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kaladinkholins · 4 months

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Thinking about the crazy love triangle situation in Blue Eye Samurai and debating heavily with myself on how I'd like to see it conclude. And yeah this discussion can be thought of purely as shipping, headcanons, and fandom fun. But when analysing the show and engaging with it in a more in-depth, almost-literary level, it's impossible to dismiss who Mizu's potential love interests are and how different endgame romances would affect her character arc and the overall story and themes.

So in this post I'd like to look at the love triangle a bit more closely, and speculate on where the story will take this.

DISCLAIMER: It is my personal interpretation of the text that Mizu is non-binary—I use this as an umbrella term denoting any gender that does not adhere to the binary restrictions, norms, and expectations of what it means to be either a man or woman in a particular society; it's not just an androgynous "third gender" that exclusively uses they/them pronouns. Thus, while I personally believe Mizu is not strictly a cis woman, she does still identify with womanhood, despite definitely feeling a level of detachment from it due to living as a man for so long. With that being said, I will be using she/her pronouns for Mizu in this post, but please note that this is purely personal preference. Everyone is free to interpret the text the way they like. That's the fun of fiction. Now, without further ado, let's proceed.

Okay so, thinking about the pairings on a purely surface level, and even before i got into the show, I was pinning my hopes on some lesbianism going on between Mizu and Akemi, and the show does hint at this; in Ep1, during their first encounter in Kyoto, there is the famous slow-mo shot of their eyes meeting, Mizu's lips slightly parted as she is unable to tear her gaze away from Akemi, while sweet string music plays in the background. This is clear romantic framing, and a marker of attraction. If Mizu was a cishet man, there would be no question that this is a potential love interest.

But then, in the same episode, we meet Taigen, who is introduced to us firstly from hearing Akemi's father describe him as "a fierce and undefeated young samurai", the "best swordsman in the best school" and "a fisherman's son from Kohama [...] whose rise reminds [him] of [his] own."

In the next scene, we meet him in person as Akemi's fiance, and he seems sweet enough. He even gives her sweets! In exchange, Akemi gives him gold, and he feels a bit ashamed that he doesn't have anything better to offer her. But Akemi accepts him and his gift wholeheartedly and flirts with him a little, which makes him smile kinda shyly.

When Akemi confirms their engagement, Taigen is in disbelief because he has no status or noble background, but Akemi reassures him.

So from these first few scenes, we're introduced to Taigen as an honourable and strong samurai, but also as a man who is sweet and gentle with the woman he is about to marry, as well as aware of his own inferiority when compared to Akemi's high station.

Our view of him then changes as his true self is revealed: he is an arrogant and smug bastard among his peers, but more importantly, he is the terrible bully from Mizu's childhood.

And it is this side of Taigen--pompous jerk and unrepentant xenophobic bully--that we continue to see as the show goes on, and it's safe to say that this is his real self, sans any pretense of humility and modesty. Around anyone who isn't an outright superior in terms of class and power (ie. Akemi's father, the shogun), Taigen never hesitates to assert his own authority and "greatness."

But as the show goes on, he gets caught by Heiji Shindo's men, and then tortured. And that's when we see, okay, turns out he's not that bad. He's honourable; "honour" is not just meaningless and superficial pedantry for him, but an internalised, guiding principle.

He was a cruel asshat throughout Mizu's childhood, but in a prejudiced and xenophobic society, he was just playing by the rules. As a child, he knew he was at the bottom of society, but when met with someone even lower ranked than him (Mizu), he can project all those prejudices and insecurities onto someone else. This way of thinking--"if you can't beat 'em, join em"--is what allowed him to climb up the ranks despite being some dirt poor kid from an abusive household*.

*Well, that combined with his cismale privilege of course, because this would not be an option for a woman in similar circumstances.

Thus, his upholding of honour also exemplifies how Taigen embodies the ideals and rules of his society. His insistence on duelling Mizu is another more blatant example of this. He doesn't want revenge like Mizu does. He wants to be accepted by society, within the bounds that society has placed, and that means that his only two options following his defeat at the Shindo dojo were to either chase Mizu down and get his damn duel, or kill himself for his humiliating defeat.

Now! Moving on from Taigen, let's go back to the other end of this little love triangle: Akemi.

Mizu and Akemi only properly meet in Ep4. During their first meeting, when Akemi tries to poison Mizu in Madame Kaji's brothel, she compliments Mizu's eyes, calling them "beautiful."

This seems to genuinely take mizu off-guard for a second before she coolly plays along. We know that Mizu recognises Akemi from the get-go, and thus sees through Akemi's ploy from a mile away. It's also safe to assume she'd expected false flattery, because Mizu understands full well that this tactic is how women get what they want: by using their 'feminine wiles' and playing up their naivety and innocence. But even so, it's interesting that Mizu actually seems surprised by Akemi's compliment.

Then, after Mizu subtly taunts Akemi by lying about Taigen's death, she and Akemi have a bit of a scuffle, and then we get to Mizu saying this:

"Women in our world don't have a single good option. Except you, like some magical forest creature. You could have anything you want, but then you beg to eat trash."

(no screenshot because it's quite a long line but you get it)

Here we see Mizu's opinions on the marginalisation of (mostly poor and under-privileged) women stated outright, and underlying her words is also resentment. Because even though she and Akemi have shared experiences of female oppression, Mizu, unlike Akemi, was also poor, from a rural village, and is a racial minority. Mizu is triply oppressed, while Akemi only faces one primary form of oppression, and to someone as embittered by the world as Mizu is, to see Akemi "beg to eat trash" is a slap in the face, practically tone-deaf to the other injustices around her--injustices which Akemi has not shown much, or any, acknowledgement for at this point.

Then, after this scene, Mizu kills Kinuyo, and this unsettles her to a degree we've never seen from her before. She is visibly distraught, and the entire sequence hammers the theme of this episode (and arguably, a large portion of the show) into our heads: women in this world suffer. And even though Mizu is well aware of this fact, to commit this act is so visceral that is shakes her to her core, and it's what ultimately leads to the ambush of the Thousand Fangs.

But before the ambush, Mizu and Akemi talk a little again, and during this time Akemi taunts Mizu some more.

Right now, Mizu is exhausted to the point where (I believe) she even downs some sake, despite not usually drinking. Thus, worn down, she cuts Akemi's ropes and tells her, "Just go." Akemi recovers from her initial fear of Mizu's blade and taunts her some more, accurately seeing through Mizu's facade of coldness, recognising the raw anger there, and says this:

"I thought you had to be something special. Your face isn't even so scary. You're just... angry."

At this, Mizu is amused and compares Akemi to Taigen ("I see why he likes you. You're just like Taigen when we were children. A fucking brat.")

The reveal that Mizu and Taigen knew each other in childhood surprises Akemi, but before either of them can say more, everything goes to shit.

That's when we get to Ep5. This episode focuses primarily on Mizu, the central piece of this love triangle, and does the most out of all the episodes to shed some light on her character and goals, fleshing her out to be more than just the vengeful, highly proficient samurai we've seen thus far (symbolised by The Ronin), but also a person who is capable of love, domesticity and gentleness (symbolised by The Bride). But in the end, Mizu rejects both these ideals, instead becoming an Onryo, who is neither guided by pride/honour, nor love.

By 'reincarnating' into an Onryo, Mizu is able to win the day and save the women in the brothel. However, as she has now fully embraced her status as an Onryo, and is exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally, she lets the Tokunobu clansmen take Akemi away while Akemi's screams echo in her ear.

Mizu says this choice is for Akemi's own good, that Akemi's better off; because Mizu is jaded and weary, and cannot afford the luxury of idealism, and thus must always be strictly practical and realistic. So of course that's why, in her view, yes, Akemi should not be wasting her time in a brothel where women are exploited and abused, nor should Akemi be so naive to think that her marriage with Taigen is even still possible. However, regardless of Mizu's views, it is not for her to decide, because though Akemi is privileged in some sense, she is still trapped and voiceless, and deserves the right to choose her own destiny.

But as it happens, in the end, though Akemi did not choose who she gets to marry, she DOES get to choose her next move when Edo burns down.

"I want to be great."

This one line is the key to her entire arc, which is only just beginning. We see she quickly has acquired the affection and good graces of the shogun's son after their wedding night and consummation, and with Madame Kaji and the girls now serving her, Akemi will only grow to become a prominent political player.

NOW, only after analysing the characters as they are within this season, only can we speculate how their arcs will continue as the show progresses.

First and foremost, I will reassert the popular opinion that Mizu and Akemi are foils. The climax (pun intended) of Ep7 illustrates this as it parallels the turning points in both Mizu's and Akemi's arcs:

Mizu melts the steel of all her loves and shames, the people she's collected: the broken blade wielded by both Chiaki and Taigen, Akemi's knife, Ringo's bell, Master Eiji's tongs - this symbolises her beginning to accept herself, and in doing so, also accepting the help of others;

Akemi consummates her marriage with Takayoshi Itoh, gains his affection, and cements her position as a woman in the shogun's palace - this symbolises her taking charge of her situation, no longer playing the damsel, but using her position to her advantage, empowering both herself and the underprivileged women around her.

These are thus two directly contrasting, diverging journeys:

Mizu's arc moves inward (yin). It is an internal path of self-love and self-discovery, focused on finding peace and tranquility inside herself, and this involves allowing herself to let others into her life, opening herself up to friendship and empathy once more.

Akemi's arc moves outward (yang), it is an external path of growth, transforming from a naive, caged princess to a powerful woman and a force to be reckoned with.

Akemi is always dressed in red, even her eyes are a bit of a reddish-brown rather than brown-black like most other characters, and in her penultimate scene she stands against a backdrop of flames. She is fire: quick-tempered, passionate, full of energy. Red is powerful, authoritative, and in eastern cultures, it is associated with prosperity.

Mizu is blue: her eyes, her sword, her clothes. She is also named after water; it's where she goes to recover, reflect and meditate. Water is fluid like a brook weaving around a stone in its path, always changing and adapting, it is graceful, it is beautiful and ruthless, tranquil yet swift.

Thus, in the future, I expect we will see plenty of political manoeuvring and intrigue in Akemi's plotline, where she fully embraces control of her life, and begins to take action to help others as well, realising that her own oppression is just one piece in a much larger picture. Her main conflict is with society.

In direct contrast, Mizu's main conflict is with herself. She must realise that her desire for vengeance is a projection of her own deep-rooted self-hatred. Her arc must move towards unpacking her feelings and trauma so she can be at peace with herself and allow space for love in her heart. Because as we saw in Ep5, Mizu had come extremely close to achieving peace and joy, as she had not only loved Mikio, but also had briefly believed that Mikio had loved her (and accepted her for who she is) as well.

Thus, assuming the story is not planned as a tragedy, Mizu will likely end up getting her vengeance, but it will not satisfy her, because it is not what she needs. What she needs is to let go of the Onryo within her and to reconcile both The Ronin and The Bride within herself, as she is both a fighter and a lover, but not a monster.

(Edit: I recommend checking out this post by @stylographic-blue-rhapsody for a much clearer analysis about Mizu'a symbolism as Ronin, Bride and Onryo!)

And now that we've mostly covered each of the characters individually, we can finally get to the main point of this post: the love triangle.

Let's talk about Option A: Akemi.

As I covered extensively earlier, Mizu and Akemi are foils, a yin-yang pair. But while they play off each other very well in a thematic sense, I personally believe that a serious romance between them will be more complicated if they become endgame. This is because Akemi's natural resolution is to embrace a position of power and influence, where she has both freedom and control over herself and to make much-needed changes in a prejudiced society. Meanwhile, Mizu's natural resolution is the opposite; her happy ending would to find a peaceful life where she is safe and free from prying eyes, and able to be her true self.

Thus, it would make very little sense for Akemi to forfeit power and run away with Mizu and start a humble life together. Akemi wants to be great, and that is absolutely what she deserves. On the other end of the spectrum, it would also make little sense for Mizu to dedicate her life in service of Akemi, such as acting as a bodyguard or something similar, because a life in a palace full of court intrigue and conspiracies is far from what Mizu needs to be happy.

With that being said, if Mizu/Akemi is endgame, and assuming their overarching character arcs do not shift directions, their love story would likely be either tragic, doomed, or bittersweet. I do absolutely love this type of story because personally I'm a sucker for catharsis, so it would be very interesting if the writers do decide to take this route.

Also, as a note, please do not take this as me dunking on this pairing. This is just my personal opinion and analysis and I completely understand if you disagree!

Then, of course, we have Option B: Taigen.

Between Akemi and Mizu, Taigen is a bit of a free-floater here, because Season 1 leaves off at a point where his arc is very ambiguous as to where it's headed. While Akemi climbs for greatness and Mizu goes on a journey across the ocean to (presumably) discover more about her heritage, we have little clues about where Taigen is headed. And if I'm being honest, I'm sure he has no idea either! He still hasn't reclaimed his honour, so he would be unable to rejoin the Shindo Dojo; he's been rejected by Akemi; and while he showed loyalty to the shogun, the shogun is now dead, and all the shogun's men who had witnessed his "humiliating" death were left to die by Lady Itoh, who is now pulling the strings within the palace.

Therefore, Taigen has very few options here.

And when considering his role in the story is as Mizu's begrudging ally, his arc will undoubtedly be focused on unlearning his xenophobia and misogyny, the latter of which we have not seen yet, but is surely present. Now, whether he will do this in Mizu's presence or absence will be unknown until we see Season 2. Following the Season 1 finale, he might return to Kohama and wait for Mizu there as he learns humility and remorse over his past cruelty; or maybe he will follow Mizu to London, and the two of them will continue to butt heads until he finally admits to himself that he cares for Mizu more than he would like to admit. There is no room for doubt that his growing feelings for Mizu are more-than-platonic, because we all saw him get turned on by sparring with her in Ep7 lol. Thus, regardless of the exact choice he makes, I am sure that his overall arc will be focused on redeeming his character.

Now, when it comes go redeeming him, I know there are many who simply don't want him redeemed because he was such a jerk to Mizu, and while yes I agree he was awful, I do believe there is also nuance to his character.

Previously I've discussed in great detail the colour and elemental symbolism with Mizu and Akemi, but have yet to touch on how they relate to Taigen. So, let's talk about that for a second.

While Akemi is red and Mizu is blue, Taigen is green.

Green is a complementary colour to Akemi's red. Complementary colours are directly opposite each other in the colour wheel; when mixed, they neutralise each other, but when put side-by-side, they form a pleasing and impactful contrast that boosts the brightness and prominence of both colours. This mirrors Taigen and Akemi's relationship. They are an "ideal" pair because they complement each other very well, and bring out each other's most prominent traits. Mizu's comment about their similar "brattiness" comes to mind here.

Green is also an analogous colour with Mizu's blue. These colours are sitting right next to each other on the colour wheel; their natural similarity makes it easy for them to form a cohesive overall appearance, but using both in equal amounts will make a design overwhelming and too busy. Thus, the best way to use analogous colours is to make one the dominant colour, while the other will serve as an accent. I feel this also speaks to the dynamic in Taigen and Mizu's relationship. They came from the space place, both from nothing; they're both strong fighters who love the sport, and work well together when fighting side-by-side; however, they butt heads too easily, mirroring how analogous colours can be too overwhelming when used in equal amounts. Thus, to work together in harmony, one has to be the dominant colour, while the other serves as the accent. In this case, the dominant force would be Mizu, as she is the protagonist of the story, while the accent would be Taigen.

By fulfilling this role as an "accent" to Mizu, Taigen's character would easily be slotted in as a the love interest. This is in contrast with a Mizu/Akemi relationship, whereby Akemi is Mizu's foil before she is Mizu's love interest. This is because, by being a love interest, a character usually takes a backseat in the story, serving the plot and the themes by playing a purely supportive role, and this is not possible in Akemi's case because her character exists to parallel and contrast Mizu (red and blue), and not to support her.

It is possible to serve as a supporting love interest in Taigen's case however. And this is because he, unlike the other characters, does not currently have a definitive place within the story. He initially served the plot as an antagonistic force, but now as he is slowly unlearning his prejudices and becoming a better person, he can no longer serve the story by acting purely as a rival.

Instead, he will serve the story by literally supporting Mizu. And this relates to Taigen being earth, which is steady, firm and reliable, unwavering in loyalty and principles, hardworking and rooted in stability, which is seen in Taigen's staunch and inflexible obedience to the traditions and rules of society. These traits are what make him a perfect samurai, but not a good man. However, unlike most people in their world, Taigen is still capable of change and redemption, which is why Mizu says that he has the potential to be great. Not great by way of power or glory, but great in character. Already, he is honourable to a fault, and does not betray Mizu even after she technically robbed him of everything he was striving towards. And when he was shot by an arrow in the chasm, he did not hesitate a second to tell Mizu to use him as a human shield and save herself.

The trigger for his redemption is Mizu. If she had never beat him in that duel, Taigen would live on to become a man like Akemi's father. Cruel, power-hungry, controlling, conservative. But through Mizu, Taigen's sharp edges are ground down, much like water that wears down the stones in a river.

Where Mizu and Akemi's possible love story would be a clash of wills, full of passion and even heartbreak, a possible love story between Mizu and Taigen would be the wearing down of souls. Mizu would make Taigen a better person, and in turn Taigen would dedicate his full respect and support to Mizu as his equal, thus getting her to slowly open up and love herself. Already, Taigen has grown enough to admit (begrudgingly, and in his own Taigen way) that Mizu is better than him; though, clearly, he still has a long way to go, as he still calls Mizu a demon shortly after that.

But basically, Taigen is a very simple man (his main goal now is "to be happy"), and Mizu has great depths that he cannot yet fathom. For this love story to work, it has to begin with Taigen changing for the better. If he succeeds in that, and is able to accept Mizu for all her complexities, I believe that they will make a formidable pair. And though he'd likely still throw a jab or snarky remark at Mizu every now and then, I think he'd come tl wholeheartedly admire Mizu as a brilliant swordsman and a kind soul. Thus, should things work out and this be endgame, Taigen would be able to provide Mizu with what Mikio could not: an idyllic life that is not built on a lie, but mutual trust, respect, admiration, and equality.

Or hey, maybe they could both make their own dojo together! I don't know.

(Edit: This post by @rinandsketches does a great job at delving into Taigen's character and a potential Mizu/Taigen relationship if you'd like to read more about this angle!)

Now, as I move on from Taigen, there are a couple more options on how to resolve this love triangle and that includes Option C: Ringo.

In this option, Mizu does not have an endgame romance with either Akemi or Taigen. In this route, she finds peace and love through friendship, solidarity, and a found family between herself, Ringo and Master Eiji—a bunch of outcasts in society who make a strong trifecta of sword-makers.

Also, as an aside while I'm talking about Ringo, I'd like to point out that I believe his element is air and his colour is a neutral grey; he is talkative, easy-going, wise, curious, light on his feet (stealthy) and free-spirited, which are all traits linked to air, and traits that complement Mizu nicely, as he is capable of getting Mizu to open up and trust others again, while Mizu helps him reach his true potential for greatness.

And finally, there's Option D: Polyamory.

This is basically an "all of the above" option, in which everyone wins and it's a super duper happy ending. It would also be awesome to get some polyamorous representation, and seeing the dynamic between Akemi/Mizu/Taigen play out would be very entertaining and refreshing. So, you never know, this just might be the true endgame!

AAAAND with that, I close my extremely long analysis of what is essentially Mizu's love life. Whatever the final outcome of this love triangle though, I just hope it will be well-written and satisfying to all the characters' respective arcs. (Also I just want Mizu to be HAPPY goddamn it because she deserves the world and her coochie eaten out)

Now, I highly doubt anyone will read any of this (especially not until the end!) but that's fine. I just have so many thoughts and feelings about this show and I just needed to get this out of my system lol! But if by some miracle you did read this far, I wholeheartedly welcome any sharing of thoughts and ideas because man am I obsessed with this show! But of course, if we have an opposing opinions, please be respectful when letting me know; I am very open to friendly discussions.

#blue eye samurai #mizu x taigen #mizu x akemi #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x akemi x taigen #blue eye samurai meta #also if you ask me PERSONALLY. based on my own analysis which you can read above. personally i'm placing my bets on option b (mizutaigen)#and this is simply bcs i think mizu deserves nice things and that includes getting dicked down and pampered and worshipped #whoops who said that #also mizu deserves to live a life where she can hand taigen's ass to him on a daily basis. ykwim.#BUT i am def open to a change of opinion regarding the mizuakemi rship as the story progresses #i just dont want the writers to reduce akemi into nothing but a love interest for mizu #the only way i can see a happy mizuakemi endgame scenario is if blue eye samurai becomes purely an angsty romance story #in which case then yes i fully endorse the akemi ending <3 #but that would probs require a whole genre overhaul? bcs currently the show is firstly an action-epic where the romance is just a subplot #but even tho i dont reeeeally want a mizuakemi endgame i still DEF want mizu & akemi to be romantically and/or sexually involved plsss <3 #like they cant have that slow-mo shot between the two of them as their first encounter and NOT DO ANYTHING W IT!!!#also i want mizu to be at LEAST a little sapphic plsplspls #shut up haydar #meta dissertations.pdf #haydar's fandom posts #i wrote this whole thing while delirious and covid positive

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kokomos · 2 months

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ᝰ head–strong ˖ ࣭ ⭑ ☽

— starring CONRAD FISHER ! 𔓘

MDNI 18+

warning: explicit, sexual themes.

description: your boyfriend is a munch.

tags: fem! reader, gf! reader; established relationship, fem! receiving oral, eating out, smut

honey's note: tsitp fans rise pls!!! more to come <3

conrad’s a smart boy; you already knew this. though many people fail to realize the extent of his intelligence, how naturally skilled he is with romantic or even intimate affairs. he wouldn't call it this, but he plays you like a fiddle. each button he presses gets the exact reaction, consequence he was aiming for. you don't mind too much, though, even if he were to admit it—because what's a little shame matter when it's in exchange for the best head of your life?

times like these always start the same; with the hanging out on the bed, then some making out, and eventually he's got you all hot and bothered. perfect time for him to pop the question: “can i taste you?”

or maybe he's feeling like teasing you more that day, let his playful side run rampant for a change. forget hot and bothered—you’re aching for more, nearly starved from the way he keeps dangling the notion you desire most right before your nose.

kissing you with just enough fervor to leave you panting for your next breath, for more, he pulls back with the faintest of smirks. the look on your face, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over, has him feeling a twinge of pride. he knows he's being a little mean right now, but he also knows you're a few seconds away from begging for it. he's a good boyfriend, how could he say no to you? especially when you blink your lashes at him and pout your lips just slightly, desperately longing for something only he could provide.

he’s gentle when he gets you on your back, legs spread and thighs resting just overtop his biceps. the hold he has on you, his face so close to the most sensitive part of yourself, is firm yet yielding altogether. any sound of displeasure, words to halt his actions—he’s perceptive, open ears because conrad fisher isn't a selfish man. he's caring, in most simplest of terms; though you would come to describe him as, knightly in the way he treats others—treats you.

kisses along your inner thighs signal what's soon to come, no pun intended. with your panties discarded to the side, bunched up with the wetness he'd already elicited from you, he places one last peck before moving to place one on your clit. the action makes your lower half jolt. even so, with the way he's got your legs hooked under his arms, the movement was already being restricting to a mild jerk of your hips. he'll let out an exhale through his nose, almost a chuckle that he manages to stifle just enough (thankfully). the last thing he wants is for you to get all sulky because he ‘laughed at you’—an argument, if you can even classify it as such, that had been brought up in the past. he can't really help it when every little thing he does gets you so riled up. it's endearing, as he puts it; and the fallacy literally dies on your tongue when you're cumming on his that night. “a way to make it up to you,” you vaguely recall him whispering before your memory went blurry from the way your body quite literally melted beneath his touch.

he really is such a smart man. what further way to prove it than with you?

soft, little kitten licks at your slit and his nose bumping oh-so perfectly into your clit. his tongue nuzzles past the entrance when he finally lets himself indulge in the way you taste. instinctively, your velveteen walls clench around the spongy mess probing your insides. he doesn't get greedy, though, no. he'll take his time exploring every crevice and dip in your core, treasuring and mapping out which parts really make you squeal. he knows you—knows you better than anyone. how to make your toes curl, your eyes roll towards the back of your head… all him. never would he dare voice the smug satisfaction he gets when you're holding back a scream of his name, hand clasping at your mouth to muffle the sound. when you reach that peak, he's quick to return back to tracing your clit with his tongue, docile and assuasive. his eyes, having been kept on you the entire time, now wait for yours to open. though heavy and lidded, you manage to meet the gaze of your boyfriend. the pure ecstasy, a result of conrad’s adroitness in regards to eating out, had prevented you from eyeing anything but the back of your head.

when your body settles down, chest no longer heaving from the orgasm, he’d send one lick up your clit before pulling off. with a few kisses to your thighs again, he lets you regain your lost composure before deciding to ask if he can continue. your hand tucking some fingers in the brunette tendrils atop his head let him know that now is the most opportune time for his request. he’d trail a few kisses up past your hips, ghosting your tummy and chest as he hovers above you once more.

“you did a good job, baby,” he murmurs the praise fondly. “got another one you wanna give me?”

ᡣ𐭩 with love , honey!!

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher headcanons #conrad fisher smut #conrad fisher drabble #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp imagine #tsitp x reader #tsitp drabble #tsitp fanfic

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corazondebeskar-reads · 7 days

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of rage and ruin - chapter two

of rage and ruin series

chapter two

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: you come face to face with the beast.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, allusions to/threats of torture, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), depiction of injury, body horror, typical raider/hunter behavior, mention of cordyceps, angst, viewer discretion is advised,

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

They were careful never to touch you. The exam you’d been given when they first brought you here was done with thick rubber gloves, and no one has touched you since.

But there are plenty of ways to teach you compliance without touching you.

Before they moved you, you didn’t see a soul for two days. No one delivered or removed the cloth strips, food, or water. No one woke you up with a loud buzzer or dragged you outside to hose you down.

No one hurt you.

The first few hours, you sit and do nothing as usual. You don’t really notice.

After that, though, you start to wait. This deviation, this anomaly, was far more terrifying than the wretched routine. And with no meals, you’re bereft of a way to count the passing of time. There’s no sunlight down here, after all.

To your deep relief, the lights still go off at night. Until you’re lying awake in the dark and realize they’re probably on a timer. So maybe all your captors are dead. Made a stupid mistake and got their asses handed to them by FEDRA.

Which would be nice, but also, you’d still fucking die. Because you’re trapped in this godforsaken grimy ass basement, and somewhere on the other side of it is the only other resident you know of. Him.

So either you starve to death, or he eats you. Or both.

You spend the next day hoping to see Cheryl’s smug bitch face.

When someone finally comes for you, it’s not Cheryl. It’s not Jim, either, but that’s not a surprise. He doesn’t like you, doesn’t like whatever Cheryl’s doing with you.

Not because he has any objections to the captivity or abuse. No, Jim’s been clear—you’re a waste of resources.

Anyway, it’s fucking Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber who show up. They’re not real twins (you’re not even sure they’re brothers), but they’re a damn good argument for nurture over nature. Spending the apocalypse together has them moving in tandem, grunting and jerking their heads to one another in a language all their own. They’re built like oxen and about as polite.

You don’t fight anymore, but they still tie you and drag you around. You haven’t so much as argued in weeks. You’ve heard that everyone breaks from torture eventually. You waved your flag from the start.

You’re not made for this.

They tie you up without touching your skin; hands layered in gloves just in case. They leave a length of rope from your wrists to pull you by, leaving the rope around your feet as it was. You had earned that six inches of slack, just enough to stand and walk to the makeshift toilet instead of crawling, after a solid week of good behavior.

When you figure it out, though, you try to run. Every electric screaming nerve in your body says to go. Go where? Who fucking knows. Anywhere. Away. Run.

The room they’ve brought to you is saturated in oaky musk, and you only need a glimpse of the little cage within before you’re jerking backward.

They must have gotten used to your compliance because the rope flies from Tweedle Dumb’s grasp. The three of you stand still for a moment, all shocked by the turn of events.

You turn to run, but it’s too late already. One of them swept your fucking legs like this was an action movie, and bound as you are, that’s the end of the fight. You crash and earn yourself some new bruises, and they drag you into the room by the rope between your feet.

One of them—you’ve forgotten who had which nickname in all the hubbub—snaps out a baton.

“Get in the fuckin’ cage, or I’ll break your ankles.”

It’s a strong argument that you have no desire to see if he’ll follow through on. Already hurt and humiliated, you crawl into the cage.

They lock it behind you and leave without another word. The lights go out with a buzz, casting everything you hadn’t taken in yet in total darkness.

When the lights come back on, you wish they hadn’t.

At first, you don’t even realize they’ve flickered to life, because what they’ve revealed isn’t real.

It’s a big, brown Rorschach blob. It’s an oil spill. It’s moving, in a jerky, fluid way that should be impossible. The limbs have pointed bony joints, and you can only describe the way they crawl as spidery, though they’re thick and bulky.

Jim is standing on the other side of the gate, holding onto a thick chain that rattles and creaks dangerously as the beast strains against the thick metal band around its neck. He looks bored, but he usually does.

Cheryl, however. The way her lips are curled, eyes wide and bright… this must be him.

“Don’t you know what happens to the others? The alphas?” she had teased the night of all the howling. She had laughed at the traitorously dumbfounded look on your face.

You do now.

A long pink tongue has unfurled from his massive jaw, flopped over far too many teeth, and dripping thick saliva onto the floor. The… fur, for lack of a better word, around his muzzle is matted with something dark that you can’t look at anymore.

Jim yanks him by the chain, and the creature lets himself be pulled to the door, barely holding still while the padlock and chain are removed from his collar and the cuffs from his paws.

He’s at the end of your cage before you realize he’s moved, and you scream, scrambling back as much as you can into the corner. The spaces between the bars are thin enough for just his… good god, are those fingers? They certainly aren’t canine toes. They’re tipped in thick, long claws packed with soil and detritus.

“Hey,” Jim barks, and the beast side-eyes him. “Remember what I fuckin’ told you. You break or eat her? That’s it. I’m not getting you another one.”

Eat? Eat?

Oh god.

Your stomach swoops and falls, abdomen clenching and drawing attention to your too-full bladder, unlocking a new fear that you’re going to piss yourself if he comes closer.

He does. You don’t. But just barely.

That long, dark snout pushes against the cage, as if it could nudge through to reach you, pink tongue lapping against the air. The oak musk is so strong now that it lines your throat and makes you gag.

You choke back a retch-turned-sob and he rumbles, a strange vibration that rattles the bars where he’s pressed against them. He rises, stretching up up up on his hind legs until he towers over your little cube, enveloping you in his shadow, and you can’t help it. You start to cry.

He can’t reach you, not when you’re tucked back in the corner of your cage. But he can smell you, and he can smell the rich iron soaking into the ropes around your wrists. It’s not yet visible, but the skin squishing through the edges is red and rough.

He whines, pushing his muzzle against the bars, long tongue flopping out like he can reach.

The sharp battery acid edge of your fear spikes, and he growls. Stupid girl. Stupid fucking omega. He’s trying to help you, and you’re—you’re—

You’re starting to cry again.

He can’t make human words like this, can’t enunciate or even really remember them. He tries to reach you through the bars again, snarling when they burn against his knuckles. Even the distended bony fingers of his full form can’t reach you there, not even with the tip of his claw.

You’re shaking now, body twitching and jittering beyond your control. Everything inside you is screaming white-hot and dissolving; vomit tickles the base of your throat, and you just can’t stop crying. It hurts; it’s ripping your throat and lungs to shreds. It’s a violent, tumultuous thing, and you can’t stop the wounded keening of your cries.

He’s pacing in front of your cage now, the beast, on four mangled limbs too long to be canine and too warped to be human. His huffs startle you, long snout returning, again and again, tongue darting out for a taste.

A little drop of blood slides down your hand from where the rope’s edge cuts into the bottom of your palm.

He freezes, nostrils flaring. You freeze, barely breathing.

He looks right at you and then tips his head back to howl, the sound like icy water through your veins.

You can’t help yourself. You scream, broken as your voice is from all the tears.

Between the cacophony, Jim stomps into the corridor and slams his hand on the wall. “Shut the fuck up, both of you!”

“Help me,” you yell.

I’m trying, the wolf howls.

“Please, please help me,” you gasp, sobs reaching new highs alongside your panic.

“If you don’t quiet the fuck down, I’ll open up your goddamn cage and let him eat you,” Jim snaps. “I said you were going to be more trouble than you’re worth, and I was fuckin’ right.”

The beast snarls, snapping his sharp teeth at the air.

Jim regards him with a sneer. “And you! Giving her a heart attack counts as breakin’ her.”

The words don’t make sense, but you don’t really hear them, anyway. “Please, I want to go home, please, please,” you whisper.

But no one’s listening.

The Wolf is listening.

He prowls back and forth on all fours, which really, isn’t any more or less terrifying than when he rises up on his haunches. Neither image capitulates to your need to make it make sense. There is no sense, no logic, no reality that can hold him.

The wolf, for really, that’s what he is, isn’t he? God, you don’t want to say it. Unbidden, a memory works loose in your brain, slipping out of the crates of nonsense stored away in favor of survival, and rattles around.

I know what you are. But you won’t say it.

Did you bring this upon yourself for reading trashy supernatural romance novels? Did you watch Underworld too many times? Did the shot actually put you in a coma, and you’re living in some kind of nightmare?

The wolf is watching you. There are no whites in his eyes, just pools of gasoline on muddy puddles.

You close your eyes and pretend you can’t hear the way his claws click against the tile.

While Laura had fed them stew, she told them about the trials.

They had been the first. The first taken, before volunteers were called. Before they knew they’d need secure places to hold them, they had been gathered for observation in an old YMCA, packed in racketball courts so the doctors could stand outside the large wall of glass and watch them all at once.

They stood outside that glass and watched them change, in one way or another. The ones who turned, as she called it, went first. The ones who would become test group alpha. More than half of the overall subjects, who became suddenly, violently ill.

They left them all in there with the rest, waiting, watching them cry out, watching them vomit and sweat and break impossible fevers. Temporal thermometers reading 105, 106, before they’d succumb to unconsciousness.

If they woke, they were… inhuman. Something more. Something hungry.

A lot of the first round of test data was lost when the subjects were eaten. But some were lost to the turn. Test group beta, Laura’s brother among them, didn’t survive the fever.

Laura’s husband turned but didn’t lose himself to the beast. Something in him stayed present, alert enough to protect his wife from the others. Or rather, something in her kept him that way. Something that had turned in her too, albeit without the violence, into something more than she’d ever been before.

“They drove us out of the QZ,” she said, picking idly at a gouge in the table’s surface. “To shoot us where they could burn all the bodies and forget.”

“And what happened?” Tommy asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

“We ate them.”

They come back for him that night but he’s not waiting for them. He’s sat with his big, furry back to you, close enough to the cage that you could pet him. The thought crosses your mind in a moment of delirium. You could stick your fingers through the little bars and feel the coarse hickory hair. You know, if you were clinically insane.

You’re not about to offer him a little snack.

He’d given up on reaching you a few hours ago, content to sit there unmoving once your tears dried up. It’s only slightly less terrifying.

But when they take him out, you only get to sit with the relief for a moment. Minutes pass in the dark and silent room, but you regret letting your guard down when footsteps echo through the cavernous halls beyond.

The Idiot Twins are back, and they’re not taking chances with you this time. Oh, no. When they unlock the cage, you’re faced with the barrel of a handgun that doesn’t leave your temple as they pull you out by your bound hands.

They don’t bother to stand you up or give you a chance to move on your own, just dragging you out of the room and across the hall. You’re sprawled on your stomach across the frigid floor of the new room, with the door slamming shut behind you without so much as a word.

The rusted pipes on the wall in the beast’s room make more sense now, once you take in your shadowy surroundings. This room has the same shitty tan tile over every inch, but the walls are lined with blue (or what used to be blue) lockers. Not a single one is intact, whether rusted or dented or doorless, but they’re unmistakably lockers.

There are two lines of seamless benches, though half are rotted to oblivion. But it’ll be a better bed than the floor.

This is practically paradise. There’s a tray by the door that you don’t see for a while, but when you do, you almost cry again. Might have, if you hadn’t spent the day in tears.

It’s just broth and water, long gone lukewarm and dusty, but you set upon it like a vampire upon a vein. Wait, no, you really don’t want to think about that right now. But it’s not your fault you’ve got monsters on the brain.

Your reprieve is not long. The sun rises.

The beast returns.

Oh, and he’s pissed that you’re gone, based on the fucking racket that brings you back to the waking world.

“Oh, did you think you’d been good enough lately for a treat?” Cheryl taunts him.

The steel doors between you aren’t enough to hide the sounds of his fury.

“You’ll have her back when you’ve earned her,” she tells him amidst the cacophony of snarling and gnashing.

It’s ten days before they return you to the cage. Ten days of poking around the abandoned lockers and finding nothing. Ten days of broth delivered at dawn and dusk. Ten days of your back no longer appreciating the bench to stretch out on.

Ten days of listening to the nonstop scratching and growling and whining from across the hall. And worse. Oh, much worse. Wet squicks and splatters and harsh groans. You’re not sure if he’s eating or masturbating or what, but it sends shivers through your whole body each time.

It also sends the weird, sticky slick pooling between your thighs, but you ignore that. It’s been happening since the shot, one of the weirder side effects, but it’s gotten downright fucking annoying since you got here.

You try not to think about it.

It’s not long after they drag you back to the little cage that they drag him into his. For that’s what this room really is, you know that, even if it doesn’t make you feel better about being in there with him. He’s trapped, too, but you’re the one in danger.

They haven’t untied your wrists since the first time, which have blistered and bled and scabbed until the ropes rubbed the scabs raw and started the whole thing all over.

He smells it before he sees it, any interest in the slippery sweetness on your thighs gone when he tastes the blood in the air.

Hurt, he whines, though you can’t understand. Help.

You don’t cry this time, don’t split the sour tang with salt, but the fear and pain and exhaustion are enough to center him. If he tries, if he could just focus…

And there it goes. You watch, mouth agape and eyes blown wide, as he shifts in front of you for the first time. He backs away while it happens until he’s on the other side of the room and sits his very bare ass on his bed.

You watch the way his bones jerk and his body shakes and cracks and huffs out sharp, agonized grunts until he’s just a man. Just a man, nothing more. Just a beast masquerading. Worse than a wolf in sheep’s clothing, you think, because you know he’s the wolf, but right now?

He’s just a pathetic, broken human. Bruised and bloodied, though his marks are rapidly fading as the healing takes over, but his face is edged in nothing but pain and sorrow.

“M’not gonna hurt ya,” was the first thing he croaked out.

You startle, rattling the cage a little, which makes you wince.

But he stays on the other side of the room. He’s sitting on his mattress, legs bent up and crossed, as if he had anything left to hide. As if you hadn’t seen too much already.

He tries not to think about it, but jesus. It’s a fucking struggle. As he takes you in this way, unclouded by the hazy moon, it still punches him back. Your smell.

Joel’s never really liked tart things. Too much of a secret sweet tooth, of a deep yearning for the char and depth of anything fresh from the grill.

But even now, even nearly fully man , he’s salivating at your green apple tang. Of uncovering the sweet ‘n sour burst of you on his tongue. Of letting his sharp teeth fall sharper through the tough act you fail to wear right, too bruised and soft underneath.

To feel the way you’d give beneath him. The way you’d spill down his chin. No. He has to get a fuckin’ handle on himself. He can’t even look at you, not now that he knows you can smell the salt of his own slick where his swollen cock sits sobbing, neglected and furious.

“I’m not,” he protests against your silence.

He’s not sure who he’s trying to convince.

But he doesn’t stay himself for long. Not after he thinks instead, suddenly, of autumn. Of the sweet smell of the orchard. Of taking Tommy’s truck up up up into the places where seasons meant something.

The roads sprawled like veins and they followed them with no end just to see the way the trees curled overhead, branches reaching and burning with dying leaves—a sight so devastating that Joel considered leaving Texas behind for somewhere he could start to take this beauty for granted.

Chasing the colors led them first to a field of corn, blustering amber in the setting sun. They had returned the next day, fresh from the motel with burnt coffee and warm flannels, parting with precious dollars for the privilege of picking pumpkins and apples and a little corn husk doll.

He’d have paid every cent ten times over to see Sarah smile like that again.

This is where the man breaks and bows out. Where the wolf at its weakest is still stronger than Joel. He gives in, gives into the grief, gives into the wolf, and shifts back. He stays curled up on his bed, though, and doesn’t look at you.

He doesn’t speak to you again for a month.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #alpha!joel miller x omega!reader #alpha!joel miller #werewolf!joel miller #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o verse #fic: of rage and ruin #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic

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chlorinecake · 9 months

Text

𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐬𝐚 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐭 𝟏 — a riki nishimura fanfic

𖦹 ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: a cute and flirty airport security assistant gives you a hard time before boarding your flight

♡ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: brief language, mentions of hunger pains, flirty behaviors (duh), riki invades your privacy

𖦹 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 0.7k ~ read pt. 2, pt. 3, and pt. 4

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Of course, the x-ray machine detected something foreign in your suitcase. It happens to everybody at airports, right?

Introducing the helpful airport security assistant:

Male, check.

Tall, check.

Attractive, triple check.

You always despised having your luggage inspected, but from the surface, your agent appeared easy to work with. Or at least, that’s what you thought until the young man began with a smug “Hey, you,” greeting you with his piercing dark eyes and playful smirk.

That was about five minutes ago, with the time in between consisting of his frequent coquettish remarks. By now, he had asked you a number of questions, ranging from your favorite color to your relationship status.

“I doubt your flirty behavior follows protocol. Or is this your way of making luggage checks with women more interesting?”

He eyed you through his messy bangs, still rummaging through your belongings.

“Me? Flirty behavior?” He scoffed, humored by your remark. “I can assure you that I am thoroughly incapable of such a thing, Miss?...”

“____,” you blurted out.

He then offered a hand and smiled, “Riki. Nice to meet you.”

“Hopefully never again,” you replied sarcastically, returning his handshake. Firm, you thought to yourself. This guy has confidence pumping through his veins. You couldn’t help but wonder what game he’s playing. Pleasantries aside, his behavior was wildly unprofessional, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could take his insipid remarks and annoyingly handsome face.

Ugh.

He’s turning you into one of those girls that get upset about a cute flirty stranger for no good reason.

Whatever. The sooner you got through this awkward situation, the better. You’d literally never have to deal with him again after this, so you swallowed your pride, relaxed your posture, and tried to take a few calming breaths. Inhale, exhale…inhale, exhale…inha-

“Well, well, well, what do we have here,” he smirked, cascading a sexy pair of light blue lace panties high in the air for the entire first floor of the airport to see. Heat rushed through your neck up to your cheeks, and you’d damn yourself if you knew how hot and bothered you suddenly appeared.

“Did you want me to find these? Tempt me during my shift? How about finder’s keeper’s?”

“Loser’s weepers,” you retorted, snatching the lingerie from his grasp, folding it back neatly, and placing them on the cold metal side counter.

“Aww,” he pouted mockingly. “I think she likes me! Guys!” He shouted across the room, “She’s totally whipped for me!”

All you could do was roll your eyes. His bold energy intoxicated the entire space, provoking you to act more immaturely than usual. He was certainly a mood maker.

“Are we almost done here,” you questioned, narrowing your eyes at him. Your patience had officially left the building, as you couldn’t wait any longer for this crippling interaction to end. You leaned forward, tapping your fingertips on the countertop out of frustration.

“Shh, I haven’t found your diary yet…nowww, where is it-“

“Gosh, you’re such a jerk,” you whined, smacking his hand from your suitcase and removing it from the counter. He had really pushed your buttons this time, and you’re afraid that the crowded room was the only thing holding you back from literally blowing up. Or maybe it was his pretty privilege?

He ignored your retort, and opted for a more professional personality than the one you’d been graced with before.

“Perfect! You’re all set, ma’am. Enjoy your flight, and thank you for partnering with Nishimura Airlines!” He smiled, bowing before you.

“You too- I mean, thank you? No, you’re welcome, have a good day!” You cringed at yourself. It boggled you how flustered he managed to make you feel just from that short interaction alone. Still, his switch in behavior confused you until you spotted a tall man dressed in khaki pants and a collared shirt. “Ahh, the manager,” you thought to yourself. It would’ve been lovely if he came out to your rescue 10 minutes ago, because now you’re pushing for time just to get in line for your flight.

“Damnit,” you scolded yourself, realizing that you forgot your underwear on the counter in front of Mr. “Finder’s Keeper’s.” On top of that, the rising hunger pangs in your abdomen only added to your growing frustration. All you could do now was hope that the staff would board you and the rest of the travelers quickly for the sake of your emotionally affected stomach. It’s amazing to think that all of this stress erupted thanks to…

Wait-

What was his name again?

………………………………………………………………………………….

ᴀ/ɴ 𓂋 thanks for reading! feel free to send in any content requests for future works ~ love always <3

#enhypen #enha imagines #enha scenarios #enhypen niki #niki ff #enhypen headcanons #niki x reader #niki nishimura #enhypen ff #enhypen fluff #niki fluff #kpop ff

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enviedear · 6 months

Text

i've been going solo now ⟶ ben solo

description ⌙ when you get a distress signal from your dad and his life-long goon you're quick to try and come to their rescue. only problem? so is ben solo.

pairing ⌙ smuggler!ben solo x f!reader

warnings ⌙ childhood crush/frenemies turned adults with horrible communication skills, reader is the daughter of lando (biologically or not you decide), ben is a jerk, reader is a brat, petty arguments, forced proximity trope, inner conflict all the time, han and lando are just two pals getting into serious issues that their kids have to fix don't mind them (they're just mentioned), most likely incorrect knowledge of the falcon & starship parts, smuggler!ben solo au because that's canon to me, ben calls reader kid (affectionate, kinda), typos probabaly

word count ⌙ 4.1k

— request | masterlist

i just think ben solo is very much solo by future coded and i wanted to write about smuggler!ben and his smug attitude. special thanks to @crucifiedfaerie for letting me gush over this idea constantly in our dms <3

you never had the stomach for killing— the thought of it or the act itself. the notion of ending someone's life has always been abhorrent to you, leaving a sour sensation in your mouth that lingers long after the deed is done. but right now, you sit, filled with a growing and seemingly unstoppable rage that practically demands blood.

"don't even think about jumping into hyperspace, solo!" your voice is loud but erratic.

the black-haired man piloting the ship gives you a side eye, "and waste hours getting there? sure thing, kid."

you grip the co-pilot seat as hard as possible as he sends the absolutely geriatric ship into lightspeed. the force of it sends your head back onto the headrest, and you screw your eyes shut until the motion of the ship stills.

you've been flying with ben solo on the millennium falcon for a day and a half now, and this isn't even the first time you've wanted to kill him.

no, you'd harbored a hatred for ben solo for as long as you could remember. when you were little your father frequently left you in the care of the organa-solo's. any trip too risky for you to follow him on had you spending time on chandrila han and leia— and ben.

he was a few years older than you and so insufferable - spoiled rotten and full of mischief. the two of you would inevitably end up in scuffles over something, whether it be who got to shower first or which holovid show to watch. you often wondered how your father, han, or leia had managed to handle both of you. a hardheaded pair of troublemakers that needed little excuse to start bickering with one another.

but beneath it all, there had been another layer to your complex relationship with ben solo. even though you feigned anger whenever near him, deep down there had been an admiration growing since those early days spent together. your naive heart fluttered when he would absentmindedly flash his ever-present smirk in your direction. but you'd never admit or act upon any such feelings.

naviagting your crush had been difficult at first. especially having lando calrissian as a parent. you were forced to spend weeks around the source of your teen angst because of your father.

what use is a dad that can sweet-talk a jablogian if he can't fix your unwanted crush on his best friend's son.

you've cursed at his image in your mind every time you look at your ridiculous companion. if not for him, you wouldn't be with ben right now— you'd have never had the displeasure of his company.

you got away from the young solo, and most everyone else, for a good five years, hopping from planet to planet, picking up any honest work. which usually meant boring work— factory jobs, service stuff, a few instances of babysitting.

your life without ben solo is predictable and a little boring.

but you'd rather be bored than deal with the recklessness that becomes your life every time you see the smuggler.

but here you sit beside him, forced to spend an unknown amount of days with him until the both of you find your idiotic fathers.

you had gotten a rouge comm-link message from your dad just days ago. he sounded fine, voice still leisurely and warm, but it was his words that were worrisome, "han's got us in a bit of trouble, little star. would you mind coming to help your old man out? we're somewhere in the trilon sector— i'd try batuu first!"

when you got the message, your mind had gone into autopilot. you had rushed to comm leia, which had been a fatal mistake, as she had ordered her son to pick you up and accompany you. so now you're here, stuck with ben solo and his frightening flying.

"you know, dad should have warned me i'd be flying with a coward." ben's lips are curved into a grin, as usual with his teasing.

you whip your head in his direction, eyes ablaze, "well my father should have warned me that you've gotten even more annoying, somehow."

ben narrows his eyes, a stupid smirk still plastered to his face, "whatever you say, kid."

you feel your blood go hot, why he decided to start calling you kid, you didn't know, but you do know you hate it.

ben's barely your senior, only twenty-three years of age in comparison to your twenty. besides he behaves like an out-of-hand teen away.

"stop calling me that." you groan.

ben chuckles, "aw, what's the matter, kid? tired of following orders already?"

you grit your teeth, the way he talks down to you will forever get under your skin, "i don't take orders from you, solo."

"sure you do. you're on my ship, remember?" ben retorts, his eyes focused on the coordinates displayed to his left.

you cross your arms over your chest, "we're supposed to be working together to find han and my father and get them out of trouble, not bickering like children."

ben rolls his eyes, "it's not my fault you're so uptight."

you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. you can't afford to lose your temper and start a fight, not when you're relying on him to get you to your destination safely. so, you force a smile, "look, can we just be civil? we're both here because we care about our dads and want to help them."

ben's expression softens a little, "fine. but if you start nagging at me again, i can't promise i won't call you kid."

you roll your eyes, "deal. now, can you tell me more about what's going on? my dad was pretty vague in his message."

ben hums, "same with mine. all i know is that lando got mixed up in some kind of shady deal, and now he's in trouble with a gang of criminals called the ninth sun. my mom's been trying to negotiate with them, but they're not ones to bend the knee."

you groan, "of course not. what's the plan?"

he shakes a stray black strand of hair from his eye, "no plan, just find them and go from there."

"lovely, that's totally going to work," you bite your lip, "oh and, it was han who made the sketch deal, not my dad."

ben shrugs, "and who told you that?" he rests his elbow on the armrest and brings his hand to his chin, "lando?"

you clench your fists, "let's just focus on finding them. no need to dwell on the semantics."

ben glances at you and for a moment, you swear there's a flicker of something in his eyes. something other than his usual teasing, mischievous demeanor, but it's gone as quickly as it came and he turns back to the console.

the ship hums steadily beneath you, and the silence between you two stretches on, broken only by the occasional beep from the controls. you fidget in your seat, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar hush. you've never been around ben so long without saying anything, and you're about to speak up before he interrupts you.

"we'll have to make a pit stop, i need to refuel." his voice sounds tired.

you nod, "alright. any nearby planets we can stop at?"

ben checks the navicomputer, "yeah, there's one a couple of light years away. i've been there before, it's not too bad."

"okay solo, lead the way." you say, leaning back in your seat.

as he pilots the ship toward the destination, you can't help but study him from the corner of your eye. he's changed since the last time you saw him. the boy who used to pull your hair and steal your toys has grown into a man. he's lean and toned with longer hair, still as sable black as ever. it falls into his eyes, despite how much he wills it not to, giving him a slightly disheveled look that you can't help but find attractive.

you rue the thoughts plaguing your own mind.

the embarrassment you used to feel over your crush has come back ten-fold. the feeling shocks you. he's trying to act all suave and mature, but you know deep down that he's still the same old ben who annoyed the life out of you. you can feel the familiar tug in your heart every time he speaks, and you know he can't have changed much over the years. not when he's making you feel just like you're fourteen again.

but there is something different about him now. maybe it's the way he pilots the ship with ease– no longer the boy who'd cover his ears ar take off, or maybe it's just the way his muscles flex under his tight-fitting shirt. he's almost mesmerizing.

it's clear that he's been doing this for a long time, navigating the stars all alone with nothing but his shitty attitude and perfect hair. you find yourself marveling over him, sure and smooth, his hands deftly moving over the controls.

ever the realist, you try to shake off the feeling, but it's proving difficult. you feel a strange urge to preserve your current addiction.

as you watch him fly, you feel a fixation building within you. it's a sentiment you haven't felt in years, not felt since the last time you saw him.

you try to push the feeling down, knowing that it's not the time to have those kinds of thoughts. you're supposed to be focused on finding your fathers and not getting killed by some lethal syndicate, not lusting after your childhood nemesis.

you feel wrong stealing glances at him, trying to understand what's changed and why you're feeling this way. you're towing a dangerous, line. especially if those feelings are inspired by ben organa-solo.

finally, after what feels like hours, you arrive at the refueling station. as soon as ben lands the ship, you stretch your legs inside the falcon, looking out at the new scenery. the planet is bathed in the evening light, and the scene around you is wide awake. the station itself is a bustling hub of activity, with all kinds of alien species milling about.

ben leads the way to the fueling station, where he begins filling up the ship's tanks. you stand by the ship's entrance, people-watching. your eyes find ben's figure again, and you let them stall. when he looks your way, you advert your gaze and step out of the falcon, swiftly approaching him.

the evening air is cool as it hits your skin. this planet is a strange one, with vibrant purple plants and thick, white fog swirling around. but you don't pay too much attention to it, your eyes are locked on ben.

he's leaning against the ship, checking over the fuel meter with a frown on his face. you walk over to him and clear your throat, expecting to get his attention.

he looks up at you, eyes meeting your own. you feel your heart skip a beat, and you curse yourself for being soft for him.

"you know, you didn't have to follow me out here." he mumbles, hand coming to brush the hair from his eyes.

you hum, "i didn't have anything better to do."

he ignores you and looks back at the fuel gauge, his eyebrows furrow, "i found something for you to do." his voice is monotone, but you're all too familiar with the subtle cut of annoyance within.

"what does that mean?" you own voice comes out a bit too anxious.

ben groans before looking at you, "one of the damn tanks has a leak— i told chewie to fix that weeks ago." he follows up his words with a few curses before kicking the faulty gas tank.

you roll your eyes, "can't we just get another one? i'm sure if we go inside someone would know where we could get another one."

"the problem isn't finding one," he tsks at you, "the problem is that this tank has been leaking fuel into the beacon finder. without that, we're never finding our dear old dads."

your heart sinks. you had been so sure that you would find your dad quickly, but now it looks like that might not be the case. "so, what do you suggest we do?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

"i'll have to fix the beacon," he sighs, "luckily i have the tools for it, but i need to find one more part, and with the sun setting soon…" he trails off, letting his silence complete the sentence for him.

you take in a deep breath at his implication. you can tell what he is suggesting without explicitly stating it.

you will be stuck on this planet with him tonight and forced to share the same cramped room. you thank god for separate cots, at least.

you try to ignore the warmth creeping up your ears, but you know that it's a losing battle. you haven't shared a room with ben solo since you were kids, endless unwilling sleepovers at each other's houses. but those instances were filled with innocent pranks and arguments, not the tension and longing glances you've found yourself giving him.

"alright," you say, trying to keep your voice even, "we'll just get the part and fix the beacon. the faster we fix this, the faster we can find our fathers and get back to our lives." you move towards the entrance of the fueling station, wanting to put space between you and ben.

"you mean so you can get back to your life." he calls out to you, and you look back at him only to be met with contempt in his brown eyes, "the one where you avoid me."

you give him a sharp eye roll before making your way toward a small gaggle of vendors, much more interested in finding this part. ben follows closely behind you, and you can feel the weight of his stare on the back of your head.

you're at a loss as to why ben solo would ever care that you've been avoiding him for the last five years. the ben you remember would've never batted an eye. when did that change?

you find a vendor selling the part that ben needs, and you both split the payment before heading back to the falcon. ben sets to work on the beacon, and you sit nearby, supposedly looking over the coordinates but mostly watching him work.

there's an abnormal sense of calm that fills you as you watch him. concentration is etched on his face, lips bitten bright red. you can't help but admire him, not for the sake of not trying.

you're brought back to reality when he starts cursing under his breath, "what's wrong?" you ask, moving closer to him.

"this damn thing won't budge," he grunts, trying to pry apart two pieces of the beacon.

you move to his side, peering down at the device. his breath is hot on your cheek, and you feel an urge to shiver. trying to focus on the task at hand you take a few breaths.

your eyes keep drifting to his lips, the way they move when he curses. you shake your head, trying to clear the inappropriate thoughts from your mind. "let me help," you offer, reaching for one of the tools he's using.

he hands it to you, and you lean in closer, your sides pressed together as you work the tool. you can feel his heat exuding into you, a warmth that isn't just from the planet's humid air. you try to focus, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. every time he moves, you catch a whiff of his scent, musky and rich, and your mind starts to wander to places it shouldn't.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, the piece pops free, and ben lets out a sigh of relief. he turns to you, a small smile on his face, and you can't help but smile back. his eyes lock onto yours, and suddenly, the air between you is charged with something foreign.

you let your tone come out sardonic, "looks like i saved the day. you're welcome, solo."

ben tilts his head, eyes narrowing, "you're a brat, kid."

"i thought i told you to stop calling me that." you want to hit him.

"i said i had a condition," he pauses, arms coming to either side of you, palms pressing into the falcon's floor, effectively trapping you against him, "a condition you just broke. so you're back to kid, kid."

you feel your resolve slipping, "you're the worst. you always have been, and i can see now that will never change."

he has the audacity to let out an amused breath, "if you're going to say shit like that, at least mean it."

your brows furrow, "pardon me? as if i don't mean that."

his hands creep from the ground and to your hips, you gasp as he pulls you in closer. if he were anyone else, you'd expect him to kiss you next, but he's not anyone else. so instead, he cranes down and whispers in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "i know you want me," he growls, his fingers digging into your clothed flesh. "don't act like you don't,"

you're completely caught off guard, and before you can respond, he's pulling away from you and grabbing the beacon. you watch in silent horror as he makes for the falcon's exit, leaving you confused on the floor.

you sit there, rooted to the spot, your mind and body in turmoil. you know if you follow him you'd just be throwing yourself into a petty or embarrassing altercation.

what did he mean by that anyway? how could he possibly know?

taking a steadying breath, you turn away from your seat and make for the other side of the ship. you need to keep yourself busy until nighttime, and you know that there's some maintenance to do on one of the storage bays. when you get there, however, it's already been taken care of. your fists clench in frustration as you realize ben must have done it earlier.

you start searching around the ship for any other tasks that might help keep your mind off things and pass the time more quickly- checking cords, tidying up shelves or going through supplies lists so nothing gets low.

the hours seem to stretch on endlessly despite how much work you manage to do, and all too soon darkness begins to fill the sky outside of the cockpit windows. with a heavy sigh, you head back towards where you and ben had been working earlier. he's back now, tinkering away with the beacon as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you earlier— as if his words hadn't sent a tremble down your spine and confused the emotions tumbling through your mind.

you catch an expectant glance from him when he finally notices your presence. you're sure he's expecting you to say something to him. maybe he wants you to yell.

you don't say anything though, instead offering only a terse nod before checking the endless cords around you.

your fingers move quickly and expertly over the tangled cords, your mind too preoccupied to focus on anything else. but you can feel his gaze on you, burning through the back of your skull like a branding iron. his presence is suffocating and you know that if you don't get a handle on your emotions soon, you'll combust.

eventually, you're so lost in thought that you almost miss the soft footfalls approaching you. you turn to see ben standing beside you, his eyes locked onto yours. the air between you is thick with strain, unspoken words, and feelings. there are so many things you want to say to him, but you don't know where to begin.

"so," his voice breaks through the silence like a blaster shot. "when are we going to talk about it?"

you hear the depth in his baritone voice and it's all you can do to keep your face neutral, your thoughts collected, "talk about what?" you ask, even though you know perfectly well what he's referring to.

"about me and you," he says, voice low but insistent, "or we can just keep ignoring it. the tension seems to be getting us pretty far."

your expression shifts as you take in his words, the longing that had been coiled in so tightly before now coming to the surface. you can feel yourself flustering under the intensity of his watch but you refuse to look away, instead lifting your chin higher and narrowing your eyes.

"there is no us, solo," you say firmly, though your voice is riddled with a hint of something else entirely, "there never has been, and never will be."

ben seems unfazed by your words, his eyes steady and intense. "you say that," he says, his voice softening. "but i know you better than anyone else. and i know there's some part of you that actually likes me. i bet it pisses you off, doesn't it?"

he's right— it does piss you off that your heart can't seem to let him go. no matter how annoying you find him, he's beautiful and confident. and he does know you better than anyone. he knows what buttons to press and how hard. with ben, there's always the thrill of how perceptive he is— that he can see through the walls of anger and indifference you try so hard to build up around yourself.

you can feel your will crumbling under his words, your heart throbbing in your chest, but still, you push back, "even if there is something there, solo," you say, your voice shaking slightly, "it doesn't change anything. we're two different people living two very different lives."

ben smirks, "you don't know anything about my life."

you let your eyes roll, "as if the life you lead is some kind of mystery," you take a deep breath, "i mean, what's to know? you fly alone, smuggle, and rack up credits. that's your life, solo."

he hums, right hand finding a home beside your head on the wall, "you know me so well, kid. you should write a book."

you feel inexplicably hot, "maybe i will. a long book of all the reasons you piss me off."

he doesn't respond, just looks down at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. he pushes himself from the wall and you, twisting and letting his back hit the durasteel wall. his face is turned to you, eyes downcast.

"you know," he says finally, breaking the silence, "i remember when we were kids, it was always you who used to be the one to instigate. you probably don't remember it that way, but i do, and i loved it. you never hesitated. you were fearless."

you look at him incredulously, wondering what this has to do with anything. but he continues, "you were the only girl that would play with me, and not just that, the only one that could beat me. but then one day you just stopped. you ignored me completely."

you stiffen, unwilling to admit even through body language that he might be right. a pre-teen you found avoiding your ben sized crush the most viable option. you just never thought he'd care.

he continues, eyes unwavering from yours, "you used to look at me like i was the only person that mattered. and then, you just stopped. it's was like… like you had something to hide."

it's like he can read your mind because he reaches out and grasps your wrist in his hand. his touch is nice against your skin, sending a comfortable feel through your veins.

"i miss you, the girl who wasn't afraid of liking me," he whispers, his voice low and husky. "and i want you to admit that you miss me too."

you struggle to find words, to make sense of everything inside of you, but before you can speak, his lips are on yours. his kiss is hot and demanding, and instinctively lean into him, body melting against his in perfect harmony. his hands slide around your waist and hold you close as the kiss deepens, and you can feel all of the frustrations of the past slipping away. when he finally pulls back, his eyes are bright with emotion and a hint of a smile graces his lips.

he looks down at you for a moment before speaking in a low voice, "you want me to do that again?" he steps closer to you and cups your face in his hands, his eyes twinkling with amusement. you can feel the warmth radiating from his body and if it weren't for his strong arms around you, you would have melted into a puddle.

you nod slowly in agreement, too lost in the moment to say anything else. he leans down and brushes his lips against your cheek before pulling away completely, "then be honest. right here, right now. you like me."

you screw your eyes shut, basking in the shame of being found out, "i like you, solo. i like you a lot, but if you don't get off your pedestal and kiss me again i'll withdraw the opportunity."

he gazes down at you with an expression that's tender yet mischievous all at once. "i like you too," he whispers before chuckling lightly, you open your eyes to see.

his dimples are on full display, and for a second, he's the spirit of the little brat you fell in love with all those years ago. "c'mere, kid." his voice is soft as he pulls you back into him, lips meeting yours.

#ben solo x reader #ben solo #ben solo x y/n #ben solo x you #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x you #ben solo fluff #ben solo angst #kylo ren fluff #kylo fluff #kylo ren angst #kylo angst #ben solo x female reader #kylo x you #kylo ren x y/n #smuggler!ben solo

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bluesidez · 4 days

Note

OKAY I HAD TO HIT YOU W THIS BC I NEED THIS TO COME TRUE 🗣🗣‼️‼️

AcademicRival!Miguel x AcademicRival!reader

where they will do quite literally ANYTHING (legally) POSSIBLE to one up each other.

whether their petty rivalry began in high school or first year of uni/college, IDC- but they absolutely despise each other.

and!!! at some point down the track, they forgot why they were beefing in the first place, only for it to start stemming from a place of 'jealousy' (yk how sometimes jealousy is actually feelings of romantic interest in disguise,, yeah, that) and it gets to the point where they are quite literally making it all their friends' problem bc of it.

like i can imagine reader drinking something that Miguel sees and Miguel going 'i need to have this all the time and sell it out so reader can never have any' and Peter is like '???', or reader finding out Miguel got a certain mark and goes 'nobody speak to me for a month i have to understand everything about quantum physics before that smug asshole opens his mouth' and Jess is like '??? just kiss, fym??'

and then they finally have a moment where they have no choice but to rely on each other- whether Miguel's car breaks down on the side of the road reader happens to drive by and she takes him to his, or if reader desperately needs help in a situation and immediately calls him bc she knows he'll pick up bc she needs scary dog privileges and thats HIM so then they end up having a moment of reflection together with either super fluffy smut or absolute debauchery and fluffy aftercare i totally dont mind either way.

IDK do you know what i mean??? 🫣🫢🤭

anyway LY BLUE-BLUE, thank yew for letting me ramble on 🤍🩵

Are you asking me to write this? 🧐 (I shall add it to the pending ideas list just for you 🐰🩵)

I wrote that as a reply as soon as you sent it, but now I have more ideas that I wanna yap about to go along with this.

SO!! You already have a rivals, enemies to lovers trope going on. What better way to make it even more fun than to add the stoic x chatty dynamic???

Like I’m imagining the reader and Miguel first meeting in middle or high school. He’s a transfer student that’s immediately making the top grades and people are like where tf did he come from?? Reader doesn’t really think anything of it, she just carries on with her school life, chatting away (and getting in on the gossip about Miguel).

It’s not until he ends up in the same class with reader one semester (probably in high school) that reader is finally able to be in close contact with him. He’s so quiet and a little boring, but there’s always random girls coming in and out of the classroom to attempt to chat to him.

They’re always bringing snacks or sweets for him. He always turns them down with a “No thank you. I don’t like chocolate.” type of response. (What he thinks to be polite and cordial)

The guys in the class think he’s a huge jerk. The girls in the class still fond over him. You think he’s an oddball, a weirdo. But you really have no solid information to justify it.

It’s not until one day that the teacher asks this obscure question that he pisses you off. (I havent thought of a weird question yet tho). Everyone else has given crude or stupid answers, riling each other up and joking. You raise your head to give the most out-of-the-box, yet plausible answer that leaves the teacher impressed and the class laughing in shock. Miguel scoffs and debunks it so fast, that you start to feel like one of his rejected groupies. If you thought the laughter for your answer was loud, the laughter for his sounds like the crowd in a football stadium.

You’re embarrassed but you don’t really show it. You just brush it off and joke with everyone else like usual.

Then, one of the class’s first huge tests come. You’re gunning for the number 1 spot although you figure it won’t be too hard with half of the room being class clowns and the other half not giving af. You read over the material once and already have a good grasp on it, so you joke around with everyone else. There’s rap battles and TT routines. You guys even manage to get the teacher in on some of them. From the front of the room, you can see Miguel glancing back at you with such a sour look on his face. Wtf was his deal??

Test day finally comes. You’re the first to turn yours in with a smug smile on your face. You even take a nap until the next bell.

You’re on cloud nine for about a good week. Although, every time you open your mouth in class, Miguel looks like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Then, the time came for the teacher to hand out the papers. He was pretty theatrical and loved to announce who got the highest score.

You were gearing up for him to say your name. And you don’t know of you’re crazy, but you’re certain your mom didn’t put “Miguel O’Hara” on your school registration form.

You frown as you come back to reality, watching as teacher handed him is paper. From your seat, you can see the bright red 100 in the corner, a smiley face to adorn it.

Then the teacher hands you your paper. A 99.5. Just 0.5 points from a perfect score. And what you got points taken off for is something so ridiculous that you could scream.

You can see him in your peripheral as you chat with the other students about the answers. Just as you discuss your silly mistake you take a small look at him. He has a faint smirk on his face, as if to laugh at your downfall.

From then on, you decide that it’s a war.

[and obviously, the story would travel with them as they grow. Once they’re adults, I can imagine Miguel to still be this same stoic, yet more approachable person who has had a ROSTER of hookups and a reader who’s still so flirty and chatty, yet can’t find a good partner to save their life. The dynamic of him knowing exactly how to make reader feel good verses reader being overwhelmed for once would be sooooo good]

What do you think Lexie-bun?? 🥸

#lab testing 🔬#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader

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yeowangies · 6 months

Text

Challenge

❧

PAIRING: Vegeta/AFAB!Reader/Goku RATING: Explicit CONTENTS: Established relationship, Explicit Sexual Content. WARNINGS: Threesome (F/M/M), Double penetration in one hole. WORDCOUNT: 891

Summary:

It had been a ridiculous challenge when Vegeta basically made fun of you for being too scared to do it, and of course, being as hot headed (and dumb) as you were, you accepted it.

Notes:

For kinktober! This was fun to write lmao I gotta write more threesomes with these two!

Day 16: Double penetration in one hole

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Your brain instructed you to slowly take air in through your nose and out of your mouth as you got used to having both Goku and Vegeta’s cocks inside. At the same time. In your pussy.

It had been a ridiculous challenge when Vegeta basically made fun of you for being too scared to do it, and of course, being as hot headed (and dumb) as you were, you accepted it. Goku tried to ease the tension between the two of you at the time, but the minute you said yes, he seemed thrilled about it as well. He’s a man after all.

The foreplay had been extensive and thorough, but even then, it felt like you were being split open. Straddling Vegeta’s hips as he laid on the bed with your hands on his chest, he bored holes right through you with his intense gaze, and you tried your best not to actually look at him; you knew he must have looked smug as fuck. Goku was behind you, hips pressed flush to your ass, holding your waist with a vice grip as he peppered kisses on your shoulders, trying to loosen the tension in your muscles.

His fingers digging into your flesh were not helping, however.

“You’re hurting me, Goku.” You murmured quietly, and he immediately let go.

Under any other circumstance, you wouldn’t mind the bruising, but he was actually gripping you so tightly he might as well be puncturing you with a drill.

“Sorry, sorry,” Goku replied, nuzzling the back of your neck, hands now stroking your sides soothingly. “You’re just so tight…”

“Well of course I’m tight, the two of you are inside me!” You said through gritted teeth. “I should have taken more yoga classes…”

Vegeta chuckled, squeezing your thighs, either in reassurance or to make fun of you. Probably the latter.

“Giving up already?” He mocked you, and the moment you glared at him, you noticed that stupid grin of his that made your blood boil.

“Of course I’m not! I just need a minute to get used to this!” You practically yelled, impulsively clenching your muscles around both of their cocks, and making them groan.

You huffed. It was going to be a while until you could actually move.

It wasn’t even that it didn’t feel good, but it was too much, the stretch made you instantly sore, and if both of your incredibly strong alien boyfriends decided to move, you were afraid they might split you in half. Luckily the dragon balls existed for a reason, even if the wish was going to be a little hard to explain.

“Fuck,” You heard Goku pant desperately against your shoulder. “I can’t- I need to move.”

You got chills up your spine before you could even comprehend his words, and his hips promptly jerked against you, burying his cock even deeper inside you. Yelping, you braced yourself with your hands on Vegeta’s shoulders, closing your eyes just as you heard a low growl rumble from the depth of his chest.

“Kakarot! What are you doing?!”

“I can’t wait!” Goku gasped like a wounded animal, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you in place. “It-it feels really good!”

Vegeta’s hips snapped upwards, obviously stimulated by Goku’s own movements, and you were too far gone and tense to ask them to wait a little longer.

They both lost themselves inside you, and if it wasn’t for Goku holding you in place, you would have already collapsed on top of Vegeta due to the sheer force of their thrusts. Their cocks slid in and out at such a sudden, harsh pace, you couldn’t even utter a single word, small whimpers leaving your lips as they basically made use of you as if you were only a toy.

The thought alone sparked something in you, and while it still felt like too much, like you may die if they kept going, you might as well die if they didn’t. Pain and pleasure mixed together seamlessly and heat rapidly bloomed in your abdomen the more their dicks moved in and out of your entrance.

You weren’t expecting the sudden snap in their hips as they came together, almost simultaneously. Goku grunted into your neck, holding you flush against his chest as he spilled his load, followed closely by Vegeta, who growled animalistically as he jerked upwards, digging his fingers into the skin of your hips, filling you with his own cum.

Your mouth hung open as you regained consciousness, the warmth in your tummy fading away quickly.

“You both came without me?!” You hollered, in disbelief. “I would have dated boring human men if I knew you’d both do this to me!”

“I’m sorry, honey.” Goku whispered sweetly against your ear.

“You know we’ll be ready to fuck you in just a second, don’t you, woman?” Vegeta asked, panting but sporting a smirk.

You huffed, rolling your eyes.

You knew he wasn’t bluffing, yet it still surprised you when they began moving once more, a steady pace this time. They have gotten their fun first, they better be taking your own pleasure in mind this time. They slowly picked up their rhythm, their cocks sliding in and out in sync, and that familiar heat in your tummy grew once more, making you moan.

#dbz imagine #dbz fics #dbz fanfiction #vegeta x you #vegeta x reader #goku x reader #goku x you #dbz #my writing #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #k2023

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mikalame · 9 months

Note

hii could you do kind of platonic fem reader where her, bill and tom do everything together like when they watch a movie both of them are cuddling with reader if that make sense? and when they do other things too it’s always both of them with reader. maybe their fans think she is dating both of them but they are actually just really good friends but they are also super close yk? like their love language is tuch and all three just have so much love for each other. maybe reader has had her private moments with bill and tom but it didn’t work out with either of them and if didn’t affect the friendship either?

taglist : @oppopotamus @violentnewmarley

"____!, you should totally come over to our house after practice" Bill whines, Bill you know i cant have to do my chores" you groan back having already told him that you needed to do them "Oh come on ___ pleasee, we will help you with them but only if you come over to ours" Tom pleased while packing all his guitar things away "wait, i dont wanna do chores" Bills says to his brother shocked that he would amke them do more chores than nessisary "Ill only come over if you help with them" ___ says back with a smug smile on her face "Ughh, fineee" Bill groans "Woo, Ho" Tom says happly.

Time skip

"Oi, are you watching the movie without me" Tom says "uhm, no?" ___ says with a mouth full of m&m's "how could you, you told me you would wait, you liar's" Tom says with faux sadness as he plops himslef on the couch on the opposite side of her "Oh get over it tom we called you ealirer but you were probaly to busy jerking off huh" ___ says cockly "was not" Tom says trying to defend himself, the two of you started to bicker "shut up, im trying to watch the movie you interrupted Tom" ___ snaps back. After the movie had ended both of you fell asleep on the couch toms arm wrapped around your shoulder and you leaning on him. Unbeknown to them but Georg had come in with one of the camera crew members and walked in on them, the camera capturing it all, tabloids went crazy thinking that you two were dating lol.

"OMG, did you see Britnry Spears new song ahhhhh i love it so muchh" Bill says bustimg down your door and jumping on to your bed nearly knocking over the nail polish you were using to paint your nails on to your magazine you were reading. "Wow, bill watch where you are going,nearly knocked over my stuff" you say pretending to be angry "oooo thats a pretty shade i love it, Oh could you paint mine its starting to chip a bit and yk i suck at doing my right hand" Bill says kicking off his shoes onto your floor" grabbing the magazine flipping though it "Oooo you would look so good with this makeup look" you point at one of the looks in the magizine leaning into bill "nah not my thing not enough black ahahah" Bill laughs "Bill, could you help me with my other hand i dont have much nail polish remover left and i dont wanna use it all up yet" you say "yea sure honey" bill says grabbing the brush from you. You two take some cute selfies uploading them onto facebook. Tabliods when crazy again (girl your so popluar lol)

Here are some HC of places where you 3 have been that made it seem like you were dating them.

. 5 star resturant- you three were clebrating winning an award and went to dinner for it. Georg and Gustav showed up later as they wantd to be dressed fancier for the dinner

. Movies- You were watching the movie that Bill voiced acted. He was very proud and wanted 2 of the most important people in his life to watch it with him.

.ice skating rink- you 3 had seen some funny videos of people doning and wanted to see if you were any better (you looked like newborn deers) you and bill were laughing at tom as his jeans goit caught on the ice and he assed over

. on a picnic- you 3 had gotten back from a 2 month long tour and just wanted some time with just you three and nature (bill got chased by a squirel trying to have his snow white moment)

Hope you likeee dont mind the spelling mistakes

#bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel

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sinnerlillith · 2 years

Text

Sweet Pervert O’ Mine

a/n: i shamelessly want and need to peg this man so bad ughhhHHHH this is annoying. sorry it took so long to finish, i like being detailed. also twitter link at end >:)

summary: Eddie is a horny bastard for a boyfriend who likes being pegged roughly any chance he can get, even if that means your little game of “this or that” while you cuddle has to get interrupted by your dirty thoughts.

includes: sub eddie, pegging, 2 rounds, hair pulling, crying, mommy kink, slight choking, spit, praise kink, anal fingering, eddie gets called a pervert (like only 4 times), some pegging position changes, prostate stim, some nipple stim, eddie is a damn masoch!st, reader is both mean and soft dom

word count: enough. did you see the “includes”? this 2 ROUNDS chile, im horny and ready to go.

"Hmm... ok I got one. Weed or alcohol?" you ask Eddie as you lay on your right side, eyeing his side profile as he stares up at the celling of his room. He’s laying fully on his back, his ringed left hand resting on your thigh as it lays over his bare torso. He just showered and is only shirtless in sweat pants. His eyebrows furrow into a thinking face as he contemplates if he likes being drunk or high better.

"Huh.. I think I like being high better," Eddie starts, still looking at the ceiling, “because I know I’m a lot more creative when I’m high. I’m just a lazy stumbling mess when I’m wasted.” a small smile creeps onto his lips as he remembers little, yet embarrassing, memories of his drunk words and actions.

Your eyes never break away from his face. The way his chin and cheeks wrinkle when he smiles, his pink lips curling, his white teeth showing, all of it, makes you grin softly at him.

“Yeah, I believe that. How about...” your voice trails off as you think of another question, “a new tattoo or a tongue piercing?”

His eyes squint as he imagines either one. His lips press together, contemplating what he’d even get as a new tattoo if he had the chance. He then switches to thinking about how a tongue piercing would feel against your skin.

He’s always kissing and licking it, which he knows makes you squirm, but he wonders how it would feel with a tongue piercing. He grins at the extra pleasure the metal bead would bring to you if his curly head was between your legs, licking your slit up slowly until the bead glides effortlessly over your clit. He thinks about how you might whine if it slid over your nipple before he harshly sucks it, or how you might shiver if it rolls against your neck.

“Tongue piercing. With out a doubt.” he answers, a suggestive smile now on his side profile.

“Oh yeah?” you challenge that look on his face, wondering what he’s thinking that got him so smug. His head turns left on his pillow so his face is alined with yours, big brown eyes now looking at you. They dart to your lips and back up to your eyes so quickly that if you blinked you would have missed it. That smile on his face makes the fat under his eyes become defined.

“Yeah.” his voice is is raspy and innocently suggestive. If anyone else heard it, they wouldn't think twice, but when you hear it, you know it means something else. Something definitely got him thinking, but he’s talking as if everything is normal. At least, he’s trying to, because he’s never been good at hiding his arousal.

Fine. If he wants to play faux innocent, then you will too.

"So then... do you want me to peg you with your face shoved in the pillow, or hovering above it?" Your eyes still look at his own, watching his reaction.

"wha- y/n?" His eye brows raise, making his eyes go big with them.

"Oh! Or....” your eyes look away, head turned as you stare up, making a face of ‘hmmm let me think’ as if you’re not asking anything more than a normal question. “Do you want to jerk yourself off while I peg you, or, do you like it better when I do it for you?"

His face gets hot at the images you're suddenly putting in his head. The hand he had resting on your thigh involuntarily squeezes it lightly. His eyes blink in a flustered confused manner. Your own eyes turn back to meet his, a small half smile on your face, littered in artificial innocence. You noticed how his lips are now parted slightly in surprise and disbelief.

This just makes you want to push him further.

"How about this- praise kink or mommy kink ?" You say the last 2 words with a completely different tone than the words before. The lids of your eyes now sink lower, relaxed, as your fake grin is replaced with a softly suggestive one.

He gulps, his heart skips a beat. His face looks like his brain just overheated and crashed. He can’t think of anything except all the dirty thoughts you put in his head. His left hand that was once squeezing lightly is now firmer on your thigh as his head turns away from you. His face had a strained smile on it before it turns away, as if the thoughts in his head are giving him some sort of pain. His right hand squeezes at both of his temples and he lets out a pained sigh, and you giggle at his display. He seriously hopes you brought your strap in that bag of yours that’s resting on the floor.

“Jesus, babe.” he says very quietly under his breath. The hand that was pressing on his temples drags down his face, pulling his skin with it making it look saggy. “You’re fuckin’ dirty.” his voice is muffled under his large veiny palm.

“That’s not an answer, Eddie.”

"Well, shi- fuck, obviously I'm going to say both for everything!" He stutters over his words. His hand waves in the air to help make gestures for his point.

"Good." You shift your thigh that's on him to the side of his hip as you slide up over him and to straddle his lower body. Your crotch is sitting right on top of his while both your clothes separate you. He begins to speak as your fingers slide up to his bare chest, tracing his black widow spider tattoo.

“So...” he starts, “you brought your -uh, your strap, then? Right?” he sounds accidentally desperate, as if he was trying to play it cool but just couldn’t.

God, he’s so cute.

A smile slowly spreads onto your face while you look down at him. Your hands halt from tracing his skin. “You’d like that wouldn’t you, tough guy?”

He huffs out a singular heh as a response to your teasing, then bashfully closes his eyes with a shake from his head. “Whatever, y/n.”

Your hands move again, but this time down his body. The flats of your palms sail over his barely visible abs under his smooth, warm skin, rising and falling as he calmly breathes.

He watches you above him, looking at his body with something similar to lust in your eyes. His hands are on your thighs with his thumbs brushing up and down, fondly. He gulps, beginning to think about how he wants you on him, kissing him and marking up his neck...

“Kiss me?” his voice comes out quiet and gentle. You can tell he’s pleading for you rather than commanding you. It makes your heart warm up with fondness at how gentle he is.

You lean down and slide one hand up to his face while the other finds a place on his chest. You bring your lips to his full pink ones and kiss him at your own pace. It’s calm and intimate at first, just taking your time kissing his warm and smooth lips. You can feel the air from his nose fan over your lips, his mouth barely opens wider to accept more of your own.

His decorated hands still sit on your thighs. You tilt your head further to the side to open your mouth more and deepen the kiss while your hand slides down to the back of his skull. This causes Eddie’s hands to move up your back and grip your shirt, balling the fabric in his hands desperately.

Then the kiss gets more greedy. You bite his lower lip and tug it outwards to open his heated mouth for you. You let your tongue come out to slip over his own wet one, causing him to tense up. One of his hands comes up to the back of your neck to push your lips impossibly closer to his, while the other hand slides down your back to grip your ass under your shorts. The action of his greedy hands kneading your fatty muscle makes you groan against his mouth.

The kiss speeds up and you can hear the both of you exhaling heavier. Making out with Eddie like this really is enough to create a layer of slick in your underwear. The kiss was so intense, you had to pull away and place your head to his own as you both caught your breath.

Both your bodies feel too hot against each other now, you and need to shed some clothes. Rushing to quickly take off your shirt, you reveal your bra, leaving both you and Eddie shirtless. His eyes watch you with adoration, then he remembers he needs to take his sweats off. He sloppily shifts under you to tug his sweats down, tongue coming out and poking his upper lip while he focuses on his movements.

He’s left in his plaid underwear while you’re now back to sitting on him, in your bra and shorts. You lean forward to return to kissing him, and his hand curves around the back of your neck, fingers gently touching the base of your skull. They feel so warm and so firm, yet so gentle on you.

You break the kiss just to bring your lips to the thin, and sensitive skin of his pulsing neck. His flesh is hot against the wetness of your lips as you scatter passionate kisses on him. He moves his head more out in the opposite direction, as if to ask for more attention on his neck.

Your hot breath and wet lips against his neck makes his stomach flip. His hands are flat on the skin of your back, holding on to you as he begins to feel harsh sucks of his skin between your teeth. His body twitches from your hickeys, eyes rolling shut in pleasure. Suddenly, his mouth falls open and he lets out a gasp.

“Damn, sweetheart. You bit me.” he rasps, small smile on his face.

You grin on his neck and place a sweet, gentle kiss on your bite mark. “You liked it.”

He gets butterflies at your observation, blood rushing to the semi in his underwear. He loves it when you bite him. Something about seeing the reddish pink teeth marks on his pale skin in the mirror just makes him feel giddy.

You kiss down his neck to his collar bone, leaving a bite just below the bone itself, where the skin is most thin. His eyes shut at the feeling, letting a small groan out before reopening them. Your kisses don’t falter at all. They eventually get down to just above his nipple, dirty thoughts now running through your own head as you look at the pink bud, now stopping your kisses.

You look up at his large deep eyes, which have flickered down to your own, confused as to why you stopped kissing his skin suddenly.

You ask him a question, revealing your thoughts, “Can I bite these too?”

He cant even find the words to answer you. He was already hoping you were going to do that, especially sine he’d be far too embarrassed to ask. He mentally curses at the shyness your question brings.

He responds with a needy, breathy, singular word, almost too quiet to hear --

“please.”

Oh fuck, he’s so damn cute when he does that.

Your wet lips wrap around his nipple, while you let your tongue come out to roll over his bud as you suck. His back jolts off the mattress as he feels the heat of your mouth on his sensitive nipple.

His ringed hands make way to the back of your head and he breathes out a shakey exhale. You begin to use your teeth to ever so gently bite, testing out how much pressure he really needs since he’s sensitive. His face scrunches at the feeling, then soon relaxes when your teeth are replaced by your tongue. His hands that are on your head begin to lightly push your face further into his shaking chest, silently begging for you not to stop.

You release his nipple from your mouth, only to put the now flushed red bud back between your lips even harsher than before. Your mouth fills the air with sucking sounds until your teeth bite again, this time tugging the flesh out as far as it can go before snapping back onto his chest.

“ah- ouch...” he whimpers. You look up as his face, expecting to see a pained one, but you’re surprised instead. His eye brows are arched downward at the edges, and his eye lids droop from arousal. His face looks fucking pornographic.

“You ok?”

He nods. “Just sensitive.. but don’t want you to stop..” his voice comes out airy and light, quite a contrast from his usual self.

You move to suck on his opposite nipple, leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys on your way to it. You do the same to that one as you did to the previous. Each movement of your tongue and teeth draws out pained and pleasured noises from Eddie. His back arches and twists into your body.

Once you’re done, you place wet open mouth kisses up his body, leaving a trail of saliva until you reach his neck, kissing up the column of his throat once you get to his chin. You lift your head to look up into his eyes.

“So....” you start, “why were you curious about my strap?”

He jokingly rolls his eyes. “Why do you think? Don’t get clueless with me, babe.”

“I think... it’s because you wanna fucked ruthlessly by me, babe.” you mock him slightly, with a smile on your face.

“Oh ‘ruthlessly’?” he challenges, but his voice is laced with playfulness. “Let’s see it then, y/n.”

“Yeah I’ll show you, alright.” You say playfully, lifting your torso up to slip your shorts off, now leaving you in only a bra and underwear. “No mercy from me, Munson.” He likes it that way anyway.

When you make your way back on top of him, you look down at Eddie. He’s eyeing your near naked body as he whistles flirtatiously at it.

“Pervert.” you tease.

“Whaaat? That’s never seemed to be a problem with you...” he says suggestively.

You smile, "Shut up."

You lean your body forward to ghost your lips over his plump pink ones before letting them touch. Teasing him, you pull your head back each time he tries to kiss you deeper, harder, faster, rougher, anything he can try, but it all fails. Your hand moves down his torso, to his clothed lower body, but he’s too distracted by your teasing to focus on your hands.

He pouts at you, wanting you to let him kiss you. “sto- oh! Shit..”

Before he can finish pouting, your hand has already traveled under the hem on his underwear to grip his semi hard shaft. Once you do, you finally let his lips met yours firmly. You let him kiss you however he wants, and for him, that means a sensual kiss with tongue.

He starts to breath heavier through his nose due to the rushed kiss, as well as your palm groping on his hardening dick. His hands touch your bare back, squeezing at you above your rib cage, rings adding more texture to his warm large hands.

You break the kiss, feeling his saliva on your lips. The saliva from your mouth that was on his own pink tinted lips gets licked up by him.

“Take these off.” You say referring to his underwear.

He chuckles and responds to your order flirtatiously. “Yes ma’am.”

Your hips raise off him so you’re sitting up straight on just your knees as he slides his underwear down to his feet, shaking them off. You then swing your legs back so your thighs are behind his own, similar to a missionary position.

He’s now fully bare, underneath you, legs spread so you can fit between them while you’re only in your bra and underwear. You lean down and he automatically crosses his legs around your back to keep you close to him. Your head hovers inches over his face as your hand comes to slide over his throat, barely choking him.

“Open” you say, eyes looking at his lips.

He obediently open his mouth, tongue lolling out, eyes crossing to look at your own lips. You let spit fall from your pursed lips and land in his mouth. His blunt finger tips tighten their grip on your back, feeling completely wild at your dirty actions. You mutter a ‘good boy’ to him before you let your mouths meet for an extremely heated kiss.

As you make out, you prop yourself up on your forearm while your other hand that was on his throat releases him and slides down his chest, finger tips lightly grazing over his pecs to his abdomen. His hands hold both sides of your head, then one of his arms snake around your neck, while his other palm holds your cheek. Your own palm then lays flat on his happy trail, coming to a halt from grazing his torso.

You pull your lips away from him. “Unhook your legs and spread them more.” you mutter against his lips. He releases your body from his legs, opening his thighs as close to the sheets below them as he can, allowing his hole to be better exposed for your hand. You lower your lips to kiss him again, rewarding him for his obedience.

As you kiss him, your palm lowers even further, past his shaft. Your middle finger ghosts over his hole, making his hips jolt at the sudden contact. You smile into the kiss, now aware of the effect your fingers have on him. Your mouth then bites his lower lip, tugging it back so his mouth gapes open, allowing your tongue to slip in. Your middle finger returns to his hole, now applying more pressure.

You circle his rim slowly, making him inaudibly whimper into your mouth, sounds muffled into your kiss. His ringed hand on your cheek slides to the back of your neck, needing something to hold onto. His forearm that was slung over your shoulders is still there with his hand griping your skin, blunt nails pressing into the smooth flesh.

His back is arching off the sheets. It curves into your torso, letting your nearly bare skin feel his own. You let the finger pad of your middle finger try to pry its way into his hole. He’s tight, but once the pad of your finger is swallowed, you slowly and gently wiggle it around to get him to loosen.

You feel his breath speed up as well as his kissing. He was growing impatient and needy, something that always tends to happen when the pervert gets his ass played with.

“more...” he says into your mouth, immediately going back to kissing. You let him for a short while until you pulled away from the kiss, looking into his eyes.

“I have to get up and grab the lube then.” Your bag that you brought has both your strap and lube, but its on the floor at the edge of the bed. He fake pouts, lower lip coming to push as you get off of him to grab your bag. He misses your warmth and smiles once you return between his thighs. Your lube is being squeezed into your finger that was previously teasing him. You let it smear around as you sit up. Your butt is on your heels and thighs under his legs.

You put the lube down and place your hand on his hip, while your lubed middle finger comes back to his hole. Your eyes look to his face as the pressure of your finger returns to him, wiggling its way half in. He blinks rapidly for a second as he adjusts, staring at your hand between his legs. You push your finger in all the way to your knuckle and he gasps, gripping your forearm on his hip.

He’s still a little tight, so you let your finger stay all the way in and move it around so his muscles can relax. Eddie’s eyes clench as his stomach flexes from the sensation. You just watch the whole thing through heavy eyelids, softly smiling at his reactions.

As your forearm is still in his warm grip, he looks up at you. His face warms up at your stare, making him suddenly aware of the position he’s in. His lover is sitting up between his spread legs, while he’s completely exposed to her, with her finger curling in him, and he loves it. The way you look down at him while he’s completely exposed and open to you, reddish pink bite marks on his chest and hickeys on his neck. Even when you still have some clothing items on, it makes him aware of your dominance over him.

Then fact that you’re in control- fuck, it makes him bite his lip and wish for you to wreck him. Still, he’s embarrassed by his thoughts.

“Stop looking at me like that..” he utters quietly, voice wavering as it holds back a whimper.

“Like what?” your tone is patronizing. You begin to pull your finger out to the pad of your finger tip. Before he can respond, you slide it back in, interrupting his thoughts. You keep finger fucking him, feeling him relax more as you sped up.

His mouth falls open, but before he can let a noise slip out, he tucks his lower lip under his teeth, preventing him from showing his true pleasure. Holding his moans back just makes you want to be rougher with him, until he goes from holding back moans to not being able to stay silent. You grab the lube again and pull your finger out. He sighs at the loss of contact.

You squeeze lube onto your middle and pointer finger, smearing it together on both. You slowly push both fingers in, rubbing circles on the back of his thigh with your opposite hand. He whines softly and his hands fist at the sheets under him.

“Almost there Eddie, just relax.” you try to soothe him as you pump your fingers in an out.

He groans a pitchy groan, getting impatient with your slow pace. He rolls his hips into your fingers, thighs closing towards each other by a few inches. His large hands now move behind his legs to grip your thighs, veins showing as he squeezes your skin.

“Aw, pretty boy. You want something?” you cock your head to the side as you eye him. His large brown eyes look up at you as he nods meekly.

“faster...” he croaks.

You pump your fingers in and out of him faster, and his body reacts in the most erotic way. His legs start to spread open wider, automatically. His head slips back further into the pillows, exhaling deeply with open mouth breaths. His ringed hands slide off you to go on the under parts of his thighs as they squeeze the muscle there and spread himself more open. He finally lets his noises come out.

“mmm- ah fuck-!” he groans as he huffs out fast breaths. His ears turn a cute shade of pinkish red as he hears the wet sounds from his hole being fingered by you. His right hand releases his thigh as it comes down to touch his shaft, fucking his fist to the pace of your fingers.

He looks at you, eyes needy, mouth open and panting. “Please fucking kiss me...” his voice is trembling. You lean down with a smile and pin your lips to his puffy pink ones. When your lips meet, he starts to fuck himself faster, groaning and whining into the kiss. His sloppy kiss, arching back, and speed of his hand under your stomach shows that he’s ready for something more.

As your fingers still pump in him, you pull your head back, hovering over his slightly red face. His breath fans on your mouth as he looks up with a haziness to him, only focusing on the pleasure he’s feeling.

“Looks like you’re having fun.” you tease him, which pulls him out of subspace. He’s suddenly back to reality, bringing his unoccupied hand to his hair, bashfully covering his face with it. His head attempts turning to the side to go as far into the pillow as he can, which isn’t too far given his position.

“Aw Ed, you’re so cute,” your fingers stop moving inside of him. “but let me see you.”

He desperately needs the pleasure you bring him to come back, so he slowly moves his head back to face you, then tugs his curls away. He looks up at you though half lidded eyes pressing his lips into a flat line as he softly smiles. You could have sworn he almost looked stoned, just high of your fingers.

You smile at him, fingers now retuning to their pace, loosening him up even more. His eyes roll back just before they shut close. His mouth falls open as he lets out a raspy groan.

“You want the strap now?” you question.

He nods rapidly. “Mhmm” is all he can say, sweet thing is just so lost in the pleasure already.

You twist your torso and turn to grab the strap, slipping your fingers out of him. You undo the strap and it slip around your hips, fastening it around your upper thighs. You squeeze lube onto the dildo and lather it. Now that its adjusted to your body and slicked up, you place your hands on the thin skin below the back of his knees, holding his legs open. You let the tip of the firm semi-realistic anal dildo press up against his open hole.

Both his warm hands move to your waist, his right one is still wet with his pre cum. Ringed fingers curl around your smooth skin to grip it as you settle between his raised thighs. You begin to roll your hips forward, pushing the dildo inside him while watching his face.

His teeth grit at the pressure of his walls being filled. He can feel the small bumps and veins of the strap giving extra stimulation to him. He whines lowly, barely hearable. You slowly bottom out, the base of the strap now fully in him.

“Are you ok, Ed?”

He nods. You take it as a sign to pull out to the tip, and push back in, nice and easy. You start with slow thrusts, fingers squeezing the back of his knees to steady yourself. He huffs with every roll of your hips, tongue darting out to lick his lips that dry a bit when he breathes out.

You begin to feel less resistance from the muscles in his hole, showing you that he’s starting to adjust to the size. Keeping your thrusts at their slow pace, you start slide out easy, but enter back punctuating harsher. His legs twitch in your palms at your sudden harshness. This makes his dark eyes open wide, looking up at the celling, then to you while you smile at him.

His bangs are messy and his hair is scattered across the pillow under him, guitar pick necklace sticking to the sweat on his hickey covered chest. His fingers curl around your waist rougher, eyes now squinting in pleasure, blunt fingers digging into your sides. His mouth has fallen open, tatted chest rising as he pants.

“hnngg, y/n- gonna go insane if you don’t - mmf” his moans interrupt him, “if ya don’t go faster, damn it.” he groans this time, glistening chest of his vibrating, causing your ears to warm up at his cute noises.

He looks so fucking good under you. Eyes shut, holding on to you for dear life, face heating up- god damn it. He’s perfect.

“Is that how you ask, Eddie?” your tone is soft and sweet, contradicting to your intentions and harsh thrusts.

“mmm..” he full on whines, such a needy and pornographic whine, so desperate for you to go faster. “please mommy... I want it... go faster...”

“There it is, good boy.” you praise.

Your hands move from off his thighs to his waist area of his lower body, pressing firmly on him to adjust your legs and change your angle so you can move faster. You begin to fuck him faster, breath speeding up to accommodate to your pace. His warm hands on your waist begin to feel damp with both of your light sweat mixing under his palms. His eyes shut harshly, beginning to feel a slight wetness at the base of his thick eyelashes.

He reopens them to look up at you, eyebrows and eyelids downturned. “mmm fuck, thank you,” he moans out, trying to catch his breath at the same time. You cant help but smile down at him and think about how good submission looks on his fucked out face.

Your thrusts don’t falter, keeping their moderate speed. His legs are still spread open, uncrossed around your body. They unsymmetrically lay out wide on either side of you, one twitching from the pleasure. He’s groaning, head turning to hide his face in the pillows. You notice how his dick isn't receiving any attention from his hand anymore. It’s still very hard, slight glimmering of precum at the pinkish tip of it. Your eyes move back up to his semi-hidden face. The pillow isn’t effective in hiding his shut eyes and slightly drooling mouth.

“Don’t hide your pretty face, baby,” you coo, “let me see it...”

Eddie’s head slowly rolls, exhaling heavily through his mouth before it finally stills, facing you. A few curls from his bangs are wet at the tips, touching his forehead while the rest of his hair is pulled down the sides of his face, laying on the pillow thanks to gravity. The corner if his pretty pink mouth has a drop of drool, which you bend over to lick up.

You rise back up, still thrusting into him, seeing his body move back and forth with each thrust. You hold eye contact with him as your right hand moves off his side to grip his dick, starting to pump it firmly. His brown eyes can no longer stay open with the extra stimulation.

“Fuck, Christ-” his back arches, trying to raise his dick further into your hand. “more, more...” he doesn't even know what he’s moaning for more of, he just feels so good and wants more of that pleasure.

Your hips stop thrusting and your hand stop rubbing him, letting the strap-on stay still inside of him as you reach out for his spread open legs, ready to switch into a different position to give Eddie ‘more’ of whatever it is he’s babbling about.

His head lifts up from the pillow, pretty brown eyes look down at where you’re connected. “W-why’d you stop? What’re you doing?” he whines, sounding like he’s about to cry at the loss of stimulation. You ignore him while you press his thighs into his chest and lean forward, letting the backs of his knees sit above your shoulders. His lower legs and sock covered feet stick up in the air as you hunch into him.

“Stop whining. Take what you’re given, ok pretty boy?” you look down at him, a small smile creeps onto your face. He gets that familiar flutter of arousal in his stomach. Your commanding dominance paired with ‘pretty boy’, it’s enough to make him whisper a curse under his breath.

You’re putting him in a mating press, which automatically angles his hips up, slightly above the mattress so you can stimulate his prostate. Your hands are on the side of his head, careful to not trap his brown curls under them. His large eyes look at where you’re inside him as you slowly ease out and slide back in.

“oooh fuck-” he groans, “that’s good... feels good...” This new angle and pace feels different to him, it won’t let him get all his words out. His inked arms cross over your neck, eyes no longer paying attention to your strap. You make eye contact with his droopy, pleasured, brown eyes and he lifts his chin for your mouth. Your lips meet for a shakey, sloppy, kiss.

Your thrusts speed up while your mouths are still connected, causing him to choke on a moan, letting his mouth wide open for a half second. You slip your tongue in, but he cant keep up with your kiss. He whines against your mouth, all the other noises he makes are muffled while his ringed hand clings to your scalp. He’s absolutely struggling to kiss you back, feeling too good at the sensation of getting fucked like this. Once your mouths finally separate, the muffled noises break free from his plump wet lips, and he rambles, unable to properly put words together.

“nnggh y/n, need more- mmm shit-! faster, harder, please...”

“Shit Eddie, keep begging for me,” you begin to pant.

“Mommy... I need you...” he sounds absolutely pathetic, but he could care less. “...need you harder... harder, baby please-”

You ram into him harder before he can let anymore words out, making you completely flustered by his begging. He gasps and pants short heavy breaths over and over again. His full head of hair is whipping back, further into the pillow, completely exposing his bite covered neck to your lustful gaze.

“Good boy Eddie baby, sound so pretty for me.” you smile as you praise him.

The heat from your bodies being so close to each other makes you both sweat, but hearing his erotic noises makes you create a layer of slick in your underwear. Your strong thrusts and eye rolling speed makes his hips roll into your strap, attempting to match your pace.

One particular roll of his hips has him seeing stars due to the fact that he arched himself right onto his prostate, sending a rush of red hot tingles up and down his body. He looks down and uses his forearms against the mattress to help stable him as he curls his hips up again, lifting his pelvis higher to hit that same spot.

His toes literally curl in his socks, head whipping back, bringing his long hair with him. He tucks his plush lower lip under his upper teeth, trying to hold back tears of pleasure. His pornographic noises are muffled behind his mouth, but his face shows all. Seeing his half open eyes that cant even look at you anymore paired with his downturned dark eyebrows isn't good enough for you though. You need to hear how needy he is, how good he feels, all of it.

“Yeah? Right there, huh?” you taunt, tongue coming out to lick your lips.

He quickly nods his head, letting his damp bangs shake along with him. He stops biting his lip and attempts to focus his eyes on you, blinking rapidly.

“oh fuck, I love it...” his voices sounds raspy and low at first, but with his next words, it gets pitcher and higher with each request. “..keep going, please keep going, ah shit- shit!”

He officially cant keep his eyes open, face contorting and flinching with every shake of his body to your speed, stimulating his prostate. He cant keep his head still either, along with his now trembling legs. He huffs and pants through his wet, freshly bitten lips, creating even more heat between your faces.

Lips tremble as he begs and cries for you, chanting your name and ‘mommy’ over and over again, and boy is he getting loud. Curses fall from his lips, his blazing hands move from the mattress to your back, blunt nails curling into your skin leaving minimal marks. His noises are starting to get too intense.

“Shut up, unless you want the whole park to hear you.” you sneer at the pretty mess of a man below you.

His heart actually skips a beat at the intensity of your words. Eddie gasps, choking on a moan as he desperately tries to hold his voice back.

“damn...” he very lowly mewls out, trying to stay quiet for you, but the idea of people hearing how good you make him feel... It sends a chill down from neck to spine. Eddie reacts to the thoughts you put in his head with a clench around your strap.

You respond to his walls clinging to your dildo with a smirk. “Oh? You’d like that? Pervert.” You start to slow down your thrusts a bit, dragging out slowly all the way to the tip, and curling your hips back in, letting him feel every curve of the dildo-- a sensation you cant give him when you plow into him too fast.

This helps him keep his voice low, for the most part at least. The pleasure of feeling every part of your strap on, slowly and sensually, drives the curly headed pretty boy to a new kind of crazy. His decorated hands on your back relax a little bit, but his face is pleading.

A devilish curl of your lips now paints your heated face as you taunt him, “You want everyone to hear you, huh?” He whines, but much pitchier this time. Your teasing is so cruel, yet so hot to his embarrassed ears. He got caught thinking perverted thoughts about you both, yet it’s making his dick twitch around underneath you. It’s making his chest heave, stomach flip, lips quiver. You start to thrust into him faster again, ending each thrust roughly, causing your skin to slap onto his own. His hands are searching over your body, trying to find a place to hold onto.

Your pace is unforgiving, making it harder for the pervert to stay quiet. “Go ahead, let them hear you.” you pant out to him, “You want that, don’t you?” Just like that, his noises come back. They’re flooding in the room and filling your ears. You notice tears at the lower lids of his eyes, just sitting there, welling up. It’s cute, it’s hot, it’s making you wet.

“Mommy, so good, ha-! fuck yes, right there..!” His legs are back to twitching besides you as he lets his words ramble out his gaping mouth. The sensation of his g-spot being hit over and over again makes his whole body heat up and quiver below you.

“Say my name.” you command from above him, “Let them know who’s fucking you this good.” His tongue is lolling out ever so slightly, eyes glossy and half open, rolling back into his skull. Eddie feels so good that he cant even remember his own name, let alone say yours. All he can do is make sinful broken moans.

“ah f-fuck, oh god...” he chokes on his own voice, stuttering and gasping, “hell yes.. yes, yes- mmm!” His mouth tries to form to the shape of your name, but his lip is quivering so much, it interrupts him.

“C’mon Eddie, almost there baby,” you grow impatient, “or else I’ll stop...” It was only a half empty threat, but it has him snapping out of it quick. He’s shaking his head, basically pleading for you to not stop.

He begins to finally speak clearly as your name falls from his lips several times, only speaking in half sentences. He cries out to you, “fuuuck me... gonna cum, gonna cum-!” You swear he’s loud enough for someone walking by to hear him.

A hand of his lifts off your body to go down and stroke himself, much faster than your thrusts. You can hear his wet dick and short breaths and he tries to near climax.

Your head turns downwards, resting on his sticky forehead to get a view of him pumping himself. He looks so good like this, legs up above your shoulders, touching himself, dildo slipping in and out of him, full body twitching under you.

You cant help it, words just naturally slip from your mouth, “Damn it Eddie, you look perfect... so fucking perfect.”

Your words make him so flustered, driving him impossibly closer to his orgasm. He can barely get another stroke out before he’s squeezing his eyes painfully shut, cumming all over his stomach--which surprises you both. You weren't expecting him to finish so quickly after your sudden sweet compliment, but he does. Flattery works well with him, far too well, because he actually can’t stop cumming.

He’s so lost in his high, and you just keep fucking him through it, skillfully hitting his g-spot multiple times with each roll of your hips. His thighs tremble against your shoulders, and his unoccupied hand comes up to painfully grip the pillow above him. His shoulders have the tips of his hair clinging to them as they shudder from the intensity of the climax. Eddies groans of pleasure are raspy, like he’s losing his voice from all the noise he’s making. Your legs are tired, but you want to-- no, need to keep going. You need to see how long it takes him to milk himself out fully.

His creamy white fluid just keeps spilling past his knuckles and thick fingers, less and less with each pump, dripping to his pubes, still not coming to an end. He almost doesn’t seem to notice how much a load he’s blowing, at least not until his brown eyes open to see small puddles of his cum on his stomach, rolling down the sides of his abdomen. The relatively warm liquid begins to slide dangerously close to dripping on the sheets below him as he finally pumps out the last of his semen. Your hips still at the final drop leaving his leaky red tip.

“Holy fuck, man,” he breathes out quietly, damp eyes blinking lazily like the world is moving in slow motion, “that’s... a lot.”

You let out an out-of-breath chuckle at his observation, still looking down, foreheads still resting on one another. “mhmm, it’s hot.”

His already warm face suddenly gets warmer at your confession. You lift up off him, silicon still inside him as you sit up straight. You start to ease his legs down to the side, still trembling faintly in your hands. You place a kiss to the inside of one of his knees before laying them to rest on the mattress. You slowly pull out but he winces at the emptiness.

His eyes still look a little heavy when you stare at his dazed face. “You ok?” you question, rubbing soothing circles on his inner thighs. He looks at you and nods.

His head barely lifts to look down at his abdomen. “jus’ feel like I should clean this off-”

“nah.” you interrupt.

His pretty eyes meet yours again. “No?” he asks, lifting a confused eyebrow. You nod a him before you start speaking again.

“Leave it, plus-”

You bend down to place a peck on his lips, which makes your strap poke at his lower body for a short second.

“-I’m not done with you yet.” Eddies eyes flutter an ‘oh shit’ look, but you smile down at him, pecking his lips again. “How about a round two, Eds?” Your hand comes up to twist a piece of his slightly damp hair near his face, twirling it twice in between your finger. “Up for it?” your tone is sweet on him.

He softly gulps, all of his tiredness from earlier fades away at the thought of feeling another orgasm like the one you just gave him all over again. Eddies smile matches yours, cute dimples showing while he nods his head. “Oh absolutely, sweetheart.” he turns his face to your hand and places a sweet kiss to it.

“So.. how about you flip over onto your knees for me, hm?”

He lets you help him guide his body into the proper position. His large adorned hands are splayed out flat against the mattress below his dangling head of hair. His neckless sways with his curls as he moves his body, following your guidance. His knees are spread apart, opening his legs far from each other exposing his hole.

The position is unfamiliar to him, since he typically will have you like this more than you would ever have him like this. It makes him feel a little... ‘feminine’ but those thoughts are pushed away once he hears the familiar sounding cap of your lube popping off again.

You sit up behind him and squeeze the lube onto the strap-on before realigning yourself to his entrance. Eddie is still sensitive from his previous orgasm so he really has to brace himself when you re-enter him carefully.

You grip his hips and push yourself in, keeping him still and paying attention to his movements as you watch for any sign of pain. Luckily, this position of his hips makes it far easier to slip inside of him. Even with your gentleness and his already loosened hole, he still feels stretched out until his hole finally swallow up the base of your strap-on.

“Damn Eddie, you swallowed me up so well.” you praise him as you slide out and then back in, gently. “My good boy.” you coo.

Your praise makes him clench his jaw, but you referring to him as ‘my good boy’, with that possessive pronoun at the beginning? Fuck. That makes him get a swarm of butterflies.

His bashful thoughts are interrupted by his own stuttering groan when you slide out slow and ram back in faster, picking up your pace. All Eddie can hear is the short breaths you exhale as you fuck him, and his own quiet whimpers drowned out by skin on skin sounds.

You slide your hand from his hip to over his flexing back, smoothing over the curves of his faint muscle, shoulder blades, and finally the back of his neck. His low hanging head now has your hand on the back of his skull, under his thick hair. Your fingers curl into his hair as you pull it back by the roots, forcing his head up.

He lets out a loud trembling groan at your harshness, feeling his eyes get hot as they clench shut. They slowly blink open, that familiar feeling of teary eyes surges through him, but fuck it turns him on.

“ha- shit..” he croaks, throat dry from all his previous noises of pleasure from the round before. You hear him mumble something else, but its barely audible over all the sounds of sex flooding the room.

You semi-roughly yank at his dark hair in-between your rough fingers, making his whole head jolt backwards before moving back into place. “Speak up, pretty.” you instruct him, almost harshly.

Your fist tugging his scalp is making his back curve into an erotic arch. His locked elbows begin to faintly wobble out of balance as he tries to keep himself propped up in your grip. He repeats what he said louder for you, “so rough mommy.. fuckin’ love it.”

Your eyes widen at his words and you feel like your mind just stutters for a bit, until you quickly recover and speed up your hips. You bring your voice to a whisper, “Fuck, Eddie-” you huff.

He’s moaning loudly at your new speed, fists balling up the sheets under them as his inked arms shudder, making his broad shoulders quake. His head being tilted back by your firm grip on his frizzy waves of curls lets you hear every whimper, whine, and moan.

He lifts a palm to the his sensitive dick and rubs himself once again, trying to match your speed, but he’s so incredibly sensitive that he flinches from his own hand and swallows back a hiss. He quickly recovers and pumps himself again.

Needy boy.

You notice his pulsing arm movements below his stomach. You release his hair and bring your hand back to his hips to keep your thrusts steady. His near teary eyes are now stinging with hot liquid sitting at his lower eyelids. His big eyes blink away the dampness, but they over flow, letting a hot tear slide down his sweaty red face. It stops at the corner of his open pink mouth that his noises are coming out of.

“oh f-fucking shit-” he gasps and lets a whine of your name fall from his lips. Eddies fist keeps pumping, but your legs are tired and your hips have to slow down completely, giving your burning body a rest. Your slow movinh hips let him once again feel all the textured bumps of the dildo, making his wet eyes roll. He grows impatient, needing you to move faster.

“y/n, d-dont stop, please-”

“nope,” you pant out of breath, “you’re gonna have to do it yourself for a while.”

He whines pathetically, “hnng, no y/n, please, I need you-”

“Then work for it, big boy.”

He groans, his fist stops pumping himself as he lowers his torso to settle down on his forearms, hair brushing over his skin and the mattress. Keeping his head up as he arches his back, he lifts his hips up high with your strap on still inside him.

He’s got the prettiest arch you’ve ever seen.

His head turns slightly to the side so you can see his side profile hidden behind his shaggy hair. He starts to rock his body forward and then back onto your strap. His hair shifts back and forth along with his sweaty body.

You just stare down at him with lustful eyes, hands occasionally caressing his skin, not interfering with his movements. You stay as still as possible between his widely spread legs. He starts to pick up his pace, attempting to mirror the pace you were giving him earlier.

“Thats it pretty boy...” you coo, “there you go.” he can hear your devilish smile. Your tone is sweet, but your torture of watching himself fail at trying to make himself feel as good as you can, and not even helping him, is damn near sadistic.

Eddie just cant seem to fuck himself like you do, and this make him visibly impatient. His fists ball up and he lets out whines of disappointment through his closed mouth. You decide to tease him by lazily moving your hips forward to match his weak pace, making your thrusts just as weak as his own. Although the muscles of his ass are firm, you can still notice some of the fat bouncing back to your slapping hips.

Hot.

“mommy please, I can’t-” he starts to sob softly, voice fluctuating making his voice crack, “I can’t do it, give me more- fuck,”

You smile at his pathetic display, stopping your lazy fake thrusts which forces him to return to fucking himself on your strap on his own. You unclip your sweaty bra and slide it off your shoulders. You lean your torso forward as his hips still move under you, purposefully pressing your breasts on his glistening back while your arms are on the side of his own, holding your weight up.

He feels your hardened nipples and swell of your breasts on his skin, but hates that he can’t see them.

He clenches his jaw, “god damn it,” he groans through gritted teeth, “your tits... fuck, sweetheart.” Your head is next to his pink tinted ear as you turn to place your mouth only a centimeter away from it. You nibble and lick at his ear lobe and upper most curve of his ear, making him bite his lips to hold back a moan at the tingling sensation your warm wet tongue gives him.

You whisper directly into his ear, breath fanning over the wet skin, “Bet you like that, huh pervert?” your tone is the most damn sultry and suggestive thing he’s ever heard. It drives him absolutely feral.

He can’t help it. He whines and absolute pitiful noise. He whines at your breasts on him, your words in his ear, your body heat on his own, your fake dick filling his hole that he’s still trying to fuck himself on.

He whimpers out to you, trying to regain his composure. “You’re mean.” he talks back, or at least tries to because his words stutter with his trembling lips.

You smile into his ear. “And you love it.” you tease him. But you’re right, he does love it. Even when you’re mean to him, his toes still curl.

You lift your naked torso off him, moving your hands back to his hips. You start to thrust into him, for real this time, meeting the pace he set for himself. It’s a steady pace, but not what he was hoping for.

Before he can tell you to speed up, you are already doing so. Your hips basically crescendo, skillfully railing into him. His head lifts up, rolling back as far as he can get it, making his jaw hang open.

A noise comes out of him literally every few times your hips meet his bare ass. Seconds later, his head is hanging low again, just inches above the sheets, huffing curses and whines. He tilts his head to the side, letting you see his side profile, riddled with pleasure on his pretty face. He utters a few words to you, out of breath:

“pull my hair... please,”

Fuck. Eddie Munson is the cutest damn thing with the hottest masochistic tendencies.

You bring your hand back to his course hair, finding his scalp and pulling his curls back while you pound into him. His hands grip into anything he can find below them. The sheets, the pillows, anything, just holding on for dear life.

His chin is lifting up, mouth staying open, letting out the prettiest groans.

“hnng fuck,” his voice is scratchy and his words are starting to slur together, “so hot... when you do that..”

You then stop your hips and use your hand in his hair to guide his face to the pillows. His arms upper wobble as he lowers himself onto the softness, face laying flat to the side so one cheek is rested against it. He’s now fully faced down with his ass up, giving you a perfect view of his spread open and arched body.

He tries to question you, but he still can’t speak clearly. “wai- what’re... wha... doing..?”

“Shhh Eddie, just trying to get you more comfortable,” your hand slides off his hair and onto his firm back, keeping him pushed down.

Your hips start up again, rough, hard, and fast thrusts, making him cry from the pleasure. His hot tears slide from his puffy fat of his lower eyes to the pillow case under his cheek, making small puddle drops.

He wants to tell you how good you’re making him feel, how hot this is, how he feels like he’s gonna cum, but he can barely move his mouth. He’s only making sinful, incoherent noises, completely and utterly unable to form words now.

You look at his face, noticing how he tries to move his lips to speak but they don’t even touch. You can tell he wants to say something, but judging by the way his teary brown eyes begin to roll up and pinkish red tongue nearly comes out, you can tell he’s just feeling too good.

You decide to taunt him. “Aww baby, am I fucking you dumb?” you both can practically hear the prideful smile on your face.

He just drools onto pillow, mouth hanging wide letting open mouthed groans and whines fall through, no longer holding them back. His hooded and droopy eye lids hang over his brown eyes, seemingly unable to focus on a single thing. The angled down corners of his eyebrows give away the fact that he barely has any thoughts in that pretty head of his, only able to focus on how good you’re fucking him.

He can’t speak, but the sight below you gives you enough of an answer:

You’re fucking him absolutely stupid.

“You look like you’re about to cum Eddie,” you speak, “gonna cum for me?” he attempts to nod, but it comes out shakey.

“Gonna make another mess, baby?”

“hnnn-” he whines, trying to close his mouth together.

“That’s my good boy.”

His hands curl into the pillow, knuckles going white as his face practically drowns in salty tears and thick drool. His eyes are squeezing shut so tightly that his vision goes white. His mouth starts to move again, rambling curses and high moans. He wails out ‘mommy’ repeatedly, with an occasional ‘fuck’ slipped in. He’s so close. He feels that heated tingling feeling in his stomach again, making his eyes snap open.

This time, he doesn’t even need to touch himself to help him cum. He spilling his load all over the sheets below him automatically, shaft lifting and twitching with every spurt. His groans go from high and pitchy, to deep and strained. You know he’s cumming now so you keep thrusting, fucking him through it until he goes quiet.

Once done, you both freeze in place, taking deep fast breaths through your mouths as you calm your rapidly beating hearts.

You look down at him, and he looks like an absolute mess, which slightly concerns you. You pull out, which makes him wince and you utter a quick apology as you try to shuffle out of your strap so you can check on him. Once its slipped off your body, you crawl to his side while his ass is still in the air. You help his shaking legs move with just one hand, guiding his knee to come out to the side so one leg is out bent against the mattress, and the other lays straight.

He settles onto his smaller puddle of cum below him, which would make him cringe on any other occasion but at the moment, he’s far too tired.

You brush his sweaty curls away from is face and rest your palm lightly on his cheek. Your thumb swipes over some wetness on it, probably a tear.

“You ok, honey?”

His world is once again moving in slow motion though, so he just slowly blinks his wet eye lashes.

“...mhmm, ‘m fine.” He speaks tiredly. you lift your head to kiss the wet streaks on his face, and then his lips.

“You did so good hun, that was fun.” you smile at him.

“That was hot.” he corrects.

You giggle. “You sure you’re ok though? I though I was pretty rough.”

His ringed fingers come up to rub at his eye while his head shifts to a more comfortable position, still facing you. “That’s the best part,” he smiles boyishly, “I prefer you merciless, y/n. One hundred percent.”

You shyly roll your eyes, secretly appreciating that he prefers you rough with him. “Gosh, you dork.”

He laughs through his nose, finding you so cute when you get flustered. His hand lifts to brush his fingers over your face, then slide to the back of your neck, pulling you to his face, about to kiss you.

“But you love me.”

“Sure do.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.●∘◦❀◦∘●.* :☆ﾟ. ───

“flattery works with me.” yes it does, you praise kink having son of a bitch.

Twt link 🙈 how I imagined his arch

anyways y’all, this was 9.8k words 🧍🏽‍♀️ im too horny for a man that doesn’t exist. let me know what details you liked best, and i LOVE when yall reblog with your thoughts so feel free to do so :)

Tag list : @cringerat @cyberfaii @dickfacemcshitboner @cringerat @eddiemvnsongf @julietsecretdiary @iveseenstrangerthings50 @sansthelonelypunster @leslieelainetrask @rafecameronswhore @foggyloverpeanuthairdo-blog @justadeanandeddieslut @wojciechovsk @blossoming-cee @marlrocks @wojciechovsk @eddiescorrodedcoffin86

ppl who wanted to be tagged: @thuggpassionn @alexloveskili @plant-hoe69

#sub!eddie munson #sub eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader

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laracrofted · 7 months

Text

baby, i'm high octane (vi)

synopsis: nora goes home with jake.

pairings: jake seresin x nora rogers (oc)

warnings: very 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, all of the usual warnings, swearing, explicit smut (oral sex, unprotected sex but with a discussion of birth control, multiple orgasms, dirty talk and praise, brief edging, crying, maybe overstimulation). (wc: 6.2K)

note: eventual smut is no longer eventual, everybody cheered 💙

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TAGS: @theharddeck @mayhemmanaged @bradshawsbitch @hangmanbrainrot @its-mara-darling @startrekfangirl2233 @kandierteveilchen @lostinwonderland314 @hangmanscoming @t-nd-rfoot @sometimesanalice @dempy @mlibbydp @djs8891 @bellaireland1981 @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @averagereader35 @eli2447 @filmflux @bethbunnyy @roosterbruiser @callsignspark

Nora half expects to wake up any minute now and realize all of this was a dream.

Jenna never called. Nora never poured her heart out in the parking lot of the Hard Deck. She never confessed anything. She never kissed him.

She'll wake up on Fourth of July – like a kind of cruel Groundhog Day – with a dull headache, disoriented and gorged on sleep, and a gnawing ache deep inside of her ribcage.

He must feel the same way – like at any second, Nora'll vanish in a puff of smoke, leaving nothing but sand and ocean breeze – because Jake can't seem to stop kissing her.

He presses his lips to her wrist on the drive home, skimming his nose along her pounding pulse until Nora shivers, breathing in the lingering scent of her perfume.

"You smell so good," Jake mumbles against her delicate skin. "What kind of perfume is that?"

"An expensive one," Nora answers, short on purpose, hoping to hide the breathy quiver in her voice. They're not even out of the car yet for Christ's sake.

"'S nice," Jake says softly. A smile brushes against her skin, and with cooling summer air on her cheeks, she shivers again.

And now, as Nora struggles to unlock her door, Jake's lips are warm and purposeful and and goddamn distracting on the slope of her shoulder, on the side of her neck, nudging the collar of her shirt aside and exposing more skin.

Her hands are shaking like Nora's had four cups of coffee, and as Jake hooks a deft finger through her belt loop and gently tugs her back into him, breath warm on her skin, pleasantly rough palm skimming underneath her shirt, Nora's head spins.

She's not even buzzed anymore, but Nora feels drunk on his warmth, on his skin on hers. A little out of breath. A little light headed.

Unexpectedly, Jake nips at a sensitive spot right below her ear, and Nora feels it like a shock, a zap of static electricity.

Surprised, Nora jerks and misses the lock, scratching a jagged line of paint from the door. She cringes.

No security deposit, at least.

"Son of a bitch."

"Need some help there, Hollywood?" Jake asks. Amusement is audible in his voice. So goddamn smug.

"Nope," Nora says quickly. "I've got it."

Jake chuckles against her neck. A rumble Nora feels down to her goddamn fingertips. Damn him.

Son of a bitch, once more for emphasis.

It's really all Nora can do not to let her head loll back on the strong line of his shoulder and let him press her up against the door in the periwinkle blue of the evening. Let him have her right here and right now.

And right – Nora reminds herself, drawing on her more logical side, shoving aside her hasn't-gotten-laid-in-several-months side – where anyone could come back and see them.

Gathering all of her willpower, Nora gently swats away the hand that's been absentmindedly fiddling with the button of her shorts and elbows him back. She grins at him over her shoulder. "Down, boy."

Grinning, Jake backs off.

Leaning against the railing – rusted and in some spots, flaking from endless exposure to ocean air and sun – Jake looks like a scolded schoolboy; one who’s doing his damndest to charm his way out of trouble, hands shoved deep in his denim pockets. Like, See? I'm keeping my hands to myself now. I'm on my best behavior.

For now, as promised by the liquid warmth in his eyes, volcanic pools of green.

She's sure Jake must be able to hear her heart practically pounding out of her chest, but finally, Nora catches the lock and nudges the door open with a lean of her shoulder.

She does a quick glance around the living room – A camera sits on the coffee table, next to the day old coffee that Nora had been nursing late last night and definitely meant to pour out this morning. Notes are scattered across her laptop. – all but pushes him down the hall.

Once in the bedroom, Nora switches on the AC.

Cool air spills into the room, which is uncomfortably warm from an afternoon's worth of sun beaming in from the window, with a quiet hum, and Nora feels a little less on edge.

It's not as quiet with the AC on, not as still.

Even so, Nora has the strangest urge to whisper.

She clears the cobwebs from her throat. "Give me a minute?"

Jake nods. "Sure."

He closes the door behind him with a click that seems to echo.

She swallows and is sure Jake must be able to hear that too.

Everyone else is out for the night. No one'll come knocking. It's just them. Just them.

“I’ll… I’ll just be a minute,” Nora repeats. You said that already.

His lips twitch, but for once, Jake is merciful enough not to comment.

“I’ll be here,” Jake replies evenly, calm and sure.

She ducks into the bathroom and closes the door.

Dropping one of her hands to the side of the sink, Nora blows out a long breath. Fans her blushing cheeks.

This is happening. This is really happening.

She's not nervous, not about this part, not really.

Everything at the Hard Deck was so vivid and intense and real. She was so open with him. So unguarded. Like Nora handed him her heart, still bloodied and beating, and an instruction manual on how to break it with his bare hands. He's already seen more of her than Nora's been willing to share with anyone in a long time now.

Well...

Anyone who isn’t a licensed professional, and even then, Nora ghosted her last therapist. Avoidant attachment? Please.

And really, what is this kind of intimacy in comparison?

There's just an eerie sense of inevitability in... this, in them.

Like she is playing out something which has already happened, will always happen. Like she could've done everything differently and still, ended up right here. Right here with Jake.

It's not a bad feeling, more of a disconcerting one.

She washes her hands, and remembering Jake's compliments, does a quick reapplication of perfume, dabbing across her pulse points, crisp greens and soft florals.

Nora splashes cold water on her face, across the back of her neck, and checks her reflection.

Her eyes are bright and blue and filled with something like giddiness.

"This is happening," Nora whispers, hushed so Jake won't hear her in the other room. "This is happening."

She smiles.

And when Nora returns, Jake is sitting on the edge of the bed.

He must've kicked off his shoes somewhere in the living room because Jake is barefoot, ankle resting on the denim of his opposite knee. He is holding a book Nora recognizes from her nightstand, reading the back cover with a slight dip between his brows.

Nora pads over and leans against the dresser on the wall across from her bed. Her arms are crossed over her Springsteen shirt as Nora watches him, hand rising to press against her lips.

"Snooping?"

His mouth kicks up in the corners, dimpling his cheeks, but Jake doesn't immediately look up.

"Just lookin' around," Jake explains. "You can be kinda hard to read sometimes."

She glances around.

She hasn't had much time to decorate, but Nora always adds a few personal touches. A silk pillowcase. A bedside of well-worn paperbacks. A half-burned candle from Diptyque. Flowers. She wonders what Jake sees of her here.

Aiming for casual, Nora asks, "Oh? Learn anything?"

His gaze flashes up to meet hers, vaguely amused, like Jake knows Nora is fishing.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?"

Jake leans across the bed and deposits the book back on the nightstands, losing interest now that Nora is back in the room, apparently. She feels the weight of his full attention. It’s kind of exhilarating.

His crossed ankle drops so Jake is resting both of his feet on the floor. He crooks a finger at her and pats his muscular thigh.

"C'mere, sweetheart."

His voice is so deep, deep enough to dive in, and Jake looks so handsome, sprawled on the edge of her bed, glimmering and gold. He looks like a daydream.

Still, Nora stands her ground.

A small smile blossoms across her features, against her fingers, and Nora slowly shakes her head.

He cocks a brow. "Are we at an impasse? Is this a good ol’ fashioned standoff?”

“Not at all,” she drawls, cool and calm. "You could come over here."

And pulse racing, Nora slips her shirt over her head and drops it on the floor.

She stands in front of him in her cut-off shorts and her pale blue cowboy boots and a lace bra, which is almost the exact same shade, and Jake scrapes a hand down his face, expression open and raw, near pained.

“Fuck me,” Jake breathes. A kind of awe in his voice. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

Her lips curve coyly. "I sure hope not."

Jake smirks, watching her with half-lidded eyes, almost hoarse with unbridled desire. "Why? You got big plans for me?"

“Why don’t you come over here and find out, cowboy?”

And mimicking him, Nora crooks a polished finger at him.

She really expects him to spar with her a little longer, but Jake rises so quickly that Nora knocks back into the dresser. Her elbow bangs into a bottle of hair spray, sending it spinning. She barely notices.

Because Jake grabs her around the waist and lifts her up. Her dresser is about the same height as one of her kitchen counters, which is the exact right height for him to set her on top and settle between her parted legs.

Jake cups her hip with a warm palm, spreading his fingers, touching as much bare skin as possible. His index finger skims across the band of her bra, and Nora leans her head back to hold his gaze.

"Gonna let me in on these plans of yours, sweetheart?" Jake asks, stroking all the while, ever so lightly, ever so slowly.

Teeth sinking into her bottom lip, Nora shakes her head.

“You wanna hear my plans then?” Jake drawls. His hand is burning warm on her side, and Nora claws at his bicep – looking for something to hold onto, something grounding. Muscles flex beneath her fingers.

He waits for her to nod before Jake leans in and, warm lips pressed against her ear, rasps, "Just wanna make you come so hard you cry, Hollywood."

Fuck.

Her breath hitches, and Jake grins lazily against the side of her neck. He draws back, nipping her earlobe on his way, gaze darting back and forth as Nora licks her suddenly chapped lips.

"Just that, huh?" Nora asks. She hardly recognizes her own voice.

“Just that,” Jake murmurs and smirking, kisses her again.

A deep and deeply thorough kiss.

Has Nora ever been kissed like this before? He kisses her with a consuming and devouring passion, like Jake could never be close enough. He'll always want to be closer, always want more.

She holds onto him because otherwise, Nora might actually collapse. She might slide from the dresser and melt into a puddle right here in the carpeted bedroom of her rented – and not even really, rented – apartment, and Mr. Clean himself will never be able to get out the stain.

Her arms wind around his strong neck as Nora sighs against his open mouth, greedily carding her fingers through his hair – which is as soft as she had ever dared imagine – and Jake swallows the sound with a ragged groan, tongue sliding across the seam of her lips and into her mouth.

He catches the end of her braid between his fingers and slowly pulls until the elastic comes loose with a snap, and Nora's hair spills like sunshine over her shoulders, across his open palm.

Loose strands wind around his fingers, around the hand settling on the side of her neck and stroking across the underside of her jaw; coaxing her chin up, coaxing her mouth open for him.

He is so broad between her legs, and Nora runs her hands across his wide back and strong shoulders, searching for golden skin to run her hands over. She wants to swallow him whole. She wants him in her veins.

Linen is stiff between her fingers as Nora grasps at his collar, almost hanging off of him, desperate and wanting, and Jake catches on quick.

Not quick enough.

Because as Jake starts to draw back, reaching for the buttons, Nora yanks hard.

A surprised curse escapes him, and Jake lurches forward, hands slapping on the surface of the flimsy dresser, which rocks under her and knocks into the wall.

Nora grabs at his shoulder with an alarmed laugh, and Jake's chuckle fans across her collarbone.

"Hold on."

He picks her up again, legs wrapped around his hips, and sweeps her from the dresser. She collapses on the bed, breathless with laughter, an embarrassingly wide smile on her face, and Jake follows her down.

"Someone's eager," Jake teases.

She reaches down and runs her palm across his zipper, barely pressing down and smirks when Jake almost shudders and pushes into her hand.

"Yeah," Nora drawls back. "Someone is."

Jake brushes her hair aside and sucks a bruise into a hollow bellow her ear, right on the edge of where Nora'll be able to cover with her hair. A kind of gentle retaliation.

Her laugh becomes a breathless moan, pitching louder as Jake cups her neck with his wide palm.

"That's a pretty sound, darling," Jake rasps. His fingers pluck at the sheer band of her bra. "This is damn pretty too. You plan this or something?" He nudges her head back with his nose and mouths at the hinge of her jaw, mouth warm and wet and heady.

"Just like the color is all." Nora pauses. "But I have thought about this before."

He is all smugness. “Yeah? How much?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m so not stroking your ego right now. Take your damn shirt off.”

He grins.

She pushes up on her elbows, watching as Jake stands and makes quick work of the buttons. He shrugs the shirt from his shoulders, which lands in a wrinkle pile on the floor.

And goddamn, Jake looks good without a shirt on.

She knew this, of course. She’s seen him without a shirt on before.

She's always been careful to avert her eyes before, careful not to look too hard or for too long.

She doesn’t have to be careful here. She can look her fill.

He is so… big, all corded muscle and golden skin and a light dusting of fine hair, leading down his chest and disappearing beneath the black waistband of his boxers, which peek out from the denim.

She’s not sure if she wants to punch him or herself.

Nora leans in and presses a lingering kiss to the center of his chest, looking up at him from under her lashes, and Jake shivers, heart pounding under her lips.

And Nora carefully winds her fingers around the chain around his neck and pulls him back down.

As Jake hovers over her, Nora starts to kick her boots off, but Jake's hand wraps around her calf, smoothing over her skin with his fingers, pleasantly digging into the muscle.

She raises her eyebrows, and Jake presses a kiss to the hollow of her clavicle, unhurried and careful and convincing. He hums, “Keep ‘em on.”

Her mouth drops open, but really, is Nora so surprised? “I’m not keeping them on.”

And Jake looks so crestfallen that Nora laughs. His eyes warm at the sound.

Still, Jake asks, “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want them on my sheets. I have to sleep on – Jake!”

Jake pulls her to the edge of the mattress in one smooth motion, hitching her legs around his hips. His grin is downright devilish. “They’re not touching the sheets, Hollywood. Problem solved.”

She opens her mouth to argue more, but Jake silences her with a slow and sensual kiss between her breasts. He moves over a few inches and sucks, peaking her nipple through the sheer lace of her bra, and Nora arches into him with a gasp.

Her boots are long forgotten now.

"Jesus, Jake."

She squirms under him, and Jake holds her down with his weight, with a firm press of his hand, spread wide over her shaking stomach.

She's long past a struck match now. She's the one who's been doused in gasoline.

"You're so beautiful," Jake murmurs.

He licks at the lace, a shade of denim blue under his attention, in no rush to slip it from her shoulders, and meanwhile, Nora is coming out of her skin. She needs more, so much more.

"Can you..."

He sucks on the lace, cheeks hollowing, and Nora's question blows away like sand.

"Can I? Can I what?" Jake prompts.

He slips a hand under the cup of her bra and rolls her pebbled nipple between his fingers. Tease. She bends into him, a desperate sound bubbling up and spilling from her lips, and Jake grins.

“Ah, sweetheart, was there something else you wanted?”

She goes to pull him closer, winding her fingers through his hair, but Jake doesn't budge.

His grin widens. "Ask me nicely, sweetheart. What do you want?”

She glares at him. "I want your mouth."

"You've already got my mouth, darling. Here?"

He slides her bra aside and kisses her breast, licking and sucking, mouth hot and wet on her skin.

She shakes her head.

"Be specific," Jake commands. "Where do you want my mouth?"

But Nora can’t be specific. She just wants.

“Everywhere,” Nora breathes.

She shouldn’t have said that. She really shouldn’t have said that because now, Jake is looking at her like he wants to devour her; to pull her on like a loose thread and see how long she needs to unravel.

Like Nora is a four course meal and Jake hasn’t eaten in a week.

A muscular thigh slots in between her legs and presses up and up and god, up against the aching spot between her legs, and Nora shivers beneath him. He flicks open the button of her cut-offs with a practiced ease and slides them down her legs. She kicks them off.

Another wrinkled mess to clean up in the morning.

“Think I might want to make you beg a little bit,” Jake muses, scraping his calloused palms over the backs of her naked thighs. He leans down and presses a chaste, barely there kiss on her hipbone, lips curling when Nora shudders underneath him. Asshole. “Say please for me, would you, sweetheart?”

“Oh, not a chance.”

He looks delighted.

“And what if I said please?”

His lips drag across her skin, warm and damp and purposeful, as Jake brushes the lace edge of her pale blue panties on his way over the opposite hip, pressing another kiss there, one that lingers.

“What if I said I really, really wanna to hear you?”

Damn damn damn.

Cheeks warm, Nora counters, “You better make it good then,” with a daring smile that makes Jake grin from ear to ear, all gleaming white teeth and dimples, carved into his cheeks like marble.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jake drawls.

And holding her gaze, Jake rises from the edge of the mattress and sinks down on his knees. He lowers her legs over his broad shoulders, boots and all.

His lips brush over the small bandage that covers the scrape on her knee, and overcome, Nora lets out a shaky sigh.

"So goddamn beautiful," Jake swears, warm breath scraping over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. "So wet, darling. All for me?"

Jake finds the damp spot in the center of her panties and presses in with his knuckle. She's so wet his bent finger slides across the lace with an obscene sound.

A delicious tease. A mere preview.

A needy sound is out of her mouth before Nora can stop herself, and Jake pauses.

"Oh? Did you want something?" Jake asks with an edge of mocking.

"You're such... ah, an asshole."

"You like when I'm a little bit of an asshole," Jake murmurs, eyes gleaming.

It’s not a question. He doesn’t need an answer. He already knows.

And Jake pulls her panties to the side and opens his mouth against her wet cunt.

God. His tongue.

A sort of whimper catches on the rough edges of her throat, and Jake's answering chuckle blows across her exposed core.

“Everything okay?”

So goddamn smug.

He sounds so damn pleased with himself. Self-satisfaction oozes from his tone, and Nora is starting to understand what Jake meant about being smug later. He’s good at this, at all of this, like so infuriatingly good. She kind of hates him.

“I don’t like you anymore.”

“Liar,” Jake says and leans back in.

He licks her open with a moan, a deep and deeply satisfied sound, rich and rough, like Jake is the one who's getting the most pleasure out of this. He works her open with a finger, then another, laving over her with broad and eager strokes of his tongue.

He's almost greedy in his licks, bringing her to the edge and right when Nora is clenching around his broad fingers, legs quaking on his shoulders, boots digging into his bare back – Jake pulls back.

He smears a wet kiss across her inner thigh and starts all over again, parting her with his fingers and spearing her open with his clever tongue.

She sucks in a breath that sounds like his name, desperate and wanting, biting down hard on her lower lip, brow drawn.

"Jake..."

"Come on, sweetheart," Jake hums the words against her, practically licks them into her. "I wanna hear you. Please, can I hear you?"

She's so close so close so –

He eases back again, right as Nora is starting to feel fuzzy all over, and Nora almost cries. She grabs at his shoulder, at his hair.

"Please," Nora gasps. "Please, Jake, please."

He exhales a pleased sound against her cunt, breathing fanning across her, making her shiver and making her cant closer to his mouth, desperate for his tongue again.

He curls his fingers inside of her. Just so. Just enough.

"So good for me, darling, sweetheart. So perfect."

And Jake kisses her clit, winding his tongue around the neglected bundle of nerves, and Nora comes with a gasp, crumpling the sheets between her fingers.

She catches her breath as Jake licks her clean, murmuring sweet praises against her skin, bottom half of his face glistening with saliva and her.

Just so sweet and god, like heaven, sweetheart and so good for me again.

Pushing up on her elbows, Nora is panting. "I wanna be on top."

Jake kind of chokes on a laugh. “‘Course you do.”

Her panties are eased down her legs, but Jake doesn't move from between them; if anything, Jake spreads them wider, pinning her open with his shoulders, pinning her down with a steadying hand on her pelvic bone.

"Jake..."

It’s closer to a whine than Nora would’ve liked.

"Just a second, sweetheart," Jake soothes, words an unhurried drawl. His rough palms run over her quivering legs and back again. "Now I've been thinking about these pretty legs in those goddamn boots all night. I'm not quite done down here. Need one more from you."

His warm breath ghosts across the apex of her thighs, open and dripping for him. "You've got one more for me, don't'cha?

He regards her with a wide and leonine grin, a knowing grin.

"Yes," Nora whispers.

Jake rewards her with a bruise sucked into the inside of her thigh; a gentle but firm press of his canines; a flick of his tongue over the sore patch. "Good."

And as Jake spreads her open and presses in with his mouth and his tongue, savoring her like a lavish dessert, Nora slumps back on the rumpled sheets, hair fanning out around her like a golden halo. Her mouth opens in a soft gasp as Jake drags her back under.

Late evening still pours through the window, casting the whole room in a golden glow, a dreamlike haze.

Everything feels more intimate somehow.

It's not a rushed press of hands and mouths in the darkness, desperate to keep quiet in the quiet of the night. It's a slow exploration – or at least, as slow as either of them can stand. It’s feverish and leisurely and intoxicating. No one’s in a rush.

As Nora steadies her breathing, recovering from a brain-melting-out-of-her-ears orgasm, Jake eases her boots and her socks from her feet. He kisses her ankle, kisses the hollow behind her knee, cheek scraping against her skin.

Standing, Jake reaches for his belt buckle. His mouth shines in the waning light, eyes slanted and warm. He loosens his buckle one-handed and in one smooth motion, drops his blue jeans, leaving him in his black boxers.

He stands in front of her, straining against the fabric, and Nora’s mouth actually waters.

She kneels on the edge of the mattress and eases the elastic down until Jake’s cock is revealed, hard and proud and beautiful. Her lips part in an admiring exhale, and Jake chuckles, stroking her cheek with the side of his thumb.

His amusement is short-lived.

It becomes something darker, richer as Nora wets her fingers with her tongue and wraps them around his cock and strokes him once and again. A bead of pre-cum catches on her thumb as Nora runs it across the slick head of his cock.

Looking up at him, Nora sucks it from her finger, and Jake’s chest heaves with a ragged exhale.

A strained curse escapes him. “Shit.”

Nora smirks, and Jake sucks in a deep breath.

She doesn’t do more than press a glancing kiss to the mole below his v-line; do more than lick at the underside of his cock; do more than let out a satisfied exhale at the weight of him on her tongue, eyes fluttering closed, before Nora pulls back.

Her voice lowers into something honeyed, something teasing. “Say please for me, cowboy?”

Then, Nora is on her back in the middle of the mattress.

Jake looms over her, breathing hard, chest heaving and flushed; coarse hair brushing against her breasts.

"As much as I've been fantasizing about your mouth..." He runs his thumb across her glistening lips, and Nora can’t stop herself from kissing the pad of his finger. “... I really want to fuck you right now. How’s that sound to you?”

Good. So good.

But Nora can’t pass up an opportunity to be a little smug.

“What’s wrong?” Nora asks. "Afraid of embarrassing yourself?"

"Yes," Jake says. "I'm so fucking worked up right now I'll come in about six seconds with your mouth on me. And right now, I don't wanna come before I've had a chance to feel you coming around my cock."

His earnestness is so goddamn sexy that Nora loses her breath for a second. "We can probably make that work."

He smirks. “Thought so.”

Jake stretches out on the mattress, rearranging the pillows with one hand and reaching for her with the other. He draws her in until Nora is in his lap, her hands braced on his massive shoulders, running over his muscles.

“Condom?” Jake asks. He runs a hand over the length of her spine until Nora arches into him with a sigh. He palms at her ass and ducks his head to mouth at her breasts, sucking and licking and nibbling. She'll have marks in the morning for sure. He's a biter.

"I have an IUD. And I'm clean."

"I'm clean," Jake mumbles against her collarbone. "I haven't been with anyone since I met you."

She freezes, and mistaking it for discomfort, Jake lifts his head.

"We can still use one," Jake offers. She can read his sincerity in his eyes. "I've probably got one in my wallet or something."

“It’s… not that.” Nora shakes her head. “It’s… No one? Really?”

As Jake shrugs, Nora’s arms rise and fall with the motion.

“No one.” Jake brushes a strand of hair from her face, resting his palm on her nape. “Just you.”

Chest pinching, Nora grasps his neck and kisses him hard, almost bruising.

He makes a low sound against her mouth, and as Nora wraps her hand around his cock again, squeezing his length ever so slightly, Jake moans. He wraps his hand around hers, guiding her to run his head across her dripping entrance.

Jake slicks his cock with her arousal, coating himself in her wetness with hard and quick motions, and starts to press in.

Her legs shake as Nora sinks down on him, slow. God

She bites her lip at the delicious searing stretch of him. God.

Nora gets halfway down, mouth falling open, and and Jake swears under his breath. A reverent sound. He says it like a Sunday school prayer.

"Goddamn, sweetheart." Jake kisses her sloping shoulder, her slack jaw, her open mouth. "You feel so good. You're so.... You're so fucking perfect. Jesus Christ."

She braces her hands on his shoulders, on his bulging arms, and eases down – slow, one inch at a time, and when Jake is finally – blessedly – seated inside of her, Nora can feel a prickle of sweat at her brow.

She moves, almost like a reflex, desperate for friction, desperate for more, but Nora's barely moved when Jake seizes her hips, pressing in, and holds her in place. She's pinned open, knees spread wide, denting the sheets on either side of his massive and muscular thighs, and full, so goddamn full.

Her brow pinches in frustration, and Nora rocks down experimentally, but Jake firms his grip. He stills her movements.

Her brow wrinkles, and Nora rocks down experimentally, but Jake firms his grip and stills her movements.

"Jake," Nora complains or maybe, pleads. She doesn't even know anymore.

All Nora knows is that Jake is so big.

"Ah, darling. Let me savor this for a second," Jake croons, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. His voice sounds strained around the edges, which is no small satisfaction. He's as affected as Nora.

And when Jake moves, finally, Jake starts slow. He savors again.

He holds her hips and guides her up and back down. He pushes in so deep and so slow Nora can't help but feel like Jake is punishing her somehow. He is making her feel every inch of him. His pace is downright excruciating.

She needs more. She needs needs needs.

He handed her an ace earlier, and Nora reaches for it now.

She licks at his neck, a broad stroke of her tongue across his sweaty skin, and whispers, “Please, Jake,” hot against the shell of his ear. She nibbles at his earlobe. "Please."

Jake bucks up into her. A gasp punches from her chest, and Nora digs her nails into his shoulders.

“Please what?”

Nora can hear the smirk in his voice. She doesn’t care.

“Fuck me. Fuck me until I cry. Please."

It’s like Jake was waiting for those words.

He fucks up into her at a near brutal pace. Rocks her down on him in hard and delicious and delirious strokes until Nora is gasping against his shoulder.

And Jake runs his mouth.

"Look at you, sweetheart," Jake drawls. He sounds so in awe and so unbearably smug. How is it even possible to be both? "Those're some pretty sounds you're making for me right now. How's it feel? How's that cock you begged for feel?"

Fuck. She clenches around him.

A wide grin stretches across his face, and Nora wants to kill him. She never wants to be anywhere other than right here.

“You’re… ah, talking too much. You’re ruining it.”

She’s such a liar.

"S'that right? You don't wanna hear about..." Jake rolls his hips and hits a spot deep inside of her that makes her keen. His smirk widens. “How much I fucking love the way you feel around my cock, so goddamn good?"

"How pretty you looked when you were coming all over my face, making the prettiest sounds? How wet you got for me? How gorgeous you look right now?" He seems to notch in deeper with every word until Nora is almost boneless against him. "You sure about that, sweetheart?"

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t feel capable of answering.

His lips glance over her cheekbone, smoothing and mocking in equal measures, and mouth over to her ear. Jake rasps, "Well, by all means, sweetheart, shut me up."

Nora draws in a steadying breath. And pushes him back into the pillows.

“There’s my girl,” Jake murmurs in his melted brown sugar voice, hoarse with desire, and Nora damn near melts.

Instead, Nora plants her hands on his chest and rides him, determined.

She rises up and sinks back down in a sudden motion, knocking the breath out of both of them. She rocks down on him, clenching and squeezing, until Jake is the one who is ragged and uneven and desperate. He grows sloppier, kissing her shoulder, open-mouthed and moaning.

“God, Nora,” Jake groans, a rough sound, and Nora will never forget the wrecked sound of her name on his lips. No one else should ever say her name.

She kisses him.

And kisses him and kisses him and gasps and moans into his mouth as Jake holds her hips hard enough to bruise and circles her clit with precise and delicious circles. A shock of arousal pulls in the pit of her stomach with every deliberate caress.

“Come for me. Come around my cock. Need to feel you come around my cock,” Jake urges in a strangled rush of breath. He must be close. “Please.”

Nora comes with a soundless moan. She sobs his name into his shoulder, biting down, moisture spilling down her flushed cheeks, scratching down his back.

And soon after, Jake has her on her back on the bed, pinning her knees open and plunging in deep until Jake follows her over the edge and spills inside of her with one last groan.

After, Jake pulls on his boxers and gets them both a glass of water and fetches her a damp washcloth. She pushes it aside with a languid smile and drags herself out of bed to use the bathroom. She doesn’t want an infection.

Indigo shadows grow long in the room, bruises of the night, as Nora lies across the bed, arms crossed underneath her head, chest resting on her forearm, watching him. He drags his fingers down the length of her spine, drawing invisible patterns. She feels content and warm.

And Jake is gazing at her in this intense way, eyes deep and green and smoldering.

He is gazing at her like gaze is a diminutive of stargaze, not another word for look; like she is a whole night sky, unraveled and wide and open before him, and Jake's determined to map out every last constellation, commit them to memory.

She wonders if he has always looked at her kind of like this; like he's afraid to look away.

“Go on a date with me,” Jake murmurs.

She blinks, lashes skimming her cheeks. Her voice is a kind of drowsy hoarse. “Hm. Where?”

A small smile pulls at his mouth. “Let’s see. You already turned me down for what? Dinner and coffee? What else’ve I got left?”

She grins against her arm. “Breakfast. Lunch.”

“Breakfast,” Jake repeats. “I make a mean pancake.”

“Do you?”

“I do,” Jake promises, solemn, a hand-over-heart level of seriousness. “Family recipe.”

“I don’t even think I have the ingredients for pancakes in the kitchen,” Nora admits.

He coasts his knuckles across her back, over her shoulder and back, and Nora closes her eyes, relaxed.

“I know a good diner,” Jake offers, voice low and rasping. “They’ve got coffee.” She opens her mouth. “And non-dairy milk.” She closes it again, pressing her lips together in a half smile and squinting her eyes open.

“And is this magical diner your apartment?”

He laughs. A real eye-crinkling laugh.

“No, smart ass, it's a real diner on Orange."

"Shame. I kind of wanted to see your apartment," Nora says, rolling over and stretching her arms above her head. "You've seen mine. It's only fair."

"Careful..." Jake warns. He closes the distance between them, wrapping an arm around her side, pulling her close. "If I get you in my bed, I might wanna try and keep you there."

"Well...." Nora winds her leg around his hip to pull him closer. He grows harder against her leg, already leaking. "You can definitely try."

Her lips curve, and Jake grins.

And as Jake rolls her under him, hands skimming up her sides, and pushes inside of her again, Nora catches a glimpse in the distance over his shoulder. A firework sailing upwards and bursting open in a shower of sparks, wide and beautiful, across indigo skies.

end note: wowwowwow it's been a good 33,000 words of build up so i really hope i did them justice 🤍 likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all.

read the next chapter here!

#will probably need to proofread again in the morning #but i wanted to post her asap #also only one more chapter ?!?!#stop i'm emotional #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x nora rogers #hangman x oc #hangman fic #hangman smut #jake seresin smut #fic: baby i'm high octane #laracrofted writes

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