#come down here like once or twice a week now it is very nice

[dudeitiskarev]

It’s just you and me | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: Aaron misses you, and a cabin in the woods is the best place to show you how much

Word count: 1.8k

Tags/warnings: mentions of food consumption; established relationship; porn without plot (18+ only please. Minors do not interact); smut: hand job; nipple play; hot tub unprotected sex; lots of praise <3; not edited, just short and nasty.

Author’s note: I wanted to write something hot and also fluffy and I came up with this. Also thank you to everyone who shared their thoughts! They were all very inspiring (and interesting) even though I’m a very vanilla type of girl as you’ll see 😭 anyway, I hope you enjoy this little ride (ha!).

MASTERLIST

Aaron thought the best way to compensate for being away for an entire week because of a case was to take you to a cabin in the woods for the weekend. 

Cases didn’t take that long to solve, and it had affected you more than you’d like to admit. It was more than him being away, though. It was the uncertainty of not knowing if he was safe. You’d found yourself counting every hour, a clock ticking at the back of your head. Long-distance phone calls helped—they calmed the anxiety—but as soon as it ended, you missed him even more and the clock started ticking again. 

But he was here now, with you, in an outdoor hot tub surrounded by nothing but nature and lost in time.  

"Thank you for cooking dinner," you said, gripping his thigh underwater. You were sitting next to him, letting the bubbles massage your back but you missed him, so you thought it was best if you straddled him, scooting a little closer to prop one leg over his thigh.

He got your signal and helped you hop on his lap. "I had to give you the whole experience," he said, adjusting you by your thighs and planting a sweet kiss on your bare shoulder. “I wanted to,” he corrected himself.

You brushed your thumbs over his brows. He’d come back with a slight cut over his left brow.

You kissed him there. "It’s very nice, thank you.”

One of his hands rested flat on your lower spine while the other was a little higher, his arms acting as the back of a chair, almost, his lap the perfect place to sit on.

It was rewarding seeing him like this, so relaxed and surrendered to peace. You wished you could freeze this moment, for his peace and because of the way he looked. Shirtless. Wet. Handsome. It wasn’t so hard to admit that the scar added a little more to it. 

“You know what would make this experience even better?" you darkened the way you looked at him. 

He hummed, raising his brows and mirroring your smirk. He knew exactly what you meant. 

“Dirty, dirty sex,” you murmured next to his ear.

“Someone’s horny,” he laughed, scanning your face up and down. A laugh that gave you thousands of butterflies.

“I’m ovulating.” Your cheeks grew hot. “I think.” 

“That’s… good to know.” He raised his brows as he spoke. It was cute how after all these years he still got flustered.

“And that cut over your brow is not helping,” you confessed.

“That tells me that you like seeing me hurt,” he teased again. 

“Never.” You pecked him on the lips. “But picturing taking down a bad guy is… it does something to me.”

You kissed him again. Once. Twice. Three times until he parted his mouth, allowing the kiss to intensify. 

You pulled back a bit. His eyes had darkened too. 

“C’mere.” He cupped your face and brought you closer to kiss you again, this time sweeping his tongue over your top lip. 

God, the way he kissed you when no one was around should be illegal. Because it wasn’t only his tongue, it was the shameless groans he gradually let out the more the kiss intensified; the way he bucked his hips upwards so you could feel how hard each kiss made him. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and slowly began to grind him, rubbing your heat against his, the thin fabric of your bikin the only thing keeping you apart (he was completely naked since he forgot to pack his swimsuit. Not that it mattered when it was just the two of you).

The kiss grew hotter, and so did the small waves around you as you slowly began to move your hips more rubbing yourself over his growing erection. You sneaked one hand between you two to feel him and your mouth started watering at the same time your cunt clenched over nothing.

You wanted him inside. Mouth or cunt. You just needed him.

“Mmm,” you moaned into his mouth, gripping the back of his head with one hand while the other pumped his cock up and down. 

He let go of your lips to pepper your cheeks with softer kisses, down to your chin and jaw. “Just like that. Don’t stop.” He moved his kisses to your neck and then chest, trailing them over the squishy exposed skin of your breasts. “God, I love you so much.” He bit your hard nipple over the thin fabric of your bikini. 

You smiled big, ready to let him love you. “Mmm, I love you too.”

His breathing grew heavy, warming up your skin with each breath as he used one finger to drag your bikini to the side, exposing your whole left breast, and leaving the other for later. He suctioned your hard nub and you could hold back a small whimper.

Your arousal was leaking through your panties. You were so ready to take him already, but you knew how much he liked taking his time on you. Enjoying your body. Touching you. Licking you. Biting you. He was an amazing boyfriend and an even better lover, so you were patient. 

“Let’s take this off,” he said, undoing the knot of your bikini on your back while you undid the one behind your neck, leaving your chest bare right on his face. He took the other nipple into his mouth and hummed as he did.  

You whined again, shutting your eyes to feel it. You never stopped moving your hand around his erection which was fully hard. So ready for you to sit on.

“God, I can’t get enough of you,” he panted. 

You laughed a little through the pleasure. “You and me both.”

You opened your eyes and captured the perfect image. The sun was setting, painting everything around in a pretty shade of orange. 

“Sunset,” you barely managed to say.

But he couldn’t care less. He turned your head to him by your chin and captured your mouth with an open-mouth kiss, taking your breath away. He sneaked one hand between your legs and crept one finger from the side of your bikini, massaging your folds. He smiled. You could feel how damp and slippery you were down there.

“Should we move to the bed inside?” He suggested. “I really want to feel how wet you are. The water is taking it away from me.”

You shook your head. “Here’s perfect. Fuck me right here.”

You just couldn’t wait any longer. You undid the knots of your bikini bottom and threw it away. Now he had you fully naked on top of him and the tip of his cock grazed your sensitive spot. 

He turned into a starving man and in a second he lined himself over your entrance, teasing you moving his cock up and down between your slick folds.

A soft frown took over his face as his lips parted. “Want me to fuck you now?” He pushed the head slightly inside, just to withdraw it a second later.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Please.”

Please please, please.

“Oh, honey.” He hissed between clenched teeth, lining himself again, and with your help, he slid halfway in. 

He was so thick you let out a startled gasp that he kindly caught with a kiss. Slowly, you began to move. Back and forth. Up and down. Side to side. Everywhere just to make him fit properly until he was balls deep. 

“There, right there,” he praised you. “Oh, honey. You feel incredible.” His head landed on your shoulder. 

You lifted his head back up, making him look at you. He was the most beautiful and vulnerable creature during sex. Dark eyes. Parted mouth. Soft frown. 

“It’s like you were made for me.” He slightly shook his head like he couldn’t quite believe it. “So perfect.”

You stayed still to get used to his size, and he was patient, dotting kisses all over until you decided to move again. You withdrew your hips and bucked them back, that first pump sending an exquisite rush through you. 

“You’re so big,” you panted, clinging more onto his body. 

You found the perfect position there—heart to heart, nose to nose—and you began to move your hips up and down.  You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth to bite back a moan. 

“Let me hear you,” he said, capturing your lips into a wet kiss. “There’s no one around. It’s just you and me.” 

He met every thrust, and you couldn’t not obey. You whimpered, whined, and moaned with each delicious and violent move. He threw his head back in pleasure, closing his eyes and knitting his brows together as if he were in pain. Then he gripped your hips tight, digging his fingers into your skin to stop you from moving.

He was about to come, and he didn’t want to just yet.

“Hold on,” he breathed out, going back to look at you. There was a faint smirk on his face. “Shit.”

You didn’t move, but tightened your walls around him, just to tease him a bit. 

“Honey,” he threw his head back again in pain.

You leaned forward, kissing the side of his chin. “Look at me.”

He did, chest heaving in and out. You traced random lines over his wet chest with one hand—waiting for him to recover— and with the other you pinched your nipples. 

An evil grin tugged at the corner of his lip.

“Like what you see?” you began to rock your hips again. 

Your clit rubbed perfectly over his pubic bone, and it didn’t take much time for the pleasure to start building.

“I’m gonna come,” you leaned forward, murmuring close to his lips. “You want me to come?”

“God, yes.” He enveloped you with his strong arms. 

You bounced on top of him desperately, making the water splash everywhere. You clinged onto the edge of the tub and didn’t stop. Your hips just wouldn’t stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You bit your bottom lip, looking down on him. 

He was looking up through his dark eyelashes, waiting for your orgasm. 

The pleasure lingered on your walls around his cock for a moment until you finally let go, allowing the fireworks rush through you. Your toes curled, your hips twitched, your breath shook. You came, hard. So hard you couldn’t hold back any sound. You were loud, as loud as he liked you to be. 

You leaned down and cooed onto the crook of his neck, “Fuck, Aaron, oh— mmm,”  leaving a gentle love bite there. 

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s it.” His cock began to twitch inside you and the rocking motion of his hips under you turned reckless. He laughed a little as he came, and he held you tight, so tight, cupping your face with one hand and groaning and moaning into a desperate kiss. 

His breath turned shaky as he came out of his high and you remained on top of him, with him still inside you. Looking into those beautiful coffee-colored eyes. 

“I love you,” you kissed him on the lips. “I don’t want the weekend to end,” you confessed.

Aaron smiled. “What if I told you today is only the beginning of my two-week mandatory vacation?”

A soft breeze arose around you, pebbling your skin with goosebumps. You were so ready to feel that every single night for two whole weeks. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #Aaron Hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #A

[thornbutch]

One Night Only (Pt. 2) (18+)

check out my masterlist! ♡

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Pairings: Jordan Li x Fem!Reader, (brief) Andre Anderson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Past experiences have wrecked Jordan’s perception of their true feelings. The pretty girl from a week ago isn’t making their situation any better. Cue angst and car sex.

Tags: Jordan Li x fem!reader, Gen V, Jordan Li is a toxic, jealous, sexy piece of shit, cursing, angst, sensitive reader, sapphic make out sesh, Corruption kink, smut, mature content, Jordan might be a little OOC? Sorry. I wrote this in two hours.

Word Count: 2.7k

Jordan Li was probably the most confusing human being she had ever encountered. Ever since that night, he had been ignoring her. She’d see him in the courtyard at lunch, wave, and be disappointed when he didn’t wave back. She knew he saw her. What was his problem?

A week went by since the night she entangled with Jordan. She had finally come to terms with the fact that Jordan didn’t see her as anything but a one-night stand. She couldn’t explain why she felt so hurt by this. Maybe Jordan regretted what happened. Or maybe she was some kind of revenge hook-up? She had dealt with that before; her body being used to make someone else jealous. But that didn’t seem like a thing Jordan would do. On the other hand, she didn’t know Jordan much. She knew he was number five on the list. She knew that he had been Dr. Brink’s TA, but other that, his story was a mystery to her.

The next time she saw him, she was determined to get his attention. She didn’t care if she embarrassed him. How dare he treat her like trash? He owed her an explanation. If she had did something wrong, she’d like to know. If he wished he could forget that night, she had a right to know. She doesn’t know why it bothered her so much, but it did. He didn’t have to fuck her again, but he could’ve at least waved or said hello when he saw her in public.

She had gotten information from Maverick, the dorm’s resident assistant. She demanded to know where Jordan’s room was in the sweetest way. She fluttered her eyelashes and put her hands together in a praying form, begging him over and over to tell her until he finally did.

“God, you freshman are so fucking annoying! Can’t a guy jerk off in peace?” She didn’t have time to wonder if he was jerking off in that moment, due to his invisibility. She’d question him again later on that, because ew.

She made her way to Jordan’s room, knocking on the door once, twice, three times.

“Coming!” She heard a feminine voice shout from behind the door.

Had she arrived at the wrong room? No, Mark was adamant on the floor level and room number.

Plus, she recognized that smell of hefty cologne from the night Jordan fucked her senseless.

So who was-

Oh. She had approximately five seconds to walk, no sprint, away from this situation. She could’ve made it behind a wall or scurried off into a communal bathroom. She had time.

But she stood there, dumbfounded and hurt.

The girl from the other side opened the door, “Can I-“

She stood there.

Her doe eyes brimmed with tears. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? She didn’t own Jordan. She wasn’t his girlfriend. He made it very clear that he didn’t want to be with her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “Wrong door.”

Before the girl had anything to say, she was running down the hallway and exiting the building.

. . .

That was all it took for her to move on. Now, she was back to her normal self. Fuck Jordan Li, and fuck whoever that girl was at the door.

She was undoubtedly pretty, but also handsome at the same time. She kind-of looked like Jordan a bit, but she highly doubted it was a relative. Some guys were into shit like that, fucking the “girl” versions of themselves.

Ick.

She was tired of parties. They were fun, sure. It was nice to get out and get drunk and fuck here and there, but she needed an escape from that environment. She opted to go to a bar instead, one of the local ones near campus that served as a hot spot for the students.

She put on a black, tubed dress that stopped at her mid-thigh. She chose one of her favorite leather jackets to match with it and similar-looking black leather boots that came up just below her knee. It was different than what she’d normally wear. The white dresses, jean skirts, and pink accents made her look cute, but it seemed like people took advantage of that. They thought she was naïve and not aware of their schemes.

She was smart, that much was evident. As pretty as she was, she was also sexy, and she’d be damned if she didn’t own that shit.

The bar was far quieter than the frat parties, but still loud nonetheless. Supes and normals mingled here. One thing they both had in common was their love for alcohol. It seemed to bring them together and offer peace against outside situations.

The moment came when she was asked if someone could buy her a drink. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. He had curly, dark brown hair and deep black eyes. He was good-looking, she couldn’t deny that.

“I’m a freshman,” she stated. The man laughed.

“You say that like I’m old,” he said as he bought himself a drink, “I’m only a junior.”

She smiled, knowing that he was in her age range and a fellow student calmed her. “I’m (Y/n).”

He took a sip from his glass, “Andre,” he replied, “You have a coin on you?”

She nodded, reaching into her black velvet purse to retrieve a quarter. She handed it to him, and he examined it thoroughly.

“Look,” he held the quarter between his forefinger and thumb, “If I could make this-“ she watched as the quarter transformed before her eyes, the metal twisting and bending to create the shape of a bird, “into her drink-“ he looked over at a woman sitting down, holding a champagne glass in her hand, “then you have to come home with me.”

“Oh, I have to?” She smirked.

“I don’t make the rules,” he shrugged and grinned back, “Just enforce them.”

Before she could reply, she felt a familiar presence loom over her. She turned around, met with a firm chest and a heavy scent.

Jordan.

“She’s not into your lame ass party tricks, Andre,” Jordan said.

Andre scoffed, blistering a false offended look on his face, “Lame? C’mon, Jordan, don’t be like that.”

Jordan rolled his eyes, “She’s not interested, got it?”

Andre rolled his eyes as well, his fists bawled up and the once floating medal bird turned into a dense ball, “It’s 2023. Women can speak for themselves.”

“Right,” Jordan looked down at you, finally including you in on the conversation that he interrupted, “Are you interested?”

She was taken aback by the question. She sputtered a little, swapping glances between Andre and Jordan. Whatever this was, she did not want to be apart of it. Fuck Jordan for ruining this.

“No.” She said. Andre held his hands up in defeat, grabbed his drink, and walked away from the bar and into the crowd. She turned back to Jordan then and stood up. “Fuck you.”

“You already did,” he said.

She pushed him then. “No, fuck you. Fuck you for being an asshole to me all this week and then popping up to ruin-“

“Ruin what, exactly? Where you going to go home with him, huh? Fuck him, too? Let him see you the way I saw you?”

“Excuse me?” She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it. His grip was tight and bruising. A few bystanders gathered around them.

“Let’s go to my car.” Jordan tugged her towards the exit. She barely had time to register what was going on before she felt the cold breeze of the night air swift through her nostrils and blow on her exposed skin.

He opened the passenger door for her. A gentleman. What kind of gentleman would dare to ask to her that way? Just who did he think he was? Her fucking boyfriend?

She got in, and he slammed the door closed. She stared out the window as he felt the car dip a little with the weight of Jordan getting in on the driver’s side.

The car was silent.

“Are we playing the quiet game or something?” .

She nodded.

He sighed, “Look, you have every right to hate me-“

“I do.”

“-but I need to explain something to you.”

She could feel her anger bubbling up. Her knees bounced against the car floor. She continued to stare out the window. “Explain.”

“The girl you saw, she was-“

Oh, not this lousy and overused excused. He really thought she was dumb. It wasn’t just something she had made up in her mind. This was evidence.

She turned, tears just about to spill past her eyelids, “Your sister? Your cousin? Your best friend?” She scoffed, “You think I’m stupid. You ignore me for a week, a week, Jordan. Then you decide you can whisk me away like you’re some kind of Prince Charming?”

“That’s not-“

“You embarrass me in front a cute guy because what? You’re jealous? You don’t like to see your one-night stand hooking up with other people but don’t mind not bothering to wave back when she waves at you?”

“(Y/n)-“

“But maybe I am stupid. You asked if I was interested, and I said no. You opened the door for me, and I got in. You folded my panties and tucked me in and left and treated me like I didn’t exist.”

Jordan watched intently as she spewed all the horrible shit they had done to her. They didn’t think it would affect her so much. They’d hate to be ignored, too, but they’d get over it. They could tell she convinced herself she was over them, over the entire situation. If she was moved on, she wouldn’t have turned down Andre’s offer, and she wouldn’t have entered their vehicle.

“-and now you’re not fucking listening, great.” She folded her arms and dramatically laid back against the seat. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her makeup was ruined. Black streaks of mascara coated the skin.

“I’m sorry,” they said. “You’re right. Not about the stupid thing, the fucked up thing. It was wrong of me to ignore you, I just…” Jordan breathed in shakily. This was so out of character for them. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

She turned towards the window again, staring at her own reflection.

“And… the girl you saw wasn’t my sister, cousin, or best friend,” They could feel their chest tightening, “She was me.”

She watched in the reflection as Jordan morphed into the girl she had seen earlier. She turned back sharply, completely in shock at what she just witnessed.

“You-“

“Yeah. I’m bigender, or whatever the fuck,” Jordan sighed. They felt vulnerable in this form. They tucked a strand of their longer black hair behind their ear and looked beyond the front windshield, “I didn’t want you thinking that I-“

“That you’re into women who look like you?” She responded.

“Yes,” Jordan snorted, “But I was going to say that I wasn’t using you. Or- I didn’t use you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Do you normally fuck girls and abandon them?”

“I normally don’t get jealous when I see someone else flirting with them,” they looked at her then, “I didn’t like what I saw. When he flirted with you using his medal-bending ability. It was corny.”

She let out a small laugh, wiping away her tears, “It was kind of corny.”

Jordan nodded, “I was… afraid. I’m not used to feeling like this, but I am used to it at the same time. Girls, they fuck me in my masculine form and want nothing to do with me in my feminine form. Guys are vice versa.”

She listened to every word coming from their mouth.

“I guess I’ve grown accustomed to blocking people out without asking if they’d accept both versions of me.”

The car was quiet once more.

“Accustomed,” she whispered, “that’s a big word.”

Jordan rolled their eyes.

“I don’t mind,” she was no longer looking at them, instead focusing on her hands that she held in her lap, “I wouldn’t have judged you. I’m not judging you.”

“You’re not?”

“I think you’re the most handsomest and prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” she said.

They could feel their ears tint with red.

“I understand why you were nervous, but I wish you would’ve talked to me before doing all of this,”

“I’m sorry,”

“I know,” she faced them, bringing her hands to cup their soft jawline, “I forgive you.”

Their lips met with hers, but not like how they did at the frat party. This time was more passionate, sweeter, and less rough. She broke the kiss to climb over the armrest and straddle them. Jordan leaned the chair back as far as it would go to give her enough room to sit on their lap. She took off her leather jacket. Their hands held onto her waist, keeping her in place. She liked being on top and knowing that she had no control. They liked being underneath her and knowing that they were still the dominant one.

They began to kiss each other harder. More hunger. They craved her. She must’ve worn this black outfit in retaliation. She looked pretty in white. She looked pretty in black. She looked pretty naked. She was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen, and now they had her right where they wanted her.

She had been hogging their memory ever since that night. They’d slip their hands into their pants during late hours of the night, fondling their clit and breathing her name in heavy gasps as they imagined her touching them. They pinched their nipples, imagining her biting them. They wanted to see her between their thighs, eating them out with her back arched and her eyes closed because she was so into it.

“Am I doing good?” They imagined she would say.

They’d tell her she was doing amazing as they fucked their pussy onto her face.

They’d have to take a late-night shower, having soaked their boxers in their secretion. Their shirt would stick to their back from how hot they were and how much they were sweating during a simple masturbation session.

They wondered if she touched herself. Maybe she was so pent up with frustration that she couldn’t help but fuck it out of herself. She’d use two fingers right off the bat. Her legs would be spread open, and her clothes discarded into a heap at the edge of her bed.

“Jordan,” she’d moan.

“Jordan,” she moaned.

They were brought back to the present, pulling away from her lips. Both of their chests rise and fell with great intensity. They bought their hand up to her face, placing their thumb on her lip and parting them. She opened willingly, allowing their thumb to enter her wet cavern.

She sucked feverishly, all while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck,” Jordan cursed. They could feel how wet they were in their stiff jeans.

She pulled their thumb out of her mouth with a barely audible pop!

“I want to touch you,” she said.

Yes, yes, please, yes.

She pulled up their shirt, revealing a flat stomach that had the shadows of their abs present. They didn’t wear a bra. She was very understanding of that, too. It’d be extremely uncomfortable for them to shift and feel the hard clasps of the bra digging into their back.

She cupped their breast tenderly, swiping her thumb over the nipple. Jordan couldn’t tell if she’d been with women before. Was she an expert? Or was she just doing what she did when she touched herself?

She pinched and they shifted unexpectedly. She leaned back, her ass hitting the steering wheel and blaring the horn.

It was quiet for the third time.

They apologized for startling her. She told them it was okay.

Then, she busted out laughing, falling onto them. They laughed, too.

“I guess that’s a sign,” she said.

“A sign for what?”

“To take me back to your place.”

She didn’t have to say anything else.

#gen v #jordan li #fem4fem #gen v fanfiction #andre anderson #ooc #sapphic #angst #jordan li smut #smut #reader insert #x reader #Spotify

[moraxsthrone]

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ TITLE — something precious in return

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ PAIRING — d. ragnvindr x f!reader

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ WC — 5.7k

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ WARNINGS/NOTES — nsfw. mdni. virgin!diluc. virgin!reader. mutual pining. childhood friends to lovers. light angst to comfort to smut to fluff. outdoor sex at night. flashbacks in italics. SLOW BURN, just how diluc likes it. from his very first time, he's always been such a naturally passionate lover.

here on your stargazing hill, the night breeze is colder than you had anticipated when you opted to bring the thin blanket upon which you presently sit. you’d worn long sleeves, but hadn’t accounted for how much cooler the air would feel against your face once the tears began to flow. 

normally you’d be at angel’s share right about now, sitting at the bar and shooting the shit with your best friend while he works. but under the current circumstances, diluc’s presence would only serve to drive the knife deeper: a cruel reminder of the love you could have had if only he returned your affection. then perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting here all alone, holding the broken shards of your heart in your hands because you never even would’ve looked twice at the other guy. instead, now it’s doubly broken - first by the guy who just broke up with you, then by the knowledge that the one you really want - your first choice - would always be just out of reach. you almost resent diluc because he has no idea that every time he smiles at you, your heart skips a beat even as it bleeds for him.

you shiver and pull your knees in close to your chest, arms hugging your legs as you look out at the stars. 

“you’ll catch your death sitting out here like this.” 

you squeak and nearly jump out of your skin before putting your hand over your heart and breathing a sigh of relief. 

“you scared the shit out of me, luc!” you chide as he snickers and drapes his coat over your shoulders. you playfully slap his arm as he sits down beside you. “it’s not funny! don’t sneak up on me like that!” 

you quickly wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, turning his smile upside down as his eyebrows knit. you were hoping he wouldn’t notice you’d been crying, but it’s diluc. he notices things. especially when it comes to you. 

“what’s wrong, y/n?”

his body heat feels nice, his warmth enveloping you as you pull his coat tighter around yourself. “shouldn’t you be at the tavern?” you scoff, wishing he would just go away but scooting over to give him more room in spite of yourself. this would all be so much easier if he didn’t care about you so much.

“not when my friend doesn’t show up there on a friday night.” a new hairline crack snakes through your heart at the word ‘friend’. “i haven’t seen hair nor hide of you all week. now, talk to me. why are you crying? do i need to go kick someone’s ass?”

you fight the smile that threatens to betray you, and he notices…of course. 

“i feel passed over, luc,” you mutter, looking down at your hands, “like i’ll only ever be second best. i want to be someone’s first choice, every time. forever, not just for a few months.”

your words tug at his heart. if you only knew. “so would it be safe to assume things didn’t work out between you and what’s-his-name?”

you chuckle. even though you dated “what’s-his-name” for almost a year, diluc has always “forgotten” his name no matter how many times you’ve reminded him. clearly he's never thought much of the guy. and for good reason, it turns out. 

“seeing as how he dumped me for another girl, your assumption would be safe indeed,” you answer, choking on your last word as fresh tears begin to well up. 

“hey now,” diluc says softly, pulling you in, “come here.”

leaning into him, you lay your head against his chest where his voice sounds so much closer, deeper. balling his shirt in your fist, you tuck your head under his chin just like you’ve done since you were both little, and you cry. 

outside of family, diluc has always been your most reliable source of comfort. generally speaking, he’s never really been the most affectionate person. but when it comes to you he’s made a lot of exceptions. since his father died last year, not many people get to see diluc’s smile or hear his laugh, but you do. the two of you have pretty much been inseparable since you were 7 and he was 8. 

you'd gotten stuck in a tree after climbing it, too scared to climb back down. you sat there and cried for about half an hour when another little girl with long, bright red hair and pretty, big carmine eyes came along and helped you down. you had a couple of scrapes on your knees and elbows and were too shaken up to walk home. so your new friend carried you on her back.

you’ll never forget the way her thick hair tickled your face and made you giggle every time there was a breeze. it was only when you got back home and introduced your new friend to your mom as “she” that diluc’s face turned a shade that rivaled the color of his hair and he said, a little indignantly you might add, “he! i’m a boy!” 

to this day you still tease him about what a pretty girl he could pass for, albeit one with a very deep voice. he does not find it funny.

however, at the present moment, neither of you are laughing. with his strong arms wrapped around you, you hear his heartbeat quicken. 

“i happen to have it on good authority that you are someone’s first choice.”

“you do? i am?” you sniff and look up at him, your watery eyes following the strong line of his jaw as he trains his gaze on the starry canopy above.

his affirmative hum vibrates against your ear, which is still pressed to his chest. why is his heart beating so fast?

with your curiosity piqued, you lift your head. “who?”

“not telling.”

“how mature.”

a breathy laugh escapes his scrunched-up nose as he looks down at you again. “shut up.”

“c’mon, luc, at least give me a hint! is it someone i know?”

“yes.”

“really?” diluc’s hold on you loosens when you straighten up again. “is it someone i know from the tavern or the winery?”

“both.”

that doesn’t narrow it down much. “is it a guy or a girl?” you press.

“definitely a guy,” he says pointedly.

“what color is his hair?”

“i’ll only answer yes or no questions…”

“why can’t you just tell me?”

“because i’m not so sure he wants you to know.”

you scoff. “that’s stupid. why wouldn’t he want me to know?”

“maybe he’s afraid you won’t want to be friends with him anym-” shit, he thinks, too far. the brief flash of panic in his eyes isn’t lost on you. “in any case,” he says, clearing his throat, “you’re nursing a broken heart so it’s too soon to-”

“diluc,” you interrupt him. “is it you?”

he scoffs, eyebrows knitting. “pfssh…no!” he instantly turns away from you lest you see the blush that he can feel rushing to his face.

“aww, luc! you’re blushing!” you tease, leaning around him to try and see his face. you believed him when he said it’s not him (thinking otherwise would’ve been wishful indeed), but tormenting him a little because of how cute it is that he gets so easily flustered. giggling, you bring a hand to his jaw in an effort to turn his face towards you again. “you’re totally blushing, i can see how red your face-“

before you can finish your taunt, your senses are suddenly filled with diluc ragnvindr. his bottom lip is pressed between yours as he kisses you, the scent of wine-stained oak barrels filling your nostrils. you’re so stunned that you forget to kiss him back and he pulls away, unable to make eye contact. 

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, moving to get up and leave to avoid making things any worse, but you grab his hand. he stops, but doesn’t turn around. he’s still too embarrassed to face you.

“how long?” your voice is soft, almost a whisper, afraid if you speak too loudly you’ll wake up to find this has all been a dream.

“since that night in the water…”

archons, that long? you were barely teenagers that summer. 

you’d snuck out of your respective homes to go night swimming. you met at the beach south of dawn winery, near the waterfall, before removing all but your swimwear that you’d each worn under your clothes. 

you both stood on one of the boulders and agreed to jump in on the count of three, but when the moment of truth came you chickened out, letting diluc jump in by himself. when he surfaced you were still standing on the rock, looking down and laughing at him. he swam to the shore and by the time you realized what he was doing, it was too late. he was coming right for you but the only escape was jumping into the water. 

you put your hands out, still giggling. “n-no! diluc, no don’t do it!”

a dark grin spread across his face as he grabbed your bare waist. you screamed as he tossed you into the water before jumping in behind you. 

you surfaced and as soon as you could touch the bottom you pushed your wet hair out of your face and turned towards the laughing boy. you called him a few choice names while splashing water towards his face, but he just ended up tackling you. you’re still not sure how it happened, but you found yourself in waist-deep water, still laughing with diluc’s hands perched on your hips to steady you when he suddenly leaned down and kissed you. 

the feeling of lips - his lips - pressed against your own made you feel like you were floating even as your toes curled into the sediment beneath them. you were both inexperienced, neither of you having kissed anyone before. it only lasted a few seconds, but to the two of you it felt like forever, each rapid beat of your hearts lasting lifetimes. but when you placed your palm flat against his bare chest, diluc pulled away and trudged out of the water. 

you watched him, confused and still in shock by what just happened. with his back turned to you, he started getting dressed. 

you were still anchored in the water, suddenly feeling cold. “luc?” 

he balled his hair into his fists to wring the excess water out before looking back at you, but only with a glance. “i uh- i have to go.” 

“diluc, what-” 

“just…get dressed and let’s go.” he sounded angry. “i’m not leaving you out here alone. it's too dangerous.” 

you frowned, hugging yourself as you walked out of the water. your head was swimming, reeling as you slowly made your way towards your own pile of clothes. 

he walked you home that night and neither of you have spoken a word of it since.

until now.

“i thought you hated it,” you say, collecting the excess length of his coat sleeves in your fidgeting hands.

“i didn’t hate it!” he corrects you a little too quickly, then lowers his voice. “i…i liked it.”

“then why the hell did you act so weird about it and want to leave?”

he averts his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. 

“diluc, why?” you plead, new tears - different tears - pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“i…” he knows the question has been burning at the back of your mind for years. an explanation is long overdue. he lowers his gaze from the stars overhead and mumbles something that you can’t quite understand.

“i didn’t hear you.”

“i got hard,” he repeats.

“you-” did you just hear him correctly? “you got hard?”

he has mixed feelings about hearing you say those words. it’s embarrassing, but also…it sounds sexy when you say it.

“so you’ve been breaking my heart for the past 5 years because you popped a boner?”

his eyes shift to yours before quickly looking away again. “i’m sorry.”

“you’re sorry?” you ask incredulously. “diluc, do you have any idea how confused i was? that was my first kiss and i’ve always wanted to cherish it, but you robbed me of that! you took something so precious to me and turned it into something shameful! all because your dick got hard?”

“i didn’t want you to see it, or worse, feel it. we- our bodies were so close. i didn’t want you to think i was a creep.” his apologetic eyes meet yours. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

you hazard a glance at his lap, but his leg is bent such that it makes it impossible to tell. “are you hard now?” your voice is quieter, conveying genuine curiosity.

his eyes snap to yours. “no!” do you really think a peck on the lips is enough to arouse him? “it was just a quick kiss…tch!”

“don’t act so offended! that’s all it took back then!”

“i was 14 for fuck’s sake!”

thing is though, you want to make him hard again. the thought that you’d had that effect on him back then - with just a simple kiss - sends a pang of desire coursing through your core. you get to your knees and inch closer to his side, diluc’s crimson eyes following your every move. putting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, you lean in and place the softest kiss on his parted lips. 

he doesn’t even feel like he deserves to kiss you again. aren’t you mad at him? why would you reward him with such a sweet gift after what he’d put you through? 

you pull back just enough to look at him and whisper, “kiss me, diluc. like you mean it this time.”

he tilts his head, slotting his lips with yours once again as you both close your eyes. your mouths begin to move and diluc’s hand comes to rest on the back of your neck, his warm thumb ghosting over your ear. 

your mouths open, breathing each other’s air before slowly sealing your lips together again. you drag your thumbs down the sides of his neck as he cranes it to get closer, kissing you a bit harder. as if reading each other’s desires, the tips of your tongues brush together the next time your lips part and pretty soon they’re swirling in a slow, sensual dance. 

diluc’s hands drift down to your waist, pulling you closer to straddle his lap. you settle down, the tiniest of whines leaving your mouth when you feel his semi-hard bulge press into the back of your thigh. your kisses grow increasingly passionate by the second as though trying to make up for lost time. 

changing the tilt of his head to deepen the kiss, diluc wraps you into his arms completely. this time, there is no sign of him backing out. his confidence is sexy, his tongue intoxicating. your hands are in his hair where they’ve wanted to be for so long. he grips your back and pulls you flush against him. you roll your hips against him, making him moan in your mouth as you feel his building erection jump against the back of your thigh. 

diluc huffs and you find yourself on your back, legs still straddling his hips. your tongues push over and around each other, quickened breaths mixing together when he reaches down momentarily and adjusts himself. in this position his cock is now pressing firmly against your moistening center, making you keenly aware of how close your bodies are, how ready you are for one another. 

the sweet, breathy mewl diluc pulls from you when he grinds his clothed erection against your clit goes straight to his dick, making it throb for you in his pants. he ruts again, slowly, willing you to feel him, no longer shy and too far gone to pretend he isn’t aroused. he wants you to know he’s hard for you; needs you to know how badly he’s wanted you and for how long. you have no idea how many times he has whispered your name while lying in his own bed, eyes closed with his hands in his boxers wishing they were yours. more than that, though, he needs you to know how much he cares for you. 

diluc ragnvindr has never been a man of many words. but perhaps now, here on this grassy knoll, with your hands in his hair, his lip between your teeth, your hearts pressed together and pounding for one another - diluc can finally show you all the things he’s wanted to say.

one of his hands wanders the length of your waist, gripping your side as he massages his way down to your hip. he squeezes you there, making you sigh and roll your hips up to meet his when his thumb presses into the crease of your leg. you’re both panting into your open-mouthed kiss, lips red and swollen, impatiently trying to get closer and closer as though you can will your clothing out of the way.

but you’re too needy to wait until the fabric barriers can be worn down with time, so you take matters into your own shaky hands and start unbuttoning the collar of diluc’s shirt. with a grunt, he lifts himself up to help things along, quickly removing his shirt before reaching down to help you out of yours. you’re already working your bra off as your eyes traverse the expanse of his naked chest and sculpted abs. 

his skin is pale and smooth save for the dips between his muscles and the thin line of red hair beneath his navel. diluc’s fiery mane is draped over his broad shoulders, tickling your chest when he presses his naked torso to yours and recaptures your lips with his. he’s burning up, his blushing skin so very hot to the touch that you almost flinch. his scorching hand massages its way to your breast, squeezing and kneading it gently while he dips down to take the other into the wet heat of his mouth. you gasp, eyes rolling back as you arch your back off the relatively cool lining of his coat, pushing your chest into his touch. your hands are exploring his back, dragging the impressions of your fingertips across his pale skin, digging and pulling at him as if he could get any closer. 

blazing a trail of wet kisses along your neck, diluc’s lips find yours once again only to release a quiet moan inside your mouth when your fingers slide inside the front of his pants. he lifts his hips slightly, encouraging your exploration of his body, shivering as your digits thread through his coarse patch of hair before spreading around the wide base of his hard cock. you wrap your fingers around him, sighing at the feeling of his heavy girth in your hand; his hot, velvety skin sliding over the rock hard length of his shaft as you slowly stroke him. 

diluc hums, eyes screwing shut as he presses his forehead to yours, mind buzzing at the sensation of your soft hand pumping him. you work your way closer to his tip, pussy clenching at his deep groan when the edge of his glans catches on the opening of your grip. inside his underwear, you can feel the cool slick of his precum against your knuckles as more begins to coat the inside of your fist. diluc swears under his breath, moving his hips more quickly, unable to resist the sheer pleasure of your tight grip around his slippery cockhead. 

“mm-y/n,” he whispers, burying his face against your neck. “hhhh shit…”  

a few hurried thrusts later, you feel the rhythmic twitching of his cock and with a low, extended groan, diluc covers your hand with his warm release. you slow your pace but keep your fist tight, milking the last of his orgasm from his cock as his hot breaths come hard and fast against your neck. 

when he’s fully spent, he jolts out of your grip and huffs out a small laugh, indicating his sensitivity. you slowly pull your hand from his pants, leaving a trail of his cum along his stomach but neither of you care. 

“that was really hot,” you muse with a small smile.

nuzzling your ear, he mumbles, “can i touch you?”

your eyes slide closed, sighing. “i really want you to, yes.”

diluc leaves a couple of kisses on the corner of your mouth before raising up onto his knees. his chest rises and falls, still catching his breath as he unfastens your pants. you lift your hips to aid him when he curls his fingers around your waistband and works your bottoms down the curve of your ass and hips before ridding you of them entirely. 

you watch as he unbuckles his belt and removes the rest of his own clothing, biting your lip when his half-hard cock bounces out of his cum-stained underwear. he looks down at you, lips parted as his lust-blown vermillion eyes take in every inch of your naked form. feeling vulnerable and self-conscious, you close your legs and fold your arms over your breasts. 

“s-stop staring, diluc,” you mutter, looking away with a bashful smile. “you’re embarrassing me.” 

you feel his hands on your closed thighs, not pulling them apart but caressing them in an effort to make you feel less uncomfortable. 

“i’m sorry, it’s just-” he begins to stumble on his words but presses on, “...the way you’re glowing in the moonlight. you look like a goddess.” he leans down, letting his lips ghost over your skin as he whispers, “please don’t hide yourself; you’re lovely.” 

there’s no fighting the smile that spreads across your face at his words. you willingly open your legs and arms, pulling him close for a kiss. propping himself on his forearm, his other hand touches you, roaming your naked body, claiming every peak and valley, conquering you with his hands inch by scorching inch. 

he feels you tremble beneath him as the backs of his fingers rake along your inner thigh. you gasp, interrupting your lazy kissing when the pad of diluc’s thumb grazes your clit. he slides his digit down between your folds before returning to your tiny, engorged tip. he repeats the process a few more times, spreading your slick along your pink slit while driving you out of your mind. 

he’s dragging the tip of his thumb in little circles over your clit now, swallowing your whines, his full erection returning as you buck your hips for him. with his thumb still on your clit, he presses the tip of his middle finger against your opening, slowly pushing it in a little before withdrawing, back and forth until he’s knuckle deep inside your slippery heat. you’re gripping his biceps, hanging on for dear life while he drinks your moans and sighs, tasting the sounds of your pleasure on his tongue like a fine wine. 

“hhhhnn~ luc…” 

he moves to your ear as he works a second finger inside you, a pleased hum escaping him when he hears his name, laced with lust and desire, pour from your lips. there’s a deep ache building inside your lower belly that you’ve never felt before. diluc presses deeper inside you, reveling in the sensation of your slick walls clenching around his fingers. it feels like you’re chasing something but you need more. his fingers are providing a delicious stretch, but it’s just not quite enough. 

“diluc, please…” you whisper breathlessly, “...put it in.” he raises his head from your collarbone and meets your lust-filled gaze. “need you, luc. want you inside me~”

“you mean…” if you weren’t so drunk on desire, you’d laugh at the almost comical look on his face when he raises his eyebrows. “...my cock?”

you cup his cheeks in your palms and hum affirmatively with a breathy ‘yes’. “i want you…want you to be my first.”

“wait, you’re still…?”

you nod. “i’ve always wanted you to be my first everything.”

his heart blooms, swelling against his ribcage at your confession. with a furrowed brow, he kisses you. “i’ve always wanted the same; you’ll be my first too.” he slowly pulls his fingers out of you and squares his hips with yours, nestling his readied cock between your slick folds. “i’m sorry it took me so long to-”

you bring your fingers to his lips, shushing him. “better late than never,” you tell him with a reassuring smile as you press your lips to his again. your breath stutters when the head of his cock nudges your clit. “claim me, diluc.”

he deepens the kiss with a sigh, his cock leaking to mix with your need, getting slicker with every languid roll of his hips. he reaches between your bodies, his eyes darting to yours, watching for the slightest hint of discomfort or change of mind as he pushes his pink, drooling tip to your opening and begins to push inside you.

you both moan, fingertips curling into one another’s flesh as your tight ring stretches around his thick, virgin cockhead before finally surrendering with a soft pop. 

in all his fantasies of this moment, nothing could’ve prepared diluc for the intoxicating texture and heat of your cunt as it spreads around him. “so…” he sucks air between his teeth at your relentless clenching, “...tight.”

meanwhile, you’ve never felt such overwhelming pressure and fullness as his cock invades your virgin pussy. you hold your breath as the young, inexperienced male pushes deeper inside you, digging your nails into the skin of his back. the stretch is too much, too fast.

he halts all movement, crimson eyes widening when he hears the muffled whimper in your throat. “shit. are you okay? does it hurt?”

you wince, trying to soldier through the pain. you’ve heard that if it hurts you have to take deep breaths and try to relax; tensing only makes it worse. “a- a little.”

“maybe we should stop,” he says as he begins to pull out.

“no!” you blurt, hooking your ankles behind diluc’s thighs to impede his withdrawal. “no,” you repeat, more quietly this time, collecting yourself. “just…be still for a moment and i think i’ll be okay.”

“you want me to keep it in?” he’s watching you like a hawk for your reactions. the last thing in the world he wants to do is hurt you.

your eyes slide closed and nod, the pain already starting to give way to a dull, tolerable pressure. diluc waits, holding himself still as he kisses your face, his soft lips grazing your eyelids while he threads his fingers through your hair. your death grip on the flesh of his back subsides as you inwardly remind yourself to breathe. even when you move your hips a little, diluc keeps still, putting your comfort and pleasure ahead of his own feral urges, content to let you guide his pace. 

little by little, you work yourself further down his thick length until your clit rubs against the red thatch of hair around his base. the added stimulation sends a surge of pleasure through your core, that new ache returning, making you ready and craving just a little more. 

you kiss behind diluc’s jaw, just beneath his ear before murmuring to him, “make love to me, diluc.”

and so, on a cool blanket under the stars and moon, not too far from the vineyard with only the crystalflies to bear witness, you and diluc take something from each other while giving something far more precious in return. 

diluc’s hips undulate, rocking back and forth, his butt muscles flexing with each forward thrust. the crimson hair at the base of his dick is shiny with your slick as it rubs your swollen clit. your toes curl, heels digging into his thighs like a jockey spurring on her steed to go faster, faster. 

“more- nnhhm- more…”

he’s on his forearms, cradling your back, his hands framing your ears when he opens his eyes to look at you from above. “you sure?”

“please, yes, i need it…” your back arches, eyes closing when you feel your core squeeze him and you’re chasing that unknown something again. “need you to fuck me harder, luc.”

your lover's eyes widen momentarily at your direct, wanton words. he finds it incredibly sexy and briefly wonders how else your mouth might surprise him. he’s pumping his cock into you a little faster now, his hand cradling the back of your neck, the pad of his thumb ghosting along your jawline. 

“i need you to tell me if i go too far…” 

you nod, and he raises up onto his hands, caging you beneath him to give himself more leverage as he begins to thrust into you faster still. your moans and whimpers travel straight down his spine, urging him to go harder until you can hear the wet claps of skin, sloppy and lewd.

“gods, y/n…” diluc grunts, feeling that familiar coil winding dangerously tight at the base of his spine, searing and ready to snap. “i think i’m going to…” he swears through his moan as his balls tighten. 

as new lovers tend to do, he slips out of you unintentionally, his hot seed spurting in long threads over your belly. he’s still rocking his hips, dragging his jerking cock between your folds, smearing his cum along your pussy lips as more of it spills out. he’s sighing, trying so hard to be quiet, but as the last of his sperm dribbles out of his cockhead it catches and slides back inside you. he lets out an open-mouthed groan as your tight heat sucks his sensitive, cum-coated tip back in. 

but he doesn’t stop. 

his eyes are screwed shut, gritting his teeth to fight the overstim because your warm cunt just feels so damn good, his dick doesn’t soften in the slightest. 

you’re keening for him, making his toes curl with how sweet you sound for him, his name passing your lips in broken whimpers. diluc’s inhibitions are almost entirely gone at this point. he’s fucking into you with abandon, sloppy because it’s his first time. threads of his cum connect your bellies, joining you, hot and sticky. traces of it have mixed with your slick, making his thick cock nice and slippery as it drags and pulls at your tightening walls.

that something has been building low, so low in your belly. an ache so dull and so deep, a pressure you’ve never felt before. your squelching walls have been closing in with every delectable tug of diluc’s fat cock. 

“ohh…hhnn~diluc?” you keen. 

“yeah?” he pants, still thrusting, addicted to the soft, velvety slick of your pussy sucking him in harder. 

“h-harder…just a little harder…” 

he wants to get on his knees, push your thighs back, and fuck you properly, but this time is special and he would rather stay close to you, even through his haze of wanton lust and unbridled passion. so instead, he bends his knees out beside you, panting with the occasional grunt against the pulsing artery in your neck as he presses hard against your cervix with every pump of his cock. 

“gods, y/n,” he whispers, “you feel so…so good.”

he shifts, angling the curve of his cock just right against a spot deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed until now. the last thing you remember is watching the rich boy’s lean abs flexing, sweat dripping down his sides as he humps his slick shaft in and out, in and out, in and out. he drives you right up to a terrible height until you feel...

weightless. 

you’re hanging in the air just before the freefall when a sharp heat courses out from your center to the very ends of your nerves at lightspeed. you barely hear yourself cry out for him as your walls convulse and spasm around his length. he watches, wide-eyed as he fucks you through your first orgasm, slow and deep with full, passionate thrusts. the sound of his name falling desperately from your lips, the sounds of all your shared fluids - sweat, slick, cum, tears - they go right to his head as his hips keep right on snapping into yours. 

“gonna~ mmnnhh~ make me cum again~” a strangled groan escapes diluc’s open lips.

shame you’ll never get to see just how tightly his little asshole winks while his cock jerks his cum inside your pussy for the very first time, painting your walls creamy white. his thick seed leaks from your tight opening as you continue to glide on his cock from below. you kiss him, his quick breaths catching in his throat as he rides out his orgasm.

your lips graze as you both come down from your respective highs together, noses nudging between lazy kisses. diluc rolls off of you, some of his warm seed oozing out of you when his softening dick slips out. he rests his hand above your hip and pulls you to him until the side of your face is pressed against his warm chest, his heart still thumping at a fast pace. you place tender butterfly kisses against his flushed skin as he presses his lips to the top of your head. you lie there together, basking in the long-desired feeling of being in each other’s arms, two sweaty bodies shimmering in the moonlight as you mindlessly trace your names on the other’s back until diluc feels you shiver.

“come on,” he says, sitting up. “let’s get dressed and go back to my place for a hot bath.”

slipping your shirt on, you hesitate. “but…adelinde and the others…they’ll know.”

zipping his pants before shoving his soiled boxers into his pocket, he says, “they already know. they’ve been hounding me about us for years.”

you look up at him, a wide grin gracing your features. “'us'? really?”

he simply nods with a smirk, holding his coat open as you slip it on again. it’s heavy, but the weight is comforting and familiar, protective like armor. “i think nothing would make them happier.”

you help him fold your blanket before wrapping your arms around his waist. “will you carry me on your back?” you ask, standing on your tiptoes to punctuate your request with a kiss.

“of course,” he chuckles softly, kissing you back before turning around and crouching. “hop on.”

with your legs hooked over his arms, he carries you back to the winery. you prop your chin on his shoulder, catching your scent on him and giggling every time his hair tickles your face in the breeze.

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ diluc m.list

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ happy birthday to diluc! it's after midnight where i am, but it's still his bday somewhere! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed reading this. thank you, loves! 💋

#diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x f!reader #diluc x reader #diluc x y/n #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr x f!reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr x y/n #diluc ragnvindr x you #genshin x f!reader #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact x you #diluc smut #diluc ragnvindr smut #diluc bday 2023

[amhrosina]

Frank With An Inexperienced Reader

a/n: the request was for frank AND matt, but i haven't written matt's headcanons yet, so here's frankie-poo's for now

warnings: virgin!reader becoming notvirgin!reader lmfao, age gap, smut obviously, frank talks you through it, oral (fem receiving), fingering, the usual smut stuff, etc.

Frank would be hesitant at first when you ask him to take your virginity. You’ve done other stuff with him, but you’ve never gone all the way, and he’s nervous about taking that away from you.

Like you’re so much younger than him, and he doesn’t want to take advantage of you, but holy shit you’re so pretty and he can’t deny you anything so he just takes it really slow instead and gives you the power to choose when/where it happens.

You’re just as nervous as he is about it but for different reasons obviously. He’s so experienced and you’re the exact opposite and you spend at least a week freaking out about it before finally giving in and showing up at his apartment to be properly fucked.

When I say he takes it slow, I mean he takes it S L O W.

You’re trying to unbuckle his belt but you’re so nervous that you’re visibly shaking, so he gently takes your hands in his and kisses your fingertips and tells you to slow down for a second.

“Let me do this for you, okay? I’ll take good care of you.”

You tell him that you’re nervous because you want it to be good for him but you don’t know how to make it good for him.

He smirks and shakes his head. “You don’t gotta worry about me, sweets. I’ve been waiting a long time for this. You’ll be perfect.”

He begins pressing unhurried kisses to your lips and jaw, gingerly making his way to your neck. You’re already so turned on that you can feel the slickness of your arousal between your legs. 

He moves at an achingly slow pace, pulling your clothing off piece by piece, leaving kisses in the wake of his removal, until you’re standing in front of him in your underwear. 

He presses sultry kisses to your nipples, softly flicking the nubs with his tongue because he knows you love it when he does that.

“Can I pull these off?” His fingers are resting on your hip bones underneath the fabric of your underwear. You nod your head eagerly because it’s Frank and you couldn’t imagine anyone else being this gentle with you.

When he lays you on the bed, spread bare for him, you’re still a little nervous. (He’s so big and you can see why people are afraid of him when he’s in Punisher mode but also like, he’s so dreamy).

Also if we’re basing Frank’s length off of the rumors about Bernthal’s, ummmm let’s just say the man’s very well endowed. This makes you even more nervous because WOW.

“We can stop at any time, okay? Just say the word and I’ll stop. I won’t get mad. I promise.”

You try not to groan at how incredibly sexy he looks reassuring you.

Frank knows it’s going to hurt, but he still wants to make the experience as pleasurable as possible for you, so he does everything in his power to make sure you’re nice and ready for him.

“Can I taste you, baby?”

When he buries his tongue in your folds, you quite literally can’t hold yourself together. You fall apart on his tongue not once, but twice before he finally relents and begins pumping a finger in and out of you.

You’re so wet that it easily slides in and out, and when he adds another digit, and another, you’re coming apart around him again. 

When it’s finally time for him to push into you, you’re so blissed out in pleasure that your nervousness has subsided, but he’s still gentle and cautious.

You tense up almost immediately because it hurts, and he almost pulls out because he never wants to see that look on your face again (especially not because of him!)

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. Just breathe, okay? It’ll feel good soon.”

Frank refuses to move until you give him a slight nod, hovering over you and kissing the tension out of your clenched features. 

When the pain finally subsides and you ask him to move, he’s really really gentle with his thrusts even though he’s dying to pound into you.

He praises you the entire time.

“You’re so wet, baby.” “You look so good like this.” “You’re taking me so well, sweetheart.” “Fuck, baby, you’re perfect.”

He’s always been an observant man, but watching you moan, writh, and arch into him is something he’d like to observe for the rest of his life (if you’ll let him)

When you come apart around him, you unintentionally clench around him and it takes everything in him to hold himself together.

When you ask him to fill you up, his thrusts stutter out of pure shock. 

“Naughty girl. Who taught you that?”

You’re grinning up at him, blinking your perfect doe eyes, and he can’t tell if it's the hormones or the fact that he’s buried deep inside you, but he thinks he might have just fallen deeper in love with you.

You hold him close to you as he fills you up, and when he collapses next to you, you’re both blissed out and sweaty and in love and you feel warm and fuzzy about it all.

“Are you okay?” He’s concerned that he may have hurt you.

“Let’s do that again!” You’re not hurt in the slightest (lol).

Cue both of you giggling like teenagers.

Obviously Frank is an aftercare king so after he cleans you up, he runs his fingers over your skin in a soothing pattern.

When you ask if it was good for him, he’s quick to reassure you.

“It was perfect, baby. You’re perfect.”

masterlist // join my taglist

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @callsign-mama @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @merleisapartygod @babyslyth @legocity2 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @deliciousfestsalad @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @theesexystallion @scoliobean @myguiltypleasures21 @fxlsealarm @evyiione @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @ginnysculture @ryebreadsworld @laaundromat @coacaiyne @niki-is-a-thing @megmastersgf @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs

#frank castle #frank castle headcanon #frank castle smut #frank castle fluff #frank castle imagine #frank castle headcanons #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #the punisher #marvel #jon bernthal #the punisher x reader #the punisher smut #the punisher imagine #requested #marvel headcanons #amhrosina

[buckets-and-trees]

Imagine Bucky coming home to see you wearing nothing but a red ribbon tied in a bow around your waist and can’t help but stare at you while licking his lips. You stand there and say “are you just gonna stand there or are you going to unwrap your present?”

Well...

Would you complain if I added one more thing to this little ask, too?

And this was undoubtedly meant for Christmas, but... my Christmas tree is still up, so maybe other people still have their decorations out, as well...

Fandom: MCU Collection: The Brooklyn Boys Title: Big Red Bow Characters/Pairings: Bucky x female reader x Steve Word Count: 593

Content Warnings: Steve stays post-endgame, established threesome, periphery/secular reference to the Christmas holiday, nudity, kissing, light fingering

Logistical Notes: Probably fine to read if you haven't read any of the series, because this is legit just spicy fluffy stuf, literally no plot. We just haven't seen these boys in a LONG long time, and I thought this might be nice for them. Dividers from @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You take a deep breath as you hear your boys come in the front door. Steve walks past the doorframe, heading down the hallway, his arms laden with bags from their supply run. Bucky, however, glances into the living room, then turns his head back and stops dead in his tracks. He sets his bag down and quietly straightens back up, stepping into the room, eyes riveted on you.

You had been waiting for them, for this, and yet your stomach still flips and your cheeks heat as you see the hungry look wash over him.

He licks his lips, but continues to stare, unmoving from his place in the doorframe.

Your heartbeat is racing, but you will yourself to remain still, kneeling next to the Christmas tree, in front of the fireplace, hands folded delicately in your lap, in nothing but a large red ribbon, painstakingly tied in a bow. You had tied it around your chest, below your breasts so that the large loops of the bow just covered your nipples.

"Did you hear me?" Steve calls back down the hallway to Bucky. "I asked if you know where the–"

"Steve, come here," Bucky cuts him off.

You hear Steve's steps coming back down the hallway. "What? What is - oh," his voice drops when he turns up behind Bucky and spots you waiting for them. "Oh," this time more of a groan, and his tone sends a shiver down your spine.

But when they don't move, you bite your lip and drop your eyes. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to unwrap your present?"

"It's past Christmas and New Years, honey," Bucky teases.

You huff. The last two weeks had been so busy, and you'd just thought when you saw the discarded bow from your nephew's bike that it might be fun to play with, but today had presented the first possible moment you finally had time for something like this. "Sorry, it's a little corny."

"Ow." Steve thumps Bucky from behind, and you start to move, but Bucky says, "Stop!" and you do, surprised by his abrupt command. "'I like corny. I'm looking for corny in my life.'"

Immediately comfortable again, you grin and giggle at the very apt quote from The Holiday, which you'd watched twice with them - once after Thanksgiving, and again a few days before Christmas.

They both swiftly approach you now. Steve gets to you first and kneels in front of you, leaning in to capture your lips in an kiss. Kneeling next to you, Bucky trails his fingers over your shoulder and down your arm. He presses his lips along your shoulder and back up to your neck, nudging his way in until Steve moves away, and Bucky steals the chance to claim your lips.

Bucky is quick to lay back on the floor, pulling you to lay on his his chest. You can hear Steve quickly undressing.

"Who says we need to unwrap you in order to play anyway?" Steve asks. Then he's settling in behind you, kneeling in the space between your and Bucky's legs, spreading them wider to accommodate him. He draws his hand down along your spine, over your lower back, and he lets a finger tease down between your cheeks.

You gasp, and Bucky chuckles. "Always so responsive for us, and so pretty like this."

"Mhmm," Steve agrees.

"But I can think of quite a few ways we can use this bow tonight," Bucky adds, grinning over your shoulder up at Steve.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #stucky x reader #stucky x you #aspen wrote something #aspen asks #the brooklyn boys

[mamamangaka]

(No one has posted this and I need it so I shall cook for myself)

- Yandere!Alastor with a g/n reader who likes toys and art stuff -

Okay so here’s the thing I kinda see about Alastor:

Hes a fucking looney who will do anything and everything to keep you if he happens to fall in love.

But lemme tell you if you break past those walls and manage to ameliorate his aceness to the point that he’s yandere about you then baby you done.

You might as well have signed over your soul to him.

I like to think only one thing in particular would peak his interest at first.

Maybe your drawing outside a coffee shop -

Or reading tarot cards at the park?

Perhaps even reading under a tree, who knows?

But whatever it is, Alastor saw you and he froze.

He never once expected to fall so deeply in love (especially not at first sight) and I feel that when he did finally succumb after a bit of denial, it would be a quick realization and he’d make a decision to seek you out immediately.

He’d closely stalk you for some time but when he gets you, he’d keep you in his radio tower, where no one else goes and where his world really is.

He’d probably kidnap you mere weeks after realizing he’s enamored, it wouldn’t take long before he came up behind you out of nowhere.

He was someone you’d only seen once or twice in passing but found attractive each time, though you weren’t exactly thinking about a partnership.

He wouldn’t be asking you, he’d simply take you.

(You didn’t need to know he’d been admiring you anyway.)

You weren’t someone of great power or who was well known. You simply met a tragic fate and unfortunately ended up here by mistake due to being involved in “black magic”.

It was unfair, in your opinion, to be cast down simply due to your divination talents and history.

Never once did you misuse your gifts yet here you were.

When you come around, you’re in Alastor room in the hotel.

He explains the situation and gives you options.

You ask to go, not interested in whatever he’s offering and he explains that’s not an option so you need to pick another one.

After demanding to leave, trying to open the door, banging and calling for help and eventually pleading and sobbing with him, you realize you aren’t going anywhere.

You wheep and hoarsely beg as he carries you into the wooded area that seems to pocket into another place.

You realize later that it was a path to the radio tower.

There’s a wooden door that leads to his own personal “home” in that tower.

And inside, I’d expect it’s quite nice.

Greenery everywhere, plants and/or herbs hanging from the ceiling and a cozy woodstove. Lovely flowers and pretty trees surrounding the outside, blocking the view of the horrors that hell had naturally.

A earthy, modest but very comfortable and exquisite environment and cottage style house with at least one library on hand.

But he can take all this beauty away quite easily, so don’t forget or step out of line. The view is a luxury he gives based on your behavior; do not tread lightly.

Now, he’s very commanding and strict with his darling, often times dictating what they eat and wear, bossing them around and physically moving them to where he wants.

• “My little doe, you were simply taking too much time to get to me, I was just helping you along.”

• “Oh darling, don’t you know I’m doing this for your own good? Don’t cry, come here: give me a kiss.”

• “No no, little doe. It’s best if you rest right now. Ah, yes, I can see you don’t want to sleep. How about I read to you or turn the radio on, hm?”

But he’s also super old timey and you would immediately be considered his spouse, and he would pamper and treat you with such respect (at least as much as he could)

If he found out you liked dolls or soft toys, well he’d be all over that and try to use it to his advantage.

I feel like it would be a rag doll copy of himself or a porcelain/ball jointed doll (dressed in 1920-1950 attire) as a Victorian styled Queen or what not.

• “You seem so lonely honey bun, so I picked you up something nice. Hopefully it will warm you a little when you think of me.”

• “I can see you fiddle with your hands a lot, mi amor. Here, have a doll to dress and play with for when your pretty hands need a break from the books.”

• “Oh my, it seems a nap is in order for your crankiness. Where is your toy? It’s better for you to have something to sleep with while I’m doing the broadcast.”

But he wouldn’t have bought it for you, oh no, because the only thing he buys you is the most pristine art supplies and most flattering jewelry and clothes —

— he’d have made this himself for you, from his own power.

And he’d use it to keep an eye on you no matter where you happened to be.

Needed a moment alone? Not without the doll he gave you.

Was hiding from punishment? Not without the doll.

If you left it somewhere in a vain attempt for distance, you’d find it on your person the second you reached in your bag or turned around.

And when Alastor found out you left it? He’d be livid.

But you wouldn’t know he was mad by his face, only his voice and the static crackle in the background.

• “Don’t you ever leave that doll again sweetheart. Do you understand me?”

• “This is how I protect you, darling. It’s best for everyone if you follow direction.”

• “Now honey, you don’t want to lose your privilege to wander around the hotel and mingle with the others, do you? Then you best keep that doll close, hm?”

If you possibly took a liking to the doll he gave you, well..

His heart might soar, he won’t lie

How cute and innocent you were, so completely unaware of the horrors he possesses — the doll possesses — if you step out of line

It’s something he really loves about you; you trust him (mostly bc you have to)

And if you took up sewing to make outfits for the doll?? He’d be so over the moon and even conjure up a little wardrobe for them if enough clothes are made.

And your drawings??? Oh don’t even get me started

too late I did it myself here I go

He would parade you around like you were the messiah of the demonic art world

It didn’t matter if you or anyone else thought you were good

You like doing it? Hes gonna over indulge you.

You drew something just for him???

Then it’s getting a golden frame and you’re getting the radio host fame.

He wouldn’t let anyone touch your sketchbook. He’d actually kill anyone who destroys any piece of your work.

He always coos over you, he’s literally obsessed with you.

Admires you while your drawing like you are the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Always begs to see your drawings.

Does everything in his power to help you with inspiration or getting out of art block.

Hangs up his favorite pieces you’ve done around the hotel and talks you up to everyone.

• “My my, who would have guessed my little doe was so full of talent? Ah-ha, well me, of course!”

• “Oh yes, they’re nothing short of extraordinary and excel in everything they attempt. It’s absolutely magnificent.”

• “Quite the looker, aren’t they? It’s no wonder I fell so hard, they made this old withering heart beat once more.”

NOW LETS ADDRESS THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM:

What if you broke a rule? Either accidental or on purpose?

*rubs palms together deviously*

I mean it’s hell, so it’s not like you could actually die and he’d permanently lose you, but I could see him considering killing, traumatizing and horrifying you to make a point for when you came back. If you broke the rule on purpose or left the hotel without a damn good reason or asking him, I definitely think he’d ponder on it.

But I honestly don’t know if he’d be able to go that far if he’s to the point that he’s fallen for you.

I definitely think he’d be the kind to chain you away for a bit and ignore you for a while after really scaring you though, having only come in when you cry out for him or need to be attended.

He’d be condescending and emotionally manipulating for sure.

• “Well dear, we wouldn’t be in this predicament if you would have just listened and been good, hm?”

• “No no, you can’t come downstairs. I told you this time out is for two weeks. It’s been only two days darling.”

•“Now that’s not the way one of such class as ourselves behave. Shush your crying, my sweet.”

He wouldn’t tolerate a darling openly defying him, he’d put you over his knee and bruise your behind so quick and wouldn’t think twice.

And getting off punishments easy? Nah.

Good behavior or not, you’re gonna be going through the whole thing every single time. He won’t let you have even an ounce of wiggle room on that.

Your bottom stings after only thirty spanks? He isn’t stopping. He said 50 and he meant it, so buckle up buttercup, this is gonna be a long ride.

You don’t want to finish your plate? Well that’s a nice opinion, quite cute! .. but he doesn’t recall asking you what you wanted, so eat up ~

You aren’t tired? Well, allow him the pleasure of wearing you out and soothing you to slumber.

I think he’d allow the darling to cling to him though, that’s the kind of yandere I see him as. He’d maybe mock you a little at first and seem patronizing but all in all, he finds the need to touch him endearing and he does become fond of it.

I think he’d make you dependent on it, really. He’d always encourage you to cuddle up to him, always making sure you sit or stand directly next to him and that’s he’s always got his arm around you or you hanging onto his own.

He’d be tolerant of your crying. I think he’d find you cute while in distress, so that would be his favorite time to hold you tight. He’d caress your tearstreaks and kiss away the droplets.

•“Sweet sugar plum, you’ve been so emotional lately.”

• “Pretty crybaby, what can I do to make you feel better? Come now, there must be something your husband can whip up for you.”

“Oh, my poor, darling y/n..” he’d tsk, stroking the side of your face and nuzzling noses, “don’t cry, hush now, it’s alright, your faithful and devoted protector is here.”

#yandere #yandere!Alastor #Hazbin Hotel improper headcannons #my brainrot #the radio demon #yandere alastor x reader #I’m tired #gender neutral reader #unhealthy relationships #I do not condone this behavior IRL #Hazbin hotel #Alastor #trigger warning

[eupheme]

Sweet Summer Lemonade

Jim Hopper x F!Reader

Rated E - 7.8k

Tags: dub-con (because of sex pollen) (but with very mutual attraction), use of alcohol and cigarettes, age gap, mentions of death, fingering, oral sex (f rec.), size kink, PiV, mult. orgasms, grump + sunshine, mutual pining, loose pov

Summary:

“So… you and the chief, huh?”

“Oh!” You clear your throat, fingers covering your mouth, “No, not really. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

“Uh huh.” Murray answers dryly, his legs crossing neatly at the ankles as he leans next to you, “Are you sure about that?”

(Or - when you go to Murray’s for some help, you end up with a little more than you bargained for)

Your nose crinkles as the truck finally slows to a halt on the packed-dirt path, just outside the industrial-sized garage door. Debris lines the concrete building, a busted office chair, turned on its side - mechanical parts cushioned against the tall, barbed-wire fence by overgrown tufts of knee-high grass.

“You sure this is the right place?” Your words are directed slowly at Hopper, throwing your shoulder into the door as you open it - the old hinges creaking with the effort.

He’s already out of the truck, the piece of paper crumpled in his hand, shoving it into the back pocket of his light jeans, “This is it.”

Here goes, you think, making for the door, but a hand is catching your elbow, dragging you back. Glancing back at the frown on Hopper’s face, as he leans down to your level, letting you go so his hands can brace on his thick thighs.

“You stick close to me,” His voice is low and hushed, a rough edge to it, “And don’t touch anything inside unless I say so. Got that?”

Annoyance prickles at you - you were in the tunnels last year, same as the rest, and you had come out just fine. Whoever this man was had to be a cakewalk in comparison. He didn’t need to pull the macho-cop act, you weren’t a teenager like the others.

“Nancy said he was nice.” You counter, lifting your sunglasses, perching them on top of your head as you fix him with a look.

The crease between his forehead deepens, the edges of his lips turning down, “Just do what I tell you, okay?”

Your head tilts, his eyebrow raises in response. And fuck - the way he’s seeming to loom over you, big and broad, prickles at you in a different kind of way.

“Fine.” You blink, averting your eyes.

“Good.” He straightens, giving you one last weary look before heading to the front door.

Secretly, you had been hoping this trip would be a little more... interesting. For weeks now, the two of you have been exchanging lingering looks, finding half-hearted excuses to move just a little bit closer.

And when this short trip had come up, you had jumped at the opportunity. Because of the reason it was being taken, of course - and selfishly, for the chance to spend a little more time with him.

But so far today... nothing.

Unless you count the brush of an elbow against yours as it sat on the armrest. Not exactly the steamy encounter you had daydreamed about.

His fist raps a pattern on the rusted metal door, once - twice. Finally, a face peeking out as it cracks open, the room behind dim, curtains pulled tight.

The man’s face pulling downward when he sees who it is, eyes narrowing behind glasses, mouth twisting, "Oh, not you.”

Hopper's foot quickly jamming in the space, preventing it from shutting all the way, “We need to talk to you. It’s about what happened.”

There’s a long pause before the man nods - Hopper’s foot pulling back so the door can shut, the chain latch undone before it opens again.

You follow behind into the house, the inside not a far cry from the outside. But it’s fascinating in a way, the wall of televisions, the man himself - an old robe worn open like a cardigan over a tight white tank, grey sweats.

“Thank you, Mr. Bauman.” You step around Hopper, your hand extended, “We’re hoping you might be able to help us, please.”

Murray’s eyebrows lift when he sees you, the downturned edge of his lip kicking up, “And who is this?”

His handshake is firm, and you smile as you give your name, explaining, “One of Hopper’s friends.”

“Hm. Didn’t think the old grump had any friends,” He gives Hopper a sidelong look, Hopper’s hands jamming in his pockets as he scowls back.

“Just in case you were wondering, that is how you ask for help,” Murray tells him, amusing himself, before he turns back to you, “What can I do for you, sunshine?”

Throwing a look at Hopper for confirmation, you start, “Well, we wanted to see if you still had the original copy of the tape Nancy and Jonathan brought you.”

“Something is happening again,” Hopper cuts in, easing himself into the circle of conversation, arms crossed over his chest. “Maybe with the gate, maybe with El. We wanted to see exactly what they said.”

Murray shoots both of you a puzzled look, “Why’d you come out this way? Can’t you just ask them?”

You fidget, the same thing already discussed in the car. Hopper handles this one again, ”We don’t want to cause any… unnecessary panic. If we ask either, it’s going to spread. We want to do our own digging first.”

Murray thinks about that, plucking the glasses from his face, polishing them slowly on the edge of his robe.

“Please Mr. Bauman?” You ask, your hands clasped in front of you, the sound of your words drowning out Hopper’s annoyed grunt.

“God, please - Mr. Bauman was my father. It’s just Murray.” He looks back up after a long pause, slowly nodding, “But, fine. I can make you a copy. Have to find it first, but I will.”

Your answering smile is relieved - how long could that possibly take?

———

The three of you have been searching for hours now, sifting through beat-up boxes of hastily-labeled tapes in one of the side rooms, taking turns checking possibilities.

It’s slow going - you were quickly relieved of checking duty after you found a tape that leaned towards the illicit. Gasping as Hopper moved in front of you to shut off the high-pitched, recorded moans as he growled out a “Jesus Christ Bauman, she doesn’t need to hear that.”

“It was research for a story!” Murray had insisted, rolling his eyes, hands spread wide.

Now, you were on sorting duty, making stacks for Hopper to check, sweat beading on your brow as you dug through the piles. Even with the drapes drawn, hiding the summer sun, it was warm in the stuffy house - the nearest fan just out of reach as it rotates slowly.

Finally giving up, your arms stretching over your head as you rise, winding your way over to where Murray was working on his own stack.

“Murray, is it okay if I grab something to drink?” Your palm fans your face, the slight gust of air barely soothing the heat.

“Sure, sunshine. Help yourself,” He wipes his own brow, glancing up from his place on the floor. “I’m almost done. Grab a glass for me, too.”

The single bulb flickers in the kitchen, an ancient fridge tucked between two countertops. You revel in the blast of cool air as you open the door, stooping to peer inside.

It’s relatively clean, the shelves clear on one side, jars and condiments lining the other. There’s some beer cans half-way back and you reach for one, dragging it out. When you go to grab another, your fingers knock against a rounded glass bottle, the label curled and worn.

It wobbles dangerously, the cap loose on the narrow neck. The liquid inside - a thick, viscous pink - sloshes onto your knuckles as you catch it with the back of your hand. Trapping it between another container before you carefully nudge it upright.

Your hand withdraws, setting the second can on the counter before you bring it to your nose. The bright residue smells like summer, fresh fruit. Sticky sweet and cloying.

Without thinking, you taste it, licking up the drop that tracked across your knuckles. It seems to soak into your tongue, the taste almost familiar. Reminding you vaguely of the prickly pear lemonade you had on vacation a couple years ago.

Bright and sweet as bubblegum, the tart bite tickling your throat as you swallowed. No worries back then - just summer and sunshine ahead.

You blink, a funny tingling on your tongue, the rest rinsed off in the sink - dried on the dingy dishtowel.

The crisp crack of the can opening is music to your ears. The beer is cheap but you’re not complaining, it’s cool going down your throat - the can pressed against your forehead after you swallow.

Murray joins you a minute later, and you offer him the second can, but he shakes his head.

“Should have specified,” He tells you, dragging a bottle from the freezer, filling the bottom third of a glass.

Drinking the vodka like it’s water, nose scrunching as he swallows. You side-eye him, as you against the counter, elbows pressing against the stained laminate.

Taking your own sip much more slowly, his head turning to look at you.

“Helps me think.” Murray offers, though you weren’t about to ask. There’s a long pause, before his head tilts, “So… you and the chief, huh?”

You choke on the mouthful, coughing as you swallow. Hopper had warned you that he was blunt - a good guy, but not one to mince words.

But it’s almost refreshing, after the passive aggressive tip-toeing around you so often get at work. Right to the point, nice and neat.

“Oh!” You clear your throat, fingers covering your mouth, “No, not really. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

Facing him, you miss the way Hopper’s head tilts in your direction as he listens to a new tape, eyes dragging slow over the cocked curve of your hips - but Murray does not.

“Uh huh.” He answers dryly, his legs crossing neatly at the ankles as he leans next to you, “Are you sure about that?”

You wonder if he’s teasing you, or if he knows something you don’t.

The prospect makes your heart thud, a wishful anticipation in your chest as you answer, “Well, I don’t really know. Sometimes I think there’s something, and then other times he doesn’t notice me at all.”

Not telling him that a part of you thinks he’s hung up on someone else. And the worst part is you get it, it makes sense - they have all that history. And you’re just tripping after him like a lost little puppy.

“Jim’s a pretty direct guy.” Murray interrupts your thoughts, and your answering nod is slow, a little unsure of his meaning.

A pause - before he pats your shoulder, draining the rest of his glass, “Just something to think about.”

Okay, I guess, you think - finishing the remnants of your own drink, finding what looked like a recycling bin for the empty can. After a moment, taking the extra beer you had grabbed over to Hopper. Offering it to him wordlessly as you lean over the back of the couch, next to his shoulder.

He takes it, a thankful curve to his lips, fingers overlapping yours as his hand wraps around the can. For a second, you almost forget to let go - too focused on the way your skin seems to buzz under the brush of his fingertips.

“Thought you forgot about me.” He nods towards the kitchen, cracking it open with a hiss.

You watch the bob of his throat as he swallows, a curl of heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks. Trying to keep your voice from sounding too much like a sigh when you reply, “Never.”

Clearing your throat, trying to keep on track, “Any luck?”

“Not sure. Think we’re getting close though, these are from the same time.” He sighs, leaning back against the cushion, arm trailing along the back - swapping the tape out for another.

The voice that plays from this one is familiar - the recoding caught mid-sentence.

“-you mean without shutting us up?-”

You’re grabbing at his arm, swinging around the edge of the couch to take the seat next to him. Leaning into him to listen, “Wait, wait, that’s it!”

His eyes flash to yours, the recording playing just long enough to confirm it. A relieved smile flashing across his face, before his arm drops to curl around you - a squeezing half-hug of victory.

The tape is handed off to Murray to make a copy, and you stay selfishly seated on the couch. Nothing to do but wait until the copy is made, the edge of his arm still brushing your shoulders.

But the more you sit - the denser the air feels, humid and sticky hot. Your pulse seems to thud in your ears, a steady, dull pattern.

“Is it warm in here?” You ask idly, fingers plucking at the neck of your sundress, peeling it back to get some air against your skin, “Like, more than before?”

He frowns, his eyes averting when you glance his way, his legs shifting, “It’s warm. But it’s cooler than outside, that’s for sure.”

It doesn’t seem that way to you - you’re not sure how he’s able to wear jeans in this heat, even with the beachy, button-up shirt. The sleeves stretch tight across his biceps as his arms cross, your eyes slow to pull away as he adds, “Maybe you just need some fresh air.”

You nod - that makes sense, and you silently wish for Murray to hurry up, as much as you’re enjoying the current seating arrangements.

Now that the tape has been found, copying it goes quickly, the audio conversation as short as it was. Hopper tucking the tape into his shirt pocket, patting his chest as you push yourself to your feet.

It takes an effort, your limbs feeling not quiet coordinated. Your mind a little fuzzy, skin buzzing and tilting towards oversensitive. Maybe the beer wasn’t as cheap as you thought - maybe it was your empty stomach.

Hopper’s eyes narrow when he notices the slight sway in your posture, as Murray not-so-subtly herds you towards the front door. You still manage a thank you, and even a hug that you’re surprised that he accepts, “Thank you for helping us, it means a lot.”

“You’re both welcome back anytime.” Murray tells you cheerfully, the words almost cut off as the door shuts, the latch chain sliding into place immediately.

Leaving the two of you alone, blinking into the sunlight - the slight breeze welcome on your face. You’re still looking dazedly at the door when Hopper’s hand brushes your back, a gentle nudge towards the truck.

His words slow, eyeing you as you start to move, “Let’s get you in the truck”.

You’re compliant, unprotesting as he opens the door, climbing in. Slumping against the seats rolling the window down as he gets in on the other side.

The truck roars to life, reversing out of the lot, dirt kicking up from the driveway as he pulls back onto the main road.

Time seems to lose its meaning as the miles tick down, you’re not sure if it’s been minutes or an hour - the heat in your face and neck starting to feel like it’s moving downwards.

It should be a moment to remember, just the two of you, a beautiful summers day. A warm breeze on your face as the radio rolls through favorites - Springsteen, Rolling Stones, Tom Petty. Songs you know by heart sounding faded as thoughts you kept buried deep inside push to the surface.

Sideways glances that linger a hair too long, eyes drifting over his light, patterned shirt. The extra couple buttons popped at the neck, the coarse hair beneath.

The thick muscle of his arms, large hands that you think would span the space between your shoulder and jaw. The perfect size to cup your face. Fingers drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel.

You like looking at his hands, thinking about what they could do. How they would feel. On you. Maybe even in you.

The path of your gaze slowly shifts downwards-

You blink - catching yourself, eyes facing forward again. Going rigid as you recognize the curl of arousal in your guts, where the heat has settled. Stronger than you’ve felt before - the aching need for pleasure so sharp it almost hurts.

“You okay, kid?” He breaks the silence, “You’re usually talking my ear off.”

The nickname is unintentional - it’s one he’s picked up from his time looking after El. You know this but it still bristles at you, a dull ache in your stomach causing your words to come out snappish, “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh,” he draws the word out with a scoff, “What, would you prefer ‘sunshine’?”

He’s being petty, defensive - glancing your way with brows pulled low, expression changing when he sees the way you’re sitting, tense and uncomfortable.

You flinch when his hand reaches across, the back of his palm brushing your forehead. Something blooms in your stomach, and you have to fight back a moan at his touch, the feeling between your legs almost like a pulse.

“Jesus, sweetheart.” He’s frowning, eyes darting your way, “You’re burning up. We need to get you home.”

All you can do is nod, your face pressing against the glass again - trying to ignore the instinct to press your thighs together.

———

It’s become almost unbearable by the time you find yourself among familiar roads - the long winding dirt path through the woods to the cabin. Somewhere along the drive, Hopper had offered to take you home, but his was a good 15 minutes closer.

You just needed some water, to sit down for a moment. You were sure it was nothing.

He shifts into park, legs taking him around to your door before you can fumble with the handle. Almost knocking the old wooden door off the hinges as he ushers you inside - the water still lukewarm from the tap as you gulp it down from a glass.

It soothes some of the heat that warms your face, but not the one that roils in your guts. You can’t hold back the groan that wracks your chest, hand splaying across your lower belly.

His hands almost feel cool on your cheeks as he cups them, worry clouding his blue eyes as he angles your face up to look at him.

“How are you feeling? Talk to me, baby.” He coaxes.

“Hurts.” You manage, blinking as you try to concentrate.

“Where?”

Silently, your hand slips lower, until it’s all but cupping your mound. The slightest brush of fingers making your eyes flutter shut, a soft needy groan falling from your lips.

Hopper goes still, unable to breath. Not even knowing what to say for a moment - trying to come up with something, anything, to help figure it out.

“Uh- did you take anything today? Try anything funny this morning?” He stammers, and your eyes flicker open.

A small shake to your head. And then, you pause, remembering.

“At Murray’s. I-It was pink. I didn’t mean to.” You tell him, and he’s nodding - it’s not much, but it’s something.

Leading you to the couch, your body slumping onto it as he heads for the phone. Digging through his pockets for the scrap of paper, silently hoping that Murray will actually pick up.

Your hands wander on their own, brushing across your thighs, up, and then up. A pad of your finger pressing against the thin cloth covering your clit, and fuck - it feels good. Maybe the best you’ve ever felt.

But somewhere in the fog, you know the couch is not the place to do this. With an effort you push yourself up, his eyes flicking worriedly to your wobbling gait as the phone rings.

The bathroom door creaking shut behind you - the wood muffling your moans as your fingers press against yourself again. Easing the ache, just for a moment.

His fingers wrap around the phone cord until it hurts - eyes trained on the closed door, foot tapping as he waits for answer.

“Hello?” Finally there’s a voice on the other end, and Hopper feels like he could strangle him.

“Murray? Jim.” He barks out, not waiting for a reply. “Something is wrong, she’s not doing well. Said she had something pink at your house.”

There’s a beat, before he’s cursing - his questions not quite making sense, “Jesus Christ. She didn’t, right? When did-?”

“What was it?” Hopper interrupts, his voice firm and low, one that he always seems to pull out during his interrogations.

“Let me think. I need to make sure.” There’s a crackle on the other end, the words chosen carefully. “How is she? What are her symptoms?”

Hopper blinks, “Uh, hot. Forehead is really warm. She seems distracted.”

“She um, said it hurts.” Not knowing how to word the next part, heat creeping across his own face, “Down there.”

He makes a face as he waits, scrubbing a palm across his forehead, and there’s an agonized groan on the other end.

“Okay. Can you ask her how much she had?”

His patience is running thin, worry and anger making his chest feel tight, “What the hell was it?”

Another beat of silence.

“It’s an… aphrodisiac. I was doing a story on it.”

He had the phone pressed so close to his ear that it creaks in his grip, “A what?”

“You know…” Murray hedges, and then sighs. “The tape you heard? The one that pissed you off so much? That was part of my research.”

Hoppers mouth feels dry, remembering the lewd, rhythmic moans. The word clicking into place in his mind, things starting to make a little more sense.

“Does it go away?”

“That’s why you need to ask her.” His tone turns serious, “You need to, right now.”

With a frustrated sigh, he sets the phone on the side table, crossing the room to the bathroom. Knocking, then calling out for you.

Listening, not meaning to hear your panting breaths, the stifled moans sliding out from between your teeth. He doesn’t mean to picture what you’re doing either - but the images pop into his mind, his fist tightening around the door handle.

Inappropriate. Get it together.

“Sweetheart?” He calls out, and he hears your sounds stutter. He hopes your listening, “The pink stuff. How much did you have?”

A moment as you think, the words slow from your lips, “Just a bit. It spilled on my hand.”

He’s back on the phone a second later, “She said just a little bit.”

“Thank god.” There’s a sigh on the other end, but Hopper doesn’t know what there is to sigh about, “I didn’t want to tell you, but the reason I was doing the story was a couple guys took too much. It uh, turns out it can cause cardiac arrest.”

The implication hangs in the air - he wants to ask more, but fears the answer. Murray presses on, “But if she just took a little, she should be okay. She needs to…”

There’s a pause as he sucks in a breath, “She needs to work through it to make it go away.”

“Work through it?” He echoes, brows furrowing.

“Yes. If she doesn’t, it hurts like hell. I tried it myself, just once.” Murray confesses, his voice low, “Drank some like a shot. It took twelve hours to go away. I was chafed red, Jim. Red.”

Hopper makes a face at the overshare, lips pulling down over clenched teeth, “That’s disgusting.”

“That’s what happens.” Murray answers firmly, “I’m just telling you, you might have to help her. Or find her help - don’t let her go through that pain.”

He doesn’t know what to think about that either. Doesn’t even want to think about it, helping you. Not like this, not when you’re not in your right mind.

The next call is quick, just to cover his bases - a call to the school. A message for El, asking is she can spend time with Max tonight. Hopefully you didn’t need the twelve hours, but he had no idea what to expect, or if he could move you.

Then the back of his knuckles are rapping on the door again, three short, sharp knocks. He calls your name, listening - his mind going a mile a minute. Opening the door when he hears you say his name, the two syllables drawn out in a soft whine.

Even with what he knows now, he’s unprepared. The bathroom in his cabin had always been small - barely enough room to squeeze in a tub, a toilet, the chipped sink with a mirror.

Small enough that he’s hit with the scent of your shampoo, perfume. Then, the sweet musk of your arousal, completely unmistakable. Combining into something that made his pants feel tight, his breath catching in his throat.

Pheromones, maybe - something he saw once on a nature documentary. Murray didn’t warn him about that part. His back sags against the door as he closes it.

Fuck, he can’t do this.

He’s already thinking things he shouldn’t be - because he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you. That your sugar-sweet smiles and nudges are the same you give everyone else.

Trying on occasion to put some distance. An act of self-preservation - he’s always been shit at love. Always on the wrong side. But then you drag him back in. Bright and stunning and blinding.

Sunshine in human form, after all.

You’re sitting, back against the wall - tucked in the far corner, opposite the tub. Elbows resting on spread knees, your dress dipping down between the soft curves of your thighs. The navy blue flash of panties as you shift, the light glinting off the wet gleam of your fingers has his eyes darting away - flushing as he clears his throat.

Your eyes glassy as you look up at him, the way he fills the doorway - even bigger and broader than usual from your spot on the floor. Another sharp throb shoots through you, and you moan out loud.

His brow furrows, and then he’s moving, crouching down to your level. Fingers reaching out to brush your forehead again, your skin burning hot against his fingers.

“Talked to Murray. You drank some experiment he’s been working on. Says you need to, uh-” His hand rubs the back of his neck - lacking the eloquence of his new friend, completely out of his depth. “Finish. To get rid of the uh, symptoms.”

This close, the throbbing increases, twisting in your guts into you ache. The smell of leather, tobacco, aftershave sending another pulse down your spine, your thighs pressing together in an attempt for release.

Your nod is sluggish, the fingers twitching again, “I tried, Hop. I can’t-”

“Is there… someone I can call for you?” His voice is gruff, trying as hard as he can to think with his brain and not with his cock, “A…boyfriend, an ex?”

There’s a thud as your head tilts back against the wall, as you fix him with a long look.

“Is my flirting really that terrible?” You ask, with a huff of a laugh that borders on delirious.

There’s a long pause as Hoppers mind trips to catch up, to interpret your words.

“Nevermind.” The smile that stretches your lips is resigned, your chest heaving in a panting breath as your hand waves dismissively, “That wasn’t fair of me to say. Just forget it, I’ll be okay, Hop. Really.”

“Wait, back up.” Hopper’s hands raise, his voice taking on an edge, “What the hell does that mean?”

Each word feels like an effort now, your tongue feeling heavy, your heart thudding between your thighs, “It means-, it means the person I’d want to call is… you.”

There’s silence for a long, agonizing moment.

“You don’t want me,” He rasps out, eyes flickering between your half-lidded ones, the glossy sheen of your parted lips where your tongue had flicked over them. “It’s the drug. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Jim.” The name punches out from your chest, your eyes locking onto his, the pretty splash of blue, “It’s not. I’ve always wanted you.”

Realization making him sway - the wooden floor crashes into his knees as he rocks forward. His head ducking down as you push yourself up to meet him.

A whimpering moan that shoots straight to his cock when your mouth meets his, one of his thick arms curling around, a palm pressing flat against your back. Your tongue already swiping at his lower lip, pressing closer until your breasts are crushed against the wide barrel of his chest.

His hands dropping, as he groans in response - cupping the globes of your ass, your thighs opening further for him as he yanks you up and onto his lap.

Fingers fly to the meat of his broad shoulders for balance, the fabric of your dress bunching under roaming hands. A clashing of teeth and tongues as you devour each other, your panting gasps as your core bumps into contact with the thick curve of his jeans.

Electricity flickering down your spine, a seam catching on your clit. The burning in your core turning into something closer to relief. Your hips jerk again to chase the sensation, just as a hand comes up to palm at your breast, the tight peak of your nipple.

“Hopper,” You’re moaning into his mouth, your fingers fisted in his shirt, trying to tug him even closer. Hips rolling, grinding down against the thick curve of his jeans, “Please.”

His last ounce of self-control leeching from him as he accepts what you’re asking. What you’re needing from him.

Begging, even - something he’s only ever dreamed about.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He promises, shifting - your thighs wrapping around his waist, a low whine from your throat as he tries to move.

Hopper gives up on untangling your limbs, instead pushes himself unsteadily to his feet; your arms encircling his shoulders. Lips dropping to his neck, pressing against skin.

Walking you through the door, until he can drop you onto his bed. You scoot backwards to make room for him as he lowers himself down next to you, crowding you closer to the cabin wall.

Fingers trailing up your shin, your thighs falling open, just as your eyes shut with another cramp of discomfort. Halting at your thigh, at the curving hem of your dress.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning over you, letting you call the shots the best he can.

“Touch me.” You beg, hand reaches for his, dragging it up between your thighs. Hips rocking into his fingers when they press down against your core.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, feeling the damp cotton, your own hand going limp at your side as his flatten, rubbing at the fabric.

His other hand pushing your skirt up to your hips. Letting himself look now, the dark, wet stain of your panties under his fingers. Realizing they were never navy in color - the soft fabric cutting across your hips a light, sky blue. So similar to the shade of his eyes.

Your hips buck again, and his fingers slide beneath the fabric, slipping against soaked skin and soft curls. Another fresh wave of relief, pleasure curling over the pain, your fingers twisting around the pillow behind your head.

“Jesus. You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He grits out, fingers sliding up until they bump against the swollen bud of your clit, your response no more than a whimper.

Stroking against you, again and again - his fingers slick with your arousal. Sliding easily over your skin, making small, messy circles that have your breath catching in your throat.

A litany of pleas and moans falling from your lips, soft “oh, god-” mixing with his name. The sweet build of pleasure barreling down as his fingers touch you.

He’s impatient, the tight fabric limiting his movements, blocking the pretty sight of your pussy from his vision. The thumb of his other hand hooks on your waistband, tugging it down your thighs - your hips grinding into his hand as they rise to help.

A rough exhale of breath, the word “fuck” ground out through gritted teeth. Torn between wanting to keep going just like this - and knowing if you wanted more, that he’d have to use his fingers somewhere else.

His hand shifts, thumb rubbing over your clit, the middle sliding down, pressing against your entrance. Glancing at you for your nod before it sinks in, his fingers so much thicker and longer than your own.

Pressing down to the knuckle before withdrawing, starting a slow thrust that stretches you out. He’s so fucking hard, cock straining in his pants as he watches his finger disappear into you, your pussy so warm and tight around him. Thinking about how you’d feel wrapped around his fat cock, how good you’d feel coming on it.

Biting back a groan as he adds another, your own low whine as they press deep, finally itching at the ache of needing to be filled. Your words are slurred with drunk pleasure, your brain a messy fog.

“Make me come, Hop. Please-“

Fingers curling, each thrust of his wrist a loud, wet squelch in the small cabin. He shines with you, coating his fingers, leaking onto your inner thighs.

“I will baby, I promise.” He coaxes, trying to remember how it goes, fingers dragging against your inner walls until he feels you clench down around him, a ragged gasp in your throat.

His eyes flickering up again to yours, doing it again, again - watching the way your breaths grow shorter, tension coiling in your thighs.

The small rocking of your hips as you chase the movements of his thrusts, fucking yourself on his fingers, the soft pants of breath as you moan out “please” again and again.

Hopper shifts, pushing himself up - though you’re too close, too far gone to notice. Your eyes shut are shut, concentrating, when there’s the swirl of something hot and wet and soft against your skin.

Better than his thumb, eyes cracking open to see the way he bends over you, the pink flick of tongue as it presses against you, a low groan as he tastes you.

The scratch of his mustache, sending goosebumps across your skin. When his lips kiss against your clit and then suck, it becomes your undoing.

Unable to form words as the blinding pleasure peaks, instant relief flooding your system as you find your release. Soaking his fingers and tongue with a hoarse cry, limbs trembling with the effort.

The sounds you make when you come are prettier than he’s ever imagined - loud, panting moans, the heave of your breasts, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut in concentration.

Tight as hell around his fingers, he swears he can feel each pulse, the thud of your heartbeat in your clit as his tongue presses against it.

Devouring you until you finally go limp, before sliding his fingers from you. Bringing them to his mouth, unable to resist tasting the release that coats his fingers.

The sweet tang of your cunt as he sucks them clean, a low groan as his hips shift, pressing against the mattress.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, the fog starting to wane with each throb, though the desire still remained. The immediate pain quelled, but the deep ache of want and need was still burning in your veins.

Pushing yourself up, grasping at his shoulders until he’s hovering over you - your mouth tilting to meet his. His mouth tasting like you when your tongue darts against his, the rumbling groan as your hips shift up to rub against him.

“Thank you,” you moan into his mouth, and he almost wants to laugh, if the situation hadn’t been so disconcerting.

The thought about being thanked for something he’d dreamed about doing, never thinking he’d get the chance to bury his face between your legs.

He kisses you until you feel dizzy, until your hips are moving again, the damp spot darkening on the front of his jeans.

“More,” you break the kiss to beg, plucking at the buttons of his shirt, revealing inches of skin, greedily soaking him in.

“You need more or you want more?” He asks, hand curving to cup your jaw - a perfect fit, just like you imagined.

Lips feeling kiss-swollen as they scrape against the stubble of his jaw, down to his neck. Feeling the thud of his own pulse, “Both.”

He groans, loud and low, letting you tug at his belt, fingers working open the button. Hips shifting into your hand as you cup the hard bulge, your other hand tugging at the zipper.

A noise of disappointment as he rolls off you, the smallest hint of a smirk as he rids himself of his pants, boxers, “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

And he is, your fingers skating over his thick shaft, barely able to circle around it. It’s big, the fat head glistening with a bead of precum, and it smears across your thighs as he settles between them.

You wiggle against him, lining your hips up, but his hands are gripping onto your waist to hold you still.

“Easy, baby. Gonna hurt yourself.”

Taking a moment, his fist wrapping around the base. Sliding himself against you, you body flexing against the hand still holding you as he lines himself up.

Making sure he’s soaked with you before he starts to press in. Eyes bouncing between your face, trying to see if it’s too much, and unable to resist seeing the tip disappear into you, stretching you wide.

Your moan breaks his concentration, the feeling of him splitting you open almost too much. He feels even bigger than you imagined - making room for himself as he nudges into you. Stealing your breath with every small flex of his hips.

So much of him still left as he carefully thrusts his hips forward, the delicious slide of his cock against your walls before he withdraws. Breath heavy as he does it again, each time sinking a little deeper into you.

Almost flush now, his hands on your hips again. Keeping you pressed to the bed so you don’t try to take too much. Perhaps also to keep himself in check as well.

It’s overwhelming, how warm and tight you are around him. Squeezing him already, even with your come coating his cock, slicking him up. He’s afraid to move, thinking that if he starts thrusting, starts fucking you - that this will be over before it’s started.

His lips part as you wiggle against him again, trying to ignore your pretty pleas. The rough gravel of his voice drowning your sighs out, “Hold on, baby. I just need a minute.”

Fingers flexing against your skin, where the flesh pillows between them. But you need more, and you take matters into your own hands.

Your hand slides down, one lingering at your breast, cupping and squeezing the soft skin, pinching at a nipple. Sending a jolt racing down your spine as your other hand follows, drifting until you’re brushing between your thighs again.

Some of your wits now back, maybe enough that you can get yourself off - just like this.

Eyes on his, watching him watch how the tip of one circles your clit. The small rock of your hips that just barely causes him to move, buried in you. But it’s enough.

Your head tilting back as you set a pace, rolling your hips, again - again. Touching yourself, his name peppered in with the panting of your breath.

“Hopper, oh my god-“

And finally he finds his voice, fingers so tight you think they’ll leave bruises. The words skittering across your skin, as his head tilts up to yours, words coaxing, “That’s right sweetheart. Take what you need.”

Eyes fluttering open as the pleasure builds again as pressing your fingers harder, circling faster.

He’d been worrying about you dying earlier - just for a moment. Now he’s worrying about himself, heart pounding in his chest, listening to each little mewling gasp from your lips as you use him.

Fucking yourself with shallow thrusts on his cock, your pretty face screwed up in concentration. Each breath growing shorter and shorter - he can feel you starting to tense underneath him, the clench of your pussy around him as you squeeze in anticipation.

Keeping himself still, letting you get off on him - thinking that he’ll throw you off your rhythm if he moves, desperately wanting to see how it feels when you come on his cock.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Your eyes all but roll shut as your release hits you. The heavy shudder of your body, surprising him with the sharp jerk of your hips. Taking him even deeper - almost all the way as you flutter around him.

Even better than how you felt on his tongue, better than he’s imagined. The sounds you make louder and rougher when you’re stuffed full of him - as he lowers himself down, hands easing off you.

Letting you wrap your arms around his shoulders, face buried in his neck as you drift back down. Holding you until your hips stop moving - waiting until you relax before he slips from you.

You frown, not understanding until he rising up, nudging at your hips. Giving you room to flip over, his palm warm as it slides down your back.

“Hands and knees, baby.”

Wobbling only a little as you push yourself to your knees, back curving as your torso slips back down, pressing against the mattress.

Shifting until your ass rests flush against his front, letting you feel the thick curve of him pressing against your swollen lips.

“You want more sweetheart?” He asks, a thrust of his hips nudging his cock against you. “Or are you all worn out?”

Again putting the choice in your hands, though he wants nothing more to bury himself in your tight cunt again and fuck you proper.

“More.” You sigh, pressing back against him. Feeling and sounding more lucid - the desire more firmly situated in your thoughts, feelings, rather than chemical stimulation, “Want you to fuck me, Hopper.”

“Yeah?” He growls out, thumbs digging into the curve where your ass meets your thighs, spreading you wide.

“Yeah.” You confirm, the word turning into a moan when you feel the tip press against you again, and then he’s slowly sliding back in.

It’s still a stretch, even though you’ve already taken him, the angle so much different. He can see so much more like this, the tension strung tight in your back and shoulders, your fingers fisting in the sheet.

“Relax, sweetheart.” His hand smooths across your hip, thumb rubbing across your skin, easing forward until his thick thighs are pressing against yours, the curve of his stomach flush with your ass.

His first thrust is experimental - shallow, fingers gripping onto your waist. Rocking you with his movements as you groan, so sensitive that you think you can feel every vein, each ridge.

Again, and then again - until your cheek presses against the mattress so you can look at him, your eyes heavy lidded.

The peek of pink tongue between teeth as he concentrates, a hitch in his chest when you clench down around him. Shoulders flexing as your lips part, the words moaned out - a plea, “Harder. I won’t break.”

Fingers digging into your skin, as you add a soft, “Please.”

It tips him over, hands jerking your hips back - all but impaling you on his cock. Sinking himself deep, filling you completely.

Your gasp is low and loud, head tilting back. Urging him to do it again, and so he does. Gripping your hips as he starts thrusting, your panting moans mingling with the wet squelch of your pussy as he pounds into you.

Shifting, his thighs bumping into yours, lifting your hips, pressing you further into the mattress.

Changing the angle, his cock dragging along your walls. His forward thrust nudging against a spot that makes you cry out, muscles clenching, pleasure flooding your senses.

“Yeah?” He asks through clenched teeth, voice like gravel.

Finding it again, and then again. Your fingers gripping the sheets, lips parted as the moans are pushes out of you. Hurtling towards the edge, your hips rocking back to meet him the best you can.

And when his hand moves, fingers pressing against your slick, sensitive clit, it only takes a few flicks of his wrist until you’re trembling, your words a jumble of begging pleas.

“Oh god yes, Jim, please, please-”

Soaking his cock as you start to flutter, tight and hot and almost overwhelming him. His name sounding so goddamn good on your lips as you chant it, the little jerks your hips make as his fingers keep moving.

Your eyes shut as you ride out the waves, your body relaxing into his grip. Realizing he’s still thrusting, drawing your pleasure out, still pressing against your clit.

“Come on honey, one more.” You just catch the rough rasp of his voice, raising goosebumps across your skin, “Let’s get it out of your system. I want to be the only one helping you.”

Quickly working you up again, until his own thrust starting to stutter. Your tight heat too much, he’s not going to last much longer. Trying to hold himself back a little longer, but it’s he thinks he already too far gone.

“Fuck baby, I’m close,” Hopper pants, and thinking about him coming makes you moan. “Where do you want me?”

“In me.” You beg, already close again - from his touch, his words.

“Fuck.” He repeats, “Goddamn-”

His groan low, hips snapping forward, the slap of his balls against your pussy before he grinds himself deep. The sharp thrusts sending you over with him, your own orgasm washing over you as you feel the hot pulse of his ropes painting your walls.

Basking in the sweet feeling release as he ruts against you - until you’re filled - until his hips finally start to slow.

Chest heaving as he catches his breath, fingers carding through his hair, brushing it back. Your thighs burning in a nice, used way - your head pressing against the mattress so you can peek up at him.

Taking a long minute, and then another. Until your breathing finally slows, until the tension melts from both of you. A hand rubs your lower back, above where you are still joined.

“More?” He asks, his gaze heavy as he meets yours.

You clench down around him, squeezing him as his release gets pushed out, dripping down your thighs. He twitches inside you.

“More.”

———

Evening has fully settling in when the two of you finally collapse - his head hitting the pillow with a heavy, satisfied sigh. Your body going limp against his, pressing yourself flush against him.

Your cheek scrubs against the hair sprinkled across his chest, your movements slow and sated. The fire - finally, completely - quenched, the only warmth now coming from your sweaty, sticky skin.

The humor returning, now that the danger has passed. A rumble of laugher beneath your ear, the click of a lighter, his voice a low rasp before he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“If you wanted me that badly, sweetheart, you could have just asked. No need to go through all that trouble.”

Unbelievable.

Your head tilts upwards as you fix him with a glare, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to move.”

His hand lifts to cup your chin, thumb scrubbing tenderly across your cheek. Another breath that takes you with it, rising and falling as you sag against him.

“‘Lucky’ is goddamn right.” He tells you, his teeth flashing with his smile.

And with that, you find yourself smiling, too.

#please mind the tags! #been working on this for a bit - hope you like it! 💕 #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper imagine #hopper x reader #hopper x you #jim hopper smut #jim hopper

[cranberrymoons]

checking it twice

prompt: open mic night (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rating: t word count: 666 words 😱 tags: coffee shop au, modern setting, established relationship

hi friends! i've been hard at work on what i've been affectionately thinking of as a fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

---

Steve feels his cheeks go pink and start to thaw out as he steps from the chill of outside into the warmth of the shop, ice crystals melting in his hair and making it go damp, wilting a little where it falls into his eyes. He pulls his gloves off and shoves them in his pockets, shaking his hands out to warm them.

Max looks up from her phone at her usual place behind the register, curled up on a stool with a knee pulled to her chest. When she catches sight of him, she rolls her eyes, tilting her head back to shout in the general direction of the kitchen,

“Hey asshole. Your little friend’s here.”

Steve resists the urge to laugh as he takes a step toward the counter. 

“You know, I don’t think you really know who you’re messing with,” he tells her. “I’m actually very scary and intimidating.”

She raises her eyebrows. “That so?”

Steve nods. He shrugs out of his coat and drapes it over his arm. She squints at him, and he matches her stare.

“Ask anyone,” he says. “You want a mean girl, I’m your guy.”

She watches him for a moment, then snorts as she lets her feet drop to the floor. She pockets her phone and starts in the direction of the back room.

“I’ll let him know you’re here,” she says over her shoulder without looking back.

From her, that’s practically a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and Steve smiles to himself, tucking his nose down into the high collar of his sweater as he takes a look around the room, bustling and busy as they get set up for the week’s open mic.

Eddie emerges a moment later, hair a little frizzed out from the heat of the kitchen, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, cheeks flushed and happy. Steve feels the smile on his face growing warmer as their eyes catch, and he tries to ignore the flurry of butterflies that kick up in his stomach. 

“Hi,” he says, and – fuck. It’s only been a couple months, hasn’t it? How is he already – 

“Hey,” Eddie says. His smile matches Steve’s as he comes around the counter, slinging a dish towel over his shoulder as he goes. He catches Steve around the waist. “You look nice tonight.”

Steve laughs. “Thanks,” he says, feeling the flush creep up his cheeks. “I worked from home today, so –”

“No monkey suit,” Eddie says. his eyes widen teasingly. “No buttoned up suit and tie.”

Steve smiles. “Something like that.”

“Good,” he says. “I like you a little casual.”

“I know.” He tilts his head to the side, letting Eddie tug him forward into a kiss. “You like me every way though.”

Eddie hums. “We’ll see.”

“Oh yeah?”

And Eddie nods, swaying him back and forth to the rhythm of the music playing in the background. 

“What if you showed up in a clown suit?” he asks very seriously. “I’m not sure I’d be so into that.”

Steve lets out a little laugh. “Now I feel like I have to go get a clown suit just to test the theory.”

“Listen,” Eddie says. He holds up his hands. “I’m up to try anything once. If anyone could make it work, it would be you.”

And that definitely makes Steve flush, which is just – he can’t believe he’s blushing over Eddie telling him he’d look good in a clown suit…? What is that even –

“You ready for open mic?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. He gives a little shimmy. “Going to surprise us all with your acoustic skills?”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, Drops of Jupiter,” he says. “Really wowed my college girlfriend.”

Eddie’s eyes flash. “Can’t tell if you’re joking or not. Kind of hot either way.”

“Hotter than a clown costume?” Steve asks, raising his eyebrows.

Eddie laughs, face breaking into a ridiculous grin. 

“Guess we’ll just have to try out both and see.”

[also on ao3]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #my fic

[s0lam33y]

At Last

A/n: mechanic! riri x reader, oneshot! inspired by @kissvamps (I still ain’t picking out of all of them stories)

Also this was not proofread read…so there may be an error or two or multiple, mb y’all.

——————————————————————————

You turn over in bed, a couple times. It’s happened so many times that you’ve woken up out of sleep to reach over only to be met with cold sheets. But you know you’re not alone when you hear the sound of the bedroom door clicking open. You force your eyes open and see your very tired wife. She comes as she always does, a washed out denim jumpsuit on, covered in years worth of motor oil and a tight white shirt beneath it. She’s covered in the thinnest layer of sweat with her toolbox in one hand and a bouquet in the other.

“Hey, baby.” Riri greets you, her voice raspy and tired from her lack of sleep. She doesn’t bother closing the door as she steps in. You’re unable to control the smile on your face. She walks towards your side of the bed and places the flowers on the nightstand. It shouldn’t shock you that she still gets you flowers since she makes sure to get them after every shift but for some reason, it still does.

The back of her hand strokes your cheekbone, gently lulling you awake. You’ve missed her for the last couple weeks, she’s only home for half an hour on a good day during her breaks.

You move her locs out of her face and tuck them behind her ear. You’ve always loved them especially when she has them retwisted into barrel twists. Her face is clear of anything, no oil, no scratches, all your baby needs is some sleep. You smooth your hands over the lapels of her jumpsuit before placing them on the sides of her face.

“I smell like fuckin’ motor oil.” She says with a chuckle when she realizes that you’re trying to get a kiss. You don’t care at all though, you’ve missed her too much. Her lips are anything but dry, the smell of oil doesn’t really hit your nostrils anyway. You pull her in and she lets you, kissing you once or twice before either of you get too far.

“Baby, c’mon. Let me hop in the shower, we can finish this up once I’m out.” She promises, her eyes low as she stares at you.

“Just wait,” She promises before turning around. You lie back, letting your back hit the mattress. You glance at the roses she’s bought, they’re all pink. Your favorite color. They’re fresh too and you’re sure she got it from the farmers market this morning.

It takes less than half an hour for her to step back out, in loose hanging sweats that reveal her v-line and a white crop top so short that you can view her toned abs that she’s gained from maintaining her physique.

You can already tell by the slow blinking and frequent yawns that there will be no continuation of whatever the two of you had going on before her shower. She settles comfortably next to you, instead of letting you lay on her chest, she snuggles into the crook of your neck and spoons you.

Her hands, calloused from work, wrap around your waist, tracing stretch marks and pressing into any skin she can reach.

“These flowers are nice, thank you.” You mention in the midst of comfortable silence. She gently pulls down your oversized shirt to kiss your shoulder.

“Mhm…the lady behind me was tryna get them before I did. They were the only pink ones.” She sighs, her voice so quiet that the vent in the room might be louder than her. She yawns again and throws one of her legs over both of yours.

Her hand gravitates from your waist down to your thigh. She gives it a squeeze and you hear her breathing even out. The silence and her presence begin to have an effect on you. Now that she’s here, you can finally sleep without twisting or turning. Your eyes shut and your brain can finally rest.

——————————————————————————

what y’all thinking? @pvnks0ul @kissvamps

(I’m personally fighting the urge to redo the whole story.)

#riri williams #riri x reader #riri williams x reader #riri williams x you

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi! I know the requests are closed, but for when you can take requests again, I would like if you could write as a kind of part two for "A second chance" Lucien's reaction when he meets his new little sister. I think it would be a very nice story. Thank you!

Couldn't hold myself back... This can be read as a standalone but the first part is here. 🥺✨

A second chance II

It ate at Helion for so long because he wanted to tell Lucien himself. Son or not. Father or not. The girl growing within you was his sister and Helion wasn't going to pretend that she was the only child. So he tried to invite Lucien over more than once, just the male had come up with every possible excuse to not come. So as the weeks went on Helion had just accepted that for now, this would have to be the way that it was and you tried to comfort your lover the best that you could but a thread of sadness lingered.

Your pregnancy stayed a secret for a couple of months. Helion was rather paranoid that someone might turn against him still. Especially with the new laws intertwining day and night courts. So it's a long way down the line when he's raising a glass at one of his big gatherings, hosting multiple courts. His speech is strong and captivating as always as he cheers to every high lord willing to create strong alliances. Until he's turning your way, a bright smile on his face, "And to my wife", he says, "Who's been carrying my babe for the past couple of months". You flash him a smile just a bright, hand instantly moving to rest on your tummy. Oh, how good if feel to need need to hold yourself back from running your fingers against your growing tummy. Loud applauses ring out and Helion's closest friends are there clapping his shoulders, laughter fills the room and it all finally starts to feel even more real. It's just the fact that Lucien's chair is now empty that makes your own heart sting a little.

And it's a couple of days later when the servant knocks gently on your office doors, pulling you away from some of the paperwork you agreed to cover for Helion. "My lady, you have a guest", your eyebrows knit together because you weren't waiting for anyone. Had your baby brain made you miss something? "What guests, Larry?", you say, scattering your meeting book, "Lucien Vanserra, my lady". Your body freezes. He never visits unless it was court-ordered.

Jumping right up you move out in the lower greeting hall that you assumed he would be waiting. And he is there. His deep red hair is such a contrast to the light interior. "Lucien", you call out softly and the male turns around quickly, nearly knocking the vase he was looking at over. He takes a steps forward and the guards instantly leap from their positions. But you lift your hand, "Out all of you", they all linger but the glare you send them is enough to make them think twice.

"My apologies", you say once again turning to Lucien, "Everyone's kind of protective", you chuckle slightly, watching Lucien's eyes fall onto your now round stomach. "Helion is a way for a couple more hours. If you'd like...", but Lucien is shaking his head. It was clear that whatever that's going on in his head had been clawing at him for some time. "Is it a boy...", he speaks up finally and you quickly shake your head, "No, a baby girl". Your hands caress the swell of your stomach and you can see the gleam that runs through Lucien's eyes.

"Are you safe? Is he not harming you?", the question feels so raw and you know those fears had been engraved there by no other than Beron. "Your father is excited to have a girl", you reassure him, "Should have seen him covered in pink paint yesterday". You chuckle under your breath slightly as the images of last night's nursery paint testing flowed into your head. You step closer to Lucien, reaching your hand out towards him, "You know Helion wanted to tell you in person but...", and he nods quickly, well aware that he was the one dismissing Helion's requests.

"I would love for her to have a brother", you mutter quietly, trying to keep your own emotions at bay, "or at least to tell her about you because you are family to us". Lucien sucks in a sharp breath. You can't imagine how hard it all must feel to him. Finding out that the monster torturing you had never even been your father.

The silence falls upon you both and you suddenly feel like you might have overstepped the boundaries. Until Lucien mutters quietly, "I would love to", he startles, "Love to be her brother". Your eyes softens, picking up with tears ever so slightly. You drew your hand closer to cup the younger male's face, his almost desperate eyes looking back at you.

"Give me your hand", you mumble, reaching out to Lucien till he slides his hand into yours. You quickly pressed his warm palm to the side of your stomach where you felt the light kick last. "That's your brother, stardust. The one Dad and I've been telling you about", Lucien lets out a surprised gasp when a tiny hand pushes against your skin. "She can recognize voices now so", Lucien is nodding desperately before saying, "Hey, little one. Sorry that I've been away but I'm here now... I'll protect you", that's enough to set the stream of tears flowing down your cheeks as you watch the two siblings interact. Once again feeling more than honored that you can bring a piece of true family into Lucien's life. "Stay for some tea", you ask the fireling softly and Lucien nods without a second thought.

And the surprise on Helion's face when he steps into the dining room. Fully prepared to bring a plate up for you to your chambers but instead he finds you and Lucien deeply lost in a conversation. And now he understands where all that extra love and happiness was coming from the bond. Lucien quickly stands up at the sight of Helion standing there but the high lord shakes his head, "There's no need for you to stand up, my boy". He catches your gleaming eyes, and his own heart leaps. "Lucien is staying for dinner", you say happily, to which Lucien throws you a genuine smile. Helion's heart nearly bursts because is this a step forward? Does it mean his son is willing to give him a chance? To give his family a chance? "Oh, and he doesn't agree with the guard placement", you mutter, making Lucien roll his eyes, "As eager as you to turn my home into a prison", you cross your arms over your chest playfully. Protective. Already so protective. "I'm more than happy to listen to his thoughts", Helion says and his eyes meet Lucien's. For the first time trying meets his son's gaze.

#second chance universe #helion x reader #helion imagine #helion x you #lucien x helion #lucien vanserra imagine #lucien x platonic!reader #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

For the smut dialogue prompts…how about “I need to come, please, I’ll do anything” and “Missed my touch that much, did you?” for Norton 👀

Norton be nice challenge (failed)

Rated Explicit | Warning: power imbalance

Send a line

If there is one thing you have perfected it is begging. Why? Because your lover likes to break you down, pickaxe against your hardened heart until it is not gold revealed but diamond. Something that is forever and takes the pressure of the very earth to create. Diamond hidden by your seemingly cold demeanor, but he found it. Chipping away, determined, he found your truth. Beautiful, sparkling, and eternal.

The second he has it, his greedy hand keeps in, and hordes it all to himself. No one gets to see you like this, no one.

Here you are all dolled up, sitting on top of him riding his cock, he grins at the sight.

If anyone saw how good of cockwarmer you are, not like he would allow it, they might try to steal his diamond away.

When he picked you up and placed you on the bed (all without pulling out), you hoped your begging got you a reward. No, all it got you is your wrists bound by leather to the bed's headboard.

“I need to come, please,” Trying to wiggle out of the belt holding you in place on the bed, “I’ll do anything!” This is madness, cruelty, beyond painful! There are tears streaming from the corner of your eyes by now as he has to let you come not once tonight.

He hums as he watches, his eyes taking in the sight of you, little ol’ you, it is funny how the universe works.

You who looked down at him now are now looking up at him. He who has you as his personal whore just so can maintain the luxurious life you are used to.

“I know you will.” Dark, deep, and you hate your moan when he touches between your legs driving you to arch your back.

It isn't your fault your father was a prick, it isn't your fault your mother was a harlot; what is your fault is how cold you were to Norton. He played suitor, did the charms and all, but you brushed him off.

Majesty Frost, a bitch in fancy terms, you ignored all your suitors.

But you couldn't ignore him when he gave your family a choice, give you to him or he was going to ruin them all. Their fault for underestimating the power of new money.

“Missed my touch that much, did you?”

He had only gone a week on some business in the city.

“Yes! God, yes, I missed you so much, Norton.”

“Me? I'm not sure, it seems you miss my cock.” Oh, he loves this.

“Please, please!”

“Fuck yourself on it then. Go on, but you better not cum.”

You sob as you do it, every time begging him to have mercy.

It is only when the creeping numbness started to settle in, when you were losing your mind, Norton fucked you like a beast. You got to cum finally, once then twice then a third time— Oh, there is a price for bliss. He gives you heaven then drags you into hell, with a laugh as you have no say in this dynamic with him.

#idv #idv x you #idv reader insert #idv x reader #idv prospector #reader insert #ao3 fanfic #norton campbell #norton campbell x reader #norton campbell x you #identity v x you #identity v x reader #idv norton

[gnomishcunning]

You asked someone to bite the bullet and ask abt Zevlor w a bratty partner and i am here, ate the bullet fucking whole dude. Thoughts and hcs for zev with a bratty reader? 🎤🎤🎤

shoutout to like, the eight of you who showed up in my inbox to ask. please consider this response the consolidated answer.

nsfw below the cut! MDNI

CW FOR: my headcanons bout zevlor's sex life, kink discussion, bdsm, d/s dynamics, sadomasochism, manhandling, breathplay implications, subdrop & domdrop discussion

so i mentioned this in my previous post, but for anybody who didn't witness it - i don't think bdsm is a lifestyle thing for Zevlor. he's been taking care of people his entire life, and while he adores taking care of his partner, he needs to be able to express vulnerability and relax, too.

subsequently, bdsm shenanigans are a special-occasions sex thing, maybe once or twice a month. one of you is going need to broach the subject about a session and from there, requests and preferences for the evening will be laid out, with a safe word agreed upon like, a week beforehand. for the record: he can and will be testing if you remember it

now, onto the good bits

a bratty sub and zevlor's general disposition as a dominant is effectively an unstoppable force meets immovable object hostage scenario, in the hottest and most erotic way possible

let me make this clear: he's never not dotting on you. he's kind and patient. he'll help you through your struggles and work with you to live up to expectations.

but the sweetness you've come to expect from the paladin you've fallen in love with has been put on the backburner. a better word now is mercy, because he will not let you get away with shit.

He's your Commander. it's his job to take responsibility for you and your actions, and he's going to insure you understand the full ramifications of your misbehavior

he tends to meet misbehavior with a funishment to fit the crime.

are you mouthing off? he's going to take away your ability to speak, whether that's through his fingers, his cock, or a gag. are you

ignoring him? he'll put you in a position where it's physically impossible to ignore him, whether it's bondage and shibari, or a blindfold to insure the only things you can focus on are his voice and touch.

denial is a regular tool in his arsenal. you need to behave nicely, or at the very least, submit to the funishments if you want to cum. zevlor's spent decades in tightly-wound control of himself. combine that self-restraint with the way he adores knowing how to please his partner, and he is very capable of bringing you to the very edge of oblivion, only to let it fade off and leave you frustrated.

overstimulation is another tool he utilizes, but in a very specific manner. he isn't the type to immediately increase the speed or strength of his ministrations after you'd cum, it's just...

he's relentless. he lets you cum, brings you down with a few sweet kisses, pets your thighs for a moment, and then... starts up again. he'll ring as many orgasms out of your body as he can manage, and he's not above using magic in the bedroom to make it happen. specifically: lesser restoration (and lay on hands) is among the paladin spell group (at least in 5e). have fun with that.

assuming his partner is a masochist 'corporal punishment', as he affectionately calls it, is on-board for either accidentally disobeying his orders, or playfully, purposefully disobeying. he's kind of the exact opposite of a sadist, but he enjoys the noises you make if you like it, so he's willing to compromise

he usually prefers to put you over his lap for the sake of spanking. he'd introduce a riding crop, after a very long and careful conversation about using said implement.

he'll always have you count. hells help you if you lose it

punishments, like. proper punishments, the type that make you consider the ramifications of your behavior, are only implemented after a very long and careful discussion where you communicate your desire to experience said ramifications.

unfortunately for you, he's creative, and punishments fit the crime. he's undoubtedly had some drill sargent experience, that'll rear it's head here

if you mouth off? be prepared to write lines, a dozen or fifty or a hundred

'I won't whisper filthy things to my Commander in public. I won't whisper filthy things to my Commander in public. I won't whisper filthy things to my Commander in public-'

lazying around when you promised him you'd be busy will be met with playful sparring sessions to "Get your reflexes back on track, love."

usually ending with you pinned to the ground by a hand at your throat (in a good way, you'd usually get fucked there)

if you're just being an obstinate fuck in general?

there's a wooden stool in one corner of your apartment. he can and will put you in time out, forcing you to just... sit there, and think about your thoughts, while he reads on the couch across the room, maybe enjoying a glass of while. look at you! you could've been snuggling with your hot tiefling bf, but no. you acted foolish and now you're in time out. think about what you've done.

regardless of the nature of the session, Zevlor has some staples: his mouth will inevitably find its way onto your body, whether he's teasing you with gentle kisses or bringing you over the edge with his mouth.

he still likes leaving marks behind since you can't tell me he isn't the lightest bit possessive, and it's his primary reason for never bothering with a collar. what could a little band of leather say that the ring of bruises around your neck already doesn't?

ultimately, zevlor's not really a brat-tamer. he's a brat handler. he feels no need to tame you, not when he knows you melt so easily with his attention and his touch.

now, in terms of aftercare...

zevlor's the type of dom to check in constantly, before, during and after - making sure you remember safeword, if what he's doing is okay, if you need a drink of water. this type of behavior occurs more constantly with a bratty partner, since the dynamic can sometimes obscure actual feelings and brats have a tendency to be a threat to their own health.

zevlor can also go from hot commanding officer to loving, doted partner in an instant. they're two different sides of the same coin.

his approach to centering his partner after a session is very sweet and tactile. he'd use soft praises, sweet words, and gentle touches to lure you back into your own body from that weird, floaty, no-thoughts zone of subspace.

if he'd realized it helped, he'd 100% start purring (another tiefling headcanon i'm fond of). it's deep and brassy and incredibly comforting

now, the side-effect of being in charge of legions of soldiers (including fresh and nervous recruits) is that zevlor's very efficient and effective at helping and managing the emotions of others, even if he tends to get swept up in tides of his own.

between that and how intimately he'd know the wants and needs of his partner to even safely enact a d/s dynamic (in his mind), zevlor's pretty damn good at picking up when you'd be heading into subdrop - whether it's mid-session, somewhere in the midst of aftercare, or even the day after.

managing subdrop is basically aftercare+, with the addition of insuring his partner he's a constant, constant presence. he loves and adores you, he's not going anywhere, and there's no reason to be ashamed of your desires, when they're mutually agreed-upon and enjoyed by both.

it's worth noting that zevlor's susceptible to domdrop. everyone is, but him especially - he feels his emotions deeply, especially in regards to taking care of others. he'll safeword if he's feeling overwhelmed or too out-of-control in a situation - his communication skills are too good for him not to, but. afterwards?

be prepared to put the bratty persona aside. be there for him. snuggle, reassure if you can manage words, just do everything you can to communicate how much you love him. making him focus on you, just you, is usually an effective way to interrupt the anxiety-depression-shame spiral

just keep an eye on him day-after, since the moods might linger. make sure to show him some extra affection, and maybe surprise him with something nice.

#zevlor #zevlor x reader #zevlor x tav #bg3 zevlor #bg3

[gyll-yee-haw]

may I request a smutty one shot based on this pic/the Cartier gala? 🤤 (I’m going insane rn!!)

https://x.com/bkgyllenhaal/status/1756016461481390325?s=46

Hii, babes! Thanks for the request, I went FERAL over this photo 🥵

Warnings: oral (m), dirty talk, a little edging, Jake is literally the cutest baby ever

Like 1k words

---

Pov: you took the picture at the hotel room you were staying that night <3

Here's the full story:

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"Look at me! God, you're so handsome!" You smiled, watching Jake doing nothing but sitting there... looking gorgeous and expensive.

"Fine!" He smiled, visibility tired. "Just one more, okay?"

Jake had a lot going on in his life at the moment. Tonight's gala was the ending of a long week of traveling and very little sleeping. You understood that. And you were there to give him support, on everything he may need... and right now, that man needed some rest.

"Right. Don't move." You told him, kneeling in front of the chair he sat.

He watched as you worked to remove his clothes. First his shoes, then his suit. Very slow and carefully, taking your time to feel the soft fabric but, more than that, doing things slowly for once that week would relax him. Just seeing you moving with no rush would bring him peace.

Once or twice he protested, saying he could do it and you didn't need to worry... but deep down he loved being taken care of, so he didn't fight back.

Once he was only in his underwear, you kneeled between his legs. Nails up and down his thighs, sending him goosebumps.

"Baby..." His breathing became heavier, body shifting on the chair.

"Hmm?" You asked innocently.

"Don't tease..." He smiled, gently stroking your hair.

"Aw sorry." You gave his thighs a squeeze. "But tonight's all nice and slow, you need to relax, Jakey."

He hesitated for a second, but allowed you to take control. It didn't sound like a bad idea...

You spread little kisses up his thighs... slowly going up until your lips ended on his underwear. You opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around his clothed balls, letting your hot breath tease him while you applied a little pressure with your lips.

You kept doing that, while your hand ran through his cock over his underwear. He wasn't fully hard yet, but he was getting there fast.

"Mmm so proud of you..." you moaned the words, sending a vibration that made him gasp.

"Baby..." He held tightly to the armrests on the chair.

"Hmmm?" You smirked.

"Please..." you weren't used to him sounding so... submissive. In other occasions he would probably grab the back of your head and pull his underwear down. But you couldn't deny you were loving this.

"Wanna suck you off, baby, make you feel so good..." you talked dirty, watching his now fully hard cock throbbing inside his underwear.

"Go ahead, sweet girl..." his knuckles turned white against the armrests.

"You don't look very relaxed." You teased.

"Hm." He chuckled. "Right, I'm not. It would relax me very much if you let me see those tits, baby, come on."

You smiled and stood up. Before he knew, your pretty silk dress fell to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

"You're a goddess." He adjusted himself on the chair again, so frustrated. "Come sit on my lap, princess."

You shook your head "no" and kneeled on that same spot again, between his legs. You could see a little wet spot on his underwear. Poor Jake was already leaking for you.

"Don't worry, baby..." You cooed. "Gonna get you some relief, yeah?"

You pulled his underwear down and he already left out a content sigh. But nothing compared to the sound he made when you wrapped your lips against the tip of his cock, licking all of his precum.

His hand landed softly on the back of your head, not pushing you or rushing you. More like encouraging you. So you took him as deep as you could.

You moved slowly. You gave him a show. Working your tongue on his favorite parts... the ones that got him uneasy on that chair. The eye contact and the way you moaned like you were having fun got him impossibly hard. The way you massaged his balls and eventually took them in your mouth as you stroked his shaft with your hand, got him bucking his hips, fucking your hand desperately.

"Shit, baby...." he grunted. "Getting close, so close..."

"Yeah?" You smiled. "Where do you want it, baby? Tonight's all about you..."

He couldn't think straight enough to give you an answer.

"Jake..." you squeezed the base of his shaft, making him moan painfully. "I'm afraid I can't let you cum if you don't talk to me..."

"Please, please, don't stop..." he shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on not letting go yet.

"Where, baby? Where do you want it?" You asked again, resuming your hand movements.

He wanted to scream I don't fucking care, just let me cum, but he figured it would be worse.

"Hmmm... come on, baby..." He moaned frustratedly. But soon enough he got a wave of pleasure and he realized he couldn't hold it anymore. "O-open your mouth for me, pretty girl... tongue out and... that's it, good girl, fuck, good girl..."

He could barely finish his phrase before you felt ropes of cum landing messily on your tongue, dripping down your chin.

You didn't stop stroking his cock until he put his hand on top of yours, forcing you to.

You stood up to grab a towel to clean yourself up. When you came back, you couldn't help but chuckle at his state. He was absolutely ruined against that chair. You rushed to sit on his lap.

"I love you." You kissed all over his face.

"I love you too." He left out that precious laugh. "So much, fuck, you're incredible."

"Let's get you to bed?" You suggested. "You really need some rest."

---

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x y/n

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

Any darker headcannons on Toby?

“TICCI” TOBY DARK HEADCANNONS

Oh how I’ve been dying to do dark headcannons!

[nsfw under the cut!]

I know it’s said he has bipolar disorder but honestly I see him as more of a BPD kind of guy. His moods can switch on a dime and that seems to fit more with BPD than the long highs and lows of bipolar.

Continuing on that thought, when he flips to that wild anger of his it’s absolutely terrifying. He goes on rampages where he’ll scream and yell while running around the mansion punching holes in walls and swinging his hatchets into doors. Often when the person who set him off tried to lock themselves away

He definitely beats the fuck out of himself and others, and he’s most certainly slapped, punched, or slammed your head into the table once or twice (more about this further down)

Usually after his rampages it’ll be close to three days to a week of solitude. He can’t bare to show his face after such an event. He’ll lock himself away and rot away in bed.

He’ll use his sickly sweet niceness to get what he wants. So don’t play into it until you’re close. Like years of knowing each other close. He’s practically a master of manipulation, knowing exactly what to say and do to get what he wants. He’ll use his perceived dumbness in his favor.

Due to his past he has some… Trust issues… To say the very least. He needs to know where you are practically 24/7. So when you’re gone for too long or you don’t respond to a text he automatically assumes the worst. You don’t want him?? Did he not give you enough? Everything you could possibly need? And back to the manipulation thing, he’ll make sure you feel terrible about not checking in. You’ll question if you’re even enough for him.

He’d definitely lose it during those times you’re away for too long or won’t check in. So when you get home he’ll be clutching his head and crying. When he sees you walk through the door he’ll immediately be on you, yelling and screaming about how you don’t love him. Telling you that you’re in for a punishment as he grabs a hammer or raises his fist. He’d probably break your arm and make it seem like it was your fault for ending up here.

He just gives me Tate Langdon from AHS vibes

He’s clingy to the point it’s almost scary. You can’t hang out with anyone without him lurking in the background. And circling back around to previous statements, if you hang out with anyone without telling him, there’s trouble in store for you.

Also if anyone calls him “Ticci” Toby, consider that your last words. It irritates him to no end and he has no problem cutting heads off

He’s never fucked anyone, he just screams virgin. So he’s the type to jerk off wayyyyyyyy too much. Like it’s concerning how often you hear it happening. And he’s absolutely shameless about it too. If you walk in while he’s at it, he’ll give you a sly grin and try and get you to join

And when he finally gets his hands on you there’s no stopping him. He doesn’t give a fuck if he hurts you, he can’t feel pain so how on earth could you? He won’t stop until he’s satisfied, he doesn’t care if you bleed, cry, scream or beg him to stop.

That first time would probably be hell for you. It would probably get better after a few more times, but he’d definitely laugh at your pain

He’s rather impatient when it comes to PDA or sex. He wants it and he wants it now

I hope you enjoyed this and it seems accurate! I’d love to indulge in requests with this side of Toby, I think it would be quite interesting 😉

#creepypasta #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta headcannons #creepypasta requests #ticci toby #toby rodgers #tobias rogers #headcannons #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby hc

[ponyosmom35]

friendly face

Simon ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter seventeen!

summary: after a heartbreaking talk with Ghost, reader looks for a friendly face.

warnings: ghost is a c*nt, cursing, fake flirting, Johnny is the loml

Liability masterlist:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

After a devastating realziation that the man she loved seemed to not give a shit about her, she was looking for the one person she knew did. She scanned the base for that familiar mohawk desperately. Johnny had truly been a godsend, he checked in on her regularly. Eventaully they started speaking on the phone twice a week. Johnny enjoyed hearing about her life, it took him out of the horrible shit he saw on a daily basis. She became an escape for him. She adored he conversations with him, he was always so positive and never failed to make her laugh. When she told him that she was coming back he nearly burst her eardrum over the phone as he shouted in happiness. She loved him, since Emma died he’d become her closest friend.

She is snapped out of her thoughts when a shoulder hits her. She looks up to see a friendly face looking at her emotionlessly “apologies miss, wasn’t paying attention to where I was goin”

“shut the fuck up suds” she says wrapping her arms around his neck, he laughs and picks her up, spinning her around.

“Sight for sore eyes, it's fucking good to see you!”

“well at least someones happy I'm here!”

“glad to have you back, how you liking Mexico so far?” he asks as he sets her down

“everyone has been nice, very welcoming. how long has it fucking been since you've felt my presence? you must be so happy to see me” she jokes, 

Johnny sighs and pulls her into another hug, wrapping his arms around her shoulders  “too long, much to long…”

“we talked like twice a week” she reminds him

“Aye, but it's not the same as seeing your face”

“that's true, nothing compares” she jokes, causing him to laugh “what's the deal here, how long do you think we'll be in Las Almas? Price wants me to come back with you both when you finish the mission”

“Probably a few days, depends how things go”

“how's it coming? Ghost seems... different”

“*ghosts always been a bit... different. But we're lucky he's on our side, without him all these missions might not go as well as we hoped... wait since when do you call him Ghost?”

“since he yelled at me as soon as I arrived today, seriously Johnny I don't know what I did wrong” she confesses, feeling herself get emotional once more.

“don't let him get to ya. He's just a tad bit of a wanker”

“I can't help it, I don't understand how things could change so quickly. I really thought for a second that he liked me... I guess I was dumb”

“Like you?”  he chuckles “that's the understatement of the century”

“don't joke like that Johnny”

“Ghost is head over heels for you”

“he's not, he yelled at me like he hates me. reminds me of the beginning of my time on base”

“I don't know lass, he's a mystery” he shrugs, she watches as he gulps and rubs his neck

“are you lying to me Johnathon?”

“I would never lie, it's un-becoming of a soldier”

“what do you know?” she questions, narrowing her eyes, sending him a death glare

“I can't say, he'd kill me”

“I will kill you”

“Oh really…” he says stepping closer, she pushes him back with a laugh. Neither of them aware of Ghost’s prying eyes watching their every move. Took every fiber in his being not to throw his sergeant to the ground.

“I'll get it out of you sergeant don't underestimate me”

“I think I just got a view of how you and Ghost get along, it all makes sense now…”

“What are you talking about?”

“you like to tease and joke with him don't you?” he asks as he wraps his arms around her from behind

“he wouldn't care anyways” she sighs, as she elbows him in the ribs tyring to get him off. 

“you think not?”

“He knows we’re friends”

“You say that... but does he actually believe it?” he chuckles as he spots the death glare Ghost was sending his way.

“I told you that he doesn't care about me, lets drop it okay?”

“I don't know lass, I think he does care…” he whispers in her ear, she scrunches her nose 

“I will cut your dick off if you don't let me go” she warns 

 “ok, ok, easy on there lass” he laughs as he lets go of her, she turns around and punches him in the arm, surprising him with her strength “that was a good shot”

“You desreve a lot more than that, now moving on I have a favor to ask you”

“Oh? What would that be then?”

“I'm rooming with Ghost, I was hoping you could switch with me”

“you know that's against protocol, I can't do that” he refuses

“Please” 

“I’m rooming with a stranger, safer for you to be with Ghost, he won’t let nothin happen to ya” 

“you should've heard the things he said, he hates me! I can't sleep in there with him! I’d rather take my chances with a stranger”

“what could he possibly have said to you that's so bad?”

“he told me not to call him simon”

“oh gods lass you know he doesn't like that! His name is Simon, yes, but he much prefers being called Ghost” Johnny scoffs 

“when he gave me his name it was the first time I realized that he didn't' actually hate me. after all of the fighting he finally trusted me! you don't understand, we connected. he told me things.. he told me everything. now it feels like all of that's gone” she says looking down at her feet, tears sting at her eyes. 

“I know how you feel lass, trust me I do... but you need to understand, he does like you, trust me. He's just not the best at showing it...I think there's a lot more going on in his head than either of us wanna know”

“what am I supposed to do? I can't just ignore him... not after everything” 

“just be there for him, that's the best thing you can do”

“what if that's not what he wants anymore?” she asks 

“It doesn't matter, it's what he needs” he reassures her

“so you're saying you won't switch rooms with me?” she jokes

“No”

“goddman you” she curses 

“I can't believe you even thought I'd say yes” he laughs 

“god forbid you be helpful!”

“I am being helpful, lass” he winks before grabbing her arm, pulling her toward Ghost  “no, no, no. We're not done yet”

“stop don't you fucking dare” she says as she tries to pull away from him, he smiles mischievously

“or else what, are you gonna tell my superior officer?” 

“I swear to god-” she stops as they arrive in front of Ghost

“oh come on, Ghost, don't give us that look” Johnny laughs, as he hits his LT in the shoulder playfully. 

“Stop fucking around and go do something useful” Ghost snaps as he works on cleaning out his gun. 

“oh cheer up, we're only having fun” Johnny says smugly 

“We’re not here to have fun, we’re here to catch a fucking terrorist!”

“I believe we can do both, Ghost.” she responds, defending her friend. Ghost looks up at her and shakes his head. 

“Johnny take her to the med bay, get out of my sight the both of you” he snaps 

“you heard the man, follow me” Johnny says as he walks off, dragging her along. 

“see what I was talking about?”

“I'll give it to you, he's quite the character”

“Nobody like him in the world” she grumbles

“chin up ankle biter, we'll be out of here in no time. I'm sure once we get back to base he'll be fine”

“I hope you're right” she sighs 

“oh you know me, I'm always right lass”

“I don't think you've ever been right once to be honest” she jokes as she tries to trip him, he dodges her and pushes her back slightly, both of them laughing.

“whatever you say”

“you've learned not to argue, I've taught you well!”

“Oh yeah, you taught me everything I know, boss” he responds sarcastically  

“bye johnny, save me a seat at dinner”

“Will do”

a/n:

I love soap so much omfg, the best wingman alive fr

Tag list: @vivi123abc

#smut #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley #cod x reader #angst #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warefare 2 x reader #modern warefare ii #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare fanfiction #modern warfare 3 spoilers #soap cod #soap mw2 #cod #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish #captain mactavish #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader

[morgue-ratt]

Pretty in Pink, A Valentine's Day Fic

Strade x Reader// NSFW// 2.6k Warnings: blood, torture, noncon, wrist trauma,

YOU wonder where Strade goes when he leaves the house. It’s only once or twice a week, he has everything delivered and he works from home. Still, the hours when he’s gone are a slight reprieve, even if this time he had left you locked in the basement.  

You know immediately when Strade is home, the door upstairs slams and you jump. His footsteps are heavy and getting closer and your heart fills with dread; his excitement is never good for you. You try to will yourself to calm down but any hope of that is gone as he flings opens the door at the top of the stairs. Oh god, he went to the hardware store. If that’s the case, it’ll be a long night with you and whatever new toy he found to extract his pound of flesh.  

“Liebling,” He calls, his voice light and friendly. You can feel your heart in your throat as he comes into view. “I’m home, did you miss me?” He doesn’t wait for your answer. “I brought you something!” He holds up a pale yellow, paper bag and your eyes narrow. You can see the lavender tissue paper lining the bag, clearly it’s not from the hardware store. More like a little botique. He’s down the stairs now and he shakes his head. “Silly me, did I forget to tie you again after this morning?”  

“What did you bring?” You ask, your heart pounding. Just because it wasn’t from the hardware store doesn’t mean it can’t be used to inflict evil.  

“Aw,” Strade rubs his thumb over your cheek and you wince. “Do you wanna see your present, Hase? It’s almost Valentine’s Day, you know.”  

“Valentine’s Day?” That does catch you off gaurd. You have no way of knowing how long you’d been here but... Valentine’s Day. Febuary. Nearly a year. It’s staggering. His collar around your throat suddenly feels heavy.  

“Yes!” Strade beams. “So I brought you something... special.” He shoves the bag into your hands and looks at you expectantly. “Well? Open it!”  

The bag is light, which gives you some hope that it isn’t something to inflict pain. Still, you stall as long as you can before you have to look inside. “Valentine’s Day.”  

“Look inside,”  

You pull aside the lavender tissue paper and you feel almost... sea sick when you realize what he’s brought you. You take out a light pink baby doll dress and a matching pair of lace panties. There’s a slit going up the front of the dress, stopping just at the chest with a tiny ribbon bow The whole thing is made of soft, sheer fabric with delicate lace around the edges.  

“Oh... Strade,” You should be releived that he wasn’t planning on cutting you to pieces but the dress makes your stomach churn. “That’s... so sweet of you...” 

Strade was grinning at you like you were something to eat. “Put it on.”  

“What?” You choke.  

“The sale’s lady was very nice, she helped me pick it out. Now put it on.”  

You know that tone, it’s the same one he uses when he orders you to cut yourself. It means do it or else, even though to anyone else it would still be playful. You don’t want to put it on, the idea of making yourself pretty for him makes you almost wish for the hammer. “Okay,” You say quietly. 

“Ah, Liebling. Don’t look so sad.” He runs his hand through your hair and you shudder. “It’ll be fun, I promise.” 

You don’t like when he promises things but you know arguing with him will only make things worse. You take a step back from him and look down at the dress. It’s so strange... this is probably more expensive than anything you have ever would have been able to afford but as you put it on, the silky fabric makes your skin crawl. You stood before Strade in the dress and panties and he gives you that horrible smile again.  

“Oh, Hase, look at you,” Strade purrs, you can feel his eyes comb over you and you cross your arms over yourself, looking down. “Aw, is my Liebling shy, hm?” He laughs. His laugh is always bright, it’s only sinster because of how you know him. “I have another surprise for you.”  

Your heart sinks as he turns towards his work bench.  

“No, Strade,” You can’t keep the panick out of her voice as he opens a drawer and pulls out a handful of nails.  

He laughs again and as he works, he hums a little tune. “There’s no need to be so... nervous.” Strade turns around, hoisting a bright yellow nailgun in his left hand. 

Of course. It will never just be a pretty dress.  

You start to back away. “I don’t--”  

Strade doesn’t seem to care, crossing the basement in two strides and putting his free hand over your mouth. “Shush, shush, it’ll be fun,” He says again.  

You’re looking into those... strange golden eyes so you don’t see when he suddenly kicks you in the shin. You fall to the ground and in a second, he is on top of you; his knees on either side of your ribcage, digging in slightly.  

“There we go,” He says, leaning in so far you can feel his breath on your cheeks, his greasy hair hanging around your face. “That wasn’t so hard, huh?” 

Strade’s hand moves from your mouth down to your throat. He’s smiling down at you, he can see your fear and he knows you well enough to know when you’re holding back tears. He traces his fingers over your collarbone. “You’re just so... pretty.”  

You try to shift under him and his free hand jumps to your left arm, pinning you to the concrete floor. “Strade,” You try but you’re silenced when you feel the barrell of the nail gun pressing against the skin of your forearm.  

He grins when he sees the fear on your face, finally his eyes light up with that usual sadistic glee. “Hase,” He purrs just as he pulls the trigger. Your forearms explodes in pain as it cuts through skin and muscle to the concrete below. You don’t even scream, the sound you make is closer to choking on your own siliva. In fact, you don’t scream until the second nail hits bone. When you do, Strade leans even closer to kiss you, effecrively cutting you off. Your tears stream down your face and into your mingling mouths. He pulls back to mutter something in your ear (“Du gehörst mir.”), but you are barely aware of anything except the nails in your arm.  

He pulls away, your mouth feels dry. You turn your head towards your arm and the sight makes you ill; they’re long nails, at least eight inchs. Your breathing gets faster and Strade notices;  

“Excited, Liebling?” Strade asks, brushing the tears off your face. He brings the nail gun to your other arm.  

“No,” You say quietly, trying to shake your head. Strade brings the barrel of the gun to your wrist. “No, no, Strade--” He pulls the trigger and you scream again. You try to twist away but it only causes the nails to tear through flesh.  

“Oh... oh, darling;” Strade puts the forth nail in, right below the crook of elbow. He’s enjoying this, your screams and your refletive attempts to get away that are only bringing you blood and pain. He’s elated.  

You’re sobbing so hard you could barely see him. He flicks the nail in your wrist curiously and you can only whimper. He leans down and kisses you, it was slow and deep and it would have been... sweet. Strade pulls away slightly, kissing the collum and your throat and your eyes flutter closed. Maybe he’s done, maybe his bloodlust is satiated, maybe-- 

You shriek when Strade suddenly sinks his teeth into your collarbone and your eyes fly open. “Look at me,” he muttered, his face buried in your chest before he bites you again, even harder. His mouth is covered in your blood, he watches it flow down from the wound like a cat watches a bird. Strade drags his hands through it and you watch, horrified, as he starts to draw hearts on your stomach and throat.  

The sight of your red only spurrs him on. Strade sits back on his haunchs, no longer looming over you, but only to undo and pull off his belt. You know what’s about to happen, you knew the moment you saw frilly pink lace. You feel it, wrapped around your body like miasma.  

The sound of Strade’s zipper cuts through the haze your feeling, dull alarm bells go off somewhere in the back of your mind. Strade’s calloused fingers loop under the waistband of the pretty pink panties and pulls them down. He’s being careful, he doesn’t want them to tear, unlike soft skin of your forearms.   

There was enough blood on Strade’s hands for him to use it as lube, you watch with lidded eyes as he runs his fist down the length of his cock, staining it red. He disgusts you. In fact, you didn’t realize how close fear and disgust really are until you ended up here.  

Strade pushes his way into you but it’s the least of the pain you’re feeling. It almost feels... nice, until he ruts into you. You move with his thrusts, causing the nails to pull through your flesh; your forearms, your wrist and your elbow. You can’t help but cry and again; “St- Strade, please.”  

“Shush,” Strade looks... hungry. He thrusts in harder than before and you scream. “Yes, that’s it.” He says quietly. He grips your hips as he sheathes himself fully inside you, watching as your face twists in pain. “Does it feel nice? Do I make you feel good, Liebling?”  

His mistakes your cries of pain for moans of pleasure, or perhaps he doesn’t care. Strade bares his teeth, the glint in his eyes is paralyzing. You can’t breathe, your tounge is heavy in your mouth. He kisses you hard as his hands creep around your throat without actually choking you.  

Strade is crushing you into the concrete, all you can smell is his him; sweat, beer, grease and metal. You can tell he’s getting close, no doubt your tears are helping him get there, he licks them off your cheeks, leaving your face coated in saliva. “Hase,” He breathes, his lips against your ear and he pants. He’s going faster and faster and you can’t hold back your desperate screams as the nails slash and pull through your flesh. “Mein süßer kleiner Hase,”  

One final thrust causes the nails in your forearm to rip further through your skin. He finishes as your scream echoes through the basement. You’re sobbing, your heart is pounding so hard in your chest you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it to. Strade lays on top of you, breathing heavy and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You can feel his smile against your throat. “Oh, Liebling,” He just lays on top of you his head resting on your chest as you cry softly. He doesn’t seem to mind, he’s watching you as he reaches up to wrap a lock of your hair around his finger.  

You loose track of time. Eventually, he gets up off of you and your eyes follow him. Strade goes over to his work bench. “No” You say, your voice soft. “No...” he only laughs as he pulls someone off the pegboard. You shift your hips but you can’t do anything more. “Stop...” You’re almost whining at this point. He turns around, holding the hammer. “No,” you shift away as much as you can.  

Strade settles on top of you, keeping you caged between his legs. He brings his fingers to his lips and you fall silent. You don’t even blink and he grips the hammer. He brings his free hand to your left arm, pushing it down onto the concrete between the two nails there. He uses the claw of the hammer to pull out the first nail and you let out a strained choking sound as the nail pings against the floor.  

“Shush...” He purrs, prying another nail free from your flesh.  

He’s... helping. He’s hurting you but it’s only to help. You met his eyes and try to even out your breathing. You sound like you’ve just come up for air as he claws the nail out of your wrist and your fingers twitch. The sound of the nail bouncing off the floor echoes in your head. You barely feel the last nail as it’s exhumed from your elbow. All you can do is sigh as Strade collapses on top of you yet again. You feel his stubble scrape against your cheek as he whispers;  

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Liebling,”  

#btd #boyfriend to death #strade #strade btd #strade x reader #btd x reader #frenzy scribbles