the evening.  When you’re finally bare, Johnny seems to lurch out of his trance and reaches out to you, gently pulling you by your hand into the bed.  And finally, finally, when Johnny kisses you, you can relax into the whole thing.  A contradiction to be sure, but you’ve never felt as relaxed as you do when you pull away from him, gasping for air.  

Ghost is at your back, mask off, warm breath at the nape of your neck.  “Don’t stop on my account, Sergeants.”

It’s hardly a big ask, and you go back eagerly for seconds, latch on to Johnny’s lips while his hands roam the sides of your body.  There’s a comfort in the familiarity of his touch, and you’re left wondering when you’ll have that with both of them.    

So it does come as quite a surprise when (in almost a physical manifestation of your inner thoughts) you feel Ghost’s arms reach out and tug your own behind your back.  You think nothing of it, though, too mesmerised by being the world’s luckiest girl in that moment—trapped in between two men, one making love to your mouth, the other determined to make you flood your panties by just kissing the back of your neck.  

You only barely register Ghost’s movements behind you, hands on your shoulders tugging you backwards into him with care until you’re lying on your back.  The ease with which Johnny moves with you, using his elbows to support his body weight above you, makes you feel like they’ve planned something for you.

But you know that’s not true.  You know that you can’t plan a calamity.

Johnny’s attention moves from your lips to your cheeks to your jaw, while you’ve got your head in Ghost’s lap, who runs eager, gentle hands over your breasts, your belly, your arms—and you can’t help but sigh with how languid and loose you feel right now.  And, almost as if in response, the lizard part of your hind-brain whispers to you about how nice and safe and warm it feels between the two men, being taken care of by them, being spoiled by them.  

They don’t seem in any particular hurry, and so when you cheekily guide Ghost’s hand towards your pussy and he resists, you don’t think anything of it.  But of course, it makes Johnny look up at Ghost and freeze and all the action stops and you want to whine, protest, make your displeasure known in some way, but you don’t get the opportunity.  Ghost shifts, cradling your head before putting it gently down on the bed, leaning closer and closer and oh.  

Kissing Ghost is so different from kissing Johnny.  When Johnny kisses you, it feels like your spine melts, and you’re left a puddle under eager, enthusiastic fingers.  But Ghost is not Johnny.

No, kissing Ghost makes you feel like you’re a bee trying to hold your own against a hurricane.  Try as hard as you want, but the hurricane doesn’t care.  The hurricane barrels through, stopped by nothing and no one, not swayed in the slightest by your courage or endeared to your foolishness.      

Except Ghost isn’t just a hurricane.  

He’s your superior officer, he’s a man you work with, a man you work for, a man you trust in more ways than one, a man who's got both your arms pinned above you.  He coaxes you to let him explore your mouth, urges you to open up to him, and god do you let him.  

So engrossed are you that you don’t even notice the distinct sound of the locking zip ties on your wrists until your body jerks up, and you find that your arms have been bound above your head.  “Ghost!  Wh—”

“Shh,” he murmurs.   “I’ve got ya, yer’alright, pet.  Hush.”

You hush.  When your eyes meet Johnny’s, he’s looking at you with the same steady gaze he gives you in the middle of the battlefield, a look that says it’s alright and you’ve got this and I won’t let anything happen to you.  So you relax and when Johnny climbs back up your body to kiss you again, you let your kiss sum up your trust in him.  He squeezes your right hip, something he’s done a thousand times before you remind you that you’re safe with him, and the final vestiges of apprehension drain out of you.

“Sitrep?” Johnny murmurs, and it makes you smile against his mouth.

“Living,” you answer immediately, and it makes Ghost exhale roughly.

But you know why, you think.  You can step outside of your body for a second, see what Ghost sees.  Your naked body in bed—in his bed—Johnny hovering over you, his clothed cock right over your pussy that throbs from the lack of attention.  

You break your kiss with Johnny and he turns to look at your Lieutenant.  “You ready for your lesson, Lt?”         

It always jars you, how quickly Ghost moves.  He’s surprisingly agile, even with how big he is, especially with how big he is, but he’s kneeling on the floor in a second, hands running over your calves, the back of your thighs and finally coming to a rest on your hips.  The whole time, though, his eyes haven’t left your pussy, and it makes you squirm.  You feel too warm just from his attention, and neither of them have even touched you between your legs yet.

“Now the first lesson is…” Soap uses his middle finger to touch your slit, and then immediately drops it, slides it over your completely, unbearably, slick, hot, neglected cunt.   

“Fuck,” Ghost spits and Johnny hums in approval.  You’re pretty sure you’re about to snap your jaw off its hinges from how tight you’ve got it clutched it shut.  “You hafta see how the bonnie lass is doin,’ alrate?  Check if you’ve been kissin’ her all nice and sweet, just how she likes it.”

Johnny continues to touch you, but warm fingers, bigger, rougher, more calloused, find your clit.  Ghost touches your clit in small, slow circles, and fuck.  You’re bucking your hips into it slightly because you can’t help yourself.  You close your eyes and squeeze them shut, because god, you can all hear how obscenely wet you are right now.  “See now how wet our lass is jus’ from hearin’ us talking about eatin’ that cunt?  That’s what you want, Lt,” Johnny instructs.

It makes you gasp raggedly, feeling like you’ve run a marathon but no.  All you’ve done is lay there, while they masturbate you with just two fingers but every coherent thought has already left your brain and you’re left wondering if you really will lose your mind and have a heart attack by the end of the night.  

“Now here’s a little tip, Ghost,” Johnny says hoarsely, and brings his finger still shiny-wet with your slick up to Ghost’s face.  There’s no hesitation as Ghost wraps his mouth around Johnny’s finger effortlessly.  You’re breathing hard with your mouth slightly open in apprehension, because if they say anything to you right now, you will literally pass out.  Johnny’s face lights up at the lack of thought Ghost seems to give in making out with Johnny’s finger, and he pushes in closer and closer to Ghost until they’re the ones kissing.  

And god.  You see the hint of tongues and they look so damn lost in each other, but they don’t stop touching you.  But goddammit you want their attention on you tonight.  You whine a little, squirm and pull against the zip ties that bind your wrists to the bedpost, but Ghost’s warm, steady hand on your thigh stops you.  Be good, it seems to say.  Be good and endure.  So you do.

When they break apart, Ghost’s quick smirk at you feels like your reward.  

“You…you can put your finger inside me, Ghost.  It’s—I’d really like that,” you say meekly.  You have not once in your life been meek with Ghost and Johnny chuckles slowly.

“Ach, I’m givin’ the instructions tonight, love.  Here,” he says, motioning so Ghostcan replace Johnny’s fingers on your slit with his own.  “Go on, then, Lt.”  His voice drops to a teasing whisper.  “It’s where she’s the warmest…wettest too.  And she’d like it,” he adds, only slightly mocking you, and you laugh breathily. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost croaks, and a tremor runs down your spine when he follows Johnny’s instructions.  It’s like your pussy hears him, floods his fingers, throbs a hot, wicked rhythm against them.   “Y’might be right, Johnny.”  Ghost diligently avoids our clit, running a curious finger over the length of your cunt, then feeling out the tight muscle there, pushing in slowly, slowly.  Gently enough to open you up on his finger.

“Good fuckin’ god, ain’t that a sight,” Johnny breathes, and you clench your fingers in a fist because you need something, anything to relieve the pressure you feel right now.  It hasn’t even been that long that Johnny fucked you, a few days, maybe, but the way you open up around Ghost’s finger, you’d have thought it was weeks.  

After all the build up that felt like torture, your eyes roll back into your head as you feel Ghost move his finger in and out of you, then feeling brave and adding a second.  His movements are precise, a military man through and through, and his eyes never once move from your cunt.  He watches the movement of his own fingers, the muscles in his bicep jumping from how controlled his movements are, and when he pulls them out and brushes them over Johnny’s lips, you can see that they’re absolutely drenched.  

But fuck, they don’t even give you a moment, because Johnny has his eyes closed, allows Ghost to sink his fingers in his mouth so deep, and he kind of…slumps a bit.  Relaxes into it entirely.   His face goes soft and his shoulders drop and Ghost watches him with keen, sharp eyes.  You’re almost convinced they’ve forgotten you’re in the room.   Almost, because, almost in perfect sync, their attention turns back to you.  They’re so in tune with each other, it’s ridiculous.  “Boys,” you gasp.  “Rude to keep a girl waiting, you know.”

“Greedy bitch,” Ghost insists, and pushes his fingers into your mouth instead.  You should bite him for the audacity, but the lingering taste of your own pussy has you weak, and you suck his fingers automatically.  “Be nice, pet.  Or class ends here, yeah?  You can be an outstanding student, while Johnny sucks my cock.”  His words expose the temporary nature of your bravado, and it rushes out of you, making your spine meet the bed again.  You hadn’t even realised how far you’d been arching off of it.

Johnny soothes you, though, shushing you, gentle murmurs of encouragement leaving his mouth effortlessly as two, thick fingers find their way inside you and keep you plugged.  He only turns to Ghost when you’re a gasping, moaning mess.  “Think you can guess wha’ comes next, Lt?”

Ghost adjusts so his face is right in front of your cunt and Johnny leans down to whisper in his ear.  “...like you’re parched, and the lass offers the last drink on Earth, ye?”

Johnny continues the rocking motion of his fingers inside you while Ghost brings his mouth closer to your cunt, and just breathes there.  Even that feels like too much stimulation and when Johnny uses that exact moment to curl his fingers into you in a come hither motion, your whine is loud and drawn out, eyes squeezed shut so tight, you feel a few errant tears leak out the sides.    

When Ghost’s tongue makes contact with you, he doesn’t immediately latch on to your clit like you’d expected, or hoped.  No, he uses his tongue to gently savour your wetness, and considering how much of it there is, you’re sure you’re feeding him mouthfuls of it, just from how close you are to coming.  He finally pulls you out of your misery, though, when his tongue makes the journey to your clit, and when your hips rock upwards, he groans and rises up to chase it.  The tip of his tongue swirls around your clit and down to your pussy, where Johnny’s fingers slide out slowly, so Ghost can suck them clean before they go back inside you and Ghost repeats the whole thing.

You’re only pulled out of the moment for a split second, when you notice Soap’s hand covering  the nape of Ghost’s neck, holding him there against your pussy, and how Ghost lets him.  It only catches your attention because of how submissive it is, how trusting, but you immediately forget why it even matters when his velvet tongue catches on your clit.       

You can hardly believe what’s happening to you right now.  Ghost is adjusting himself enough so your knees go effortlessly over his shoulder and you’re ludicrously exposed to him right now. The same Ghost who exercises restraint in every aspect of his life, is mean and sometimes a bully and strict and fucking scary, has got his nose grinding against your clit right now, while his tongue gathers your arousal from your slit, swallows it and goes back for more. 

You feel that deep, familiar swell in the pit of your belly, and your eyes pop open in panic, because your hands are tied and you can’t even grind into Ghost’s face without any leverage, but then Johnny adds a third finger into you while Ghost sucks on your clit with persistence, and you find that you don’t need that leverage after all.  You can grind into his face just fine.  You turn away and bite your lip hard, but Ghost’s hand shoots up and curls around your jaw, twisting it until you’re facing them again.  

You moan and Johnny coos at you in response. “Stay wi’ us, baby, stay right here,” he murmurs. 

And then, all at once, you’re coming, hard.  It’s almost painful, the pressure of it, the way it makes you want to kick and squeal and cry from how it makes your body curl up in on itself, your spine bowing in half.  Your cry is anguished and deep and rips its way out of your throat, and you think you hear a satisfied rumble from one of your boys, but you don’t know which one.  Your orgasm feels powerful and destructive and you claw at thin air, squirm and move but there’s no getting away from how encompassing it is, how fucking devastating it feels in it’s power. 

You may have drenched Johnny’s fingers and Ghost’s face but you couldn’t care less right now.  You hear one of them chuckle slowly, and you feel yourself gradually fall back onto the Earth.  Ghost has mercifully moved his attention to the insides of your thighs now and Johnny pets your other thigh, and though their touches, any touches feel too much right now, you don’t dare move away from them.  

This time, Ghost crawls up your body to kiss you, tugs at your bottom lip with his teeth, finally  murmurs against your lips.  “Sitrep, Sergeant?”

And you have to smile at that, because this man may hide under layers and layers, but he hides something inside him worth diving into the abyss for.  “Living, Lt.”  His teeth drag along the skin of your throat as he makes way for Johnny to check in on you.  

And oh.  Sweet Johnny’s just smiling at you, hands moving to brush back the sweaty hair at the crown of your head.  “Alright, love?”  

“Yeah,” you say softly, too blissed out to answer.  You float on a cloud, until Johnny speaks, the smirk and mischief in his voice making your eyes shoot open in a panic.

“Last lesson of the day, Lt.  Gotta clean our girl up.”   

#simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #simon riley x reader #simon riley x john mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost smut #soap smut #lumi writes

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ FLIGHTY

tw. uncle!satoru, incest, age gap, breeding, coercion, dirty talk, praise, brief choking, baby as pet name, some jealousy, degradation, corruption kink, sneaking around wordcount. 6.7k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by the amazing @antique-remains ♡ thank you so so much for commissioning me and for being absolutely wonderful!! i really hope you enjoy your fic,, i had a blast writing it so i kinda went a little crazy with the word count but! hgdfsy listen i hear gojo satoru i jump into the deep end i hooopppee you enjoy it lovely!!! <33 and thanks a million to the beta readers ilY so much

gojo satoru x fem!reader

The door rattles with a loud noise as you make it two steps down the hall. Two whole steps before long arms wrap under your shoulders and you’re whirled around against an equally lanky body, while your giggles fill the hall. They echo down the old family house, pristine and proper, and give your mother a well deserved moment of rest as she rolls the suitcases inside. “Hey- There’s my favorite little squirt,” his lithe voice hums gleefully when you press a childishly sloppy peck onto his cheek and squish your face to his shoulder, and Satoru barely bothers to give your mom a quick smile before stealing your entire attention away and putting you into his neck with a smile.

“You gotta visit more frequently, nee-san. I gotta show my favorite niece what I’ve learned at monster school, don’t I?”

Your chubby cheeks glow hot as you parrot him. “Monster!”

“Your only niece. And you’re more than welcome to take a few babysitting shifts, Satoru. Lord knows I could use it,” the soft-spoken woman would then chuckle, and leave you to it.

That’s how it was, always. You remember finding the days where snow stuck to the ground and made the house feel so much toastier, the most lovely of all- no excuses, no exceptions. Not that you could give a reason as to why, back then. It was probably because winter meant family time and holidays and presents, and most of all, it meant packing everything up into the car and driving down for New Years. Without fail, a white winter meant Gojo Satoru — and without fail, you’d look towards him like a world faithfully orbits the sun.

You can’t thank Satoru enough for taking his role so gracefully, at the time. When it was still fun.

Now winter means being locked up in your room while that same man parades around a different princess each year, and makes your start to the new entirely unenjoyable. After a good few hours of hearing the drinking and talking grow louder and louder -and then eventually quieter again, you finally dare peak your head around the corner. Because if you’re lucky, uncle Satoru will have no self-control. And the copious amounts of alcohol that festivities require will leave him blissfully unaware of your scowl at the foreign pair of shoes by the door. Your bare feet pad on the floor as you make your way past the soft rumble of the tv, and into the kitchen to pop open your own box of cake, and another bottle of bubbles for yourself.

The frosting sticks to the roof of your mouth three bites in, and makes everything a lot more palatable. The smell of the obnoxious festive scented candles, the deep beats of the slow make-out music reverberating through the walls of his otherwise impeccable apartment. The knowledge that you’re meant to wait out the inevitable turnaround from festive cheer to loud moans down the hall as the countdown hits 0. It’s been this way for years now, and you find yourself wishing spring would come a little faster.

You’d never be so lucky, though. You drop the fork in surprise when long fingers sneak around your neck to squeeze gently at the soft parts of it, and a breath brushes over the shell of your ear. “Boo.” Festive cheer and a softer familiar musk overtakes your senses.

“Satoru, you dick,” you squeak out a little too loudly, halfway to turning when a strong arm wraps around your hips to allow him to slot a little closer to your back. He peers over your head at the cake, breath dusting over your hair. Uncaring, of course, about the level of appropriateness or the way it sends a shiver up your spine.

“Bit early for a late night snack, isn’t it? You could at least have asked your favorite authority figure to join you.” His smile gleams in the low light of the apartment like a million diamonds, white head of hair tousled and bed-head like. The hand on your hip squeezes ever so softly before you shake him off, and cross your arms over your chest in defiance.

“You’re barely an authority, let alone my favorite. Besides, aren’t you kept busy with… Keiko? Kyoko?”

“—Kimiko. Why?” It’s then you make the mistake of looking up into those perfect baby blues through the half-tinted shades, and despite your earlier frostiness, he still searches for a handhold on your shoulder, softly brushing his thumb along the collar of your shirt. He stares like he can see through you, where your heart beats wildly in your chest. You’d dare bet money that sometimes he definitely tries to. But the calculating glances that flick over your face are kept quiet by a faint hum.

“She’s gone home. I thought maybe we could celebrate New Years together this time.” Satoru is always smiling. It crinkles his eyes, seems to ooze out of him like syrup. He’s good at that. At feeling trustworthy. But— “We still have a good twenty minutes until the fireworks. Come celebrate. For me?” There’s no mistaking the way he leans in to nudge your face up and puts on an exaggerated puppy-like pout. Gojo Satoru is anything but trustworthy.

But hard lessons are slow to stick. You find your mouth opening almost like instinct, sugar-coated tongue running over your lips as he waits. “Fine, until after the fireworks. Only ‘til then.” His mouth corners go a little more cat-like when the grin grows further, and he rubs his heavy palm and long fingers over your head with a soft chuckle.

“Right? You’d never leave your poor old, lonely uncle Satoru alone on a special day, right?”

The couch is abandoned for a slower sort of swinging around the living room once the clock starts getting close, and Satoru places another flute of golden bubbles into your hand— grinning as you move to the beat. Try and resist as you may, Satoru has given you much to be thankful for. The heat of his hand back on your head distracts you from the way the drink goes down too quickly, letting him pick your hand into his to pull you closer. “Have you ever slow danced before, pretty girl?”

You don’t get to say anything before you’re in his arms, hands to his chest and quickly sliding down to wrap around him instead, swallowing down the stirring heat that hits when he chuckles. You must be crazy. Must be. Your heart feels like it’s banging in your throat. But Satoru rests his chin on your head into the embrace, and swallows you up into his arms. And your throat burns like a raging fire yet again. It isn’t like that. It isn’t like that. You’re the one making it weird, and you know it. But you can’t help the goosebumps when he presses a kiss to your crown, or when he pauses to look down at you.

Grinning like he’s got the world in his palm, he leans in to almost brush noses with you. “This is kinda romantic, isn’t it?”

“Gojo Satoru,” you immediately feel the warmth flare up on your cheeks and ears, eyes going wide. But the grin is back instantly, and he chuckles.

“Alright, don’t get your panties into a twist.” The air of his breaths dusts over your nose when he stares, and doesn’t look away. “You’re so obvious when you want something. It’s cute.” He’s awfully, disturbingly pretty. However weird it is to notice that about your own mom’s brother… you never were able to lie yourself out of that conclusion.

The clock ticks loudly, counting down. But you can’t tear yourself away, blinking blankly at the way he gives your face a once over, before those eyes find yours. Glittering brilliantly, pulling at your sanity. You did always adore him. The first few fireworks go off loud in the distance, when your own uncle Satoru dips down and kisses you. You freeze. Warm lips and tongue pressing into your mouth- he full-on kisses you and runs a hand along your neck to pull you into him. A muffled squeak makes it’s way out of you, warm tongue getting to taste all of him. You- you don’t stop it. When he pulls back, his mouth lingers over yours, and that devilish mouth whispers, “happy New Year, baby,” without any ‘sorry’s.

+

The flowers are already starting to bloom in the colorful pots that swing outside the windows when you nurse your own cup of tea, and don’t bother lowering your eyes when bright azures meet your gaze. There’s something there that tingles your tongue, faint memories biting at your conscious, but too swift to grab hold of. You can’t read him anymore. It makes the familiar glint in them feel anxiety inducing. The gaze shifts, and you feel your spine relax. All tall, perfect, unfairly casual grandeur of him goes back to entertaining your cousins and Megumi— and your attention is finally allowed to shift back to your mom.

“Deary me… That child seems like he’ll never grow up,” she softly chimes, turning your way to take your hands, “I bet you’re twice the adult he is.” Her slight frown is one of fondness though, of care and concern; all of which only makes your stomach drop further. Your mom’s so enamored with her tight-knit little dream of a family. She’s completely unaware, too. Of the deadly, treacherous words that your mind whispers to you when it knows no one’s watching. Your mother’s warm smile remains. “If you ever decide you can’t keep up with him anymore, you’re more than welcome to move back home, honey.”

“I know, mom— but I like Tokyo. I like my friends here, and- my job’s here, and I like my job.” Her hand makes an encouraging circle over the back of your hand, and she nods.

Her warm smile doesn’t keep away the cold flare that travels down your back though. “And you also like Satoru, for reasons I still can’t wrap my head around.” Her look over in his direction has you resolutely studying your lap instead, as heat travels back from your chest to your face. “Even when you were little, your uncle ‘Toru could do no wrong. It was infuriating at times…” You try to put on a smile when you feel her eyes return back to you, and let the cup bear the brunt force of your anxiety. “Now I just think it’s sweet. I know I couldn’t deal with his antics anymore, for even a few days.”

“He’s…” You trail off before you can even get started, and let your tongue swipe along your bottom lip to get rid of the pesky memory again. You feel like your moral compass has been compromised. Your stupid little crush was meant to go unacknowledged, and fade. No one was supposed to be any the wiser. Satoru was never meant to do wrong. He’s -what- exactly, you try to ask yourself. Sneaky? Childish? The reason you can’t look your own family in the eye without blushing like a schoolgirl?

Your heart blooms when you catch a glimpse of his smile as the beer bottle brushes his lips, and he finds your shape again across the room.

Before you get a chance to look away, uncle Satoru’s already calling your name again with that sing-songy tone that’s got you hooked; and pulls you out of your seat with a few slow blinks. “There’s my favorite girl.” He swings an arm over your shoulders, and invades your senses yet again. “It’s getting a little too stuffy in here for your liking, hm? Mind if I steal her for a while?” His sister barely gives him the tiniest of eyerolls before waving you both off. And the white-haired force of nature doesn’t even stop to ask you. He knows he’s right.

Before long, the glances of family get captured by other things, and the honorary member of your family gives you a knowing look that you mirror. Not that Satoru would let it stop him if he saw. You only just look away from Megumi’s grimace before you freeze into place. There’s the tiniest of kisses to the skin behind your ear where Satoru whispers in your ear. “I was really missing you, baby.” There’s a heat that spreads all over you as he continues, barely hiding his affections. “Whenever I see you… I just wanna…”

Your eyes go wide when you turn to stare at him, then quickly around at the rest of the guests. Luckily, everyone seems too preoccupied to notice the way he wraps his arm around your waist to steer you towards the front door. “What? I wasn’t done.” he chimes, eyes glinting over like the Chesire cat, “I wanna come annoy you, is what I was going to say.” Alarm bells should go off. You want them to signal your disaster. But no such thing happens, and the way his lips almost drag over your pulse makes your entire body feel like you’re filled with static. “You know uncle Satoru loves you. Step out with me for a bit.”

+

The miserable drum of rain has no way of drowning out the thoughts in your head. A heat-caused thunderstorm should just be a minor inconvenience, but it feels awfully telling about your current state. The string of messages of Satoru’s latest -what you can now assume is- ex blink back at you as you check the time again, and sink deeper into the couch. The apartment always feels a little too cold when you’re here alone. And sure, you’ve been living here too, but you’ve been on your very best behavior all this time. Taking up only the space he was willing to give.

So you sit in silence as the room gets darker and darker, and instead of checking up on work mails, you let the icy silence of the apartment sit beside you. The messages weren’t exactly frantic, but— the door clicks softly across the room, and the pitter patter of the rain on the skylight grows even more impatient. “Uncle ‘Toru,” you breathe as he drags his wet self in, only to suck your bottom lip into your mouth.

There’s only a few times you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing him like this. One was the first summer his best friend vanished into thin air, a shallow copy of your beloved left behind in its wake— and every few years after that. It drains all the color out of him, squeezes until there’s nothing left.

He looks drunk. He smells drunk too. But you still cross your arms and straighten your back, swallowing. “Ki-chan was worried about you. She says you two broke-”

“She’s right.” Satoru drops his bag by the tv, and unceremoniously kicks off his socks in the middle of the living room, slauntering towards the couch.

“Is that why you’re like this?” Your worry is undermined by a harsh snort and an equally unamused chuckle, before the white-haired man comes to a halt before you.

“Don’t be stupid. You and I both know it’s not.” His eyes are usually like the ocean on a summer day, bright, all-consuming, and peaceful— there’s nothing there when they land on you now. Just the dark, dreary image of a cloudy, uncaring vastness. “Get up, I’m trying to sleep here for the night.”

“I’m not leaving.” You’re not sure if the slight tremble in your voice is self-inflicted, but do your best to bite through the electric tension. “She also said that you’ve been saying all kinds of things that make no sense. Things about— me. And that’s why you guys broke up. She’s worried that you might try to do something to me.” Gojo Satoru is a lot of things. More things than a man with his constitution should be, all in all. Your light breath cuts the tension just enough for you to speak up again, staring up at him from your increasingly vulnerable position on the couch. “Well, will you?”

“Get up.” Before you have another chance to ask more, he takes you by the arm and pulls you up out of the couch in a split second, leaving you stumbling back. “Run off to your room now.” Smart, coherent thoughts leave you. Satoru looks like he’s hurting. Those long, white lashes and blue irises are no longer bright and understanding. They frame a simple look of distaste at the sight of you, and your rapid heartbeat falters. “I said, now.” As your tongue brushes your lips you search for something— anything— to say, but it seems he doesn’t want to let you. With large steps, he walks you back by your collar until your back hits the wall, and you stare up at him.

“Isn’t it bad enough that I already want you? What more do you need?” The cold, still wet touch of his thumb brushing your collarbones tingles down your entire body. “Tell me off. Hit me. Do something.” He’s basically begging now, through hard glares, teeth and a raspy voice. “Tell me off for treating you like this.”

You think you should. But all that you manage to say is a soft plea, eyes searching in the dark. “Uncle Satoru, I- I’m sorry.”

“Baby.”

His grip makes your shirt dig uncomfortably into your neck, but you barely feel it. Instead you raise your hands to cup his face, watching how the furrowed brows straighten out after only a few tight breaths. You mumble out a breath of his name, and allow him to pull you closer to his body until you’re pressed to his chest, face hidden against his collarbones. Until he leads you to look up at him and lets his lips brush over your eyelids, and the tip of your nose. “Your mom would kill me if she knew.”

You know him to be right. And still, you let his mouth meet yours. Meet and claim your tongue, hiking your one thigh up to allow him to melt against you. Rolling his narrow hips just a little too effectively against you. It’s way too much all at once, hot and cold meeting in the dark where his body grinds against you. You shouldn’t… allow any of this, right? But it feels too good to stop. Satoru clearly thinks so too when he grunts your name against your mouth, and his crotch rubs into your center.

It’s not hard to know what he’s thinking about as he drags his lips down the soft of your throat and sucks kisses into the skin. His strong fingers slide under your shirt to anchor at your waist, and leave goosebumps all over. “My pretty girl,” he ends up mumbling as his tongue makes shapes at the base of your throat, “you’re all mine. All fucking mine. Mh- never gonna let anyone have you.” It feels so good. Hearing that, however distorted by the moment— makes you feel like you’re floating. So much so, that it scares you. To think anyone would have such power over you.

Satoru goes in for another kiss, but you end up sliding out of his arms by mere chance, panting and shivering from the wet hands all over you. You take one single deep breath, and rush off down the hall.

+

When you sit at dinner the next day, rolling your veggies around your plate as you cast him weary glances from under long lashes, Satoru doesn’t falter. Doesn’t even blink out of place once, like the night before was just a dream. You’d really believe the slight ache of a hickey at the base of your throat to be an unlucky bruise, if you couldn’t notice the faint glances your way. After a while, his telltale grin slips back on when you startle at his voice, and he points his fork towards you. “You’re acting weird, you know that?”

“I- I’m acting weird?” Your voice pitches up almost comically, and his gleeful chuckle has your heart racing despite yourself. “W- about yesterday-”

“I’m taking you somewhere tonight.” Though the interruption should annoy you, he looks so content and smug as he stuffs the last of his food into his cheek, that you can only frown. His hand runs through his mess of white hair, noisily smacking his food as if to make a point. When you don’t immediately respond, he nods to himself, before leaning in. “I woke up with the worst headache of my life, I’ll have you know. But I’ve gotten over myself, I promise. And now I just want to hang out with my favorite niece.”

“Only niece,” you end up parroting, clenching and unclenching your hands into your skirt. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Call me ‘uncle ‘Toru’ again, and I’ll tell you.” You never tell him no.

As you walk through the hall with slow steps, the light falls like broken petals through the paper walls and casts everything in a hazy glow. For all your protests, uncle Satoru follows close behind, chirping all kinds of encouragements, giggling most of the way through. The lazy patterns he draws on your shoulders with his thumbs, or the brief brushes of his nose along your cheek, kisses behind your jaw— it all should make you feel a lot guiltier than it does. Instead you’re just wound up, skin tingling with every touch the longer it lasts.

“Are you gonna tell me why we’re here now?”

He hums that melodic agreement, before pointing you towards the rather familiar door at the right. “If you go in there, I will.” At your slight frown, he only presses on. “I promise. Come on, trust your favorite uncle.”

“You’re not my favorite.”

His voice grows low as his lips brush your ear, and those strong arms start gliding down the sides of your back. “Liar.” The kiss that is pressed to your pulse is slower this time, humming in your throat and making you swallow your words. His mind hasn’t changed after you ran out. Instead of focusing on that- on him, you reach for the door and slide it open, finding your and Satoru’s room barely changed at all. His hands come to press at the sides of your hips, long fingers trekking all over the skin he can reach. “I’ve been thinking for a while now…” His playful voice dips a little lower, and your breathing grows slower and slower. “I always meant it when I said you were my favorite... but-”

“But it’s a little different now, hm, pretty girl? When did you change so much?” Those hands that start sliding up along your thighs to hike your skirt up to your belly, and though you try to keep it down with a little breath, he denies it. “You don’t like it? That I wanna see all of you?” The little hum to your soft throat makes you feel like you’re charged to the brim, crackling each time he moves. It’s unbearable, and yet, you couldn’t move a muscle if you tried. “Tell me that I’m a bad guy.”

You can’t focus on anything. His nimble fingers toy with the edge of your panties, and the puff of his breath sends a shiver down your neck. “W-why’d you take me to our old- ah- place?” Satoru doesn’t wait for you to catch up before the frilly fabric drags along your thighs. Your awfully wet underwear lands around your feet, and he leans in to nudge your face to his. Kissing you over your shoulder as his body covers you from behind, and his waist pushes up against you. His tongue steals your attention away from his hands just long enough to lose track of them before they’re on your tits, squeezing them and making your cunt clench in anticipation.

“Because I wanted to prove something.” He rolls his clothed waist against your ass and makes that awful feeling even worse, forcing a whimper out of you. And that mind-numbing fucking laughter returns before his hands start moving to your center. You’re not sure if you want to push him away or ride his fingers with the slow drag of rough fingertips along the inside of your legs— not that it’s up to you anyway. “You’re no longer that good girl that’d idolize uncle Satoru, right? You’ve started thinking about other things when I’m around, hm?”

Fingers slide through the embarrassing amount of wetness between your legs with another noise from him, pressing his hardening cock harder against you and grinding it against you- and you have to fight the urge to just get face down on the floor for him. “F-fuck, baby, you’re already dripping all over my hand. Does uncle ‘Toru turn you on?” Two prodding digits slide into your clenching hole as he grins against your cheek, and his free hand meanly pinches a nipple. “C’mon, tell me. Tell me how much you like me.”

“Mh-ack, I- li-like you.” He goes to pull his hand back but you reach for it, and push it back inside to have his hand palm rubbing up against your clit. “A lot, I like you a lot! Please.” The curl of his long fingers inside you is enough to have you shaking, leaning back against his chest with one shoulder, and hanging onto his wrist. It doesn’t take much to have him smiling into the hickey he’s sucking under your jaw, and fighting back your resistance just enough to start pushing another finger inside. The slight ache is almost instantly replaced with the pleasure of having your clenching pussy filled so full. Everything blurs a little when you reach back for him for support, and his strong hand fucks smoothly in and out of you. “Mhm, ah, ah, I love my uncle Satoru. Sa. To. Ru.” Slick runs down your leg and makes his entire hand sticky, and he hums in agreement.

“That’s a good little niece. Love riding my fingers like this? You’re shaking, baby.” He knows what it does to you, must’ve known for a while, when his voice is pressed to your skin— it leaves you a mess. You try to respond, but your tongue gets all tangled, and you can only whimper and nod as his fingers fuck right into the spot you need them to. Your back curls against him as your legs get shakier, and your poor clit is grinded against his palm until you can’t focus on anything else. It feels so good. Good, good, good, good~ You want to keep riding his fingers forever.

“Lay down for me,” he rasps when you really start rubbing back against his hand, pussy so messy and full and your lips glossy with spit— and you almost cry when he starts pulling back.

“No, no no nonono, uncle Satoru, please. I’m close,” you squeak, only to allow him to push you down by your shoulder and watch as he slots his fingers between pink lips. “Hm- I- can I cum? Please?” Your thighs rub together as you lay down, and Satoru kneels before you to pry them open wide enough to fit his shoulders between.

“Shh, lift your ass,” he quickly chants, getting comfortable between your legs as his hands pry you open, “let me taste my favorite pussy the way I want.” His devilish mouth is on you before you can register it, hot and instantly too much. Your puffy clit is laved in licks and sucks that hit the spot just right, and every nerve end fires in a way that no one else could ever accomplish. His hums and the brilliant glint of his eyes as he watches you tear up and moan, lifting your ass closer to his face as his tongue licks and fucks your dripping pussy. He laughs when eating you out so good your eyes cross, before latching his mouth around your overstimulated nub for real, and sucking the light out of your vision.

Your legs shake before you’re clenching them around his head with a long, high-pitches whimper and a string of moans that roll through your body— and Satoru just keeps going, until you’re twitching and you try to push him away. Your breathing is rapid and shallow as you blink the black spots on your vision away and loosen the grip you have on his hair, but your legs still shake as he brushes his thumb over your pussy without pity. “That’s one. Wanna see how many more I can get you to?”

“No,” you immediately squeak, making his smug grin grow even wider. “I wanna… first, wanna have you- i-inside.” Admitting it is different than thinking it. And you’ve thought it, too much to count- but it still heats your cheeks and ears upon seeing the way Satoru’s lashes flutter a little, and he pushes his pants down to take his flushed cock out.

“Yeah? You want your uncle Satoru’s big cock inside you?” His hand wraps around his thick length with a little hiss, sliding his hand over the swollen, dark pink tip as you watch. “Say it properly, and I’ll give it to you.” You roll onto your side to yank your shirt up over your tits, and impatiently shake your ass as you whine out a noise that barely seems to register as you. But you can’t help it. The buzz from your orgasm only made your belly hotter, slicking up your legs and ass and dripping for him- as he sits up on his knees so slide his pants down further.

“Satoru~ please.” His hand moves up and down a few times as he raises a brow, and knocks away your hand when you try to touch yourself. “Please, please, puh-lease~” Your voice cracks when you lay back instead, and knead your tit as you try to pull him closer by wrapping your legs around him. “I want to have- uncle ‘Toru’s cock. I want to have my own uncle’s cock, I love my uncle- and I want- to be his personal pussy to use~” Tears spring up in the corners of your eyes, so you close them. “Now please just put it in. I’ve waited long enough-”

A little chuckle breaks up your begging before he kisses you deep and greedily, and suddenly the hot head of his cock pushes up against your sopping entrance. “Want it so bad you gotta cry about it? Poor baby.” He just about pushes in the slightest bit, and takes a slow breath to stare into your eyes. Pretty. So fucking pretty, all of him. “Sorry I made you wait. Uncle will fill this little niece's pussy up, don’t worry.” Then he pushes in with a slow press on your tummy that makes you blink back tears, as his heavy, hot cock breaks you open a little further, along with your sanity.

The smack when he bottoms out is a brief relief, before he pulls back and uses those strong legs to start really fucking into you, nose to nose. “Letting your own family fuck your greedy pussy like this, look at you. I’m a bad influence, hm?” The weight of him, the brushing of his pelvic bone to your clit, the grip on your thigh and brushing of your tits and every brief brush of his lips over yours is enough to have that coil pull back so tight in your stomach too quickly. You dig your nails into his muscular back as each pap of his balls smacking against your slick-covered ass rings out in the room, and the white-haired man hums. “Uncle Satoru’s your favorite, say it. That you’ll beg for my cock until you go hoarse.”

He presses his nose to your temple, and pants against you- fucking with a rhythm that’s taking the breath out of you. You’re already going to cum again. “Say that you want uncle Satoru’s kids filling up your belly, ahg- go on— mhm, that tight, t-tight fucking pussy.”

“Yes, yes, I want my uncle’s cum inside! My favorite uncle’s ruining my pussy!” you squeak, and then cry out against his neck. “I’m gonna cum again, uncle ‘Toru. G-gonna- agh-ughn- p-please don’t stop.” The thrusts get even deeper if that’s at all possible, lifting your one leg up to grind the head of his cock against your cervix with the position he’s got you in, and goes to cup your pussy. And even that slight touch is enough to have your vision going black and white, head blanking as another orgasm rolls over you and locks your leg around his hips— but the fucking doesn’t stop even then. “Agh-mygodI-ah, ahgh-nh. Uncle Satoru.”

It’s too much, you’re entirely too hot and sweat is rolling down your temple and his chest, but his cock still drives home over and over again like he’s willing to break you in half. You don’t want him to ever stop. “Hearing that filth coming out of your mouth- ugh, mhm, makes me want to keep fucking you forever. For eternity.” His waist bumps your overstimulated clit each time he bottoms out, ring of white around the base of his cock before he throws his head back and moans out your name. “You can’t ever let anyone know how much uncle Satoru loves fucking his little niece, okay? F-fuck. How much I love ruining that little attitude of yours.”

Your both knees are pushes to your shoulders as he moves up, pulling out just a second to fuck between the sloppy lips of your pussy. “Been wanting to fuck you since you moved in. Can’t help but get hard when you’re around. Bad uncle ‘Toru, right?” The head of his cock is so swollen and flushed and dripping with your mixed juices, and he stares at you through narrowed, perfect eyes as he pushes back in and watches his cock disappear into the hot clutch of your pussy, swallowing it up like a whore. His lip is pulled between his teeth as he groans, and fucks harder and faster into you like you’re barely a toy. “But I don’t care. Uncle’s gonna fuck this pussy every day from now on. My pussy. Mine.”

You can feel him in your throat with the way he pounds your pussy until you’re raw, squeezing your throat between his long fingers as his heavy balls hit you. And his mouth covers yours, tongues back together and spit messily covering your chin by the end of it. You don’t think eternity will be enough.

+

There’s some kind of failsafe inside every human, isn’t there? And yours is simply malfunctioning at the wrong times.

The woman hanging off his arm is lovely. Mina, you think it is. She’s smart and pretty and accomplished, and her hair has that perfect commercial shine as it bounces around her shoulders. And Satoru is laying on the sweetness thick, from what you can make out between the giggles and shiny smiles. Underneath the obnoxious shades hiding his pearly gaze from direct view as he makes quick work of scanning the beach. It sits in your stomach with an uncomfortable rumble. Even though you know… It’s for show. It’s all just for show.

You do your best not to frown when he looks back over his shoulder for a second to drag his eyes over you. “We should play beach volleyball!”

And a soft chuckle from the person by your side agrees when you can’t be bothered to. “You got it!” The blond is smart enough to give you a softly encouraging grin that makes you feel vindicated in your exasperation, before you stick up your own thumb. You have no intention of watching Satoru leave hot handprints all over her skin. The young man beside you clearly notices your hesitation, because he smoothes a palm down your spine to straighten you up a little, before blowing out a long breath that makes you smile. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ll keep him busy if you’d rather lay in the shade for a little longer.”

Kenji’s fingers softly brush along the small of your back, then teasingly slips them under the knot of your bikini, as his mouth comes to hover over your ear. “Or we could sneak away for a little bit and…”

“And get caught for indecent exposure?” you giggle over your shoulder instead of letting him kiss you, and grab for one of the books that had gone untouched earlier in the day to tap it on his head. “We can’t,” you breathe with a smile, and watch as he takes that as a challenge. Really, you’re not one for fighting fire with fire. That’s Satoru’s play, and you don’t have any intention of mistreating anyone. But … the adoring gazes and personal attention does make the whole ordeal a lot easier to stomach. So easy even, that you’re down in the toasty sand with him above and your chest rising and falling rapidly for a few blissful seconds, before the volleyball hits the both of you on the sides.

Your eyes snap over to the head of white hair when he clears his throat, and holds his hands up in mock apology. Serene, picture-perfect smile plastered on his handsome face. You click your tongue, and you can’t hold back the angry echo of his name in your head as he walks up. “Sorry, sorry, my bad! You guys coming or what?” This whole song and dance is just— so frustrating. Despite your best effort to keep it in, a slight tick in your brow still makes its way onto your face.

“You guys start without me,” you breathe after a few seconds of staring Satoru down, allowing Kenji to pull you up from the sand to dust you off. “I’m going to go grab the sunscreen and the coolers from the car.” Kenji makes an attempt to stand, but you wave it off in favor of putting some space between you and the tallest as his crystal eyes drill holes through you. “No, I got it. Thanks though.”

By the time Satoru’s “girlfriend” walks up and slips underneath his arm, he raises a brow your way, and the glitter in his eyes makes you convinced that he knows just as well as you do. You do your best to ignore him — them, but you can still feel the sting of him appraising you through those stupid shades. Asshole. You swing your hips as you walk away, kicking up sand every time your slippers bounce up.

At least the short walk allows for a moment to cool off, and collect your thoughts. There’s no sense in getting fed up. He’ll just get home and start cracking jokes like always, pretending like he didn’t do something wrong in the first place. Nevertheless, you allow yourself only a short sigh and admittance of defeat in the little game you play as you click the trunk closed again.

Before you turn and walk into a solid chest, almost scaring you skittering back against the hot surface of the car. Large hands descend on you, one to wrap around your waist and the other covering your mouth- before he leans down further into your space. “So, so grumpy all the time.” Uncle Satoru’s rough handpalm slides down to grab a handful of your ass before he lowers his face to yours into a languid kiss, tongue tasting vaguely like strawberry as he drags it over yours with a hum. “Stop trying to make me jealous.”

“I’m— I’m not! And ‘m not grumpy. I just don’t want to see you,” you end up breathing out, wrapping your arms instinctively around his broad shoulders when those long fingers start toying with your pussy through the awfully flimsy fabric. “Satoruuu~”

His chuckle is matched with the impatient way he rubs two fingers up and down along your slit, and slides his other hand down your smooth stomach to start peeling it all off. “Call me uncle Satoru, c’mon baby. You know what I like.”

You barely have a chance to place your hand over your mouth to keep quiet as he noses your bikini top out of the way to drag his pink tongue languidly over your puffy bud— and those baby blues find you through wispy, white lashes. “Uncle ‘Toru, unc-cle ‘Ru— You’re gonna get us caught.” He sucks part of it into his mouth and leaves a mean mark with his teeth, before grinning.

“Hmm. I don’t care.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #tw.incest #tw.age gap #tw.breeding #tw.coercion #tw.dark content #tw.creampie #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.gojo

[aesthetic-bbyg]

HEY EMO BOY - Bill K.

In which you dedicate your performance to your celebrity crush, but he doesn’t know until the press gets ahold of it.

Bill Kaulitz x fem!reader

AUTHORS NOTE: this idea may be floating somewhere on somebody else’s blog but this I just came up myself so I’m not trying to copy nobody! I also had to change some of the lyrics for the sake of the story! Thx bbyg’s <33

Pt 2!

YOU LET OUT A HEAVY BREATH, finishing up the song, you reached down for the bottle of water by your feet, chugging the last of it. The concert has reached it’s final song, and you’ve got an idea that you’ve been planning for weeks. The crowd is still booming with shrieks, practically making the whole place rumbled. A grin appeared on your lips as you walked over to the microphone.

“Can you guys keep a secret?” You questioned as the crowd yelled in return, you giggled and a felt an overwhelming feeling of joy fill your body. “Well, I have a huge crush on this guy who totally doesn’t know I exist.” A string of boos followed after. “You guys may know him, he’s German, he’s the lead singer of a band, I believe he has a twin brother.” Within moments the crowd began to screamed, realizing who it was, there weren’t many German lead singers who have a twin brother, well..not that you knew of. You had a proud smirk on you face, bitting your lip to contain more nervous giggles from slipping out. “I think he suuper hot, so I decided to make a song about him, you guys ready?”

“Yeah!” At the sound of their approval the song immediately began to sound through the massive speakers scattered through the stage. You gripped the bedazzled microphone in your neatly manicured hands, the lights flickered with pretty pink colors, radiating your signature color as it reflected off your diamond studded belt. You couldn’t contain the large smile as you lifted the mic to your mouth.

“Saw this boy at the mall last week, got the kinda look to me me freak!” You skipped around the stage, your denim mini shorts riding farther up your thighs then it already was. “That long ass hair with the tightest jeans, my chemical romance on his tee.” You ran a smooth hand down your body, exaggerating your attraction towards him. “He looked so sick like he was dying, if I said he wasn’t hot then I’d be lying. Please, handsome, don’t be coy. Come on fuck me emo boy!”

The repetition of the lyrics echoed throughout the large stadium, it was actually hilarious how such a large crowd of people jumped and shouted come on fuck me emo boy, over and over again. You giggled, raising the microphone back to your lips, “This boy just unlike the rest, one look and I bitch I loose my breath. Wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? Lift me up and then I drop it. He’s with his band, goin on tour. Should I go? Well, bitch, for sure!” Your favorite was coming up, it was a little explicit but what would be the fun if it wasn’t? “He might not look he gets bitches but honey that dick is eleven inches.”

With your pearly teeth out, your lips stretched into large smile you bounced around the stage, hearing the the beat blast into your ear drum. A collection of things were thrown onto the stage, it was a common reoccurrence during all your concerts. People would launched flowers, letters, bras, sunglasses, and far to many things that just piled up on the floor until you finished your set list and had all the gifts delivered to your dressing room. You admired your fans, the way their wristbands glowed in the dark night, the creative posters that were raised above their heads, it was hard to grasp onto it sometimes but the feeling never failed to make you proud.

“Hey, hey, hey emo boy!” The song had concluded, though the fans were far from quiet, you gave them a polite bow as the crew behind you began to pack up all the instruments. You were stuck in your spot, waving to all the giddy people who nearly broke down the barricade in excitement. “Thank you! Hugs and kisses to all of you who made it here tonight, I love you guys!” Your feet began to move towards the backstage, a part of you absolutely devastated that the show ended, but also relieved to get some rest. Although, before you could fully leave you jogged back over to the microphone. “And make sure to keep the song a secret from the emo hottie.” With that, you walked towards your assistant, Teresa, who held a bottle of water ready for you.

“You looked amazing, baby!” The dark haired girl giggled as you took the cool liquid and let it run down your sore throat.

“Thank you, I felt amazing!” You smiled, “Was the song good? It wasn’t too much, was it?”

“Absolutely not, the song was great, and I’m proud that you finally got around to preforming it.” Your assistant grinned, “It’ll definitely get his attention.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the goal.” You mumbled, looking over at your dressing room, ready to go in and remove all the makeup and heavy accessories you had on till you noticed that your name tag was gone from the front door. “Hey, what happened to my name tag?”

Teresa looked over, “Oh, they’re replacing it because Tokio Hotel is preforming here tomorrow.”

“What!” You nearly chocked on your water, eyes practically bulging out of your face as you stared back at your assistant. “Why didn’t you tell me that they were literally preforming here the day after me?”

“To be fair I didn’t know until they started moving stuff around.” Right as the words left her mouth a random man came over and slipped in a paper to the plastic cover on the front door. It wasn’t a mistake, the bold letter stated back at you: TOKIO HOTEL

“Well, I’m most definitely fucked.”

“BILL!” TOM PRACTICALLY ran across the tour bus, holding his baggy pants up in one hand while the other held a laptop. His twin sat on the couch, munching on a pack of sour candy. “Bill, you have to look at this!”

Bill stared at his brother with furrowed brows, wondering what has gotten him so giddy and grinning like a child. That was until the laptop was shoved in his face, some random article pulled up with some dramatized title that he didn’t even want to read. “What is this?”

“Read it!”

POP STAR, Y/N L/N WRITES EXPLICIT SONG TO GERMAN LEAD SINGER, BILL KAULITZ; COULD THIS BE THE START OF A NEW ROMANCE?

Bill’s fingers slid on the mouse pad, scrolling the through the article as his eyes quickly scanned the words in front of him. “This surely isn’t about me, Tom, it’s just fake news that they’re trying to shove down people’s throats.”

“Don’t be stupid, Bill, the y/n l/n is crushing on you and dropping subtle hints, hence, the song about wanting to fuck you.” Tom shook his brothers shoulders proudly, his grin wide.

A hue of red spread on Bill’s pale skin, clicking on the attached video that gave him the whole performance. Sure enough, there you were, singing a song about wanting to fuck an emo boy. “I don’t know, Tom.”

The oldest twin let out a groan, “Bill, she wants you, think about it. She’s our age and she says that the song is dedicate to a German lead singer who is touring with his band.” He had a good point, and that’s what made Bill smile a bit, it made a puff of pride filled his chest. “That’s what I’m talking about.” Tom laughed, “She wants you, Bill, and I wouldn’t want to pass up on that.”

“Enough.” Bill sheepishly smiled, closing the laptop and shoving into Tom’s chest, curling up on the couch as he felt a wave of heat wash over him. If the song was about him, and you meant what you said, then it really turned him on. He couldn’t help it, his already tight skinny jeans grew tighter.

“BILL, WHAT ARE YOURE opinions on y/n l/n new song about?”

“Bill is it true that you are y/n’s baby daddy?”

“Bill look over here!”

“Are you and y/n a couple?”

A flood of questions and bright, flashing lights came his way as he made his way towards the doors of the venue. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, attempting to move past the paparazzi and avoid there strange questions. His band mates followed behind him, struggling to keep up with him due to the crowding. He finally let out a breath of relief as he made his way inside. The flashing cameras replaced with colorful lights and the screaming substituted with the shaky bass of the music booming from the dance floor. Tom had already separated himself from the group, going off to the bar to try and find a new girl to bring to his hotel. Georg had dropped out, opting on talking with his girlfriend through phone all night instead. Gustav had also followed Tom to the bar, craving alcohol in his system.

The crowd of people were familiar, he had seen some of them at the event from before, there were many famous faces. Yet he stood by a wall, eyes looking around awkwardly, despite the many times he’d been to these events he always had to ease his way in throughout the night. After a few drinks he’d start getting loose, but for the moment he’d just scan the dance floor till he caught someone he knew.

That’s when he gaze was in trapped by a spark, a beautiful glow that confidently bounced on the dance floor, happily dancing. It was you, you were dancing with your friend, a half drunken drink in your hand while your swing your hips and shimmy you chest with a surge of confidence. The short dress having to constantly be tugged down your plush thighs, as you giggled, you felt something. A sense of being watched, but there was hundreds of people around, and a lot of them liked to stare.

You leaned into your friends ear, excusing yourself to the bathroom, you heels carried you to through the crowds of drunk people and to a small opening where you could go to the bathroom. Bill’s eyes watched your every move, were you coming towards him or was he fucking crazy? He nervously stared at you, your features became more clear, it was you. Y/n l/n. You were getting closer, he felt his breath hitch, what was he going to say? Well, he didn’t have to worry since you walked right past him, eyes not sparing him a glance as you rushed into a hallway. He furrowed his brows, staring as your figure disappeared, it was then that he noticed many people exiting and passing to enter the same hallway you just entered. He glanced up and saw the clear sight that read. RESTROOM.

He huffed, crossing his arms with a frown, maybe it was a sigh that he should talk to her but now it he had to wait till you walked back out. Finally, you left the restroom, shoving the lipgloss back into your bra and strutting out. You were excited to go back to dancing, a big smile on you lip, that was until a large hand wrapped itself around your wrist, tugging you back before you could go any farther. You looked back with furrowed brows, you had to crane you eyes up to look at who was the man behind the touch. You mouth went dry, eyes widening, your knees nearly giving out and dropping you on the dirty floor of the venue.

It was Bill fucking Kaulitz, the emo boy you made a whole song about. The song in which was leaked and slapped on every article with your name in the title. You were so happy that the lighting covered the blush that warmed your face. He leaned down, lips brushing you ear, hand still wrapped on on your wrist.

“Hey, I’m Bill.” His hot breath fanned against the shell of your ear, he could smell the faint scent of your perfume, it was intoxicating. “I like your music.” He pulled away, a smug smirk on his face as you swallowed the lump in your throat. His accent was much more hotter in person then it was in the interviews you watched on TV.

“T-Thank you.” You replied, but he simply gave you a confused look. You sighed, attempting to reach his ear, “I said thank you, I like your music as well.”

He nodded, “Thank you, it seems as though one of your songs has gotten quite popular, people have told me all about it.”

You needed to pull yourself together, this was a moment you’ve been waiting for and you couldn’t back down. So you rubbed your lips together, spreading the shiny, sticky gloss. You gazed up at him through your lashes, a flirty smile on your face. “Yeah, I was hoping you’d say.”

“Yeah?” He raised a pierced brow, “Why’s that?”

“You’re the only one I wrote the song for, of course.” You giggled, watching his expression change, he was surprised on how upfront you were about it. You were proud, cocky almost, it turned him on. “So, did you like it?” He nodded in response. “You wouldn’t mind doing what the lyrics say, do you?”

“No.” He replied, watching your smile widen. “I can take you back to my hotel and do exactly what you want me to do, schatz.”

You were getting giddy, you running a hand up his arms, staring up at his smoky eyes with lust. You bit your bottom lip, “Can you kiss me?” A small smirk played on his lips as he leaned down, leaving a slow kiss on your lips. Your hands were on his cheek, leaning up and desperately kissing his lips. His hands wandered, feeling you up in the tight pink dress you were in. Though his same hands seemed to favor a spot in particular, you ass, they ran up and down your sides before they eventually planted themselves there. His head was titled to the side, neck curved down to reach your height and to continue kissing your additive lips. He pulled away, lips sticky with you gloss before he trailed it down to your jaw and neck, his cheeky hands squeezed the flesh. You gasp, allowing him to suck lightly while the music blasted in your ears but it was all tuned out as you focused on the sensation of his tacky lips kissing your skin.

You were most definitely gonna fuck this emo boy tonight.

Y’ALL WANT A PART TWO W SMUT? Either way I’ll probably write one bc this game out better then I expected🤭🤭🤭

#bill kaulitz imagine #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #hey emo boy #bill kaulitz fic #bill kaulitz x you #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz smut #Tokio hotel imagine #fluff

[spicerackofblorbos]

Home | Leon S. Kennedy x gn!Reader

☾ summary ➼ Leon just came back from a mission and you missed him.

☾ content/warnings ➼ fluff, canon world, mentions of bruises and cuts, suggestive (MDNI)

☾ wc ➼ 750ish

The sound of muffled thumping coming from Leon's office wakes you up from the sofa where you had fallen asleep on. Instead of the movie you had playing in the background, the TV was off. Now, soft acoustic instrumentals sing through the record player in the corner.

Your eyes pop open as you're suddenly pulled out of your sleepy stupor and sit up quickly. Your neck turns to see the office door ajar, a faint yellow light glowing through the crack.

The blanket you were wrapped in falls to the floor as you stand. With new vigor, you start stepping towards the hopeful light. When you push it open gently, your heart skips a beat.

There he was, Leon currently organizing miscellaneous papers with a wary look on his face. A few day old scratches and bruises mar his pretty face but he was there, and he was whole. At the movement of the door, he looks up. Those blue eyes of his light up at the sight of you.

“Hey there, sweetheart. I didn't want to wake you.” Leon says with a lopsided grin.

You don't say anything. Instead, your face pulls into a large smile as you make your way over to where he sat behind his desk. He knows you well enough to pull away enough so that you can crawl into his lap, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and his arm around your waist. You nuzzle into his neck and sigh in relief.

Leon must have just gotten home because he still smelled of blood and sweat and his combat uniform still covered his body. Even the holsters were still in place, though now devoid of weaponry which is no doubt locked up safely in the hidden compartments of his office.

“Miss me?” Leon chuckles, the low rumble of his voice vibrating against your body. He starts to slowly rub circles on your back in a soothing manner. You nod slowly, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter. As you hold on to him, you can feel him start to organize his mission reports.

Leon had been away for about a few days, which isn't long compared to his other missions, but the importance of the mission had you biting your nails down to the quick and wishing he was home instead. It's not every day when the assignment consists of rescuing the president's daughter in rural Spain.

“How did it go?” You eventually get out after a few minutes. Your soft voice comes muffled against his warm skin.

“The usual. Got my ass handed to me a few times, but I survived.” Leon jokes, pressing his cheek against your hair.

You pull away a little to be able to see his face better. You inspect every part of it from the side profile, and even more when he looks down at your sleepy face. The bruises were starting to turn yellow and the cuts were scabbed, not as angry red as you imagine they were at the beginning. The little freckles that dot his face, his captivating blue eyes that narrow in focus.

“Thank you for coming back to me.” You whisper softly, raising your hand to touch Leon's cheek. You pull him down until your lips press against his. He smiles into it and puts down the file he was holding so that he can hold on to you instead. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him as his kiss lingers.

Leon pushes himself away from the desk and stands up, carrying you bridal style effortlessly. As he does, he starts peppering your face with kisses, eliciting quiet giggles from you.

“I missed that sound. I wouldn't leave that for anything in the world.” Leon mumbles in between each kiss. He starts down the hallway where your shared bedroom lies. You can't help but squirm as your laughs get louder. He heads straight to the bathroom. “Wanna know what other noises I missed?” Leon looks down at you with a smirk.

“Leon!” You playfully slap his chest. “You just got home, get cleaned up first.” You chastise, but you can't help the bright smile.

“Oh, I intend to. And you're coming with, baby girl.” Leon suddenly shifts you so that you're thrown over his shoulder, then he slaps your ass playfully. The bathroom door closes in front of you as Leon kicks it closed.

#this is my first writing for leon #you can tell what my new hyperfixation is when i start writing fanfiction to ease my craving of this man #i will be writing more by the way #leon kennedy #and also i'm still working on porting my other writing as well as the last few requests in my chaotic-on-main inbox #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 4 #x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon posting #leon kennedy fluff #suggestive

[lokisgoodgirl]

Comfort & Joy: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (9) Roll up, roll up for the Stark Christmas Jamboree. Where candied nuts and cunning plans both come with an extra sprinkling of festive sweetness. (w/c 7.8k) Warnings: Minors DNI. Usual Lakes fare. Humour, Asgardian lore, fluff, all the feels. Smut references. A/N: This is the final final edition of The Lakes.

“Remind me, what named day is this in your charming yuletide festivities?” Loki inquired as you stepped out the revolving door of the Tower.

Charming. You smiled.

Last year it would have been any number of synonyms for stupid. You could hear them, see his lips curling the words from memory. Gratuitous. Senseless. Superfluent. Foolish.

But that was your problem, you recognised, not his.

“I don’t think it has one officially,” you shivered, nestling your chin deeper into the scarf. Fuck, it was cold today. “But I call it Christmas Eve, Eve.”

You sighed, watching crowds of the general populous making their way in shuffling merriment towards the Christmas market. No, not market. Festive Jamboree.

Tony had taken it upon himself to create a mini-wonderland right outside the Tower for one day only, all proceeds to the local children’s hospital.

A ferris wheel rose at the end of the cordoned street, every carriage packed. The smell of hot-dogs and caramelised almonds filled the air, old-time speakers tied to high lamps blaring Andy Williams at a volume that couldn’t be code compliant. “Lighten up, darling” Loki chirped as a gloved hand laced with your own. You turned to him, forcing a smile through the nerves. He looked phenomenal. A high collared coat of darkest green framed his cheekbones, pink tipped in the sudden chill. The one you’d seen in the window. You couldn’t resist. But when it came to Loki, what else was new?

He’d popped the collar, loose strands of onyx hair tumbling over the thick of his scarf. The one you’d bought him, of course.

Against the pale of his skin, dark brows peaked above a lowered fan of lashes while his gaze lingered on your intertwined digits. He raised the back of your hand to his lips, kissing it firmly.

“This will be fun,” he murmured against your glove with a knowing glint. “Have you planned...something?” you laughed. “Other than the thing.”

The nerves were fading, finally. He pressed his free hand against his chest in mock-hurt. “You wound me with your suspicions, madam” he purred, playful insolence thick in his tone. He sniffed, raising his chin. “I am merely imbibed with the spirit of the season.” Mid-giggle, your whole body rocked forwards as two hands shook your shoulders from behind. “Merry Christmas Eve Eve, sister!” Thor boomed in your ear. There was ringing. Thor looked good. He smelled good. And blessedly for now at least, there were no crumbs in his beard. “And to you, brother” Loki said, smile widening.

Thor tilted his head, regarding Loki’s jovial demeanour with suspicion. “And to you, brother-” he rumbled. His interest was piqued. “What has my Sponge of a sibling in such a buoyant mood this fine December day?” “It’s Scrooge,” you corrected, grinning. Thor grinned back as all eyes fell on your lover.

Loki gaped, darting his gaze between you both.

“Scrooge?!” he scoffed incredulously. “In past years, perhaps. Yet despite your attempt to churl me, I shall take it as a compliment,” Loki said, squeezing your hand, “for I too was visited by three spirits and thus...changed forever.” Thor frowned, “spirits, says you?” “Yes, brother. Yourself, Rogers, and the spectre of that ghastly reclining chair.”

Thor chuckled, before being distracted by something deeper within the crowd. Or someone. He cleared his throat. “I must to the candied nuts, brother” he muttered formally.

Out the corner of your eye, you saw Rogers tip the nuts-vendor a quick salute as he nestled a fresh bag in his hand like a hamster. Heat steamed from the opening, wafting through frosty air. “Oh yes brother,” Loki drawled with equal gravitas. “The nuts will not eat themselves.” Thor squinted as a restrained smirk danced at Loki’s dimples. “Indeed,” the blonde replied, clearing his throat. “I shall see you at the bandstand anon.” And with a curt nod to you, he waddled hands in his pockets through the throng. You watched him go as Loki’s warm breath seeped down your neck, his mouth fastening to your pulse-point with a happy hum of pleasure. “You’re naughty,” you chided playfully. Loki nodded against your neck, the vibration of his agreement making you fizz. “And I have the knitwear to prove it,” he whispered. As you made your way through the crowd, Loki’s hand never left yours.

The two of you together were a familiar sight in Manhattan, and Avenger-fans on the whole had been beside themselves at news of your reunion. Confirmations had been slow. At you and Loki’s insistence, there had been no official statement. But the public had cottoned on eventually, with the help of the press.

Fans waited politely for pictures, nervously pulling at gloves and activating their cameras while you and Loki smiled and chatted. It was night and day from the way things used to be, while you stood on the sidelines amid a sea of bodies whipped into a frenzy by the god of mischief’s theatrical adulation.

Every so often, Loki would nuzzle your cheek; checking in. You’d squeeze his hand. One for all good, two for let’s go. You didn’t need that second squeeze today.

“With regret, we must depart for the afternoon’s questionable entertainment,” Loki announced. There was a chorus of disappointment, but he patted down the air.

“Please, join us-” he smiled to the crowd gathered around you, extending an arm towards the bandstand not thirty meters away. “Your participation will be most appreciated to drown out the subpar efforts of all of us. Truly, you will never look at us the same way, I guarantee it.” Despite having been erected overnight, the bandstand in the centre of the wonderland wouldn’t look out of place in Victorian England. Thin wrought iron pillars stretched upwards, twisting to an ornate canopy adorned with Christmas lights. Garlands wound up the pillars, twinkling sporadically. It was only 3pm, but the gathering darkness made them shine. A modest band of brass and strings had gathered beneath the canopy, instrument tune-ups peppering the chilly air.

And in front of it, in a semi-circle, microphones.

Steve stood to the side, handing booklets to a line of anxious looking avengers. Bucky, Wanda, Sam, Natas-

“I cannot believe we have to do this,” Bucky muttered ruefully as he threw his coat in the assigned box. “I can’t believe it. I actually can’t? Someone, fight me. Knock me out.” “We’re all in the same boat, Buck” Natasha lamented. She pulled at the baggy jumper hanging around her hips. Bucky looked down at his chest, pleading eyes meeting her stoic stare. “Fight me, Romanoff. Please.” “Don’t tempt me,” Natasha replied. Their jumpers were matching. Red, thick wool hiding any hint of the lithe muscle beneath. And stitched on them in winding, white-knitted lettering? Nice.

Your chest shook with the effort of holding in giggles. Even knowing what was coming, it hadn’t prepared you for the reality.

Looking around, you clocked each of your teammates in turn. Stark’s logic was thus – Avengers with a ‘harder’ reputation? Nice jumpers. And for those reputed to be on the softer side?-

“You’re wearing the wrong gosh-darn sweater, Laufeyson!” Steve hissed over your shoulder.

Both of you spun to face him. Steve’s arms were folded over the green version of the standard knit, the word Naughty emblazoned on his chest in white bobbling letters. Your shoulders were shaking now, too. “Don’t act like you're surprised, Rogers” Loki drawled. His coat hung off one long finger, before disappearing in a flash of seidr. “The public will not be fooled by Stark’s futile attempt at psychological subterfuge. I am simply getting ahead of the inevitable Tumblr edits.”

Steve’s chin snapped towards you. “Did you know about this?” he piped, flustered. You raised your eyebrows guiltily, making Steve’s hands fly in the air. “Perfect. Just heckin’ perfect. Why I outta-” “What seems to be the problem?” Thor’s voice boomed from behind. The words were accompanied by crunching, flecks of almond littering his green jumper like snow. You and Loki parted, making a four-square shoulder to shoulder and shuffling further towards safety from prying ears. “Laufeyson’s taken it upon himself to go against the agreed sweater-allocation and wear a Naughty, that’s what-” Steve bubbled bitterly.

Crimson had begun to creep up his cheekbones. A vein in his neck throbbed. Thor threw his head back with an almighty roar of laughter. Several almonds bounced from the bag in his hand from the force.

“Come now, Rogers ” he managed through gasps of mirth. “What did you expect? Tis just a silly rule, who cares?” He tossed an almond in the air, attempting to catch it in his mouth. It ricocheted off his eye. As Thor began blinking, Steve raised the clipboard in his hand. He tapped it violently. “I’m in charge of project managing this,” he hissed. “Laufeyson – change back to Nice.”

“Shan’t.” Loki quipped. Steve flushed deeper. “Laufeyson,” he warned. “Actually,” Loki started, enjoying the hushed tension. “I think you’ll find I am rather nice. You saw to that. So in truth, my sweater is fitting for this farce.” Steve’s eye began to twitch.

There was silence.

“Look at us, we’re like a little team," you offered, pointing to each of your green jumpers in turn. “Like the old days.”

Thor chuckled agreement as Loki and Steve stared each other down, a smile playing on Loki’s mouth that was irrevocably absent from the Captain’s. All four of you, it seemed, wore the Naughty uniform today. “In your case, as in mine, our knitwear reflects our essence perfectly my darling” Loki purred to you while his eyes narrowed towards a now vibrating super-soldier. “My naughty...naughty girl.” Steve sighed, hanging his head in resignation. “I told Tony this was a pooper of an idea,” he lamented. “It’s a disaster and it’s not even started.”

Thor’s hand clapped the captain’s shoulder in sympathy, lingering in a squeeze. Steve looked up at him, their eyes meeting.

The blonde god’s gaze widened slightly. You saw his fingers clench as his hand froze. In moments, he raised it; fluffing back his hair before sliding the hand into the pocket of his jeans.

“It’s only one sweater, Rogers” he muttered nervously. “Who cares?” Steve’s face fell, eyes darting to Thor’s crotch with a frown before rising back to his face. “I expected better of you, Odinson” was all he said before turning away.

Loki let out an exasperated sigh, elbowing his brother in the ribs. But Thor didn’t even flinch. His features had crumpled, spinning slowly as he watched the captain leave. His nuts? Forgotten.

But Steve didn’t see it. He was already making his way to the cluster of anxious looking Avengers huddled by the bandstand, examining carol music like they were Hydra files. “That could have gone better,” you whispered to Loki. The god frowned. His attempt to provoke his brother into siding with Rogers had not borne fruit. “Fear not,” Loki replied mysteriously as Thor produced a chicken drumstick from his jeans pocket. He tore off a chunk with a thousand-yard stare. Loki watched him in disbelief, continuing slowly. “There is still time to salvage this operation from the wreckage of my brother’s obstinance.” You gaze flitted between your team-mates. Bucky – Nice. Natasha- Nice. Clint – Naughty. Bruce – Naughty. Wanda – Nice. Sam – Naughty. Scott – Nice. Out the corner of your eye, you saw Loki swipe the half-ravaged chicken drumstick from Thor’s hold with hushed reprimand.

“What’s the big man wearing, I wonder?” you asked no one in particular. Loki snorted, “what else?” he said, nudging his head towards the Santa podium. There he was, Father Christmas aka. Tony Stark. Dressed in ray-bans and custom tailored suit, he looked suspiciously trim for a man in his position.

“Ah,” you smiled.

Loki’s smokey cologne filled your nostrils as he looped his arms around your body, pulling you tight to his chest. “It seems he will not be joining us in this public embarrassment,” he smirked before placing a warming kiss on your lips. Then to the corner of your mouth, then to the angle of your jaw. “Places!” a peaky-sounding Steve shouted, tapping a baton against the music stand at the head of the choir section. There was a deep line between his eyebrows that was decidedly un-Christmassy. “Norns,” Loki muttered. His hands slid down your body, fingers weaving through yours. “Ready?” he breathed nervously, your foreheads touching.

“Are you?” you replied.

Loki squeezed once.

The front row of the audience was made up of children, patients of the hospital. Cushioned folding chairs were laid in a half-crescent, two dozen of their smiling faces staring expectantly. Several of them sat in wheelchairs in the middle. Prime spot. One of them was wearing a pin-badge with Loki’s face on it. A young connoisseur, you thought with a smile.

Behind them, the growing crowd heaved. Sparkling Stark-Industries antlers filled your field of vision, handed out at the gates. There was a static hum, hundred of conversations and jokes and countless eyes inspecting each of you with anticipation. You could feel their excitement fizzing in the air while Bucky fidgeted beside you. Thinking about his solo you had no doubt. You rubbed his back sympathetically. He offered a weak smile of thanks. Steve tapped the pedestal again. “Avengers,” he announced with authority. The hushed whispers and small waves of the team to the crowd came to a halt. “One..two..” he mouthed the three.

All of a sudden, the air came alive with the sound of ten voices, stronger and louder and more melodic than you had expected. Unbelievably, it sounded...good. Hark! The Heralds, angels sing; Glory to the newborn king,

The brass quintet upon the bandstand soared. Even in practice, it hadn’t been this good. A Christmas miracle, you thought as you belted out the words in some semblance of tune.

Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconcile, Your gaze flickered to the other side of the semi-circle, catching Loki’s.

He held his carol-sheet diligently at arms-length, not looking at it. But rather, at you.

He winked.

Steve had rightly separated you. The chances of him squeezing your ass in front of the sick children was just too high. What if one of them goes into shock, Steve had said. But in truth, it was the deep, soulful magnetism of Loki’s singing voice that posed the real risk. If you were standing beside him, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to contain yourself. You winked back. Beside Loki, Thor craned towards the paper his brother held.

Thor had memorised every carol. Every modern classic. Everything in the repertoire. You knew that for a fact.

For the last two weeks, ever since your conversation in the common room – you’d been able to hear him before you could see him. And not in the usual way. You’d become accustomed to hearing his theatrical rendition of Silent Night bouncing its ironic way around the tile of the gym, the hallways, seeping through floors. And what he lacked in vocal melody, he certainly made up for in enthusiasm.

No - in truth, as the God of Thunder stared at the music sheet, he was avoiding Steve’s appraising stare which darted to each of them in turn. Joyful, all ye nations rise, Join the triumph of the skies,

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from your boyfriend, you focused back on the conductor. The crimson flush of his ears had ebbed. He was beginning to smile. Well, a little.

Hark! The Heralds, angels sing; Glory to the newborn king,

The carol continued. And then the next, and the next. Collection buckets that were being passed amongst the crowd began to overflow, the spectators indulging in a mix of swaying, singing, dancing.

With every song that passed, Bucky became more nervous, his voice a little higher.

You only faltered once during Winter Wonderland when you made the mistake of looking at Loki again. At some point, he had raked his hair back. Pink peaked at his cheekbones, his hip slouched casually, tapping his foot in time. One side of his sweater was concealed in the waistband of his dark chinos. A french-tuck, if you weren’t mistaken. It highlighted the sluttish creases that strained at his crotch.

Dark curls fell around the green knit, half-lidded eyes following each word as he sang it. You would fuck that sweater right off him later. Or maybe, he could keep it on...you mused. His smooth baritone slid over the words like a sled in morning’s first snow, to face unafraid, the plans that we made, walking in a- He looked up with a knowing side-smile in your direction. A sharp elbow in the ribs from Wanda made you realised you had lost your train of thought. Your mouth was open, but no words were coming out. “-winter wonderlaaaand,” you squawked out of time.

Steve’s eyes snapped to you, brow arched. He couldn’t complain, not really. Considering how well it was going. A brief erotically-charged moment of disassociation was the least he could expect, surely. As the song drew to a close with a flourish of conductor Rogers’ arms, the crowd burst into applause. With every passing number, it had become louder. You weren’t sure if there were more people, or if the mulled wine had been refilled. Steve spun to face the audience, growing darkness making the warm glow from fairylights create a halo around his blonde hair.

“And now...a very special treat,” he announced mysteriously to the expectant crowd. “Something very, very special indeed. I’ve heard it in rehearsal and golly, he’s just spiff.” Bucky’s feet began scuffing on the ground. He’s going to do a runner, you thought. But thankfully for Bucky, he had nothing to worry about.

The plan was for Barnes to perform a rousing rendition of Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) by Olivia Holt. Or Michael Buble, depending on the demographic. Backed up by the jingling ooo’s and aaa’s of the team of course. But despite Barnes initial enthusiasm, the thought of it had filled him with more horror each passing day.

Steve had been very excited about the whole affair. A grand finale for his orchestral debut, such as it was. And Bucky hadn’t the heart to tell him. “Buck?” you muttered out the corner of your mouth. You glanced at him, trying to be covert. He was sweating, staring blankly ahead. “Buck?” “Yuh.” Barnes mustered quietly as Steve began to move a microphone between the sick kids. Their little voices made your heart flutter. But you had a job to do. The weight of Loki’s concentration radiated from across the space between you. He was watching you and Bucky, completely still aside from one twitching finger and the small smile flickering at his dimples. You cleared your throat, leaning to the side towards the soldier. “In a few seconds you might feel a bit funny-” “I already feel a bit funny doll,” he murmured bitterly. “Yeah but...well, you’ll see. Just don’t freak out.” “Freak-what-now?” “Out-” “-Yah I got that-” he snapped, trying to turn towards you and failing. He tried to twist, but his shoulders wouldn’t budge. “What the-?” “Buck?” you repeated slowly. He met your eyes, the first shadows of fear creeping in. “When Steve calls you up, just shake your head. You have a little bit of movement in your neck. And you can talk a little. Just a little so I can check you’re okay. Okay?” Bucky raised his eyebrows in a grimacing caricature. You decided to assume that meant it was totally cool. “Who are hoo hurkin’ hor!?” he hissed in a wreckage of lisping syllables. His shoulders shook ever so slightly back and forth like a wound-up nutcracker as he tried and failed to move his feet. “Oh, no-” you said, realising he thought you’d been turned. “No, it’s just Loki’s magic. Don’t worry.” Bucky’s eyes widened.

‘Please welcome-’

“You’re off the hook with the song?” you chirped quietly, hoping it had the intended effect. Barnes stopped struggling. ‘-my friend, James Buchanan Barnes!’ A round of deafening applause snapped you from your bubble. Steve stood back at his podium, baton poised and ready for the band to begin.

Alongside the other Avengers, except Bucky, you bent down and picked up a sleigh bell carefully placed at your feet. You could beat someone to death with this thing, you thought as the chrome bells jingled beneath your hand. Wanda shot you a knowing glance, holding in a laugh.

The applause ebbed as James Buchanan Barnes remained rooted to the spot. His eyes darted side to side across the waiting crowd. He shook his head very, very slowly. Showtime, you thought. “I’m afraid he has a bit of stage-fright,” you explained loudly. Collective disappointment hummed in the air. Steve’s face flushed an immediate shade of fuchsia, features hardening. You could see the cogs in his brain turn, a victorious glittering finale slipping from his grasp. His lips puckered, sucking in his cheeks. “I’m sure with a little...encouragement,” Steve said with a grimacing smile, raising his arms. The crowd roared back to life.

Bucky shook his head, a bit faster this time. Rogers head lowered, the breath from his sigh of exasperation clouding around his face. “If I may...” came Loki’s calm drawl from across the line-up. It dripped with sensual showmanship, treacleish tones sending an immediate flood of desire leaking into your panties.

Men and women in the front rows grasped at each other, gawking as if suddenly seeing him for the first time. It doesn’t get any easier folks, you thought with a smile. “My brother here knows the arrangement by heart,” Loki continued. “The lyrics and suchlike- I’m sure he would be happy to relieve Barnes of his duties-”

Mutters of excitement spread through the crowd like a mexican wave. Thor immediately turned his back to the audience, muttering something at surprisingly hushed volume in his brother’s ear. Loki listened diligently, holding up a penitent finger to the crowd. Steve’s arms were folded, storm-clouds knitting his brow. The foot had begun to tap. “My brother makes the valid point that of the two of us, I am the more musically inclined-” Loki began, gracefully gripping Thor’s shoulders and spinning him back to face the audience.

He brushed his brother’s collar, removing the last of the almond crumbs which resided there. A smile you knew all too well stretched across Loki’s lips as he looked deep into Thor’s eyes, willing him to understand. “But alas,” Loki purred, “I know not the words.” And perhaps these words will heal, Loki thought.

Loki held his breath as Thor began to gingerly shuffle forwards, tugging at the hem of his Naughty- emblazoned jumper. If father could see us now, Loki mused with a shiver as his brother gripped the microphone.

The crowd was beginning to stomp in appreciation, driven into a frenzy by the turn of events. Thor gave a small wave, bashful smile growing wider as people began to whistle. Loki turned his attention to Rogers, standing stiff and poised with baton in the air. He gave it a singular flourish, counting down from three. The crowd fell silent.

Loki saw the moment that Steve and Thor’s eyes met. It seemed to make every fairy bulb glow a little brighter in the darkness, sparks of hope spreading like embers from a fire, fluttering upwards in a night sky. Please brother, Loki pleaded silently as he raised his sleigh bell. Don’t arse this up. He suddenly wondered if Thor had felt this way during their time at the cottage. Loki supposed that he had. The brass band sprang to life, drums making an entrance. (Christmaaaas) Loki sang suddenly with the others. Nine voices harmonised as one.

Thor panicked, pulling the microphone to his mouth. “Snow is...coming down...uh-oof-” he spluttered, the cable tangling around his shoe. (Christmaaaaas) they sang, cringing slightly.

One line in, and Loki had almost lost all hope. “I'm watching it faaaaall” Thor crooned in bass – a little more tunefully. (Christmaaaas) “Lots of...very lovely and festive, yes – you...people aro-hounnnd,” (Christmaaaas) Loki sang, a smile beginning to spread as his brother came alive. He was pointing at the children, giggles and squeals peppering the air. The sleigh bell beat against his palm in time with his brother’s voice. “Baby, please come ho-hommmme,” Thor sang. Loki looked up, catching a look on your face that he hadn’t seen before. There was something different in that look. Some deeper variable of your smile that ignited his heart. But there would be time for overthinking it later, he surmised as his brother launched into the chorus with a glottal barrage of enthusiasm. For now, he had a love to nurture.

As Loki released his practised backing harmonies with the rest of the team, his brother got into his stride. ‘Owned the stage,’ Loki believed was the term. Steve didn’t take his eyes off Thor for the whole number. And if Loki didn’t know better, which of course – he did, he would swear that the captain was blushing.

(Please) they sang, sleigh bells jangling in time. “Pleaseee” echoed his brother. (Please) “Please” (Please) “Please” (Please) “Please Baby, please come hommmme-” You were surprised the operatic efforts of Loki’s brother didn’t make the ground shake.

The crowd were beside themselves, singing and jiving and waving their hands in the air. Thor worked the big crescendo, falling to his knees on the ground. His thighs spread, and whether it was his intention or not, you saw Steve grip the podium as his sensibilities buckled. Just a bit. The captain’s lips rolled together, stifling what you were sure was a bite. Thank god Thor wore the tight jeans today, you mused as you held the final note. With a swiping flourish of the conductor’s baton, the song was over. The cheers were deafening.

Thor stood and gave a small bow, sudden bashfulness descending. He waved, backing off to the side. His eyes met Steve’s, giving him an understated nod. The captain returned it slowly, a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. You watched him mouth two words, thank you, before Thor collided into Loki.

There was only one more song to go. You watched as Loki patted his brother’s shoulder across the semi-circle, pulling him into a hug. His face was alight with pride. It melted your heart. Despite the passing of the months, you couldn’t get over how different his smiles were now. Open. Genuine. Real. He’s finally opened his heart.

Have you? The thought came intrusively. Fairy lights shone all around as Loki tussled his brother’s hair. Thor couldn’t stop smiling. And neither could Steve, you noticed. One more song. Rogers tapped the podium for the final time, raising the baton. The mellow sound of the saxophone twisted in the air, followed by strings.

“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas Just like the ones I used to know” you sang. Loki’s eyes met yours, sparkling with the glitter of mischief well done. “Where the treetops glisten, And children listen, To hear sleigh bells in the snow,”

Bucky’s voice began to grow louder beside you. Released from his bodily prison at last. On cue, the Avengers began to peel away from the semi-circle, mingling with the crowd. Of course, any production orchestrated by Steve Rogers would end in a collective heart-melting communal singalong. Nothing else would do.

You watched as Wanda cosied up to a older man holding a mulled wine. He offered it to her immediately, stunned as he mouthed the words to White Christmas. She took it.

For your part, you made a beeline for the children sitting at the front of the audience, joining them in their sway. This whole thing was for them, after all. Loki’s shadow crept behind you, falling over the little girl with his face emblazoned on the pin badge.

“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, with every Christmas card I write” Loki purred melodically as he lowered to his haunches. He paused, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. You watched her face, transfixed in joy as all her daydreams came true. The God of Mischief in person, his shadowed blue eyes looking into hers as though she was the only person in the world. That never gets old, either, you thought. He took her hand, pressing her tiny palm against his own. “May your days,” he sang with the crowd as his fingertips glowed green, “be merry and bright-” You couldn’t tear yourself from the look of absolute sincerity on his face. The utter determination painted on softened features to give this sweet girl a memory that would last for the rest of her life – however long that was.

Tears began to prick your eyes, seeing the crane of her neck upwards as her mouth fell open in wonder to the sky. Loki smiled. The green shimmer of his palm pressed to hers grew stronger. A glow flashed across the inky night, a billowing flourish of northern lights erupting over central Manhattan seeped in emerald and pinkish hues. They twisted in waves, swirling like a cloak which moved and rolled. It was alive. Loki's voice was quieter now, but no less beautiful as he sang. “And may all your Christmases, be-” “white,” the little girl gasped as snow began to fall. He did that, you thought in wonder as the crowd began to cheer, hugging each other. All sets of eyes were turned upwards to the sky. All but yours. They stayed fixed on Loki as the band played on amidst a flutter of newly swirling snowflakes. The man I love.

“The tie, brother-” Thor muttered nervously, “is it..?” “It is well done, brother” Loki replied.

He dusted the lapel of Thor’s crushed velvet suit jacket a final time, a deep red the shade of fine merlot. The blonde released a trembling sigh, pulling at his fingers.

It was Christmas Eve. “Did you take the pharmaceuticals as instructed?” Loki enquired quietly as the elevator bounced to a halt. Thor nodded, patting his breast pocket. “The Tums? Yes. I have some on my person should the gaseous beast rear in my belly.” Loki nodded, satisfied. All the bases were covered. He had done all he could do. Now, it was up to Thor. Well, almost. It had been Loki’s idea for the brothers to dress together for the party tonight. And although his initial plan was to ensure that Thor was in peak condition for this eve of great import, Loki would admit that he had enjoyed it. Very much.

He wore a suit matching his brother’s in all but one detail. Loki’s was a crushed velvet of richest emerald green. Thin silk ties of gold adorned them both, fastened tight to the white shirts beneath with a pin bearing their respective emblems. Loki’s gift to his brother. The Asgardian Princes were showing up, tonight. Loki had made sure of it. Mother would be proud, he smiled as the elevator doors opened. Thor’s Yuletide offering to him had been a gift certificate to the Cheesecake Factory, but Loki paid it no mind. Gifts had never been his brother's strong-suit.

The rest of the team was already gathered by the Christmas tree, festive beverages in hand. A rolling cheer of greeting sounded as the duo strode towards the scene. Loki grabbed two glasses from the bar, passing one to his brother who necked it immediately. The dark god swirled his finger, refilling it. Loki felt his brows rise as he saw you, standing with one finger curled over your lip and an entirely too sensual smirk on your beautiful face. Beneath the perfectly cut trousers of his suit, Loki’s cock twitched. “You look handsome,” you coaxed quietly as he slid an arm around your waist, releasing a breath he’d been holding as a charged grunt of need.

“If we had gotten ready for tonight together,” Loki growled hot in your ear, “I fear that dress would never have been seen by another intact.” He pressed himself to you with a lingering kiss, an appreciative thrust of his hips rubbing against your own. He sighed into your open mouth, feeling your fingers dig into his shoulders. “God,” Natasha muttered with playful scorn under her breath, shuffling over to give you both space. “Can’t take them anywhere,” she murmured to Sam. Sam grunted in agreement.

“Presents!” Tony cried, clapping his hands together. “Party starts at eight, tick tock. Cutting it fine thanks to Paris and Nicole here.” He nodded in Loki and Thor’s direction. Steve checked his watch. “One cannot rush perfection, Stark” Loki smirked, releasing you. He watched as Rogers turned and adjusted a decoration on the tree. A plush rabbit wearing a santa hat. He was nervous. Tony knelt down, reading each gift tag and throwing it to the corresponding team-member. An oblong package whizzed past Loki's face, hitting his brother square in the mouth. 'Ooft,' Thor grunted as mulled wine slopped over the side of the glass. He stumbled, catching the present. Loki sighed, flexing his fingers and removing the stain from the front of his sibling’s suit. His brother nestled the empty glass dangerously within the tree branches to his side, inspecting the package. “Tis soft,” he muttered seriously. Across the circle, Loki saw Steve’s anxious gaze darting upwards at his brother in intervals. He noted you offer the captain a comforting nod while Thor tore at immaculate wrapping, ripping off the red ribbon and casting it aside. “Odin’s beard…” Thor gasped as the final sliver of paper fell away.

The team fell silent, looking up from their various body massagers and associated tat. He raised the item in his hands like Simba, slack-jawed in awe. The amazed god stared at it, eyes glossy.

Bruce frowned towards the blonde, peering over his glasses with an oversized posing pouch dangling from one finger. “Is that-?” “-A chicken drumstick?” Nat gawked. “Tis’ soft…!” Thor breathed in wonder, twirling it in his hands. He clutched it to his chest, eyes darting around the group. “A thousand thanks upon whomever bestowed this plush poultry treasure upon me,” he murmured, unable to resist holding the cushion proudly at arms length.

“Truly whomever be my secretive santa knows me to my core-” he continued dreamily, looking to each avenger in turn. They all looked befuddled. All except one. Thor’s brow creased, doing a double take as Steve’s cheeks plunged to new depths of crimson. “Rogers?” the blonde god whispered, so low only Loki could hear it. “Open yours Steve!” someone probed. Captain America still held his own package in his hands, toying with it gently.

Loki maintained his stoic expression, tossing his newly acquired bottle of luxury dry shampoo between his hands as he noted horror descend on his brother’s face. Never fear, brother; he thought smugly. Thor thought that Steve was about to open a small box containing yet another gift certificate to the Cheesecake Factory. But Thor was mistaken. Firstly, America’s saviour was lactose intolerant. Any internet search would have told him that. But despite his brother’s poverty of imagination where presents were concerned, his heart was in the right place. And for the cunning plan his love and he had concocted, there was only one gift which could bring the two men comfort and joy this Christmas. The truth. “Wait, wait-” Thor yelped as he took several panicked strides across the room. He knelt down to Steve’s level, placing his hands over the box that Steve had only just revealed through the wrapping. “It’s not-” Steve looked up, meeting the god’s panicked stare with practised indifference.

“Let me open it, will ya?” he said calmly. Thor sank back, head bowed as he waited for the axe to fall. With every careful unlatching of sellotape, Loki saw his brother’s heart sink a little more into his stomach. “Good gravy, what’s this? A pocket-square?” Thor looked up, regret turning to confusion as he clocked the handkerchief dangling between Rogers slender fingers. It was familiar, heavy with otherworldly silk and trimmed in thread ground from the most precious jewels of nine realms. On one side, deepest burgundy melting to crimson. But on the other, a rich navy which faded to shimmering azure.

Red and blue, not red and green.

The two colours met in the middle, threads glittering and overlapping like foam on the shore. They seemed to move. To change and ebb in the light like a living thing. And stitched across the handkerchief in the finest gold,

En sannhet byttet mot en sannhet. “Jeepers,” Steve muttered as he pulled the silk appraisingly through his fingers. “Someone definitely went over the twenty dollar limit.” Thor twisted his head incredulously towards his brother. Loki narrowed his eyes briefly in response, coupled with a small nod. The blonde god cleared his throat, finally catching up to the scenario unfolding before him. “A truth for a truth,” Thor breathed quietly, looking to the floor.

Steve’s concentration broke, as if suddenly seeing the person kneeling beside him on the floor for the first time. “P-pardon?” he stuttered. There was a sudden wave of green hued light through the room, reminiscent of the northern lights which lit up last night’s sky at the jamboree. “My apologies, Rogers…” Loki purred, stepping forwards. “I feel it best to inform you that the others cannot see nor hear us at this moment. As far as they are aware, you are both by the bar.” Loki nodded to where a slightly glitchy duo of duplicates stood behind Tony’s counter, clinking glasses of tequila. “Just myself, and she-” he nodded to you, “are witness.” “W-witness?” Steve spluttered, trying to stand and finding his knees starting to buckle. He looked at Thor, eyes wide. But all he found was softness. “Say the words, Rogers” Thor urged gently, gesturing to the handkerchief. Steve frowned, as the blonde god pulled the silk from his grip.

“A truth for...what was it? Truth for a truth?” Rogers asked, confused gaze darting between the men and you.

Loki clapped his hands together quietly. “Wonderful. You are now bound to the Accords of the Kerchief.” Steve frowned deeper. “Accords of the what-now?” “Kerchief,” Loki repeated formally, nodding towards the silk in Thor’s hand.

“You have both held it while the other spoke the words. And now, you must exchange the truth which causes the conflict between you – so that it may be resolved.” “And what if I don’t wanna?” Rogers sniffed, ears burning. He avoided Thor’s eyes. Loki released a whittling hum of discontent. “Unfortunately, failure to comply with the Accord of the Kerchief once initiated means instant smiting at the hands of Heimdall.” “Smiting?! You can’t be serious,” Steve scoffed with gusto. “Oh yes,” Loki nodded very seriously. Thor was nodding too. Also very seriously. “The penalties are most grave, Rogers.” “You tricked me,” Steve hissed to the blonde opposite him.

“Technically I tricked you,” Loki smirked apologetically. Rogers eyes narrowed in his direction, his lip trembling with what looked suspiciously like a swear. “Laufeyson,” he warned. Loki extended his forefinger, waggling it slowly side-to-side. “It will do not a jot of good, Rogers. You can thank my mother for this one. Now -” he gestured expectantly between the men. Thor took a deep breath. “Rogers-Ihavefeelingsforyouwhichcannotbeexplainedin,mere...Norns-” “Slow down, Thor-” you cooed gently.

Loki felt your hand slide into his. The nerves roaring in his belly soothed as your fingers interlinked. Despite maintaining an exterior of calm, he was terrified.

“Rogers,” Thor began again. Steve stared at him, transfixed. The aura of suspicion which surrounded him was fading, his stiff spine slackening as he looked at the god. Really looked at him. Saw him.

“I have feelings for you, which run deep to the heart of me. Which I cannot deny any longer. And if you feel that you cannot return my interest, then I shall understand. But I cannot spend another night unable to sleep, thinking that you believe me to hate you. And I apologise for my boorish behaviour these past months.” There was a pause as the god took a breath before continuing. “It was self preservation, you see-” Thor rumbled quietly, before sighing.

Steve looked down, still except for his fingers fidgeting with the wrapping paper in his lap. “That was well done, brother” Loki soothed. Thor shot him a sad smile. “I-” Rogers started.

The three of you held your breath. He looked up, just at the moment Thor curled a blonde tendril behind his ear. “I-” Steve choked, shifting on his knees. “It’s okay Steve,” you coaxed from the side-lines. It was the final nudge he needed. “I feel the same,” was all Steve said. He looked up, meeting Thor’s widening eyes. “Truly?” Steve nodded shyly. “I got myself in a tizz, about a whole bunch of things which weren’t really to do with you. Or….us. Not really,” he stammered. "It wasn't a mistake. And I was a dummy to say so." Loki felt your fingernails dig into his palm, both of you craning forwards as the captain continued. His voice was serious, a slight waver just audible between the words. “For a while, I thought you thought I was just some kinda tart. Some kind of loose Jack. Well lemme tell you Odinson, Steve Rogers is no one’s tart.” “You were never my tart, Rogers,” Thor uttered with gravitas, gently cupping Steve’s jaw. The captain’s eyelids fluttered closed, leaning into his hold. In seconds, the space between them closed. Rogers arms wrapped around Thor’s shoulders, Thor’s hands sliding around the captain’s waist. They fit together like a glove, Steve’s fingers winding in the god’s hair like a spindle through spun gold. Low mutterings of apologies cascaded from their lips between kisses, small gasps and sighs as unpleasantness of past months were forgotten. “What the fuck?” Tony spluttered. Every set of eyes in the room was fixed on the God of Thunder and Captain America’s passionate embrace. Hel, Loki thought with a shock. In all the excitement, he had neglected to hold the spell which shielded them. The kiss ceased, but still their arms were wound around each other. “Sheesh,” Wanda laughed, grabbing a bottle of the good stuff on her way past the bar. “It’s about time.” A murmur of agreement rolled around the room, a chorus of whoops sounding as each teammate stooped to offer a clap on the back to the newly outed couple. And for the first time in living memory, the colour of Thor’s cheeks rivalled his lover’s. “Maybe you guys won’t be the public embarrassment at parties anymore,” Nat quipped as she passed, tapping Loki and you lightly on the ass. Your laughter lit up Loki’s heart. And there was that look in your eye again, the one he couldn’t place yesterday.

‘We did it,’ you mouthed silently to him. Loki winked in response, just as the clock chimed eight. With a spring in his step, Loki made his way to the men kneeling awkwardly on the floor, noting their interlinked fingers with a wave of pride. He offered both hands, and each was taken. He heaved, pulling the men to stand and immediately into a hug.

“Merry Christmas, brother” he whispered in Thor’s ear. “Do you need the handkerchief back?” Thor muttered through a smile. “I am assuming the revised colours were only temporary.” Loki chuckled, pulling him and Rogers tighter. The captain released a strangled ooft as the air was pressed from his lungs.

“I think not that we need such a trinket to ensure our bond. Not anymore. Do you, brother?” Loki murmured into his sibling’s hair.

From deep within the embrace, in a hold which seemed to melt the centuries, Loki felt his brother shake his head.

The party was a roaring success. And in the early hours of Christmas Day, you and Loki stumbled back to your apartment upstairs.

It was tiredness, mostly – and happiness. Strands of tinsel poked from Loki’s curls. You pulled one out with a giggle before unlocking the door and pulling him inside. “Finally,” he growled longingly as one slim finger toyed with the strap of your dress. Making quick work of pushing the velvet suit jacket from his shoulders, your fingers were halfway down his shirt buttons before you suddenly remembered- “-your present!” you cried, making Loki flinch back from where he had been buried in your neck.

“Can’t it wait?” he whined with feigned impatience. You waved an excited hand, scurrying to the cupboard. “No.” you shouted, head popping out behind the cupboard door. “I’ve been dying to give it to you.” Loki sighed, a reluctant smile spreading across his beautiful face. “I thought we agreed no gifts,” he huffed as you ran and sat cross-legged on the bed.

You bounced on your knees while he swaggered over, undoing the last of his buttons with a knowing grin as he enjoyed the roam of your hungry stare across his skin. His carved abdomen flirted into view, obliques visible with each stride as the thick cotton folded to his movements. Loki sat on the bed, legs spread at the edge. His thighs creased the material in a way that made your mouth water.

He picked up the box, inspecting it before throwing you a lingering smoulder. “Mischievous elf,” he purred. “It’s just a small thing” you bargained, biting your lip as the first side of paper was torn. “I stole it, actually.” Loki raised an eyebrow. “Open it!” you said, chewing on your thumbnail as you watched his eyes drop to the package. Suddenly the god’s face changed.

Playfulness melted to a frown, his smirk fading. He swallowed thickly, staring down at the mug in his hands before looking up at you. “-with the yellow bear,” he said quietly. “and the eyepatch!” you beamed. “I took it from the cottage. I noticed you always used it, I thought you might like the-”

Before you could finish, Loki’s hand had cupped the back of your head and pulled you into an all-consuming kiss. He bore down on you, the passion of his adoration sinking through the air and deep into your soul. Every circle of his tongue against yours, every caress of his breath as he repositioned his mouth over your own. He broke, panting. “Darling,” was all he could muster in thanks as he looked down at the ceramic with adoring eyes. You couldn’t stop smiling. His gaze snapped up, a click of his fingers making a perfectly wrapped present appear beside you on the bed. Golden paper shimmered before becoming whole. It was flat, and light. “No presents, huh?” you goaded sweetly. Loki smiled. “Open it,” he echoed. You complied. And inside the paper was a perfectly folded nightdress, adorned with autumnal leaves. The very same one. You hugged it to your chest, a dopey smile on your face. “I knew it was the one thing in that room you would miss,” he rumbled apologetically.

You reached for his hand, thumb running over the veins taut and thick on the back. “I hope this doesn’t mean I’ll be sleeping alone,” you whispered with a smile. Loki placed his mug on the side table, before reaching for the nightdress and placing it beside. “God forbid,” he growled. Loki pulled another errant strand of tinsel from his hair, making it vanish. Without breaking eye contact, he lowered you back on the mattress, the pad of one fingertip tracing down your cheekbone. Memorising it.

The way he was looking at you, the silence that hung where words should be. You knew which words they were. He was holding back, even now as he inhaled against your pulse-point. Holding back for you. As dark curls blanketed your vision, you thought of the excitement in his voice as the cunning plan was formed. Of the way his fists clenched as he silently cheered his brother on, how his face fell when he thought that it was all for naught. How his eyes had swum with joy as it all came together. Not for himself, but for them. And you thought of the smile on that little girl’s face, joyful in the midst of Christmas lights and magic that shouldn't be possible. But for her, and for you - with him...it was. Yes, you’d thought about that a lot. “I love you, Loki” you whispered slowly in his ear.

Loki’s kisses against your neck faltered. You heard a sigh rack his chest, breath hitching as his heart-beart quickened on top of your own. “Truly?” he murmured in response.

It was cautious, wary. His eyes came into view, concern clouding them. You slid a hand up his jaw, kissing him gently. “I love you,” you repeated solemnly. He pressed his forehead to yours, a choke of relieved laughter accompanying a long inhale of breath. “Gods,” he whispered on the exhale, “what have I done to deserve you?” “Everything,” you replied quietly. It was a truth.

He kissed you as though he was trying to absorb each atom of your breath, capture each flutter of the three words he’d longed to hear. As though they might vanish if he did not mark the moment with the seal of his touch. But they wouldn’t. You knew that now. How could they? “I love you,” he whispered back. And you believed him.

A/N: Thank you again so so so much for coming on this journey with me and the gang. I'm so happy with how this ended, even though the expansion was a bit unexpected(!) and I really hope you are too! Although the 'main' story is chapters 1-7, it felt like there was more to explore. Please let me know what you thought, any insights or additional HCs you have - they are always welcome ❤️ Tags

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki smut #loki fluff #loki odinson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson fluff #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki x yn #loki x you #loki gif #loki series

[lipglossanon]

I Only Touched Her Hips (But She Saw It)

☆───── ⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆ ─────☆

dogman!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, owner/pet relationship, mounting, knotting, dirty talk, creampie, nipple play, oral (f and m receiving)

Not proofread ✌️

Part 1: Stay Right Through

Title from Tell Her Tonight by Franz Ferdinand (also throwing in The Dark of The Matinèe cause I listened to it as well 💜)

☆───── ⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆ ─────☆

It’s Monday and you’ve called out of work, the lie slipping off your tongue easily. 

Leon had woken you up early, face buried in your soaked cunt as he licked you through two orgasms— all before 4am. After, he flipped you over on your stomach and mounted you with a growl. The other coworker on the line completely oblivious to the fact you called in sick with your ass in the air and Leon knotting your pussy so good your cock drunk before 8am. 

All morning, you’ve been stuck on his knot, shivering and milking his dick as he keeps playing with your pudgy clit. 

“Mmm little owner you’re still so tight even after this whole weekend of being stretched on my cock,” he laughs as he bites another mark into your neck. 

You whine, brain feeling so fuzzy as he keeps you pinned down and mounted on every surface available.

By the end of the day, Leon seems to have run out of steam. You take advantage of the break and order in takeout while you go grab a quick shower. Your cunt is puffy and sore, but you kinda like it. It feels so dirty and good that you’re actually kinda hoping after dinner that Leon will be up for another round. 

You pat your cheeks, scolding yourself for being so thirsty when this can’t keep up; you literally cannot keep calling out of work so your hybrid can knot you all day. Shivering at that thought, you firmly shake your head and finish your shower. You need to make sure Leon knows he can’t just do whatever he wants, heat or no heat. 

Once you’re dried off and dressed, you hear the doorbell chime. By the time you make it into the living room, Leon already has the food set out on a table in the kitchen. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him, feeling soft affection bloom in your chest. 

“Of course,” he walks over to you and butts his head against your arm making you giggle and ruffle his ears. 

You both sit at the table, Leon digging in immediately as you pick at your food. 

“Leon, we need some ground rules in regards to… intimate relations,” you cringe at yourself. 

His dark blue eyes stare at you, a grin coming over his face, “You mean I shouldn’t knot your pussy so much?”

You feel a rush of heat travel through your body, making your nipples ache. 

“Yes,” you deadpan, “you—we need to tone it down. I can’t miss work like this all the time.”

He nods, looking contrite, “Yes ma’am. I’m sorry about this morning. I just… you smelled so good and I just wanted a little taste. I got carried away.”

Another buzz of arousal sweeps through you, “I know, Leon. And on the weekends,” you rub your face bashfully, “I don’t mind it so much since we don’t have anywhere to be, but during the week please refrain.”

“Yeah?” you can see his tail wag excitedly, “promise I’ll be good, keep my hands to myself.”

You smile at him making him mirror you, “You’re such a good boy, Leon.”

He whines, tail thumping against his chair, hands clenching on the tabletop. 

“Can I scent you?” he asks, a blush kissing his cheekbones. 

“Of course, Leon. You don’t have to ask for that, okay?”

He’s nodding as he moves over to your side, “Yes, ma’am.”

You giggle as he snuffs into your neck, his rough stubble and hot breath causing goosebumps. He buries his face there and smells your skin. 

“Lick?” his voice rumbles out at you. 

“Mmm that’s okay too,” you murmur, feeling his rough tongue lap at the skin. 

“So pretty and taste so good,” he mumbles, lapping roughly against one of the marks he left, “my owner.”

You sigh and pet his soft ears as he licks at your neck. Once you’re finished eating, you shoo Leon off to the bathroom to take his own shower while you change your bedsheets. Hot embarrassment floods your body to see the state of your bed, but the lizard part of your brain feels nothing but arousal. 

Leon pads into the room, still shower damp and shakes his head gruffly flinging water drops everywhere. 

“Leon!” you try to chastise but end up laughing. 

He quickly moves over to you, wrapping you in his arms, whining as he chuffs against your hair. 

“Don’t want you to go to bed.”

“Why?” you giggle as he noses your neck.

“It means you’ll be going to work tomorrow,” he pouts, ears drooping when he pulls away. 

“Come snuggle with me,” you offer, grabbing his calloused palm and tugging him towards the bed.

“Really?” his tail wags slowly.

“You’re always welcome to snuggle with me, Leon,” you tug him close, “what kind of owner would I be?”

He snorts and shuffles you onto the bed so he can bury his face into your chest. 

He nuzzles against your breasts, “Would’ve been a mean owner.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, feeling sleepy and warm with his body on top of yours, “just a mean ole owner.”

“Yeah,” he sniffs your chest pushing aside the tank top til your breasts are spilling out, hardening under his gaze and hot rough tongue, “such a mean owner.”

“Leon,” you gasp, writhing under him but not able to move.

You mewl and whine as he slowly laps at your hard buds, teasing them with his canine teeth before sucking them into his mouth. Bringing your hands up, they hesitate to push him away, but then he suckles your nipple gently and your fingers grip onto his ears as you arch up into his mouth. 

He groans and continues to lathe and suck at your breasts, growling when you tug his ears. 

“Sorry,” you gasp out, pulling your hands away like you were scalded. 

His hands grab yours and out then back on his ears, “Like it.”

The words are mumbled into your chest as he eagerly goes back to nipping and sucking your tits. You moan when he squeezes your breasts together to suck and lick both nipples at the same time. Tugging at his ears, you press his mouth against your hard buds.

“Leon, oh good boy, such a good boy for me,” you babble as he starts to rock his hard cock against your panty clad pussy. 

“Can I knot you? Please?” he gives you his best puppy dog eyes. 

You’re nodding before he even finishes talking, “Yeah, yeah, want it, be a good boy and knot your owner’s pussy.”

Leon snarls and rips your panties at the seams, quickly burying his throbbing cock into your soaked pussy.  Your back bows off the bed, a low needy moan slipping past your lips. 

“So good,” you choke out as Leon starts up a relentless pace, rabbiting his dick into your cunt so hard it’s making your pussy gush slick. 

“Gonna cum,” you scratch at his shoulders, “fuck never been this fast before.”

“Little owner’s just feeling too good,” Leon licks and sucks at the bruise on your shoulder from last night, “pussy wanting my knot, nnh, sucking me in.”

“Knot me, Leon,” you gasp as your orgasm teeters on the edge, “breed my pussy, wanna feel your knot.”

He growls and bites down on your neck, forcing his knot into your clenching hole. 

“Stuff you full,” he grunts, “pussy taking my knot so easy now.”

His humps harder into your fluttering walls, leaning down to bite your nipples roughly. The band of arousal strung tight in your belly snaps. 

Your nails scratch into his skin, spine arching up as you push your head into the mattress. Pussy walls suck and milk at his throbbing cock, knot snuggly keeping you plugged for the load he spurts straight into your cunt. 

“Milk me, milk my cock, little owner, get every drop, need to give you my pups,” he’s growling and snarling against your breasts, shoving himself deeper into your spasming walls as he fills you with rope after rope of hot cum. 

He settles down on top of you, keeping you locked together and stuffed full. Not meaning to, you fall asleep like that, softly petting his ears. 

//

The next morning is a blur. Leon pouted and whined so much as you got ready, you finally caved in and decided to take him with you— only now you’re seriously rethinking the choice to bring Leon to work with you. 

Your coworkers awed and oohed at him as he stood behind you, not letting anyone pet him. Waving them off with laughs, you led him to your enclosed office, shutting the door so the noise doesn’t bother him. 

At first it was going well, he seemed to be content just sitting in a chair and watching you. Lunch went great; ordering from the canteen and splitting it with Leon who gave you a sloppy kiss on the cheek in thanks making you giggle. 

It’s midafternoon now and only a couple of hours left in the workday, but Leon’s restless. You’re still typing away on your computer, but you can see him pace out of the corner of your eye. He walks over to you and kneels next to your knees. Your heart rate jumps in nervous excitement, but he only nuzzles your outer thigh. 

“Pets, please?”

You melt, smiling sweetly down at him, “Of course. You’re doing so well, such a good boy for me today, Leon.”

After ruffling his hair and ears with both hands, you turn back to your computer and keep one hand running through his hair while you use the other to type. The work’s a little slower, but you don’t mind. You feel him shift and move around a lot more, pulling your attention back to him. 

“You okay?”

He snuffs against your leg, turning those pretty blue eyes up to you, “Can I sit between your legs? Wanna be closer to you.”

You push out from your desk, giving him space to shuffle on his knees til he’s in between your legs, tucked under the desk. His rumbly growl sounds pleased as his tail wags back and forth. You hesitate, but part your legs rucking up your skirt so Leon can settle against you better. 

He lays his head down on one of your thighs, shutting his eyes as you start to rub his ears. After a few minutes, your body relaxes and petting Leon falls into the background as you get back to work. You’re so engrossed in finishing up these last few emails, that it doesn’t click that a rough wet tongue is licking at your thighs until it grazes your damp panties. 

You gasp, pulling out of your work daze and looking down at Leon, whose head is burrowed under your skirt as he licks your cunt through your panties. 

“Leon,” you hiss down at him trying to shove his head away but he ignores you and licks your clit over and over with unerring accuracy even through your underwear. 

Your hips rock against his mouth, the pleasure bubbling through your veins making the fight leave your body. 

“You’re so bad, Leon,” you whisper, pulling your skirt up higher to see his flushed face and blown pupils between your thighs. 

He whines but doesn’t stop sniffing and licking your panties. You part your legs as far as they can go in the chair with a sigh. 

“Mmm Leon, this is wrong,” your hands tangle in his hair, not really stopping him from pulling the gusset of your panties to the side so he can lick your bare pussy. 

“Then stop me, little owner,” his mouth pulls away for a moment so he can tug your underwear completely off, “I’ll stop if you really want me to.”

You whine and tug his handsome face back into your needy cunt, making him growl and lap at your clit roughly. With your panties off, you tug your skirt up until it’s bunched around your hips. Leon pushes your chair out a little from your desk so he can place your thighs over his shoulders, letting his tongue fuck deeper into your drippy hole. 

“Your mouth is a sin,” you whine down at him, riding his face a little harder. 

Leon grunts and buries his face deeper into your soaked folds, rough tongue fluttering into your hole as his nose and stubble scrapes against your pussy lips. He shakes his head so his nose bumps and rubs against your swollen bundle of nerves. 

“Gonna cum, Leon,” you gasp, tossing your head back as you hump his mouth. 

He growls, the vibrations sending you over the edge, slick coating his mouth as your orgasm shakes through your body. You yank his hair to pull him close, grinding your pussy all over his face. 

“Good boy, so good,” you slur, finally letting go of him.

When you finally look down at him, Leon’s panting heavily. 

“Want to—“

He shakes his head, ears flopping. 

“I came,” he whispers, a blush spreading down to his neck, “when you yanked my head into you.”

You push out of your chair to kneel in front of him, pulling his spent cock from his pants. 

“Let me clean you up,” you murmur, mouth eagerly licking up his cummy mess.

“Owner,” he whines, hands balled up into fists at his side, “m sensitive.”

You sigh and lap up all the sticky jizz coating his cock, tongue trailing down to lap across his knot and then softly suck his balls into your mouth.  He growls softly when you finally pull away, swallowing down his salty cum. 

He yanks your head up to lick eagerly into your mouth with a groan. 

“Can’t wait to go home,” he mumbles against your lips, “are we leaving soon?”

You pull away to look up at the clock, “We can leave in a few minutes, Leon.”

Rubbing his ears softly, he nuzzles into your neck with a sigh.

“You’re the best owner.”

#lipglossanon #dogman!leon s kennedy smut #dogman!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #dogman!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #dogman!leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy smut #lipglossmasterlist

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

an enlightening soak

fused with the foe, chapter four

a/n: don't mind me, just giggling like the little love gremlin that i am

summary: “No, no, nothing is wrong, it’s just–…” he stressed before a strained exhale flowed out of him and he averted his eye, “…in the library, on the fourth bookcase up top, there are some books that should help clear things up for you.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, smut, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, gore, injury, first kiss, love realization, masturbation

word count: 1282

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“…well, you didn’t say a word to me the whole night, barely even looked at me,” you sat down on the edge of the central fountain in the castle’s topiary garden, “and then at the end you just up and left without–, well, I’m not quite sure what was supposed to have happened, but I know it’s not that, I have brothers, I'm not completely clueless.”

Taking a seat beside you on the edge, Steve urged, “I know you’re not, but–,” his words then fell short as realisation washed over his features, “oh gods…”

“What?” you raised your gaze from the pebbles beneath your shoes, “what’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing is wrong, it’s just–…” he stressed before a strained exhale flowed out of him and he averted his eye, “…in the library, on the fourth bookcase up top, there are some books that should help clear things up for you.”

“…you want me to read?” you cocked a brow, “I don’t understand.”

“You will, just–…” he nearly looked flustered, “give it a chance.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because it is a delicate matter that I’m not sure if I should be the one to teach you about,” he worded carefully. 

“Why couldn’t you? Do you not know either?”

“Oh, no,” he refused to meet your eye, “I know. I just don’t think–…” his restless body forced him to rise, “you should really just find those books and read them, then you’ll know.”

“Hmm…” your confusion hadn’t defused one bit, “alright.”

Bending down to pick up a fallen leaf from one of the sculptural topiary bushes, his fingers began to fiddle with it, “so, you haven’t ever had a sweetheart or anything?”

“I spent most of my life in my room, either because the door was locked or because it was just the safest option,” you nearly laughed, “so, no, I haven’t ever had someone like me in that manner.”

“Not even a servant?” he offered you the briefest of glances, “someone you’d call your friend? Maybe just someone daring enough to give a princess a kiss?”

“I’ve–,” you felt your cheeks heat up as you tried to answer, “I’ve never–… no…” lowering your vision to the gentle ripple in the fountain water, you then asked quietly, “…have someone ever been daring enough to kiss you?”  

Looking back at you, the faintest of chuckles rumbled within him at the adorable nature of your tone, “yeah.”

Dragging your fingertips gently through the water, you glanced up to meet his gaze, “we’re friends, right? Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “we’re friends.”

“So, if I asked you to, would you maybe kiss me?”

“What?” his head tilted slightly as if he thought he’d misheard you. 

“Would you kiss me?”

“Uh…” he glanced back down at the leaf between his fingers, “you sure you’d want that?”

“Well, I don’t make it a habit of asking for stuff I'm not sure about.”

“Right,” he exhaled, “alright, well, sure, if that’s something you’d want.”

“Great!” you exclaimed as you wiped your damp fingers on the skirt of your dress, “then do it.”

“What, right now?”

“Well, why not?” you shrugged. 

“Alright,” he let the crumbled leaf float down to the pebbly ground, “sure.”

As his long stride neared you, a bubble of nerves burst within you, “what should I do?”

Towering above your seated position as he stopped before you, “just,” his careful touch slowly found your arm, “close your eyes…” his gaze searched yours a moment as you felt your pulse begin to pick up, “the rest will come to you naturally.”

Letting your eyes flutter shut, a small gasp slipped out of you as you felt his light touch find your cheek. 

It was different than you’d imagined. It wasn’t weird or slimy, it bloody took your breath away as his lips gently brushed against your own. 

When he slowly withdrew, you couldn’t help but hypnotically drift after his fading lips before a shutter that ran down your spine caused you to float back. 

“You alright?” his warm touch lingered on your cheek a moment longer, caressing the high point as your starry eyes fluttered back open. 

“Y-yes,” you breathed raggedly, feeling as if you might tumble back into the fountain, “uh, thank you.”

And in that moment, you knew, you didn’t need any other clue to string all of the pieces inside of you together. 

You were in love with the king of Eflorr. 

Though you were in a window a few storeys up, you could still nearly hear the laboured grunts as Steve’s sweat-glistening visage sparred with a few wardens down in the wide front courtyard. Your lips couldn’t help but part slightly as you ogled. 

But just as you felt drool begin to trickle out of the corner of your mouth, a pair of hasty footsteps rounded the corner. 

“There you are, your majesty,” you hoped you weren’t too visibly flustered as you turned to face the servant, “your bath is ready.”

“Thank you, Hilda,” you offered her a polite nod before making your way back towards your private chambers. 

Steam invitingly wafted off the copper tub as you stepped inside. Layer by layer, you stripped down and draped your attire over the back of the folding screen that stood in the very corner of the room. Sinking into the bubbles, a soft sigh seeped from your lips as you melted back against the bathtub. 

With your thoughts still floating back in the courtyard where Steve was training, your fingertips couldn’t help but ghost over your lips as they tingled at the memory of his. 

As your eyes fluttered closed, your touch did as it had formed a tendency of ever since you read those books the monarch had advised you to educate yourself with. Fluttering down your soaked frame, your touch wandered over every spot that caused frail whimpers to flow out of your lungs. 

But just as your bubbly fantasies began to drift you away completely, the sudden sound of the door to your chambers being burst open jolted you out of it. 

Absentmindedly wandering in, Steve’s gaze was glued to the papers in his grasp, “the town meeting is starting in an hour, would you–,” he finally looked up as you twisted around and the bathwater sloshed at your startled motion, “oh,” he froze, thankfully not seeing much as both the tub’s high walls as well as the lush bubbles obscured your exposed frame, “I am so sorry,” from the looks of it, he’d already freshened up after his recent activities, “I didn’t–, I should have knocked,” he swiftly turned back around to leave, “I’ll just ask you later, I’m sorry.”

“Ask me what?” your voice halted him as his hand clasped the door handle. 

With his back firmly turned to you, he said stiffly, “uh, I was just wondering if you’d like to join.”

“Join?”

“The council meeting,” he swiftly squashed the innuendo that your hazy brain had conjured, “if it’s alright with you, I’d love your opinion on some of the things on the agenda today.” 

“You would?”

“Dove, your mind is brilliant,” he stated, “of course, I want your input on all the important matters.” 

Even though your cheeks were already aflame, that compliment only managed to ignite the fire. 

“When does it start?” 

“In an hour.”

“Alright,” you bit down on your bottom lip, “I’ll see you in an hour then.” 

“Great,” his white-knuckled fist then twisted the door handle, “have a nice bath–, I mean, uh… bye,” he stumbled over his words as he rushed to leave. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

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[vampirzina]

‧₊˚ .💋┊Smudge-proof. (nsfw blurb)

You get new lipstick, and you want to test it out... Needy!Bi Han x Reader

tw: mdni, oral m!receiving, cum swallowing, not too proofread

masterlist

“Stay still!”

You giggle at Bi Han’s ragged grunt and light squirm under you as you part from his flexing waistline to reapply the new lipstick you’d just bought. He’s covered in the stamp of your lips, but he doesn’t care; Bi Han just wants you to suck him off already. He’d been neglecting duties all day because he can’t seem to put you aside in his head.

An agonizingly slow hand strokes his throbbing dick.

You’ve only just begun, unfortunately for him—you weren’t going to relieve him until you’ve covered every part of his body with your new lipstick. There’s just something about seeing him covered by your lips that makes your mouth salivate and your pussy spasm around nothing.

Painted lips kiss him everywhere else but where he wanted your lips right now. Bi Han’s brows pinch in strain and he bucks his length into your hand, needy for your mouth. His fists ball in the sheets you both lie on.

“Enough,” Bi Han rumbled through a coarse voice, annoyed. “You are getting to be in over your head, [Reader].”

“Wait just a little longer, okay?” you run a hand up his sculpted abdomen, some of the undried lipstick smudging under your free palm. You tsk. “See? I still can’t tell. I need it completely dry to see if it’s really smudge-proof.”

Bi Han’s eyes slightly widened by his need rolled shut, his head digging into the pillow it rested on as he reclined back into it. You chuckle at his impatience, but you wouldn’t abuse his wearing-thin patience for longer. You stop stroking—and he lifts his head again to protest.

What he doesn’t expect is your eye contact. You look at him hungry, starved; about ready to devour him whole. The smirk you wear with your lips smudged makes him exhale. His pinched brows only briefly turn upwards when you kiss up his rock-hard length, and he lets out a low groan.

And just before you take Bi Han into your mouth, you kiss the weeping tip to leave one last mark of your lipstick…

…But just as your nose brushes the hilt of his cock, it pulsates unrestrained and Bi Han begins to shudder—the salty taste and the acrid wax mixed with it fills your mouth—and you swallow what doesn’t spill out from the corners of your mouth. You pull off of him with a pop.

“It works,” you joke to his gravely pissed look. You giggle again.

You really were in over your head, and he’s going to correct you for ignoring that.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info

#mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #bi han x reader #bi han x you #vampirzina

[anxious-lee]

|| Huskerdust Tickle Headcanons ||

A/N: I know I'm kind of a one-trick pony with these two but like someone has to suffer for these queers right

-------

Husk:

- switch

- not big on lying but WILL lie about being ticklish

- unless you're angel

- only after the cat is out of the bag (😄✋️🫳) will he admit it (begrudgingly)

- not SUPER ticklish, but if you persist long enough, he'll go hysterical

- most ticklish spots are his wing pits and belly

- angel once was planting kisses on husk's tum and husk had to tell him to cut it out because it tickled; angel then proceeded to go FULL HAM on the kisses

- equal parts embarrassed of his ticklishness and annoyed by it; angel gets him to appreciate it though eventually 🥰

- will fight for his life to keep from laughing, but depending on how long you tickle him, he's probably gonna lose

- laughs start out as deep, rumbly, chuckles then further escalates into high pitched giggling and then finally culminates in breathy, wheezy, snorts and cackles

- tickling seems a little too flirtatious for him, so he doesn't like it unless it's with a significant other (angel dust)

- if you tickle his neck very lightly or like with a feather, his whole body of fur stands up on end lmao; picture a cat that got struck by lightning

- won't admit to angel how much he enjoys getting wrecked unless he's in a delirious state; after a good and thorough tickling, husk might say "how much he needed that" in between gasps of air

- the little yellow heart on his foot-paws are VERY ticklish!! Do not touch them unless you want to get kicked in the face

- will panic if you restrain him, pin him down semi-firmly instead 😊

- purrs when tickled

- flaps his wings too

- PURRS WHEN TICKLED

- he loves to be a ler for his boyfriend, its like his other favorite thing (beside getting tickled obvi)

- is very conscientious of angel's harmful past and takes very good care not to overstep any boundaries

- with that low, rumbling voice you KNOW he's a vicious teaser

- teases angel with smug or sarcastic comments ("you're not doing a very good job of pretending to get away" "maybe this'll teach you to stop pesterin' me while I work" "'wait?' wait for what? because you and I both know. you. love. this")

- claws are his primary tickle weapons, but his feathers and tail plumage are excellent helpers

- never takes his smouldering eyes off of angel, which drives the poor man crazy

- when he's not doing the usual pin down method, he's a big fan of the hug-from-behind tickles as a ler

- the kind of tickler to stay at your weakest (or favorite) spot and tickle it till you're all good and laughed out

- finishes each tickle session with angel with attentive aftercare, the gentleness of which one wouldn't expect from husk

- they have a safeword established but even still husk stops immediately after hearing the word "stop"; this reassures angel that husk values his consent but it also makes it pretty inconvenient when angel cries it out accidentally and then is like "actually could you keep going please? 😗👉👈" husk: 😑

Angel:

- lee-leaning switch

- like 90% lee I would say

- LOVES to be tickled

- will NEVER admit it

- it's one thing for him to say tickle fights are a turn on, it's entirely another for him to reveal that they make him feel loved

- husk knows through context clues (look up "Ask" fic) and verbally teases him about it while he's tickling him

- is extremely ticklish, which as husk has pointed out, is odd considering his whole profession involves people touching him

- ^ the trick is: he's not crazy ticklish in all places, just SOME places

- most of his body is a-little-above-averagely ticklish

- but his armpits are killer

- giggles adorably at every other spot, but the armpits make him cackle (also adorable)

- squirms like you would not believe

- pretty likely you'll get smacked in the face by one of angel's swatting hands

- despite everything valentino has put him through, he still does enjoy bottoming and- wait ITS GOING NSFW LET ME EXPLAIN-

- ^ he still has fun surrendering control when he trusts the other person. and who does he trust more than husk? normally husk wouldn't be too keen on restraining him, but it adds to the spider's enjoyment and helps him stay still enough to enjoy the treatment, so he obliges. as said before, they have a safeword handy. husk knows that angel enjoys the pretend helplessness, so he puts on an act pretending that angel is helpless to escape his tickly fate, as if husk wouldnt drop everything the moment he thought angel really wanted him to stop. nothing makes angel happier than getting tickled senseless all tied up and vulnerable to his boyfriends loving teases

- blushes a nice pretty pink when laughing 😊

- surprisingly good at handling teases. the normal cutesy stuff (ie baby talk) doesn't do much to him and he can keep a cool head. but blunt observations? and facts? (the kind of teasing husk is best at) completely disarm him

- husk: "you're jumping an awful lot for someone who's NOT ticklish" "you love it when i touch you here don't you?" "I'll keep going alllllll night long, I'll tickle you till you can't even think, it's just you and me, and my wiggling fingers"

- angel will point out later that husk could make a lucrative career in the adult film industry with his verbal talents (husk politely refuses)

- remember that little squeak that angel's bosom made when husk poked it in ep 4? Yeah his whole body makes those sounds when you poke him 😊; alongside angel's hysterical giggles are the sounds of rubber duck squeaks. husk loves it

- this isn't news, angel is a criminally talented ler

- he can make each set of hands give a different amount of pressure and different technique, confusing your brain and making it all the more unbearable

- husk isn't just his favorite lee because he loves him. no no no, he's his favorite lee because you really have to work for it. husk won't open up to just anybody. and when you do, it's the most precious thing you've ever seen. angel thinks so anyway 🩷

- respects husk's boundaries just as much as husk respects his; after the teasing and anticipation is over and angel is JUST about to go in for the kill, he'll lean down and whisper "this ok?", to which husk can only look away and nod slightly, too mortified to say much else. every now and then throughout the tickles he'll repeat the question and wait for the ok signal

- he tried to give husk a relaxing foot massage (paw massage?) but he was too ticklish around the heart-shaped area so you can probably guess how that ended ;)

- they have a mutual agreement: no tickling (except maybe a poke) outside of their bedroom. they don't want any prying eyes on their private business

- tickle fights are always fun, just them wrestling and taking turns getting each other, trying to gain the upper hand

- favorite thing to do after a particularly rigorous tickle fight? naps 😊 <3

--------

Finally finished! 😁

#tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #tickle community #lee talks #tickle headcanons #hazbin hotel tickles #lee!husk #ler!husk #lee!angeldust #ler!angeldust #huskerdust tickles

[beyondthesefourwalls]

The Plus One

Summary: You couldn’t believe he was here. He had told you he would be, over and over again, but part of you had convinced yourself it was too good to be true. There was no way a man as perfect as Javy Machado would be so into you after you spent one night together, months ago, that he’d fly out to be your date to a wedding for people he’d never met before. Yet here he was, looking as good as a dream. By the end of the night you knew one thing for certain: a weekend with him would never be enough.

Pairing: Javy Machado x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Fluff, language, smut-esque but not detailed. Suavy Javy, because he’s a warning. 

Notes: A not-so-subtle follow up to An Aviation Special, but can be read on its own! 

----

____

You had to make a conscious effort to keep your eyes on your sister and your new brother-in-law as they exchanged vows at the altar, as opposed to letting them stray to the man in the 8th row in the dark blue suit. 

You couldn’t believe he was here. He was actually here. 

He had told you he would be, over and over again, but even after three months of talking on the phone almost every single day, falling a little bit more with every conversation, part of you had convinced yourself it was too good to be true. There was no way a man as perfect as one Javy Machado would be so into you after you spent one night together, months ago, that he’d fly out to be your date to a wedding for people he’d never met before. Once his original flight had gotten canceled and then the next one delayed, you had convinced yourself it wouldn’t happen at all. 

Yet…here he was. Slipping in right before the ceremony started, looking just as dashing as you had remembered, and smiling at you like you were the only one in the room. 

Holy shit. 

You took in a deep, silent breath through your nose and forced yourself to center on the words being spoken by the happy couple. It was almost over, so it wouldn’t be long until you could speak to him. 

Only it really, really was. Your job as maid of honor didn’t end after the ceremony. Pictures lasted almost 45 minutes, and then you had to help your sister bustle her dress, and the tiny buttons were impossible to find amongst the miles and miles of fabric of her train. The cocktail hour was over by the time you were done, and dinner started immediately after that. You kept glancing at where he was sitting from your spot at the bridal party table, and each time you met his dark eyes, you could feel the flush heating your face.

You barely remember giving your speech, and the best man’s lasted so long, you almost requested the DJ play the Jeopardy theme song. The first dance was beautiful, but throughout the whole thing, you felt the anticipation bubbling inside of you, so hot you thought you were going to implode. Your fingers tapped an impatient rhythm against your thighs as you watched the couple twirl around the dance floor for the entire length of the song. Once it was over, the DJ invited everyone to gather on the dance floor as something more upbeat started playing through the speakers, and you were out of your seat and moving through the rising crowd. Your eyes never left his as you made your way toward him, and your smile grew the closer you got. The nerves faded away to make room for the excitement you felt at finally, finally seeing him again. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” he called out once you were close enough to hear him, a mischievous grin on his handsome face, and you giggled as you launched yourself at him.

His strong arms wrapped around you, your feet leaving the ground as you buried your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of him that you had really only experienced once, but that somehow seemed familiar in all the best ways.  

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you whispered into his ear, and you could feel the rumble in his chest as he laughed. He set you back down, but kept a hand on the small of your back, your body staying close to his.  His dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, and the look in his eye was one no man had ever given you before. 

“I told you I would be,” he said. He raised his other hand to your face and let the back of his finger run gently down your cheek. You couldn’t help the shiver that went down your spine at his touch. “You look beautiful, by the way. Even more beautiful in person. Just like in New Orleans.”

“Javy,” you breathed, unable to produce any other words now that you were this close to him - that he was really here, after so many months of just hearing his voice or seeing him through a screen. If it wasn’t for physically feeling his hands on you, you would think you were dreaming. You could feel the thrum of electricity starting in your veins, and by the way his gaze darkend when it flickered to your mouth, you knew he could, too. 

“My name sounds better in person, too.”

You groaned out loud, the combination of his words and that look in his dark eyes proving to be too much. Unable to resist, you pulled his face to yours. His lips were soft as they met your own, and he didn’t hesitate to press even closer, coaxing your mouth open for him. His kiss tasted even better than you remembered.

You let yourself get lost in the moment, the music fading into the background as all of your senses honed in on this man. He pulled you impossibly closer, your body now completely flush with his. Every touch sent a jolt of heat through you, igniting the fire that had been smoldering since that night in New Orleans. No amount of talking on the phone could have prepared you for how good it would feel to finally have his hands on you again. It took everything in you to pull away before you let it completely consume you. And you knew it would have been so easy to let that happen. You had discussed that very scenario in one of the calls that had gotten a little heavier than it probably should have, him describing how it could go in very nice detail. 

You had a fleeting thought that maybe you should be worried about how simple it was to lose yourself in him, all things considered. Just like that first night, though, and all the conversation in between then and now, it all felt so, so right. 

But you were surrounded by your family, and jumping his bones in the middle of the ballroom probably wouldn’t be the wisest decision, even if it was all you wanted at that moment. 

“I have to make it through this reception,” you told him, breathless and flushed. 

Javy swallowed deeply, but nodded in agreement. He kissed you again, quick and sweet and not nearly enough. He leaned his forehead against yours, and for a moment, you were both still, breathing the other in. Then he took a deep breath and stood up straight, sending you that charming smile you hadn’t been able to get out of your head. He held his arm out, and you linked yours through it. 

“Drink?” he asked, and you smiled as you nodded. While you waited in line at the open bar, he leant down to whisper in your ear. “Do you think they have aviations on the menu?” 

You threw your head back as you laughed, remembering the pretty purple cocktail he had bought you during Mardi Gras. “I can confirm that they do not. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t try and convince her to add it.” 

“Damn,” he cursed jokingly, no real heat behind it. He shot you a wink before asking you about how the morning had gone for you, knowing how stressed you had been over it. You talked quietly to one another as you slowly moved forward to the bar, and it wasn’t too long before Javy was ordering both of your drinks for you. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized he remembered exactly what you had said your go to normally was. You turned your head to try and hide the wide grin threatening to take over your face and pressed a kiss into his shoulder through his suit jacket. You didn’t miss how he shivered slightly at the action. 

The next few hours passed by in a blur, yet felt like it moved at a snail's pace all at the same time. Javy was never far from your side, being surprisingly willing to meet all of your family and friends. He introduced himself as a friend, but you didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye when he shot you a look as he said it. It made you giddy, even as it fueled the feeling that this was too good to be true. How in the hell had you gotten this lucky? 

You swayed in his arms now, an old slow song playing through the room. He held you close, his fingers running softly over the skin of your back where your dress dipped low. 

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” you murmured, lifting your head off his chest to meet his gaze. “I’ve been dreaming about this for months.” 

“Dancing with me?” he joked. The confident, teasing glint in his dark eyes made you immediately feel more at ease, to where you didn’t worry about dishing it right back at him. 

“Among other things, I suppose.” 

He laughed lightly, and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped to match. He pulled you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Cheeky,” he whispered into your skin. You hummed in response, neither confirming nor denying, and let yourself sway with him for another moment in silence before he spoke up again, touching on the first thing you had said. “Didn’t think I’d show?”

His tone was the same playful one as before, but you could sense the thread of insecurity in it, too, and wanted to alleviate it. 

“It’s not that,” you assured him. You trailed your finger down the lapel of his jacket, smiling softly. “Most guys…I don’t think they’d go through the effort. They certainly never have before. So I guess I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you’re real. Does that make sense?” 

Javy nodded slowly, a contemplative look crossing his face. You let him process your words, moving together with the music. You straightened his sage pocket square and let your hand rest there, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm. Another moment passed before he was softly speaking your name. He hooked his finger beneath your chin to guide your eyes back to his. His stare was darker now, more intense than it had been all night. You barely had time to furrow your eyebrows in confusion, let alone question him, before he was swooping down to capture your lips with his. Your squeak of surprise turned into something closer to a moan as he kissed you harder than he had all night. You sunk into it without a second thought. 

When he finally pulled back, you were left breathless, your lips tingling from the intensity. His hand lingered on your cheek before he let it trail down the column of your throat, going as far as your collar bone before it dropped. You felt the warmth of his touch sear through you, making your heart race even faster.

“I’ve been counting down the days until I could do that,” Javy confessed quietly, and you had to bite your lip to keep the whimper from escaping. His voice was low, like it was just for you, like you were the only two people here. His eyes were filled with desire, but also with something deeper, more profound. It mirrored exactly what you were feeling inside, even if you didn’t quite understand it. 

“Javy…” you started, your voice coming out breathier than you anticipated, and you watched his eyes darken at the sound of his name like that. “I-” 

Before you could continue, you were being tapped on the shoulder. You turned quickly, startled by the touch. Another of your sister’s bridesmaids was there, a smirk on her face as she looked you up and down. You couldn’t help the heat that crept up on your face, embarrassed at how you and Javy must look on the dancefloor right now. 

“Your sister and the hubs are ready to do their exit. Can you go tell the DJ?” 

Part of you was annoyed that she had interrupted you when it would have been just as easy for her to fulfill the request. But the other part of you knew that this meant the night was almost over. 

“Yeah,” you told her, “I got it.” 

You turned back to Javy once she walked away. He was looking at you with a knowing, anticipatory look in his eyes. They seemed darker than they were before, like he also put two and two together on what the bride and groom’s exit would mean. Without missing a beat, you raised on your toes to kiss him again. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

You stood with your parents as your sister and new brother in law made their way through the crowd, hugging everyone goodbye. You were glad that your dress was long enough to hide your tapping foot as you urged her to move a little bit faster. When she finally got to you at the end of the line, she sent you an overdramatic wink as she pulled you into her arms. “He’s cute. Don’t worry about cleaning up. My wedding planner is on it.” 

You had never been more grateful for your older sister in your entire life. 

It was only a few minutes later that you had bid your own goodbyes to everyone and had Javy’s finger’s locked with yours as you tugged him out of the ballroom. You turned the corner to a long hallway before you stopped him, your hands cupping his face to pull his lips to yours. His big hands fell to your waist.

It was urgent, hungry, and the raw electricity between the two of you crackled. 

“I don’t want to assume anything,” he managed to say between kisses, his lips trailing to your jaw as you both breathed heavily. “But my room is right upstairs, and-” 

“Yes,” you said. 

He pulled away far enough to look into your eyes. “Yes?” 

You bit your lip, nodding quickly. “Yes.” 

As soon as you walked through the door of his room, he had you pressed against it, claiming your lips again. You moaned into his mouth as you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close. He lifted you into his arms, but your long dress made it impossible to wrap your legs around him like you so desperately wanted. He must have realized that too, as he deposited you onto the counter just to the right of the door, never breaking the kiss. You bumped into various travel size bottles, and you thought some of them might have toppled over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care; you were far too invested in this man, instead. 

When you had to pull away for air, you rested your forehead against his, breathing hard. 

“Javy,” you whispered, your voice sounding wrecked even to your own ears. He was staring intently back at you, dark with need and something.

“You make me crazy,” he confessed before you had the opportunity to. His voice was husky and rough, and your eyes fluttered shut at the words. 

“I’ve never felt like this before,” you said in return. 

He whispered your name, so softly you almost didn’t hear it. Your eyes opened slowly, looking at him. He didn’t need to say anything - his eyes said it all. You pushed his jacket off of his shoulders as his fingers found the zipper at the back of your dress, and then he was helping you down from the counter, and the material pooled at your feet. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he told you. Without another word, Javy scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the bed, laying you down gently before shedding the rest of his clothes. When he lowered himself onto the bed over you, his touch was reverent, his kisses slow and deep, and you knew you would never be the same again. Every moment with him felt like a dream, surreal and intoxicating.

He lit every single nerve ending on fire as he coaxed you to orgasm again and again, and by the time he came for a second time, you were nearly boneless, covered in sweat and completely satiated. You laid curled against his chest, your finger tracing the divots in his abs as his hand ran up and down your bare back. 

“This can’t just be this weekend,” Javy whispered into the quiet room. You picked your head up to meet his eyes, and he was already looking at you. “Tell me we can make it work.” 

You studied his face for a moment, searching for any hint of doubt or hesitation, but all you found was a raw honesty that nearly took your breath away all over again. 

Part of you had been worried that this weekend really would be all that it would be. You had a whirlwind night together that ended far too soon months ago, and talked nearly every day since in anticipation of finally having the time you wish you would have then. There was a fear that perhaps it was a weekend meant for finishing what you had started. But instead, it had just stoked whatever had already been brewing. 

“We can make it work,” you said with conviction.

Distance be damned, he knew, without a doubt, that one weekend with him would never be enough. Not even close. 

--------

Notes: This was supposed to be just straight smut....clearly, it didn't turn out that way lol. I hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks to @roosterforme @sylviebell and @mak-32 for reading it over and all the help along the way!

Main Masterlist

#alli writes #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado fic #javy machado imagine #javy coyote machado x reader #javy machado #javy coyote machado x you #coyote x you #coyote x reader #javy machado appreciation #tgm fic #top gun fanfiction #javy machado smut #javy machado x you #javy machado x oc

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

15 and 20 with Eddie Brock/Venom please!

.⋆｡At Last｡⋆.

Eddie Brock/Venom x plus size reader

A quiet weekend in the mountains with your boyfriends is just what you all needed (and totally wasn’t because you’re on the run from the law)

Warnings: reader is a bit of a brat, mentions of getting shot at and abusive parents, past murder, fluff, implied smut

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k Celebration

Peace to Eddie Brock seemed to be an entirely foreign concept. His whole life was one shit storm after another, there had never been a moment of calm between his abusive father, his struggles in school, the endless fight between him and his bosses, the breakup with Annie, and then discovering Venom. He supposed he chased the chaos, needing that dose of adrenaline and fear in his blood to remind him that he was still alive and fighting.

But the second that you came crashing into his life (quite literally too, you hit Venom with your car), all he had known was that he could finally breathe. You pulled him from the fire countless times and this weekend was yet another one of those times.

Eddie had begun to get lazy in controlling Venom, letting him do what he pleased during nights when Eddie simply couldn’t be bothered to even wake up to go on patrol with him. And as a result of that, Venom accidentally ate the head of the leader of the most powerful gang in San Francisco so the three of you had to lay low for a while. Using the last of your savings, you bought a shitty cabin in the Rocky Mountains and settled there with your boys.

The whole day had been spent in silence but it was far from uncomfortable, for you at least. Venom and Eddie currently weren’t talking to each other though both seemed adamant that they stay close to you as the sun began to set over the mountains and the chill started to creep in through the poor insulation. 

Eddie’s head rested on your chest, his thick arms wrapped around your waist as Venom had nuzzled into your neck, purring happily every time you gave him a small peck between his huge milky eyes. Your nails trailed up and down Eddie’s bare back, tracing every imperfection on his skin, slowly easing the stress from his body.

All he could hear was the steady beat of your heart beneath his ear. Eddie smiled softly, rubbing the tip of his nose between your breasts. You giggled at the feeling and dug your nails into the small pudge of fat at his hips. “What’s got you so affectionate, Brock?”

“Jus happy.” He muttered, squeezing your waist even tighter than before. Venom nodded against your skin in agreement.

He is right nibble, we are very happy. 

“So you guys are finally done with the silent treatment to each other?” 

“No.” No. You raised an eyebrow at your partners to which Venom chose to continue speaking. We just love you, that is all we agree on. You rolled your eyes at them.

“Are you sure you’re both not just sucking up to me because you think I’m mad about having to quit my job and go on the lam?” Venom growled at that, making the entire bed rumble with the force of it as Eddie felt his blood pressure start to rise. Yet, no part of him felt that usual tensing of his muscles or pounding in his ears that usually came with anger, just a buzzing in his veins that only appeared in your presence. 

You said you weren’t mad. Venom pouted, making you coo at him.

“Aww baby, I’m not, I promise. I just like teasing you both.” The chill in the room didn’t stop Eddie from sitting up between your plump legs, the thick duvet that had been covering you both falling away. Your eyes, though they still sparkled with mischief, grew darker as you looked at the half naked man currently towering over you. He smirked when your gaze dropped to the old sweatpants that sat low on his hips.

Venom slid back into Eddie but you knew he was lurking below the surface, waiting to strike. “Do you now?” You captured your bottom lip between your teeth, barely managing to suppress a whine at the deep timbre of his voice.

“Well, I think it’s only fair. We’re in the middle of nowhere and you didn’t let me keep my phone. I have to entertain myself somehow.” Eddie’s muscles rippled as he leaned forwards, pushing your soft body into the mattress, keeping you pinned exactly where he wanted to.

We can smell her. Venom purred in Eddie’s mind. “Yeah buddy we can.” He agreed, taking in a deep breath and letting the thick scent of your arousal wash over them. 

“The last time you two had a secret conversation in front of me, it led to me getting shot at.” You snapped though there was no bite in your tone. Eddie groaned under his breath and rested more of his weight onto you.

He gripped one of your thighs tight enough to bruise as he brushed his lips against the shell of your ear. “Oh you’re getting pregnant tonight. Fucking brat.” You shuddered beneath him.

“You’re all talk.” Venom snarled and a black tendril shot out from Eddie’s side, wrapping tightly around your wrists, pinning them to the bed above you. 

“Try us.” Their voices moulded together and you smirked. 

At last, Eddie Brock had his peace.

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[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1.6k] prompt: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Wait a minute,” Steve grinned at you, eyes soft, something burning behind them.

The music was blaring, the lights low and the steady throb of the base made your heart thump, your bones vibrate. The living room was packed, the whole house rammed with teenagers who were looking to drink cheap beer and make bad decisions.

The floor was sticky and the air smelled like tequila and weed but Steve was staring down at you, leaning against the wall looking too pretty.

You could see the twist in his lips, the realisation hidden there and it made you feel too warm, like the heat from the party was sticking to your skin.

“Are you jealous?”

Your lips parted.

————

You hadn’t meant to interrupt Steve’s conversation with the girl. An unfamiliar face with big curls and bright pink lips, pretty in an MTV type of way. You hadn’t expected the flare of jealousy to ignite in the pit of your stomach, something sparking new and angry when she placed a hand on his arm, laughing.

Your chest had twisted, your legs carrying you over to your best friend before you could understand what was happening. You tasted like cherry vodka, the leftover buzz of the joint you had shared with Eddie making your body feel lighter than normal.

Stubborn and filled with something a little wild, you had pushed your way through the crowd, elbows in ribs as people danced around you, oblivious to the stormy expression on your face.

You were vibrating, eyes set on Steve, your best fucking friend.

The alcohol made you bold, the weed made you touchy and you slipped between them, gaze barely registering Steve’s surprised expression as you pushed yourself up onto your toes, just tall enough to wrap your arms around his neck and press your face into the crook of it.

You were a little too drunk, body still buzzing, head a little fuzzy but you knew it didn’t take him long to reciprocate, arms winding around your waist and pulling you to him, chests flush, legs tangled. You felt Steve’s smile, pressed against your temple and he forgot all about the girl as his hand found your chin, fingers tucked underneath so he could tilt your face up to look at him.

His smile was light but his eyes were warm with concern as he looked down at you, gaze roaming over your features as if he was searching for the problem.

“Well hey there, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that you felt through his chest to your own. “You doin’ okay?”

Neither of you noticed the other girl huff and roll her eyes, walking away and disappearing back into the swaying crowd.

You nodded at him, smile soft and lazy and there was something inside you that was purring now that his attention was on you. His fingers were still under your chin and he thumbed at your bottom lip, affectionate and a little too flirty, the beer he’d chugged all night making him braver.

“You’re lookin’ a little spacey,'' he hummed, eyebrows raised in amusement when you giggled. “Who’d you get the weed from?”

“Eddie,” you mumbled, pressing your chin to his chest, looking up at him with big, bright eyes, his hand falling back to your waist. You watched him scan the crowd, finding the boy in question in the kitchen doorway, unlit joint stuck behind his ear, curls astray and hand raised to his forehead in a salute.

You couldn’t see, but Eddie raised his brows at Steve, wiggling them suggestively as he looked at the two of you. He winked, making Steve roll his eyes and hold onto you a little tighter.

“Alright,” Steve mused, comforted by the fact that Eddie was a trustworthy source. He’d watched the boy give you hits before, careful eyes on you at all times, knowing when to tell you you’d had enough, even when you were tequila drunk and argumentative.

“You wanna go home?” He asked, voice softer now, hand hot on your side, lazy in the way that it shucked up the edge of your shirt, thumb sliding over dip in your waist.

The way he said the word made you melt a little, ‘home’ as if it were a place for both of you. In a way it was, Steve’s six bedroom house sitting almost empty for most of the months, his parents out of town, travelling from meeting to meeting, choosing hotel rooms and six figure deals over their son.

But Steve chose you instead, putting fresh sheets in the biggest guest room, an extra toothbrush in its en-suite, ready for you to fall into drunk after parties, after too many lukewarm beers in Robin’s basement.

It only took a few months before you both realised that it was easier to put each other to bed if you slept together, two best friends who were just drunk enough, just high and lazy enough to fall into Steve’s room. You liked the way his sheets smelled like him, mint and something woodsy.

He loved the way you curled into him, sleep mussed and tongue stained blue from raspberry vodka, eager to lay yourself on his chest, to push your head under his chin and sleep.

You always woke up the next morning, legs bare, one of Steve’s shirts rucked up around your thighs, with the boy’s arm heavy across your face, his hand close to somewhere it shouldn’t be. There was always just enough alcohol in both of your systems for it to feel nice, natural, lazy and warm.

You revelled in the way he moved slow against you as he woke up, your body stretched out long beside his and he’d take the time to smooth your hair back from your eyes, both of you sleep messy and sore, pillow creases on your cheeks that wouldn’t disappear until noon.

So yeah, maybe it was home.

But as good as that sounded, you shook your head at Steve, not ready to leave your friends, the music, the thump of the bass that made your body buzz with something a little magic. Not yet.

Steve nodded, a little confusion in his eyes as he tried to work out your reason for interrupting but he brought a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, happy to have you against him.

“So, d’you just come over to use me as a pillow, huh?” His voice was teasing and light by your ear, but there was an accusation underneath it all that made you stiffen a little, body taught and suddenly you were pulling away, eyes anywhere but him.

He called your name, brow furrowed at your sudden mood change and he gazed at you, brown eyes roaming over your features as if he was looking for something that told him what he needed to know.

But then he stilled, eyes widening, jaw a little slack, like he’d found what he was looking for.

————

“What?” You finally managed to get out, and it ripped from your lip in a half laugh, half gasp.

“You heard me,” Steve said and it was low and warm, like there was a smile hidden there. “I asked if you were jealous.”

You wondered if the booze had made him bold, had given him this sudden confidence to ask his best friend such a thing. Maybe it was the dark, the low lights and shadows making him brave.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d known all along, you thought.

“Of her?” You asked, voice stuttering, words stalling, chest burning. You jabbed a thumb over your shoulder, in the general direction of the crowd. “Your little friend with the pink and the hair?”

You gestured vaguely to your own head, as if Steve didn’t catch onto what you were trying to convey. He laughed, a soft huffing sound that got mixed in with the music but you watched it fall from his lips and suddenly, you couldn’t take your eyes off of them.

You hated how sober you suddenly felt. The haziness from the alcohol and Eddie’s shared joint leaving your body and brain with every second Steve was staring at you. It was replaced with something electric, a live wire straight to your chest and it popped and crackled with something new and exciting. A sweetness swelled in your chest and it burst.

The boy nodded, smile smothered and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, uhuh, that one.”

The song changed then, the heavy bass melting into the walls and floorboards as something a little softer replaced it, throaty lyrics and a guitar that made your skin tingle. Maybe it was just the way Steve was looking at you.

“What if I am, Harrington?”

Steve blinked, jaw slack, lips pretty and parted in surprise. You felt like your face was painted with the same expression, hardly able to keep up with your own bravery and you wondered if there was something stronger in the joint Eddie gave you, if there was something else making you act up.

But Steve was reaching back out to you, hand extended, palm up and fingers reaching. He waited, patient and still as you looked at him, as if you were weighing up the options, as if you were wondering what would happen if you took his hand.

You looked up at him, gaze greedy, trying to find what you were looking for. You found it in his brown eyes, behind the charm and the spark, a glimmer of sincerity, of lovesick nervousness.

You reached out, slipping your hand into his.

“Well shit, let's go home and talk about it,” he whispered, voice a little tougher than before.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #prompt

[wtfsteveharrington]

tequila & strawberry lip gloss / robin buckley x fem!reader (featuring bf steve harrington)

context: listen - steve loves you. he also loves robin. you know what you and robin love? boobies. i fully believe in my heart that bf (boyfriend & best friend) steve harrington would want to see the two ladies he loves getting to have a night of exploration together.

contents: IMPORTANT & LENGTHY (i’d rather over explain than under)- there are zero sexual or physical interactions between robin and steve. zero. robin is into ladies and that stays true here. this is lady on lady smut. just with bonus steve moments. 

that being said here are the interactions:

steve x reader: kissing, dancing/grinding, his assets are mentioned, and he observes the act. some praise thrown in / some teasing energy directed at both but not a focal point.

robin x reader: whew… it got away from me a little bit. kissing, begging, teacher!robin explaining what she likes, praising, nipple play, biting, fingering & oral (both receiving), a little degrading scissoring, overstimulation.

this story also includes mentions of drinking, smoking weed, cursing, all that good stuff. 

author notes: this was a full labor of love and respect. sexualities & exploration is fluid & i just fully believe to my core steve harrington would share. this came purely from my pansexual heart that’s in love with both steve & robin. i have an idea in mind for part two if anyone’s interested

word count: almost 4.4k

part two | part three | part four

You’ve lost track of time since leaving Steve’s house. One minute you’re sharing a way too strong drink with Robin and Steve’s blowing a steady stream of smoke into your mouth.The next thing you know your back is pressed firmly against his chest at Cynthia Prescott’s party while Robin scans the crowd around you. 

Steve’s thigh is between your legs, supporting your body as the two of you lazily “dance” together. All truth being told, he had gotten hard about five minutes ago and was torn between finding some near by closet to absolutely destroy you in and staying on the floor to keep a close eye on Robin. 

Robin who was equally crossed. 

You’re giggling now as Robin grabs your hands, trying desperately to drag you towards the crowd dancing. “C’mon! Unlatch yourself from Steve for just like ten minutes. Two, maybe three songs tops!” 

Steve’s got his eyes closed and head tilted back when you move your ass just right. There’s no way you could leave him now. Not your pretty boy who’s rock hard in his pants. 

“No can do, Robin. Your best friend here has a uhhh — situation at the moment” 

Robin’s gasping when she realizes what you mean, reaching out to smack Steve’s arm. “Dude! So totally not cool!” 

He’s keeping one arm tight around your waist, the other reaching over to give Robin a little shove back. “It’s not like I can help it! I’m in love and a generally horny guy to begin with. Get me high? Zero control over what’s going on down there. You can’t blame a guy.” 

Robin’s pouting now, eyes flickering between the two of you and the crowd dancing. “Yeah well at least you get to be taken care of tonight. I’m high and horny too and I can’t even find someone to make out with, let alone anything else.” 

It slips out before you stop yourself. “I’ll make out with you.” 

Steve’s laughing behind you now, his chest rumbling along your back. Asshole. Robin’s cheeks flush a shade of red you hadn’t seen on her before, her hands anxiously fluttering around her body because she can’t decide where to casually place them now. “Again, not cool. You can’t just joke about kissing around me. I take that shit very seriously. Like, on the list of priorities if you took everything we’ve been through, kissing would still be so high up on the list.” 

You’re opening your mouth to talk but before you have the chance to say anything it’s Steve that speaks first. “She’s not joking, Robin. She thinks you’re hot, has the whole time we’ve been together. I was a little worried about it until, you know, -… Well let’s just say I know she isn’t going anywhere.” It’s taken a few failed attempts at love but he knows he finally found it in you. You were just as whipped as him. Fully satisfied in all aspects that he could satisfy. Robin could just satisfy a different urge unreachable by Steve.

Robin’s eyes are shifting between you both, watching you closely as you lick your lips before giving her a little nod. “I like pretty people who make me laugh. You’re beautiful and you make me laugh. Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?”

She’s a little hyper focused on you calling her beautiful. Like, kind of really focused on that part of it. Funny? Robin knows she’s funny. Beautiful? Well… It never hurts to hear someone say it, that’s all.

You’re reaching out to lace your fingers with Robin’s and bring her closer to you. “Is that something you’d want, Robin? To make out with me? I probably taste like tequila but my lip gloss is strawberry flavored. I think I’ll taste good.” There’s a groan coming from either side of you now. Both Robin and Steve imagining just what tequila, strawberry, and you taste like. Steve’s head is dipping down to press a wet kiss to your neck. His voice is low but you’re not sure if it’s low enough for just you to hear or if Robin’s even still listening but he just gives a simple, “You always taste good. All of you.” 

Robin’s getting nervous again. Not to kiss you, but because she gets to kiss you. There’s butterflies in the pit of her stomach and she’s thanking the skies above for whatever strain Rick sold Eddie who sold Steve that lead to this moment. “Are you-… Are you sure you’re okay with this? Both of you. Because I’m down and I’m not gonna be weird about it but I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship or your relationship and-“ 

You feel Steve’s head snap up, rolling his eyes at Robin before reaching out to grab her shoulder and bring her close to you. “Just shut up Buckley and kiss her.” 

That’s all the confirmation both of you need. You’re sliding your arms around Robin’s neck, giving a little chuckle as you bump your noses together. “Just let me know if this is too much, okay?” 

Instead of giving a response Robin finally, finally leans in, connecting your lips in a gentle kiss. You’re tightening your arms around her neck and feel Robin’s hands cup your sides right above where Steve has his arms wrapped around you too. All this attention is making you dizzy. 

Her lips are softer than what you’re used to.

Robin’s tongue gently licks between your lips, still a little timid nervous and trying to make sure this is truly okay. You reward her with a soft moan that has Robin pressing her thighs together. Her tongue swirls around yours now that she’s getting more bold and you feel Steve’s fingers dig into your waist at the sight. You slide your tongue along hers, the once dull throbbing between your legs picking up in intensity.

The power you hold in this moment… 

You’re nipping Robin’s bottom lip as she pulls back to get some air. “You’re uh, you’re a really good kisser. Like really good. And that lip gloss? Like such a real strawberry flavor. You’ll have to let me-“ You bring your lips back to Robin’s, effectively cutting off her nervous rambling. She gives an appreciative hum at the interruption and rewards you by sliding your tongues back together. You had wondered what she tastes like before - tonight it was tequila, faintly weed, and the fruit punch she made the three of you stop at the gas station for on your walk to the party. 

“Why don’t get go find somewhere more private for you ladies? It seems we have an audience.” Steve’s voice is snapping you out of the trance that simply is Robin Buckley. You glance over to see that a few people are trying and failing to casually glance over at the spectacle that is the three of you tangled together. 

He takes your hand, lacing your fingers with a little squeeze before linking arms with Robin to lead the two of you down a dark hallway. Steve’s peaking into the rooms while you and Robin trail along before he finally makes a victory whooping sound at finding an empty bedroom. He’s shoving the two of you in, fumbling around with the lock before it finally clicks into place. 

Your hands are back on Robin’s face, thumb stroking over her cheekbones and pulling her into another kiss. She’s got you walking back towards the bed now, her hands slowly sneaking under your shirt. Both of you being careful to make sure you’re not overstepping. Neither of you having any concerns of stopping. 

When the back of your knees hit the bed, you’re pulling your head back to look between Steve and Robin. Neither of them look concerned, upset, worried. In fact, Steve’s just giving you a tender smile. Maybe some part of him knew this was always going to end up happening from the moment he introduced you to Robin and you both ended up a nervous mess. He knew you were curious and didn’t want to be the reason you never got to explore that side of yourself. Who better to trust you with than Robin? Your boyfriend’s stepping up towards you two, cocking an eyebrow at Robin which causes her to blush and lean away from you just enough to give him some space. He’s grabbing your chin, giving you a gentle kiss. And another one. 

“Do whatever you two want. I trust you both. And this one -“ He’s bumping your shoulders together now, giving you one last kiss on your cheek, “- won’t stop talking about boobies. So enjoy Robin’s.” 

Steve steps back with a smile, ruffling Robin’s hair. “Just take care of her, okay? My girl’s needy sometimes and she deserves to be taken care of.” 

Robin’s glancing between the two of you now, grabbing Steve’s arm before he can head back out the door. “Watch.” All three of you look surprised at that. Her hands are letting go of Steve and back under your shirt quickly, fingers just brushing the bottom of your breast. “I mean… If you want to then you can watch. You know, to make sure she’s treated right and comfortable.” 

Listen, he didn’t need to be told twice. Things like this? He’d have to try and steal a porno from the back of Family Video for the night to see two girls like this. The fact that it’s you, the love of his life even if he hasn’t admitted the depth of that love quite yet and his best friend whom he once upon a time also had a crush on? 

Robin wastes no time falling to her knees why Steve panic moves further in the room. Desperately trying to not interrupt the mood but also making sure he doesn’t get kicked out. You’re half focused on him, your silly boyfriend who’s letting you hook up with his best friend so you - “Oh fuck, Robin.” 

You were too caught up in Steve that you didn’t notice Robin’s head going under your dress until she’s kissing you over your panties. “You’re already wet.” Just an observation. You want to make some snarky reply like of course I’m already wet when you feel Robin’s tongue drag over your cloth covered pussy. 

Her hands slide up to grip your ass and suddenly you’re much too worried about what you can’t see anymore. You’re reaching down, gripping at the fabric of your dress in an attempt to rid of it from your body. Once you do? You’re greeted by the sight of Robin looking up at you with playful, inquisitive eyes. “More of a visual learner?”

You just hopelessly nod and use every once of strength to keep your his from rocking against her face. Not wanting to overstep again. “Just appreciating my view.” Robin rewards you with a pinch to your ass that causes you to yelp out. While you’re distracted by the sensation she’s pulling your underwear down your thighs. “Let me focus on taking care of you.”

Robin’s leaning up, instantly burying her face into your wet pussy. No teasing, no taking her time. Maybe part of why she pinched you was because she still can’t quite figure out if this is real. 

Fuck you can hear her licking you out. The smacking sound of her lips as she tries to clean up the mess you’ve made. Your hands lace in Robin’s hair as you give up on the resolve not to rock your hips against her face. 

Between the buzz of the party outside and the buzz leftover from your pregame, your head feels so light. No thoughts. Just Robin pushing her tongue into you as her nails drag across your ass. 

It doesn’t take long for you to learn if you move your hips just, right her nose will bump your clit and - “I’m already close. Why am I close? This can’t be over.” 

To your… Horror? Amusement? Robin’s giggling into your pussy. Giggling. The vibrations against your folds driving you almost as insane as the fact that she’s giggling into you. “Do you wanna come on my tongue, pretty girl? Hmm? Let your boyfriend watch you come for me?” 

Everything’s going right through that empty head of yours and straight to your clit. It’s as if she can read your mind because one of her hands is going from your ass and right between your thighs. She’s rubbing her thumb in circles over the sensitive bundle, pressing a kiss over your folds before dragging her tongue back down to dip into your hole. 

It truly doesn’t take long for you to feel the tension building up in your stomach… Much quicker than you’d like to admit. One hand stays in Robin’s hair while the other slides up your body to tease your own nipple, rolling it between your fingers at the same time Robin rolls your clit between her fingers. You’re short circuiting. 

You could yell out that you’re close but she knows. She feels the way your knees are starting to shake, getting weaker. Your breathing is more shallow and the once steady motion of your hips against her face has become broken twitches. 

Robin gives your ass a firm squeeze, licking out your pussy for all that she’s worth. Every time you feel yourself clench just to be met by her tongue you’re on cloud nine. 

Then, still so much sooner than you want, you tense up. Nothing more than a gasp and her name falling from your lips as your climax finds you. 

Normally people back off when you finish. Not Robin. Her tongue moves softer now, just little kitten licks in lieu of the full out lapping she just gave you. You’re a whimpering mess. A little pathetic in all honesty. You black out for a second, just letting the waves of your orgasm run your body.  

You’re being dragged onto the bed by Robin who’s managing to stumble out of her own clothes during your comedown phase. Once again not wanting to waste time. She’s pulling your body on top of her, seeking out your lips for a series of lazy kisses.

“Teach me.” Robin’s raising her eyebrows at your words, her thighs clamped tightly together and holy shit she’s dripping without even being touched. “I wanna make you feel good, Robin. Tell me how.” 

She‘s getting too flustered. Like she’s in a dream and any second her alarms going to go off. 

But you’re real. 

And you’re on your knees between her legs. 

You’re probably still wet for her. All she can think about is the cool air hitting your wet pussy and if it makes you miss her. 

None of that comes out though. Nope. All you’re getting is just, “Holy shit. You’re so fucking hot.” Which has you giggling as you slide your arms under Robin’s thighs. You’re pulling her hips closer to your face, kissing a line down her inner thighs. “You have such a pretty pussy, Robin. Let me try to make you feel good.”

You dip your head down, lining your tongue up with the base of her hole before flatting it out to lick up between her folds and letting your tongue flick against her clit. Robin is, truly, a mess. Withering against the bed and gripping the sheets. 

This whole time? Steve’s watching the two of you through hooded eyes, trying to burn this image into his head. The back of house pornos will never hold up. He’s not wanting to disrupt too much because holy shit it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He can’t help but give a little - “C’mon Buckley, tell our girl how good she’s doing. She likes it if you’re loud…” 

Our girl. No one will ever know who that turned on more. You’re trying your hardest to remember exactly what Robin did to you, but every ounce you lack in skill you make up for in enthusiasm. Your brain just nonstop trying to walk you through this. (Okay now flick your tongue over her clit. Not too much! Pull back and drag the tip of your tongue across her folds. You’re getting this.) Remember when Steve mentioned the praise thing? Yeah, he wasn’t lying. So when Robin finally, finally gets vocal? All the motivation you need. “You’re doing so fucking good. You’re -… Fuck it, you not a good girl, are you? No, girls who eat pussy like this are good little sluts. Is that what you are, Baby? A good slut?” 

Now you know for sure that before she was still trying to tip toe this invisible line she’s worried about crossing with the two of you. 

Like there was anything left. 

“Can you - Oh fuckin’ hell- No, no that’s already so good.” Robin’s holding the back of your head in place, tilting her hips so your lips are directly on her clit. “Kiss me there. Again. Good girl. You’re liking this, aren’t you? Now wrap your lips around my clit and use your tongue to -“ She’s cut off with a gasp as you do exactly what you’re told. Your tongue flicking over her clit while your lips stay wrapped around it. It takes you a minute to figure out how much pressure to put on her clit, but Robin doesn’t mind laying there while you figure it out. 

You pull a few inches away to catch your breath and the sight of you with a wet chin and glossy lips makes Robin’s clench around nothing. Absolutely nothing. She’s going a little crazy. You’re looking up at her now with the most innocent smile you can muster. “I like being a slut for you, Robin.” You’re trying to make sure she feels comfortable. All you want is for Robin Buckley to fall apart and you be the one to both catch her and put her back together again. One of your hands leaves the death grip you had on her hips, sliding down her sensitive skin to bring a finger between her folds. You watch her carefully before gently pressing your finger into her pussy. “Look at how fucking beautiful you are.” 

Beautiful. There’s that word again. Robin’s going to go fucking crazy and quick. You duck your head back down and go right to sucking on her clit while slipping another finger in. Rotating your hand palm side up and dragging your fingers along her walls.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Please don’t stop. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? Please, Baby. I’m gonna - Holy shit.” Robin’s thighs tighten around your face, one of her hands coming down to grab the back of your head while the other one clamps down around your wrist. You’re greedy now, licking her out through her orgasm. She’s whimpering now, squeezing your wrist while her thighs shake. “Sensitive, so sensitive.” 

You allow yourself one more flat tongue lick from the base of her pussy all the way above her clit. Robin’s hips jolt up from the pressure, more soft whimpers falling from her lips. 

This is the first time you get to see her, like really see her. Hair a mess and covering the pillow under her head. Her nipples still hard from the cold air. Thighs are slick and covered with bruises yet to fully form that you’ve left. 

You’re smirking, clearly proud of yourself. Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best head in the world but no one was complaining. In fact, Robin wouldn’t complain about you using her to get better again. Not at all. You crawl on top of her, kissing a trail from between her thighs, up her stomach, a kiss to both nipples, before finally kissing her lips. Robin’s already broken or else the fact that she can taste herself on you would send her into orbit. She brings one of her legs around your waist, adjusting the two of you until one of your knees is next to her hip and the other knee is pressing in behind her thigh. She’s got a firm hand on your lower back now, the kissing between both of you becoming a little more sloppy. “Too sensitive for much, but I want you to feel.” If this is the only time you ever sleep with a girl, she wants you to have this experience. 

Which, by the way, if it is the last time you’re ever with a girl then Robin’s quite sad this will never happen again. If it isn’t your last time as a whole but you’re last time with Robin, she’s jealous of whoever else gets to see you like this. Fuck whatever other girl you or may not sleep with. 

You wrap your arms around her leg, gasping the second you feel her pussy press up against yours. She’s welcoming the distraction from mentally fighting whatever future bimbo gets this version of you. “Oh fuck, Robin.” All you can do is rock yourself down against her, your hands digging into the soft, fatty part of her thigh. You’re using this grip to bring her leg over your shoulder, a mixture of gasps and moans leaving you two as the new angle let’s one another feel whats going on better. You turn your head to the side and on instinct bite down on her ankle. Not too harsh, just enough pressure. She’s going to have bruises tomorrow… You both will. 

Both of you are sensitive and over stimulated, so it’s just a couple of minutes of grinding against one another. The room is filled with nothing more than the sound of you two rubbing together, just so wet and slick. Your mouth is watering at the idea of licking both of you off of her. The only other sound is one of you gasping when your clit gets rubbed just right. You lick over the spot of Robin’s leg you’ve been biting at. 

You weren’t planning on coming again. But the pressure in your clit? It’s almost too much to bare. Your hips were moving with grace but they’ve lost every ounce of rhythm. The pressure’s building up in your stomach and you could practically tear up with how many sensations your body is going through. 

Robin’s nails start to dig into your skin, her head thrown back and you’re convinced one of the most beautiful sounds on Earth is your name coming from Robin’s lips. Her back’s arched up off the bed, her tits moving in time with your motions. 

In all honesty? Your body takes over and before you realize it your hips are staling as a second orgasm over powers you. Robin’s hips buck up at the sight of you coming against her. “Look at how fucking stunning you are.” 

Sure, the bedroom was getting a little too hot for your preference, but nothing compared to the heat in your cheeks when Robin compliments you. Your nails drag down her leg and you make eye contact as your hand sneaks inbetween the two of you. “Will you come for me, Robin? One more time? I’ve been so good, right? Show me how good I’ve done tonight and let me see you come for me.” 

It doesn’t take much convincing. Robin’s once again a puddle of moans and crying out your name. Your pointer finger dips into her pussy and it’s almost pathetic insane how wet the two of you were. While using your thumb to tease her clit, you slide your middle finger into her pussy as well. 

Then you feel her clench around you. “Holy fuck, Robin.” She’s gripping whatever inch of your skin she can, her whole body twitching under you as her orgasm wrecks her body. 

You give her a moment to come down before adjusting your position. Your legs untangling from one another as you lean in to press a few firm kisses to her lips. “Thank you for doing this with me… It was, truly, amazing.” 

Robin’s wrapping her arms tight around you, giving a breathless laugh. “Thank you? You are so, so very welcome.” She’s smiling at you, pushing your hair off of your face. “We kinda messed up your make up.” Which has you both a giggling mess. You lean in to give her another kiss, letting the two of you stay close together while you both let the night soak in. 

After a few minutes of just soaking up Robin, you finally start to untangle yourself from her. Surely whoever this bedroom belongs to is going to want it back and soon. Your feet hit the cold ground but your body still isn’t quite ready to stand up yet. Across the room? You guessed it. Steve. 

Who’s still entranced by the situation. 

You’re greeted by the sight of your boyfriend, hands pulling through his hair and a soft cock in his lap. He notices you honing directly in on the fact that he’s soft. “Uh, I like totally came on myself maybe… Twenty minutes ago? At least? Honestly you were only about five minutes in when -“ He’s imitating an explosion sound and waving his hands around his dick. You and Robin can’t help looking back at each other and laughing. “Yeah, yeah, I would say fuck you two but since that’s already out of the way…”

He’s flustered at getting “caught” before springing into his typical caring boyfriend and best friend mode. Whoever this bedroom belongs to thankfully has an en suite bathroom that he’s stepping into, returning a few moments later with a hopefully clean hand towel. You and Robin gently clean one another up while Steve hunts down the clothing thrown around the room. 

When all three of you tumble out of the bedroom together, there’s still a few eyes that are honed in. Girls ready to gossip about what who Steve Harrington’s into, boys giving Steve a proud smirk and winking at you linking arms with Robin. The two of you just roll your eyes while Steve steps up closer to put a hand on the small of both of your backs. “Alright, let’s navigate this sea of creeps and get the hell out of here.”

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