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acourtofwhatthefuck · 7 months

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Practice On Me — Part Four — Azriel x Reader

Summary: It’s Solstice! Reader decides she should probably be honest with Azriel about some stuff. Things don’t quite go to plan.

Oof. Okay. This could be uncomfortable reading for some. There are some hints and depictions of domestic abuse and also of alcoholism, so if that’s something that might trigger you, please, please do not read this. The last thing I want is for my writing to be harmful to anybody. Read with caution. Take care and put yourself first. Lots of love.

Also, please don’t hate me for this 😭we know I’m a hoe for angst and it wouldn’t be one of my fics if there wasn’t some sprinkled in there lmao.

Word Count: 5k.

Warnings: Depiction of abusive behaviour. Heavy drinking. Some violence.

On a brisk winter morning, when the sun hasn’t yet graced the sky, the last place you wish to be is at the Windhaven crèche, watching over a group of tired, grouchy younglings. Every second thought that passes through your mind is a longing one, lamenting on how desperately you wish to be back in your bed.

But alas, you owe your friend, Vegha, a favour, making you the sole minder of ten restless little girls, all annoyed that their brothers get to join their fathers for training, while they have to stay back and be…girls. A downfall, according to most Illyrian males.

You’re supposed to be watching over them for a couple of hours while Vegha runs an errand. And that time is going very, very slowly.

You’re in the middle of reading a storybook — and, yes, doing all the voices — when the door opens behind you. You feel a glimmer of hope that perhaps Vegha is back earlier than planned, but when you swivel on the child-sized chair you’ve perched yourself on, it’s Azriel who looms in the doorway.

And you…your heart does a silly little thing in your chest.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” He says. “I can wait.”

Your eyebrows flick up in amusement. “Come take a seat, then. It’s story time.”

His lips twitch, and he goes to reach for one of those infant chairs — which you’re not at all sure can handle all his muscle — but this sparks a flurry of complaints from the girls, who all insist that they want to sit with Azriel the most, and within seconds, he’s cross-legged on the floor with the children somehow managing to settle around him without bickering, and they’re all able to command his attention at once.

Happy mediums, and all that.

Your gaze lingers on him as he does all the right things; leaning his head down so he can appear less…huge, while listening with rapt attention to one of the girl’s chattering; steadying another one as they climb over him to get themselves seated; gently telling them all that they have to be quiet if they want to hear the rest of the story. That, of course, achieves immediate near silence.

And thus begins an entire performance of you continuing the tale, and the girls — and Azriel — responding in all the right places. They howl when they’re supposed to make the sound of a wolf, and roar when it’s a mountain cat, and you don’t miss that Azriel helps the tiniest of the girls to remember which animals make what sounds.

Most males in this gods-forsaken place are an intimidating presence to these children, frightening them into silence whenever they’re around, because girls are supposed to be seen and not heard. But Azriel is always gentle, always kind, and they adore him for it.

It’s a combination of all these things that force you to face a truth that’s been rapidly snowballing inside your mind and heart for the past four days — something has changed. Shifted. Has been shifting and changing for a while.

You laid awake for hours that night in the dormitory, listening to Azriel’s breathing as he slept deeply, happily sated from the pleasure you’d given him. Your mind had been too much of a war zone for you to drift off.

Nine years, you’ve called this male your closest friend. Ever since the very first day you’d met him, when a group of males had pushed you to the floor and kicked mud at you, and he’d jumped in and defended you for no other reason than that he’s good to the bone. Nine years, you’ve been by each other’s sides, and it’s been comfortable and familiar and just…right.

But now — now, you think you may have jeopardised that all by going along with Azriel’s request for help. Help with kissing. Touching. Experiencing.

You’ll always want to help him in any way that you can, of course. But you didn’t quite anticipate the predicament you now find yourself in. That you want all of those things and more, not just under the ruse of building your friend’s confidence. You want to explore more with him, feel more with him. You’ve been able to think about nothing else for days.

And it might make you a total wretch, but you want Kaeda to be a distant memory. The thought of Azriel taking what you’ve shown him, shared with him, and putting his all into somebody else…it sours your stomach. Makes you feel sick.

Makes your heart hurt.

And, well, you’re fucked, really.

It’s a kind of hurt that won’t go away on its own. It isn’t avoidable nor ignorable. And so your only option is to confront it, be honest about it. Whatever the outcome may be.

The story comes to an end, and the girls are calmed and sleepy enough that they look ready to curl up on the floor and doze off. Azriel peels himself away from the cluster of clingy children and stands up, strolling over to you.

“Well that was fun.” He comments quietly, taking the book from your hands. “Who knew I was so adept at doing animal impressions?”

“One of your many talents, I suppose.” You smile, drinking in the sight of him. He looks tired this morning. Tired, but beautiful. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His expression sobers slightly, and he tells you, “We’re leaving this morning. For the training exercise.”

Immediately, your stomach churns. Being away from your friends sets you on edge. Windhaven is a lonely, lonely place to be without the love of Rhys, Cassian and Azriel to warm you. And not even Rhys’s mother is here to make it a little more bearable.

Az immediately recognises the bleakness that passes your face. He steps closer, his hand a gentle brush against yours. “I’ll be back for Solstice.” He reminds you yet again.

“I know.” You attempt to force an easy, breezing smile. “What’s the plan for Solstice, anyway?”

Normally, Rhysand’s mother would cook a meal in the cottage. You wouldn’t be able to attend, given that you’re always stuck at home with your father, but by the time he would pass out drunk, you’d sneak out and make it to the cottage just as the games were starting. Some of your happiest memories are of being curled up on one couch with Az, Rhys and his mother on the other, and Cassian stood in front of you, making a terrible attempt at playing charades.

But it’ll be different this year. With the High Lord keeping a tight leash on his pregnant mate in Velaris, there will be no meal, no charades. You, Azriel and Cassian would most certainly not be welcome at their intimate family celebration.

“Rhys will spend the day in Velaris.” Az tells you. “Cass and I will be getting drunk. There’s a celebration being held at the dormitories in the evening, so I suppose we’ll all end up there.”

You dip your chin. “I’ll come and find you there, then.”

His responding smile is a gentle one; one that says he sees right through you, right through to the panic that’s eating away at you, and he understands.

There’s no way he sees everything that you’re feeling, though. Perhaps that’s a good thing.

Your body goes slightly rigid as he dips down and presses a kiss to your forehead. His hand squeezes yours, and then he’s pulling away. “See you on Solstice.”

He bids a quiet goodbye to the dozing girls. It’s as he’s heading for the door that you find yourself stepping after him. “…Az?”

He turns, hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“There’s…something I need to talk to you about, when you get back. Something I need to tell you.”

Okay. Shit. You’re really doing this.

Azriel’s eyes rake over you, and then he smiles. “We’ll talk on Solstice.”

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Your head’s not all there today, as you stare out of the window of your father’s forge. Azriel and the others have been gone almost a week, and you’ve spent every one of those days thinking about how you’re going to tell him…whatever it is you’re going to tell him.

You’re not even certain, yourself.

Just that…that things are different. That you know, to begin with, that this was about him and Kaeda — but it’s shifted in your brain at an alarming rate, and now that you’ve shared something so…so meaningful, with him, you’re not sure you can go on acting as though it was all just a favour.

Yeah. That should do it.

And it’s a huge fucking risk, of course. There’s every chance he won’t return the sentiment, and then a giant wedge of unresolved feelings will exist between you.

But you need to — perhaps selfishly — confront this before things between him and Kaeda progress. In case there’s a slight chance that it’ll alter the path it’s heading down.

And you haven’t thought any further than that.

The snow has started again, and you watch the flurries sweep past the window and join the thick layer on the ground. You’ve become so accustomed to the noise of the forge that you hardly notice it anymore — not the constant clanking, nor the heat that the fires swathe the shop in. You used to beg your father to teach you his craft, to allow you to get stuck in and get your hands dirty, but he’s always stubbornly maintained that it’s a male’s job, and that he needs you for the bookkeeping. You’re surprised he trusts you with that.

You breathe a soft sigh, your thoughts once again flitting back to Az. To what he might be doing, thinking, feeling. Whether he misses you as much as you miss him.

But before those thoughts can take a hold of you and sink you deeper into your predicament, the door opens, the bell above it ringing and a gust of cold air momentarily biting you.

It’s rare for females to come to the forge. Very rare, indeed. Which is why, for a second or two, you just stare.

That — and because she’s incredibly beautiful.

Her eyes — the colour of emeralds — sweep the workshop, before landing on you, and she smiles. She has the telltale tanned skin of an Illyrian, but instead of the dark hair that’s so typical around here, hers is red — not orange, not auburn, but blood red. You’ve never seen a shade quite like it.

And if that’s not enough to completely bowl you over, your gaze rakes over her clothing, and you stop, stunned.

Females around here wear homespun dresses of simple brown shades. A few, like yourself, favour basic tunics and breeches. Clothing is just a necessity, not something you lend much thought to.

But this female wears Illyrian leathers. Never, in your life, have you seen females wear Illyrian leathers. It’s simply not a done thing.

But she looks resplendent in them.

They cling to supple curves and accentuate a figure that you don’t think you’d ever be able to achieve with any amount of training. And perhaps the most shocking thing of all — and the most enviable — is the presence of brilliant, beautiful wings at her back. Unclipped. Untouched. Unruined.

How your wings might have one day looked, had your father not destroyed them.

You’re not entirely convinced that an angel hasn’t just stepped into your father’s forge. Or perhaps this is the Mother that everyone worships. Part of you wants to worship her, too, and beg her to bestow upon you her blessings—

You snap yourself out of it before you can fall head-over-heels in love with her. She’s just a customer.

A very, very beautiful customer.

“Good day to you.” She says, approaching the counter. Her voice is like pure music.

You incline your head in greeting. “And to you. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m interested in having some gifts made for my father and brothers. For Solstice.”

Once again, you’re gawking.

Another thing that’s unheard of; females liking their family members enough to have gifts made for them.

You clear your throat, blinking out of your thoughts. “What…what kind of things were you looking for?”

“Personalised daggers.” She answers, and then she grins in a way that makes you want to tell her your life story, and leans closer. “A male can never have too many daggers, right?”

You breathe a laugh. It doesn’t sound natural. “Absolutely.”

“I’ll be needing three. One for my father, and one each for my two brothers. Can that be done in time for Solstice? I can pay extra…”

This female has beauty, leathers, wings, a relationship with her family members, money. She’s magnificent. A few exchanged words, and you’re awed by her.

Who is she? How have you never seen her before?

“It can be done.” You tell her with a flustered smile. “I’ll just need to sit with you and get some details of exactly what you want made, and then my father will get straight to it. I imagine they’ll be ready for collection by Solstice Eve.”

Her eyes light up in a way that reminds you of sunrise. “That’s perfect.”

There’s a second or two where you just…can’t help staring. Her beauty has knocked you speechless.

But once again, you snap yourself out of it and try to retain some semblance of professionalism.

“Can I take your name down?” You say, and clear your throat again. Gods, you hope you’re not blushing. “For the order.”

You grab a piece of parchment and a pen, hoping you’ll remember how the fuck to write.

“It’s Kaeda.” She says, and the pen nearly slips from your hand. “Kaeda Baralas.”

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Solstice morning sweeps in just as abruptly as the fresh onslaught of snow that once again batters the camp.

It’s going to be a rough one. You can feel it in your bones.

You dread it every year, but this year is made even worse by the constant stream of thoughts that have been plaguing you over the last week. About whether telling Az about your feelings is a good idea. Not just because of what it could do to your friendship, but because…

Because you can’t deny that since seeing Kaeda in the flesh, you’re doubting yourself more than ever.

Of course, you can see why Azriel would want her. And why he’d want to be good and experienced for her. And you…you’ve been facilitating that. You’re the practice dummy. Kaeda is the real thing.

At least the chaos of Solstice keeps you busy.

You wake early, and from the noise and foot traffic outside your bedroom window, you know Az’s unit has safely returned from their training exercise. Your relief is short-lived, replaced by the dread of your father hitting the bottle.

Every year is the same. You spend the day trying to focus on your preparation of the huge meal you’re expected to cook, while your father knocks back drink after drink and gradually gets rowdier. You tell yourself that the more he drinks, the better — he’ll fall asleep eventually, and you’ll be out of here.

But then the front door bursts open.

It’s four of your father’s friends who pile into your cramped home, singing at the tops of their voices and reeking of booze. You’re only just able to stop one of them knocking a pot of potatoes off the counter with a careless, wayward wing. They barely acknowledge you, filing through to the sitting room to greet your father. Their voices get louder, and an ache is building behind your eye.

Day bleeds into late afternoon. You try to ignore them, to focus on the task at hand. Cooking is usually enjoyable for you, but with an unwelcome party happening in the next room, you find yourself getting more and more stressed.

By the time your father bustles his way into the kitchen and begins sniffing around the food, you’re close to losing it.

“Isn’t it ready yet?” Your father rudely demands.

You stare out of the kitchen window, at the dwindling light of approaching evening, clenching your jaw. “It is. I’m waiting for your friends to leave.”

“They’ll be eating with us.”

You whirl on the spot. “We don’t have enough food for that.”

“I told you we’d have guests.”

No, he absolutely hadn’t. This is a power play. He does shit like this all the time. Backs you into corners.

“I bought food for two people.” You snap, unable to stop yourself. “Not six.”

Your father’s nostrils flare. You know that look on his face a little too well — the one where his cheeks redden and his eyes turn cold. It’s always, always made your stomach lurch.

He steps closer, and you press your back against the counter, trying your utmost not to look intimidated.

“You’d better rectify that, hadn’t you?” His tone is deceptively gentle. “Be a good girl and find a way to make the food go around six people. You wouldn’t want to ruin Solstice.”

It’s a veiled threat. One you’d be wise not to ignore.

So you stare at him and he stares at you. And when he eventually nods and leaves the room, you turn and try to work out how to make a meal for two a meal for six.

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The mountain of a male beside you jostles your chair so violently that you almost fall out of it.

His hand grabs a roast potato from your plate. He shoves it into his mouth, chews, and grins. “You weren’t going to eat that, were you?”

The entire meal has been like this.

Perhaps it’s your ice-thin temper that has you staring him right in the eye; a thing many Illyrian males consider a great disrespect from females. “Would it matter if I was?”

He swallows and swipes the lone, remaining potato you hadn’t planned to touch. “Not really, no.”

The dinner is usually the only part you enjoy of Solstice. A meal that you spend hours perfecting, of slow-cooked meat and roasted potatoes and a colourful array of different vegetables that are cooked to perfection. It’s the one part of the day where you can just sit and breathe, because even your father doesn’t usually have a bad word to say about the meal you’ve presented.

This one has been pure, unadulterated hell.

To accommodate your unwanted guests, you’ve skimped on your own food, barely affording yourself a couple of mouthfuls. Wine and ale has been spilled across the table, and the conversation around it has only grown more and more uncomfortable — and vile — as the night has worn on. You want nothing more than to get out of here and find your friends, but your father and his cronies show no signs of slowing down.

You sit, staring emptily at the plates, the little remaining morsels of the meal you spent all day cooking. You try to block out the laughter and jeering, the disgusting comments, the blatant disrespect, but it’s all getting to you, riling you up. You’re not sure how long you’ll last without snapping.

Your answer comes when your father looks at you. And he snaps his fucking fingers at the finished plates.

“Clear this up, Y/N.” He says.

You know your father. You know what he can be like, the damage he can do. Your ruined back is evidence enough. And you know the wisest and safest thing is for you to comply and rant about him to your friends later.

But you’re far beyond that point.

You meet his gaze, and your jaw ticks as you shoot back, “Why don’t you clear it up yourself?”

You regret it the second the room falls deathly silent. All the noise is gone in an instant. Every face is looking your way.

But it’s your father’s face you’re concerned with. The expression that tells you you’ve made a grave, grave mistake.

“What was that?” His voice is quiet. Too quiet.

You look away. Wish you could cram the words back down your throat. “Nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” The male beside you sneers. “You speak to your father like that, girl? If you were my child, I’d string you up by the remains of those wings you never should have been born with.”

“I’d do a lot worse than that.” Another one remarks, a sickening laugh in his voice.

Throughout it all, your father is staring at you. Saying nothing.

“Did it hurt, anyway? Having them ripped off like that? I bet it did. I hope it did.”

Your final straw is when the pig at your side has the audacity to reach around and touch your back. You tense immediately, and you’re shooting up from your chair, knocking it over as you do.

“Don’t ever lay a finger on me again.” You will your voice to be stronger, firmer, but it won’t comply. You shake as you gather the plates up in your hand. “I’m cleaning this up.”

That’s met with a chorus of laughter, a pelting of comments. You tell yourself to block it out, block it the fuck out, balance as much as you reasonably can in your hands and book it into the kitchen. You dump the plates onto the counter and grip onto the sink basin, trying to draw in deep, slow breaths.

But then there are footsteps behind you. And the kitchen door closes. And you know that’s not good.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes shutter. You release one of those useless breaths before you dare to turn and face your father.

And when you do, his face is…soft. Eyes filled with concern.

But you’re not stupid enough to buy it.

You’re taut as a bowstring as he approaches you, stopping inches away. He drinks in the sight of you, tilting his head. You wait for him to tell you that you look just like your mother — a fact that only contributes to his vitriol. As if it’s your fault that she abandoned him, abandoned both of you.

He thinks it is.

His hand touches your cheek, his thumb sweeping the skin there. You swallow, hoping he can’t feel the way you tremble beneath him.

“What’s gotten into you, my girl?” He asks quietly. “What did I say about not ruining Solstice?”

You swallow. Lower your gaze. “I thought it would just be the two of us.”

“Do I not have the right to invite my friends into my home?”

“I’m just saying that a little bit of warning would have been appreciated. I didn’t spend hours cooking a meal just for your friends to come along and ruin it.”

“Your attitude has become insufferable. Perhaps it’s those three males you’ve been spreading your legs for. Giving you too much of an ego boost.”

You almost want to laugh in his face — laugh at his cluelessness. But your anger wins. Maybe you’re more like him than you ever thought.

“Or perhaps, father,” you snap, “it’s an accumulation of anger and desperation after twenty years of living with a repulsive, sanctimonious—”

He strikes you so hard that for a moment, you’re simply stunned as to why you’re suddenly on the floor. But the thwack of his hit rings in your ears, echoes through the kitchen.

And then the metallic taste of blood is coating the inside of your mouth. It’s streaming down your chin, and you’re not even sure where it’s all coming from, only that it hurts and your eyes are stinging.

Your father stares down at you. And in that moment, you realise that the eeriest thing of all is that he never glares at you. You think you’d prefer that.

He always stares with that emptiness. That icy vacancy. It makes his actions more unpredictable, more dangerous.

He lunges down so suddenly that you flinch, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. Your legs don’t want to comply as he shoves you towards the door.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” He hisses at you, ripping the door open. “Go on. Fuck off, just like your mother did.”

And then he’s shoving you into the snow, a plume of it erupting around you. You hardly notice the cold. You’re too stunned.

Not stunned enough, though, to refrain from biting back at him. Just like a threatened animal would.

“Fuck you.” You sneer, the words contorted by a mouthful of blood that you spit onto the snow. “Fuck you, father.”

The bastard laughs in your face. Just as he’s always laughed in your face. And then he kicks snow at you because he can and steps back into the house.

When the door shuts behind him, you push to your feet. You’re trembling all over. It might be the cold. It might be the shock.

There’s only one person you want to see right now. So you wrap your arms around yourself and head towards the dormitories.

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Halfway through trudging across the camp, your shoes sodden with snow, your lip still bleeding, the emotions begin to hit.

You resent them. You resent feeling anything at all towards the male who is your only blood relative in this hollow, hollow place. The one who took your wings. The one who has tried to keep a firm grasp on the control he has over your life.

But you do feel things. Hurt and rage and humiliation and — bizarrely — betrayal. As if some small slither of hope had followed you from childhood into adulthood — that your father would one day miraculously awaken as a different person. A family member worth holding onto.

He never would.

No, your true family has always been the small, loving group that crams themselves into a cottage across the camp; a place of warmth and welcoming.

Rhysand and Cassian and Azriel. Rhysand’s mother, too. They are your family. They have always cared, since the moment you met them.

It’s for that reason that you persevere with your walk, even though you’re frozen to the bone. You think you might be crying. You’re not too sure anymore. Your friends will make it better. They always make it better.

The dormitories glow in the distance; a welcome sight, for once. You kick through the snow with desperation, and you’re definitely crying, definitely shaking all over, but the sounds of the celebrations coming from inside are a relief. Playful jeering and someone strumming a lute and off-kilter singing.

You push your way through the door. Inside is as crowded as you expect it to be, but you don’t even care. Anywhere is better than at home.

Your eyes — not really taking in much at all — scan the corridors, the common area, looking for any of your three closest friends. You see none of them, but a hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to find Vegha there. Her eyes widen immediately at the state of you. You dread to think how bad you look.

“Y/N, what the fuck?” She blurts. “Why are you bleeding?”

“Fell over.” You know how stupid it sounds. “I…I need to find Azriel. Have you seen him?”

“Oh, I think he skulked off to his room a little while ago. Everyone knows he hates big parties like this—”

Perfect. You’ll hole up in his room together and block the rest of the world out. You’re already turning and pushing through people. You’ll apologise to Vegha for your rudeness later. Right now, you just need Azriel’s comfort, his love. The conversation you planned to have with him tonight is now a distant memory, an issue to confront later. You just…just want him. He always makes everything better.

You don’t notice the drink that gets spilled on you, or the disgruntled groups of people you have to shove through. None of that matters. Azriel is your family. He matters.

Finally, you make it to his room. The soft glow of faelights shine beneath the door — an indication he’s inside. You almost sob with relief as you grab the handle and burst in.

Two faces immediately look round at you.

Azriel’s.

Kaeda’s.

Kaeda lies on top of him, hands either side of his head. Her lips are swollen and inches from his. Azriel is palming at her waist, holding her against him. They’re both fully clothed, but…but you get the sense they wouldn’t have been for much longer, had it not been for your interruption.

Azriel drinks in the sight of you, his chest heaving. He blinks. You…you’re rooted to the spot.

And you fucking wince as Kaeda sits up slightly. Az’s hands fall back to his sides.

The beautiful female eyes you, tilting her head. And you want to get out of there, to fucking run, but you can’t do anything but stand and blink as something shatters inside of you.

“The shop hand from the forge.” Kaeda states in surprise, as if it’s ludicrous to consider that you might sometimes venture outside of your father’s workshop. “What happened to your face?”

Azriel is finally springing into action, then, sitting up and scooting out from beneath Kaeda. “Y/N…”

You cannot bear the gentleness of his voice. It may just finish you off.

All of this might. Staying here a second longer might.

So you, for some reason, shake your head and back slowly out of the room. Azriel lurches up, but you’re grabbing hold of the door handle firmly.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Your voice is all wrong and fractured. You quickly shut the door before it can morph into a sob.

You think Azriel might call after you, but it’s probably wishful thinking. You don’t know. Don’t know anything. Don’t know what to do next.

So you simply walk away.

You suppose you’ve taught Azriel everything he needs to know.

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a-hazbin-reader · 2 months

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Hey‼️

Soooo I was wondering if u could maybe possibly write an alastor x reader where reader has a secrets admirer and alastor is super jealous but he can't show it bc they're technically only friends and acting protective would be weird.

Bonus points if the read is completely oblivious to his jealousy and eats the snacks from the gift baskets all the time, right in front of him, and wonders why his eyes is twitching so much.

Pleaseee?

👀 I don't have time for this but-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being a red flag fr

Description: ☝️⬆️

What does Alastor care if someone wants you? He has no interest in taking you for himself. Nope. Not. At. All.

Would laugh if anybody tried to claim he felt something for you other than mild fondness

It's just been a particularly annoying few weeks because of all the gifts being sent to the hotel with your name on them, from some persistent admirer

So he does his best to convince you that they aren't good enough for you

Alastor feels his mood sour when he hands you a bouquet of flowers, your face lighting up at the sight of them as you hold them like they're precious

He misses the way your smile falters a bit when you read the tag, a small part of you hoping they were from the demon in front of you instead

"Another lackluster gift from what must surely be the most lackluster admirer on this side of the pentagram. Just look at how wilted those flowers are already!"

You shake your head and toy with the petals on the flowers, picking off the dying ones delicately

He loves me... he loves me not...

"Oh hush, it's rather darling that someone took time out of their day to give me something so thoughtful.."

You walk away to put the bouquet into a vase so you miss the twitch in Alastor's eye, the tight clenching of teeth and fierce grip on his staff

"Thoughtful? Those are yellow roses! Yellow roses stand for friendship, not romance! You can do so much better!"

Or another time, you offered him a chocolate, munching away on sweets while holding a heart-shaped box

"Are you confessing to me? You shouldn't, I'm quite the heartbreaker just so you know~"

He regrets saying the words the moment they leave his mouth, but they're the only thing keeping a blush off his face, taking a chocolate to shut himself up

You only hum and roll your eyes, putting a hand on your hip as you shake the box at him, mostly all an attempt to get his eyes on the candies instead of your blushing face

"No, my secret little lover dropped off a bunch of these and I can't possibly be expected to eat all of this myself, now can I?"

The sweet treat suddenly feels bitter in his mouth and he wants to rip up the box in your hand

"Oh, so that's why these taste so uninspired! Most likely store bought instead of homemade, such a shame."

You only snort and shake your head, popping another chocolate into your pretty mouth

"Who makes homemade chocolates anymore? Let alone take time out of their day to have them delivered to me?"

Alastor is embarrassed by the warmth and genuine emotion in his voice, his smile softening as he looks you over

"Someone who cares about you enough to recognize you're worth the effort, my dear."

He leaves quickly to avoid any further embarrassment, blushing deeply and sliding the rest of the candy boxes into the trash on his way out

"A-Alastor!!"

"I'm simply doing you a favor, my dear!"

He doesn't see your sputtering and blushing as you try to comprehend what just happened

Alastor can handle the flowers, chocolates and all other sorts of gifts but when the letters start pouring in?? He's about to lose his mind

It's been at least three letters a week, and he's sick of finding them outside the hotel. He actually rips up the ones he gets to first

He finds Charlie and Angel leaning over your shoulder and reading a letter in your hands, a soft blush on your face

Charlie was cooing over how sweet the letter was while Angel was obviously teasing you, making your blush deepen

"And just what is that in your hands, my dear?"

You jump and try to hide the letter but Angel quickly snatches it away to keep reading it, laughing as he does

"Toots here got another love letter from her secret admirer~ They think she's just the most precious babe around~"

Charlie is squealing and fanning herself with her hands as she jumps up and down, making you groan and hide your face in your hands

"Isn't it just so romantic? They're really head over heels in love with her!"

Alastor feels his eye twitch as he snatches the letter from Angel to read it over himself, ignoring the noise of protest that comes from you

Finally, he glances over at you, crumpling the letter up and ripping it into pieces in front of everyone

"Well now! That was about the worst thing I've read all day!"

It felt good to rip it up, picturing it to be your admirer instead

You stand there in shock, eyeing the bits of paper then Alastor, Angel and Charlie slowly backing out of the room only to peek their heads back in

"They... they said I was beautiful."

Well... now he feels a little bad...

He recovers quickly though and wraps a casual arm around you, guiding you away from the mess as Niffty runs in to clean it up

"That's exactly what they wrote in the last one! It's nothing new, I'm afraid! Truly, you deserve better than that!"

You pout and lean your head on him a little, trying not to look disappointed about the letter

"Yeah? And just what do I deserve?"

He grins at you and leans in, pulling you closer to him

"Let me show you, my dear~"

You simply roll your eyes as you let him lead you out of the hotel on a walk, enjoying the weight of his arm around you

There's no more secret admirer after that, which suits you both just fine

Here~

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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giuliettagaltieri · 2 months

Text

A Hundred Sleepless Nights

Pairing: Husband!Coriolanus Snow x Wife!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Beloved

Warning: perversion, explicit smut, unprotected sex, sexual euphoria

Word Count: 3985

5 of 7

Coriolanus thinks he might have made a mistake in choosing your honeymoon destination.

Mrs. Plinth apparently owns a private beach down in the south. She insisted that you spend your honeymoon there as it was more private.

Private.

A scowl made it to Coriolanus’ face the moment you arrived in the secluded beach town. He was still in his suit and you were still in your wedding dress. Anybody with eyes can see that you were just married. But the locals knew no shame.

The men, their skin bronze from being on the coast, fit from constantly moving, their faces sculpted manliness. And they seem to have taken a liking to you.

“May I help you with that, Miss?” A man asks you for the third time that night, referring to the handbag you carried. It has your personal effects, you would not trust anyone with it.

“That would not be necessary.” Coriolanus quips, his arm circling around your waist. The man straightens up and looks Coriolanus up and down before he grins

“Her other baggage, then? You won’t be able to carry them all.”

Coriolanus scoffs and you politely smile at the man. You know Coriolanus is more than capable of lifting baggage but there is too much of it, it seems unreasonable to make your husband carry them all.

“Oh, we have more than enough help. Thank you.” You say sweetly and as if on cue, peacekeepers and porters appear to start putting your bags in the yacht.

The man frowns, his mind whirring before he comes to a realization.

“You’re those politicians who just got married.”

Coriolanus looks at him, his eyes now sharp.

“Does the Capitol news not reach this part of Panem?” He raises a brow.

The man chuckles as he rubs his stubble. “Nah, just don’t watch any of that bullshit.”

“You watch your words very carefully.” Coriolanus grins, the iciness in his tone not matching his charming face. “The Capitol is not very kind to those who call our affairs ‘bullshit’.”

You look at the man with much fascination. You have to commend how he stands his ground, now sizing Coriolanus up, but his lax posture was breaking apart on the surface. Ignorance really has a feeble power to it.

Despite the burliness of this person, you are not too worried about Coriolanus as he had his fair share of training. And the peacekeepers are just waiting for the man to cross that fine intangible line, their postures tight and ready to spring.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us. My wife and I have other places to be.” Coriolanus leads you to the yacht where your luggage has been placed.

“The impudence of some people.” Coriolanus spits. “He does not even recognize the President.”

“I will talk to the mayor.” You attempt to soothe him but he clicks his tongue.

His jaw tightens before he takes a deep breath. “We agreed not to work while we are on our honeymoon.” He says but you can see how excruciating it was for him to say.

You grimace before breaking to a smile.

“If you say so, my love.”

You glance behind you and see the man still staring at you. You turn away when he sends you a boyish smile and a wink.

Coriolanus grunts when you cling to his arm tightly.

“Hurry, Corio.”

He straightens his back and slows his pace. “I see no purpose in rushing.” He’s not running away from anything.

It makes you roll your eyes but you match his pace anyways. You enjoy the night stroll, the cool breeze refreshing your skin that is trapped in your wedding gown. You wanted to get out of it the moment the reception ended but Grandma’am almost dropped her turban when you mentioned a change of clothing.

Perhaps it was an old Panem tradition but she said only the groom must free you of your bridal gown.

Again with the superstitions but Coriolanus and you both decided you’d listen. A way to apologize after that stunt you pulled in the middle of the reception. Coriolanus tightens his hold around your waist as you board the yacht.

“I’m hungry.” You tell him.

He nods. “So am I.”

With the pressure of the ceremony and reception, you did not get to enjoy the food served despite them being of the finest qualities.

“I’d love to have that filet mignon again.” You sigh as you sit on a sofa. Coriolanus watches you with a smile. Your face was full of disappointment and you looked adorable as your poofy gown swallowed you. “And posca.”

“Mhh, agreed.” He sauntered over to the glass windows. Watching how the hydrofoil cuts the waters below. The ruffling from your gown makes Corio turn to look at you once more.

You have occupied the entire sofa, now lying on your back as you stared into the tall ceiling. Your eyes have glazed over and he can see how your fingers picked at your gown.

“Tell me what you are thinking.”

Sighing, you close your eyes. He’s always so commanding.

“Nothing.”

He walks over to sit on the armrest. You look up to meet his glacial eyes with your own.

“There is definitely something in there, wife.”

Wife

You bite your bottom lip to contain your smile. Coriolanus raises a brow, his lips quirked up.

“Wife?”

You giggle as you reach up to pinch him but he easily swats your hand away.

“Are you regressing to your teenage self?” He pulls you up and slots himself under you so you are sitting on his lap.

“No.” You answer quickly. Too quickly.

You play with your ring as he watches you, still waiting for you to talk.

“I will hold you the entire night if you refuse to tell me.”

You shrug. “I’m comfortable.” His nimble fingers slip to your waist and your breath hitches.

“Yeah?”

You nod hastily.

“Tell me what is going on in that head of yours.” He whispers against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver to crawl up your spine.

“Corio!”

“Yes?” He flashes you that charming smile again.

“Stop it.” You say, your cheeks are now bubbling.

He tilts his head to the side. He is fooling nobody with this pretense.

You try to get off but he keeps you in place with a hand. He is looking around the room now, acting nonchalant to your struggle. He looks at you with his face passive and you eventually settle.

“Stop making me flustered.” You raise a finger at him and he grins lazily at you. The glint of those rather sharp looking canines had you retreating your finger back.

He sets a steady bounce of his leg, jostling you and you click your tongue at him. “What are you doing?” You grab at his coat to steady yourself.

“Trying to calm your tantrum.”

“I am not a child.” His sole returns to the carpeted floor and now just leans back on the sofa. “I can see that.” You ignore how his eyes roam to your bosom.

“If you must really know, I was thinking of having a new signature.”

A perfect blonde brow was raised. “Signature.”

“I want to keep my maiden name in it but I also wanted to add yours.”

“Ours.”

“Ours.” You echo as you smile at him meekly.

“You are a Snow now.” He reminds you sternly and your cheeks warm up as you nod.

“I know that, Corio.” You shift in his lap and he rubs your waist.

The air shifts, making it difficult for you to keep still.

A knock pulls your attention to the door.

“Mister and Missus Snow, we have arrived.”

Coriolanus looks at you and raises both brows briefly as if making a point.

You roll your eyes and get off, he lets you this time.

The private beach. Well, more like a private island. It was like how every beach shown in brochures is.

The staff is already waiting by the docks, standing tall and in uniformed clothing.

��Don’t worry, Missus Snow. The staff will be here only until seven in the evening.” The head butler tells you as he escorts you and your husband off the yacht.

“The security?” Coriolanus looks around the island, taking in every face that was present.

The butler nods, a proud smile on his lips.

“Stationed just in this dock and on the ocean.”

You would love to have privacy but not if it meant compromising you and your husband’s safety.

“Peacekeepers are also stationed on the coast.” The head butler reassures you. “This island is also being covered by the most recent security offered by District 3. We have sonars covering the waters. There is no need to be uneasy.”

It was these kinds of over the top operations that reminds you that it is the President you have married. His security can easily topple the peace that President Ravinstill tried so hard to maintain.

“The staff will come to prepare your meals and leave after the dishes are cleaned up. The day after tomorrow, the cleaning crew will take care of the linens and your laundry.” The staff bows at you as you pass by them. “Should you need something else. We are a call away. We are stationed in the ocean to respond right away to your every need.”

You share a look with Coriolanus. It was a bit overkill, you both can agree. But nothing less for the Presidential couple.

“Food is being prepared right at this moment.” The head butler continues.

The villa is nice and airy. Spacious and a perfect place to relax in. And the smell of food, oh it is divine.

“The gods heard you.” Coriolanus jests and you scan the table to see a glistening filet mignon. Coriolanus pulls a chair for you and you thank him. The head butler pours you a glass of posca and you smile gratefully.

Coriolanus and you eat your dinner quietly. Giving compliments to the chefs who are standing in anticipation behind you. You are generous in your praise, just to help in easing their anxiety.

You bid them goodbye as they all board a boat to take their leave.

When they are a considerable distance away, you and Coriolanus are able to drop the pretense.

“Ugh.” You groan as you grip your gown up to head inside the villa. “I refuse to see anybody for twenty-four hours straight.”

Coriolanus follows after you, his hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed manner. “Does that include me?”

You look at him briefly. “What a stupid question.” You link your arms to his and he glances at the clam expression on your face.

Now that he is standing so close, he notices just how much your childhood features remained in your face. Your eyes and lips stayed the same.

“There was this one time I found you under the tables during a banquet held by our fathers.” Coriolanus tells you and you don’t look up to him. “I accidentally kicked you.”

You only hum to acknowledge him.

“I slipped under the tablecloth and joined you.” He recalls. “And you stole my first kiss.”

“Corio, stop talking.” You groan.

“You told me you will be my wife.”

You purse your lips, not knowing how to respond.

Sighing, you finally say, “You were distraught.”

“I was five.”

“In the Academy. You hated me.”

“I envied you.”

Coriolanus opens the door and lets you pass first. You continue to walk until you find the bedroom and he follows suit.

“Is that why you preferred Clemensia Dovecote’s company?” You say sharply and Coriolanus looks at you as he leans on the vanity to undo his coat.

“She was pretty. A nice accessory.”

You walk over to him, throwing your arms on his shoulders as you look deeply into his eyes.

“You think she’s pretty?”

He shakes his head. “Not anymore. She’s more of a snake than a dove now.”

“But you thought she was pretty.”

Coriolanus places a hand on your waist to steady you.

“That was because I did not want to admit my attraction to you.”

You pull away, doe eyes looking up at him meekly as your brows raise hopefully. “You were attracted to me?”

“I am attracted to you. How could I not be when everything about you tells the entire Capitol that you are mine?”

With utmost shyness, you focus your attention on his tie, not quite able to meet his eyes. “You didn’t care.”

“The rosettes you used to wear in your hair were pretty.” He smiles as he tucks your hair to the side. “And so were the rosette patterns on the lace of your panties.”

Your movements have gone still. Your eyes wide as you feel like a bucket of ice was dumped on your head. Your eyes are frantic as you look up at him. His face was passive, not betraying him.

“You think you were sneaky?” He taunts as he starts to pull at your dress. “You thought I would not know about your naughty little secrets?”

You gasp when he rips a stitch of your dress as he tugs it.

“Corio.” You say breathlessly. “How did you-”

“That initiation we had in our first year.” He says gruffly as he pulls your gown once more until your breasts come spilling out. “You were to exit the academy with just your skirts and blouse.”

Your face flushes. “Y-you saw?”

“Everybody did.” He tells you and you bury your face in his chest. “It worked in my favor. No boys came after you in the Academy.”

You cursed the wind that day.

Coriolanus pulls your gown and his fingers hook on the dainty fabric that cupped your innocence.

You place your hands on his shoulders as he tugs them down. You cover your face as he gets the fabric off.

“Oh, will you look at that?” He chuckles as he examines the lacy fabric. “Still adorned with rosettes.” He twists the fabric in his long fingers and you swallow as your throat has gone dried up at the sight. You grab his arm when he brings it up his nose. He looks at you sternly. “Smells like roses too and feminine musk.”

You have had enough. After securing your gown, you turn back to him and head to the closet, muttering angrily but he chases after you and pulls you to the lounge instead.

“You are a…a sick man!” You say angrily as you pull away.

“If I am sick, then so are you for liking it.” He laughs as he finishes his work with your gown until your torso is bare but he never quite got it off you just yet. “Come here, my love.” He sits on a plush chair and beckons you by patting his thighs.

You attempt to sit sideways but he clicks his tongue and with much reluctance, you straddle him instead.

He keeps his eyes on you as he holds your hips, his fingers digging in the large poof of your gown.

“You look so bridal.” He says. “I’d want nothing else but to ruin you while you still have the dress on.” Coriolanus noses your cheek.

“You’d let me, won’t you?” He asks in a deeper voice, making you nod your head with your eyes closed and lip caught between your teeth.

He chuckles at your startled gasp as he prodded at your petals. His fingers spread to your lips, creating a wet noise that had you wrapping your arms around his neck once more as you hid away.

“She’s wet.”

You buck your hips against his when his thumb presses flat on your pearl.

“You like it?” He smiles against your hair and you hum. “Words, darling.”

“I do, Corio.” You murmur against his chest. “More please.”

He swallows thickly as he lets a finger slip between your folds and he winces lightly when you bite his shoulder. His finger was met with resistance but he pushed it further, willing you to relax.

“There you go.” He says as you start to grind against his hand. You throw your head back as your hands grip his shoulders.

“Mmh!” You mewl, your eyebrows pinched as hot puffs of air escape your lips that have bloated after being nibbled. “F-feels sooo good!”

Coriolanus watches your face as you move above him, his fingers dripping with your sweet honey.

The thickness of his fingers nudged at your quivering walls, it had soft sighs spilling from your lips. He curls his fingers upward and you melt as it massages the sweet spot inside you.

You suddenly gasp, bowing your head as your hands grasp at his hair. “C-Corio…I’m-…Oh!”

Your body seizes up as you pull him close, your walls pulsating around his fingers as you cum. Your honey stains your thighs and he revels at the look on your face.

Coriolanus carries you to your bed as he dips his head to kiss you. You are mewling his name through the kiss as his fingers keep massaging your walls. He gently slips his fingers out of you, the sensation most frustrating.

He slips out of his coat and you admire him for a while before trying to tug your gown off but he glares at you and your hands retreat from doing it. The gown is soon tugged from you and you find yourself covering your feminine parts as his eyes roam around your body.

Warm rough hands cup under your knee to part your legs further. You whine in embarrassment and you make an attempt to pull your knees together. Still so shy from him seeing your body.

“Don’t.” He warns and your bones turn weak, you feel shameful with how much your body responds to him.

“I’m sorry.” You say meekly.

Both of you are thrumming in anticipation as he unbuckles his pants and you wait with bated breath as he frees himself.

Coriolanus grunts as he grips his cock, pumping until you feel a warm dribble land on your stomach.

You watch his face contort with concentration as he guides his leaking tip on your entrance and you bite back a moan as the tip catches, the head slotting itself between your petals.

“If you hold back on your sounds, I would get upset.” He says pointedly and you nod at him, your hand running on his arm to soothe him and to get him to hurry.

Coriolanus hooks your legs over his arms, he holds your waist as he slips himself inside you.

Your pained gasp had him gritting his teeth.

“Just a bit more, darling.”

But that was a lie. He was barely in.

Your nails are biting at his arms, forming red angry crescent moons.

“Almost there.” He groans and you let out a choked sob, feeling the burn from the tight stretch.

Coriolanus inhales sharply as your tightness keeps him from filling you. He places your legs back on the mattress and he clicks his tongue at how your walls reject his size. He glances at your face before he tongues his cheek.

“I’m sorry, my love.”

You don’t get to ask why when he crawls on top of you, his corded arms slipping under you so he can grip your shoulders. He pulls back slightly and your juices, now painted pink with the mixture of your broken innocence, slips to coat your inner thighs.

Coriolanus murmurs apologies on your hair and makes shallow thrusts, your hands gripping his nape with the conflict of pleasure and pain, making you wetter and wetter. And in one full thrust, he sheaths himself.

Your eyes shot open as you clawed on his back, feeling yourself tipping before you came crashing down. Your flower clenches as it pulses around him, your slick overflowing with his tip kissing your cervix.

You are making noises that Coriolanus never thought you were capable of. Your words were more of like babbles as wet sobs spilled from your lips.

The sight of you, so debauched, makes Coriolanus laugh. “You come from just being stuffed full?”

Your glare up at him but your tongue is still unable to form words as pleasure makes tears leak from your eyes.

“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it?” He chuckles while he rocks his hips against yours.

He watches with amusement at how you throw your head back when he pounds on you. He can see your pulse jumping and he wonders if he knows how vulnerable you are right now. He grazes his teeth on the thinness of your skin and to his surprise, you mewl wantonly, only tightening around him.

“Naughty girl.” He chuckles but you look at him, offended.

“I’m not.”

He kisses your pouting lips. “Hm?”

You shake your head. “I’m not.”

“You’re not naughty?” He snickers and you nod. You are acting no different to a drunk. “That’s right. You’ve been a good girl, haven’t you?”

Coriolanus wonders if the look you are giving him are what they say heart eyes are.

He realized that he feels most powerful when he is on top of you and making you feel good.

Your feet absentmindedly slide to caress his leg and he smiles at your adorable display of affection.

Nobody would believe the sight of you right now.

So docile, so submissive.

The damp fabric under you was uncomfortable and it was too warm, but such tiny discomforts flew over your head when Coriolanus was making you feel too good.

Your big teary eyes look at him as your brows curl in pleasure, you were too adorable he had to kiss you.

You break the kiss with a whine, your heels digging on the mattress as your back arches off the bed.

Coriolanus understood and fucked into you rougher, trying to keep a steady pace but it was getting harder and harder for him to do when your soft wet walls rub against his sensitive cock.

“Corio, Corio please!” You beg him as your hands cupped his face in desperation.

He seethes through gritted teeth, his hands leaving a red print on your shoulders as he crushed you with his weight. You were sobbing, just needing him all to yourself.

And you cum once more. You are lost as every coil in your body snaps. You are unraveling beneath him and Coriolanus grunts, chasing his own high and he slots the tip of his manhood deep inside you and spills his seed.

You wince at the warm spurts of his spend and you pull him to share another kiss.

Coriolanus breathed heavily against your lips. He felt invincible yet ready to go down on his knees for you. No wonder why so many empires collapsed for women. He would gladly die if you asked him to at this moment.

Your sob pulls him from his thoughts and looks at you with concern.

Coriolanus tucks your damp hair to the side as he kisses your cheek. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did I go too rough?”

You shake your head as you pull him closer, your legs crossing over his posterior, burying him deeper inside you, making him groan, the tendons on his arms popping in an attempt to control himself.

“I love you. I love you, Corio. It felt so good.”

He chuckles at your words and he nods, dipping low to kiss your lips once more. “I love you too.” He looks deep into your eyes and starts moving his hips once more, determined to make love to you again.

You give him a tired smile but you encourage him by tracing his nape sensually with your manicured nails.

You share a look of pure fondness, so in love and lost in pleasure.

It was then you realized that you need nothing else but each other and you would do everything to protect this love you found.

Quest for Happiness

#coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #husband coriolanus #coriolanus smut #hunt for glory #quest for happiness

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reputationmunson · 1 year

Text

Bad Habit | Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

[3.0k]

Summary: your brother’s friend has a bad habit of sneaking into your bedroom

Content: Smut (18+ ONLY), AFAB!reader, r is Steve’s adopted sister and is a year younger than him, making out, grinding, oral/fingering (f receiving), virgin!reader, some pet names, fluff, two dummies in love <3

part two

The first time Eddie climbed through your bedroom window, you thought he was just trying to scare you. You had no idea you’d end that night in Eddie Munson’s lap desperately making out and barely giving in to the need for air.

Now, it’s a part of your nightly routine. It’s pretty simple.

Step 1: Get ready for bed

Step 2: Say goodnight to your naive brother

Step 3: Triple check that your door is locked and let in the cute boy patiently waiting outside your window

Sneaking around with Eddie made you feel alive. He sees you for who you really are.

Everyone else sees you as the quiet, innocent girl that occupies the corner of a room while your eyes wander, observing the people around you. While there’s nothing wrong with those things, Eddie knew you were much more than that and he was the perfect person to help you break out of your shell.

People expect you to be just like your brother. But when you turned out to be the complete opposite, no one paid much attention to you. As much as you loved Steve, being in his shadow made you feel invisible.

You weren’t much of a partier and you weren’t… friendly like Steve was. And by friendly you meant a little slutty. It was hard to get out there and make more friends let alone date anybody.

You were so drawn to Eddie from the moment you met him and ever since that first night he snuck into your room, you felt your walls start to come down and he’s the only person that doesn’t make that scary.

——————————————————————————

Three taps on your window alert you that Eddie’s outside. You scurry over to let him in and greet him with a quick peck on the lips. Your arms wrap around his neck and his hands find your waist, pulling you a step closer to him.

“Hey, gorgeous” He says with his signature smirk on his face.

“Hi’ You reply, shyly. Even though Eddie helps you out of your comfort zone, you can’t help but avert eye contact whenever he compliments you.

Every time you do, Eddie puts his hand under your chin and gently tilts your head up. “Don’t hide from me, pretty girl” He loves making you bashful almost as much as he loves kissing you.

Eddie guides you to your bed, never breaking eye contact. He falls backwards and pulls you down with him, making you giggle.

“I missed you” He whispers quietly, like he’s scared you’ll hear him being vulnerable. “I missed you, too.” Usually you would make a joke like “yeah it’s been a whole twenty-four hours. How did you survive?” But you always miss him.

You can’t exactly tell him you wish you could shrink yourself to three inches tall so you can live in his pocket and never be apart, so you cover it up with humor. But right now, there’s nothing funny about the way your heart is beating because of the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re the only girl in the world.

Eddie likes to tease you. He thinks it’s cute that you whine when he doesn’t immediately give you what you want. He knows it's a little mean but it makes him feel wanted and being wanted by you is the best thing he’s ever experienced.

His nose brushes yours and you think he’s going to put his lips on yours, but instead he gives you a soft kiss on your cheek. Then on your forehead. And one on both corners of your mouth.

“Eddiieeee” You whine and he chuckles. “What, baby?” He asks like he has no clue what he’s doing to you. So as expected, you do your signature pouty face and he has to act like it doesn’t affect him as much as it actually does.

You decide you can’t wait anymore. You take his face in your hands and lean in to get what you’ve been waiting for all day.

His hand comes up to grab a hold of your wrist. You worry he's going to remove your hands from his face, but he just keeps his hand on your wrist, rubbing it lovingly with his thumb. His other hand goes to rest on your lower back, sliding under your shirt. The feeling of his big hand on the bare skin of your back sends shivers down your spine.

Eddie’s tongue swipes across your bottom and you open your mouth to grant him access. He brings the hand that’s holding your wrist to where his other hand rests on your lower back. Both hands begin to slide up your back, making your shirt ride up all the way to your shoulder blades.

You let out a small gasp, suddenly feeling exposed. “You okay?” Eddie asks, worried by your reaction to your shirt being halfway off. You hum in response and find his lips again.

For the past month, you and Eddie hadn’t gone further than messily making out and clothed dry humping. It’s not that you don’t want to go further. You want nothing more than to rip his clothes off and then have him do the same to you, but you worry that your lack of experience would turn him off.

It was no secret to Eddie that you were a virgin. Considering he was your first kiss since Bobby Hopkins in the third grade and how nervous you got around him, it wasn’t that hard to piece together. Of course he wants to be your first time, but doesn't want to pressure you. If things never went any further and he had to go home and jerk off after every makeout session, he would happily do so.

After a while, you pull back for air and roll off of Eddie, laying on your side to look at him. He rolls on his side to look at you. “Hi” He speaks up, scooting closer to you. “Hi” You place a kiss on the tip of his nose. His hand comes up to rest on your hip and you cover his hand with your own.

Neither of you speak a word. You just stare into each other's eyes with lovesick smiles on your faces and soak in each other's presence. These nights are your favorite. Everytime you all hang out in a group, you ache to touch him. It’s difficult to keep your hands off one another, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make if it means keeping your brother from killing Eddie.

Eddie’s about to say something but before he can, there’s a knock at your door. “y/n?’’ Steve calls out your name from the other side of your bedroom door. Your eyes widen and both of you freeze. Steve says your name again and you know he isn’t going away until you respond.

“Y-yeah?” You barely get out. Steve tries to open your door and sounds offended when it doesn’t open. “Why the hell is your door locked?” He’s still wiggling the doorknob. “Because I’m allowed to lock it. How can I help you?” Eddie snorts at this and you glare at him.

“Do you have my walkman?” You can’t help but roll your eyes at this question. “No, I don’t have your walkman. I have my own walkman that I got on the same Christmas that you got yours. I’ll help you look in the morning.” You hear Steve huff dramatically and walk away.

“I’m gonna put on some music” You say before rolling off your bed. “Play my favorite?” Eddie requests. You were going to play his favorite anyway.

Once the music starts, you turn around and see Eddie playing air guitar. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You don’t move from where you're standing. You just stay put and watch him act like a total idiot. He’d act like an idiot for the rest of his life if it meant making you smile.

He finishes his air guitar solo and looks over at you and tilts his head. “C'mere,” He says, motioning for you to sit next to him.

Once you get to the bed, you crawl towards him and straddle his lap. Feeling hot and bothered, you place your hands on his shoulders and start to grind down on him. Eddie lets out a sigh and throws his head back to rest on your headboard.

Feeling bold, you take his chin in your hand and move his head so he’s looking at you. He puts his hands on your hips and encourages you to move faster.

You can feel him getting hard and you let out a small moan. Eddie puts a hand on the back of your head and pushes you closer to him, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss.

You’re moaning into each other's mouths and it feels so good, but you need more. You pull away from him and take a second to catch your breath, thinking of how you want to word what you’re about to say.

Eddie can tell you want to tell him something. “What is it, baby?” He brings a hand to your face and rubs his thumb back and forth on your cheek. Your heart swells at how well he knows you.

“I was wondering if we could take things a bit further tonight.” You respond and his smile widens. “Hell yeah we can. You sure?” You can’t nod fast enough.

“Lay on your back for me. Don’t be scared to tell me if you want me to stop, kay?”

“Okay” You smile and roll onto your back.

Eddie hovers over you and leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips. Then he starts to kiss down your jaw and to your neck. He starts with light kisses and when he hits the sensitive spot on your neck, he kisses harder. He starts to suck on your sensitive spot, making you moan.

Usually, you both steer clear hickeys to avoid questionings from any of your friends and your brother, especially. But right now, you’re so turned on you can’t find it in yourself to care. You wrap your arms around his back and push his full weight onto you. He licks and kisses at the fresh mark.

“Fuck, that feels nice” You moan out. “Want me to do something even better?” He pulls back and smirks at you. “Please.”

He goes to tug at the hem of your shirt and looks at you for approval. Once you give it to him, he removes your shirt and is pleased to see that you aren’t wearing a bra. He looks up at you and raises his eyebrows. “What? No sane woman wears a bra to bed.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Trust me, I am not complaining.”

He goes back to kissing your neck. His kisses start moving down to your chest and he plants one on each of your breasts before taking one of your nipples in his mouth.

It feels…different, but in the best way possible. “Eddie, that feels so good” You’re trying to keep quiet but you’re feeling things you’ve never felt before.

“Say my name again”

“Do something that will make me say your name again”

You can tell he’s surprised at that.

“Challenge accepted”

He kisses down your stomach and puts his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. At a torturously slow place, he pulls your shorts down and throws them on the floor. “No panties either? Is it my birthday, sweetheart?” You laugh and roll your eyes. “Get back to it, Munson” You say in the most unserious tone ever. “Jeez, okay. Someone’s bossy”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you, uh, take your shirt off too? This feels unfair”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to take off his shirt.

“Maybe your pants too?”

“Anything for you” And he means it.

He stands up to take off his pants. Once they’re off you can see how hard he is and your jaw drops. Your clit throbs at the sight and you involuntarily whine.

Eddie sits on his knees, placing himself in between your legs. “I’m gonna touch you now, okay?” “Eddie, please. Need you” you mewl.

He runs a finger through your folds and groans at how wet you are. “All this for me, baby?”

You nod “Just for you. Always”

“Tell me, pretty girl. Do you ever touch yourself and think of me?” He starts to slowly rub your clit. Your eyes roll back and you slap your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. “Tell me or I’ll stop” You remove your hand from your mouth and try to keep quiet. “Yes. Every night after you leave”

He starts rubbing your clit a little faster and you start to lose composure. “What do you think about?”

“I think about you touching me. Just like this. Or going down on me. I think about your cock inside me. Fucking me until I can’t take it anymore” You admit. “Hmm. I think we could start to make some of those fantasies realities”

He removes his fingers from your clit and you feel like you’re gonna pass away if he doesn’t make you cum any time soon. “Eddie, please don’t stop. pleasepleaseplease. Touch me again” You feel desperate for begging, but lucky for you, Eddie is even more turned on than before.

He doesn’t say anything. He just lays down between your legs, admiring how wet you are. You’re about to beg some more but then he starts to run his tongue up and down your folds. “Oh my god”

He begins to suck your clit and it feels so fucking good you can’t believe it. Sure, you’ve heard your friends talk about it, but you never would’ve imagined it feeling this good.

Your eyes start to tear up and you look down at Eddie, letting out a moan when you see how much he’s enjoying it.

Your fingers thread through his hair and pull it a little, making him moan into your pussy. You swear you feel the vibrations throughout your entire body. You don’t think it can get any better until Eddie slowly inserts a finger into you. You would have expected it to feel uncomfortable, but there's nothing unpleasant about it. “More, Eds” You plead.

He thinks about teasing you for a second, but he knows how badly you want it. He obliges and inserts another finger, reaching that spot you can never reach on your own.

You can feel the tension building in your stomach and Eddie starts going faster. His fingers are pumping in and out of you and you can hear how wet you are. He’s eating you out like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Eddie can’t help rutting up against the mattress. The way your pussy feels and the noises you make are driving him fucking mad. Both of you swear you’ve died and gone to heaven.

It hits you like a fucking bus. Your back is arching off the bed and you have to cover your face with your pillow because it’s impossible to keep quiet. You’ve never been more thankful that you don’t share a wall with Steve.

Eddie works you through your orgasm and slowly takes his fingers out of you when you're finished. You look lifeless and he can’t help but chuckle at how blissed out you look. He slowly crawls next to you and lays down,

“You alright?” He whispers.

“Well, I feel like I left my body for a second so I would say I’m more than alright.”

“Good. So you had fun?” Eddie sounds insecure. You turn to look at him before you respond.

“Eddie, were you not there? I was losing my mind. I had no idea it could be that good” You give him a well-deserved ego boost and he flashes his million dollar smile. “Okay, your turn.” You say, eagerly. “Don’t worry, babe. I came in my boxer like a goddamn teenager.” His cheeks turn red and you give him a kiss on the cheek. “Next time?” you ask. “Definitely”

You lay your head on his chest and he wraps an arm around you. “Thank you” You say, snuggling as close as possible. “For what?” He starts to rub your back. “Everything. My life’s better with you in it’’ Eddie’s heart nearly bursts. He can’t believe he’s improved your life even a little bit.

“Anything for my girl” He kisses the top of your head. Your lift your head up and look at him with the biggest smile on your face “Your girl?” Eddie tries to play it cool “Yeah, if that’s something you’d be interested in.” You can’t think of anything else you’d rather be. “Only if you agree to be my boyfriend.” “Hm.. can I think about it?” You playfully smack his chest. He grabs your hand and kissed it, looking into your eyes.

“How about you agree to be my girlfriend and I’ll agree to be your boyfriend and everyone’s happy”

“Deal, boyfriend” You can’t resist the urge to kiss him any longer. He hums in appreciation and the kiss goes on longer than intended.

“I should probably get going” He sighs. “Nooooo” you protest, holding on to him tighter. “I know, but I gotta unless you want to risk your overprotective brother finding out I’m here” You know he’s right and you move allowing him to get up. He hands you the clothes thrown on the floor and you both get dressed.

“Maybe I can stay with you tomorrow night? I can tell Steve I’m staying with a friend.” You move to stand in front of Eddie. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He smiles and pulls you in for a hug.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” You nod and he gives you one last kiss.

You watch him climb out of your window and after you shut it, you stare out your window to watch him run out of your yard. He turns around to give you a wave and being the wonderful girlfriend that you are, you decide to flash him. Without hesitation, Eddie lifts his shirt up and flashes you back, causing you to laugh a little too loud.

There’s no doubt in your mind that this is the man you’re going to spend your life with.

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x harrington!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #18+ fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb

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mrsackermannx · 4 months

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chef!sukuna who’s still lower in the rank than he wants to be, but so close to being a sous. tonight is his night to do the night’s special dish, finally. he earned this. he knew that if the head chef just let him, he could create the best dish ever served at this damn place.

so, he does just that.

he’s immediately scolded, the dish uses too many ingredients, the head says. too much to prepare. too ambitious. even though he used all of the left over ingredients from the menu’s usuals. 0% waste, 0% additional cost.

sukuna curses, taking a deeper drag of his cigarette. “make sure no table gets that shit,” he hears, with his fists clenching at his sides. ill go to the gym after this, he thinks, yeah, punch the fuck out of that bag.

it turns out that only table 8 has the dish, your table. the server messed up and now they’re crying in the back to the porter because they’ve been fired on the spot. “i told you not to fucking take it! have you never done expo-“

sukuna stalks calmly to the shaking waiter, “show me table eight-“ he sighs, levelling the head chef with a glare, sukuna was much larger, much stronger than him, difference in rank or not. he stood down, stalking down the other side of the kitchen with a huff. “ignore him, i wanna see who’s eating my dish, come on, let’s go.”

a reassuring pat to the shoulder from sukuna was almost enough to make him cry even more. sukuna kind of hated everyone.

“just there, chef. the couple, bedside the pillar on the left…its um…her, chef.” he grins, watching how transfixed the normally gruff man is, “your girl heh heh.”

“shut up,” he says, but he smiles a little.

he watches you, sat opposite some guy you hardly look interested in, you’re beautiful, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, as always, his eyes are drawn to you, no other woman could compare.

he watches you slice through his dish, the fork at your lips, as soon as it reaches your mouth you make a noise of such rapture, a sudden quiet falls upon the floor of the restaurant.

it’s almost weird how heat rushes low at the sight and the sound, he can’t remember the last time anyone else fired him up like this. he never took himself to have any kind of food fetish, either. yet watching you eat his dishes always seems to be an erotic exchange he never anticipates.

“oh…him? think they’re married?”

“i don’t think so.”

that man seems to hiss at you, eyes on his watch, barely touching his dish. “i wanted pizza downtown, god.”

you shake your hand in dismissal, shoving another forkful in your mouth. “i wanted this, i always want this.”

sukuna let’s out a breathy fuck, and the server practically faints.

no one was immune to sukuna’s charm, then, it seemed.

“oh, fuck, table 7 saw me. fuck, chef ive already been fire-“

“go and give them a reason not to fire you. go, go to your table kid, it’s still yours, right?”

the table beside you seems to have called him over, asking for the same dish you seem to believe has came from heaven, telling anybody who asks.

sukuna can’t help but enjoy the lively affair, as the restaurant manager tries to explain over and over to more and more tables that the chef special has been cancelled. oh, how he loved this little bit of chaos.

“why?” your voice clatters through the cacophony like a piece of silverware on crockery. “this dish is phenomenal, the best ive ever eaten here and in this city, in this country-“

“miss-“

“taste it! can you not taste the hard work? the thought? its the best thing ive ever eaten. the chef who made this has impeccable taste and talent.”

your laughter rings through the place at your partners embarrassment. sukuna is about to pry himself away and head back into the kitchen, leaning on the side of the bar and then…your eyes meet, another forkful is waiting before those glossed lips. another sweet sound of joy rings through the air.

now you see him, huh?

your smile is sweeter than agave, “it’s you.”

your words are lost on everyone around you, but to sukuna he hears them as if you whispered them right against his ear.

sukuna was a tall, broad, and unquestionably handsome man, unmissable out of his chef whites, invisible in them, somehow. obscured by the ambient lighting of the restaurant.

you near him, like a moth to a flame, a sensual air to the way your hips flick toward him. “you-“

the head chef storms through to the restaurant floor, the door slamming you both into the corresponding wall. his large arms wrap around you, his hand cups the back of your head.

he slowly retracts his hand, and your chest rises as you resist the urge to press your cheekbone into his palm, “are you okay?”

his voice is deep and addicting, dark and dripping down your throat.

you’re beaming at him, like he’s an angel, like he’s somebody you already adore. he gifts you a lover’s laugh, “you seem to be the only satisfied person in the building tonight.”

“seems like you’ve satisfied me sir.” you wink, still letting his aura press you into the wall, he cages you in with his arms.

“oh?”

“last thursday. that soup, you made it, didn’t you…?”

“sukuna,” he answers for you, “maybe.”

“seafood special last month?”

“yes, and your name?”

for some reason he’s out of breath, you’re so close, so fancy in your silk dress, clad in jewellery that sparkles even under these dimmed lights. “reader, you…you’re a genius.”

“so you came to thank me personally?” he leans closer, swiping sauce from the corner of your lip. it lingers on his thumb, his eyes chase yours as he licks it. “how sweet of you.”

#chef!sukuna #chef sukuna would absolutely ruin and wreck my heart #sukuna x reader fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #this concept is just in my head i cannot #younger chef sukuna #food critic reader?!!#foodie reader???#now i want to write a whole fic about this

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bitchimasnake-sss · 6 months

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"forgive me one last time" ft. the monster trio!

headcanons of highschool!au monster trio as your boyfriend begging for forgiveness after fucking shit up

luffy:

- "yn" he mumbles, trailing after you in the hallways "stop trailing me" you hiss as you open the locker, shoving the books inside and taking out another "yn" his hands are wrapping around your waist, his neck finding home in the crook of your neck and he's whining again, "please forgive me, pretty please?" - it wasn't even like you got mad often tbh; dating luffy meant he is gonna do stupid shit and you're gonna have to deal with it but there was a limit to stupid shit too - you shove his head away from your neck, "romilda fuckin' asked you, "wanna go watch a movie??" and you said yes. how can you say yes to a date while you have a girlfriend?! do i mean nothing?!" "i didn't know it was a date!!" his hands are wrapping around you tighter, "i thought she was lonely and wanted to hangout with a friend!! you know i wouldn't have said yes otherwise ynnn~" "are you an id-" you huff, "i'm getting late for class, get off" you forgave his dumbassery on the regular but come on, now its insane - yeah you didn't forgive him - not until you came back to keep your books and take new ones for the next period and saw giant "i miss you" and "sorry" glittery stickers plastered onto your locker (did he steal those from a 3rd grader? youre not sure) - you huffed, opening the locker - your jaw went slack - the entire locker was full of your favourites. your favourite candy, the cookies sanji always makes during christmas (how did he get those rn??), your favourite soda and flowers - how did he manage all that in the time span of one period??? - at the side is a note in a scrawly handwriting, "you wanna go watch a movie with me? (asking you for a date, not as a friend who wants to hangout) boyfriend :)" - you ended up forgiving him only after he bought he a bucket of popcorn and kissed you during the end credits of the movie - he also had to buy you dinner from the baratie like a gentleman.

zoro:

- "zo," you huff, "it's like the thousandth time, ofcourse im gonna be fucking mad at you!" "i know" he groans, "i really know, but i'm sorry, please" "no. you can't keep saying you'd show up for my events and then fuckin' disappear like always!" - you're fighting in hushed whispers in the hallway, you didn't wanna cause a scene because you know how bad zoro finds public attention - you know he's busy training, busy with his friends and you know he loves you but a part of you wonders if he simply doesn't actually love you - he constantly fails to show up at your events, he has never outright called you his girlfriend in front of people who weren't his close friends and he has never even held your hand in public because he says pda makes him uncomfortable - you got him but it simply sounds like he's afraid to admit you both are together - "are you not happy with me?" your voice is breaking, crumbling into silent heaves, "do not lo-" "what?" his hands find yours, "no, ofcourse not. baby, i just had another practice and dad (mihawk) called me back home. im sorry, i couldn't say no to him" "i know b-" - he kisses you - in the middle of the fucking hallway, with other people around - he does it. that bastard. - his hands are tucking your hair behind your ear, resting softly on your cheek as he tip you backwards and kisses you till you cannot possibly breath "i love you" he says loud enough so that anybody within earshot could hear, flashing you a small smile his voice comes down to a whisper, "i'm sorry i suck at being a good boyfriend, i will get better okay?" - he follows through on that promise because the next time, he is standing at your event with a tshirt just reading "yn is the coolest" and a small, stupid smile on his face "was the tshirt necessary?" "yes" - ugh i love soft zoro

sanji:

- sanji had a (bad) habit of always backing you up - one might wonder what's bad about that but when he almost beat the shit out of a random guy for saying he didn't like your vibes - "sanji!" you pull him away, eyes widening, "stop it" "but yn" "you cannot keep doing this! you cannot keep fucking putting up a fight against anybody who doesn't like me-" "yes i can" "sanji." - it ended up leading to a fight and you stormed off into the class - you expected sanji to come apologize the very next period or atleast text you or something - but nothing. you didn't see him for the rest of the day. - not until it was 9 pm and all of a sudden, a cheesy pop song was playing outside your window and in your front lawn stood a drenched, blonde guy holding up a boombox and a giant wet, white sheet reading "FORGIVE ME YN IM SORRY PLEASE I LOVE YOU" - first of all why was he drenched? it wasn't even fucking raining - that brings your attention to his two best friends, luffy and zoro holding a hose at him from a distance (luffy is giggling, he's having the time of his life, zoro looks like he hates being alive) - "sanji why are STANDING IN FRONT OF WATER?!" "SO THAT YOU FORGIVE ME, MY LOVE IM SORRY" "YOU'D CATCH A COLD, COME INSIDE IDIOT!!" - well, he did bring a box full of home-made chocolate though, so you cannot be mad at him for long - did this event stop him from being a bit over-bearing? no, not really but eh, that's sanji for ya

a/n: cutesy little headcanon lol thankyou so much @scentisterror for helping me with this <3<3

#one piece #op #opla #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #sanji x reader #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #one piece headcanons #op headcanons #monster trio #one piece fluff

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livwritesstuff · 5 months

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i hit 100 followers while i was asleep (absolutely bananas imo but i’m so thrilled y’all are enjoying my steddie dads verse bc i’ve literally never had so much fun writing before) so here's a sneak peek of a wip featuring the Harrington fam

Eddie does not understand sports.

He may be approaching fifty years old and way past his old ways of rejecting every notion that doesn’t perfectly align with his own interests, but even after all these years, the wires in his brain simply cannot wrap themselves around sports no matter how hard he tries.

And he does try because, naturally, he has three daughters, Moe, Robbie, and Hazel, all of whom play sports.

To be clear – his kids can do literally anything they want, bar none.

He’s still in goddamn awe with the whole arrangement that is the life he lives every day – kids and a house and a job he loves and all that with Steve Harrington of all people. There’s no way Eddie would start fucking all that up by projecting his own weird quirks onto his children. He refuses to be the kind of parent that prevents their kids from doing anything just because they don't get it. If the girls want to play sports, they’re gonna play sports. Nothing wrong with that.

Still, sports are one of those things he takes the back seat and lets Steve hold the reins for, especially now that thirteen-year-old Moe is pretty deep into the whole basketball thing.

Steve understands the politics of the game, both on the court — like knowing which refs are gonna be biased towards which team and noting Moe’s play-time each game — and off. He schmoozes the coach, he’s friends with all the parents, all the things Moe, at thirteen, doesn’t even notice and Eddie, while aware of it, doesn’t understand. He still can barely follow the games themselves (and he goes to as many as he can, though he and Steve are outnumbered by one and with the prospect of the girls carting themselves around still a distant fantasy their schedule is insane so he can’t make them all). He does his best to follow his husband’s lead but Steve doesn’t always react to things the way Eddie thinks he will. He doesn’t bat an eye when a kid gets smacked in the face with a ball, nor at the impossibly loud thud when someone hits the deck (look — he gets the floor is hollow, but it is loud). He’s completely unbothered by the fit Moe throws every game whenever she’s inevitably benched for having an attitude with her opponents or her teammates or the coach or the ref or just about anybody who tries to get in her way.

As is what happened at Moe’s game yesterday.

Eddie hadn’t seen it — well, he’d seen it, but seeing something and understanding what he’s actually looking at are two totally different things. From what he gathers, Moe had missed an easy shot and gotten pissed off in her own little way about it, so she’d launched herself at whoever on the opposing team had gotten their hands on the ball after it ricocheted off the backboard. Unfortunately for Moe, the team they were playing had a reputation for being a little too aggressive for a middle school league, so when she’d hit the ground, she hit it hard. Moe had been pulled off the court by her coach (carded, maybe? Eddie still isn’t sure how that works in basketball) and scowled on the bench for the rest of the game.

Steve had tried to reason with her on the drive home (an interesting choice, in Eddie’s opinion).

“Darling,” he’d said, “I totally understand being upset about missing a layup, but I don’t know how to get it through your head that intentionally fouling someone isn’t the way to go about resolving that emotion. I love you and I support you, but I’m getting tired of watching you play for three minutes and then sit on the bench for the rest of the game.”

“Talk to the coach then,” Moe had grumbled.

“About what?” Steve exclaimed, “Moe — you do it on purpose!”

The conversation had ended not long later because Moe decided to give them both the silent treatment (a clear sign that she knew she was in the wrong even if she didn’t want to admit it) and Eddie thought that was the end of it (for that game, at least). Then, Moe threw them a curveball by spending most of that evening in the bathroom throwing up, at which point she admitted that her head had caught more of that fall during her basketball game than she’d originally let on.

Steve doesn’t mess around with head injuries (for obvious reasons), so the next morning he calls Moe out of school and brings her to their pediatrician to get checked out.

A couple hours after Robbie and Hazel boarded the school bus bound for their elementary school, Steve and Moe return home.

“So what's the verdict?” Ed asks as they enter the kitchen.

“She's concussed,” Steve announces.

“Like father, like daughter.”

“No sports, no bright lights, no reading, no school, no phone,” Steve says pointedly, and Moe only scowls harder. She’d been using the incident as a leveraging tactic in her crusade to get a phone. Not being able to play sports was a no-brainer; they’d all seen that one coming, so even as recently as this morning, she’d been claiming that she’ll “die of boredom without a phone,” while she recovers.

Even as recently as this morning, she’d been largely unsuccessful.

“Thirteen-year-old children do not need phones,” Steve had told her, “If someone wants to talk to you, they can call the house, and if it's urgent enough that it needs to be right now, you can get walkie talkies.”

“No one uses walkie talkies.”

“Your dad and I used walkie talkies all the time.”

“Uh, pretty sure it was just the one time, Steve,” Eddie pointed out.

“Yeah! And it worked out great!”

CONTINUE ON AO3

#did it work out great? or is steve's memory of 1986 a little fuzzy in 2014?#eddie is trying his best #basketball is very hard to follow if you don't know the game #as I have learned :/#steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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leclsrc · 11 months

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happy 3k!! 🫶🏽

"grumbling" and "narrowed eyes" for carlos?

in my dream – cs55

Carlos tries his best to keep you from leaving him lonely.

auds here... title from this but i listened to this on loop while writing (1d girls unite!!!! i was a true blue zayn girl!!!!!)

“That is my shirt.”

You stare at the buttons you’ve been nipping at, realizing a tad too late that it is Carlos’ polo, a plain white one similar to yours, which is somewhere else on the floor. Caught, you turn and find your boyfriend half-awake, sleepy eyes staring at your half-dressed figure. Smiling at his drowsy expression, you roll your eyes.

He likes when you wake up before he does. He finds you on his chest, drawing idle patterns; in the shower, where he almost always joins you; or like today, getting dressed to leave before anybody spots you on his floor. But even in a rush, with your hair all fussed up and a bed mark across your face, he still feels he’s caught in a dream.

“Okay, mister.” You make quick work of unbuttoning the several bottom rows, exaggerating the movement so Carlos sees you’re not in some thick plot to steal his Hugo Boss shirt.

He squints. “And those are my hotel slippers.”

You laugh. “I’ll take them off, then. I was going to anyway, I don’t think they allow cloth slippers in the media pen.”

Dissatisfied, he presses on. “That’s also my bracelet.” He sits up, smiling mischievously, and heaves himself off to take both your wrists and drag you back to bed. “And my hair elastic.” He swipes his thumb over the bracelet and elastic on your left wrist.

“I doubt that,” you say, climbing atop his lap despite yourself. You have work, you have to sneak out before anyone sees and starts a flurry of nasty rumors—but he’s always been good at convincing you to stay. “Your new haircut means you can barely tie a loop around it.” You rake your fingers through his blunt-cut hair.

“Well,” he says, shrugging, “it’s true. And you cannot leave until you have given all these back.” He stamps a kiss onto your jaw. “Sí?” He moves lower, to your exposed collarbones, the area of skin left uncovered by his slouchy polo. He smiles into your skin, smelling faintly of your perfume mixed with his.

“Carlos,” you mutter, pushing lightly despite smiling. “I gotta go.”

He parts from you and narrows his eyes. “Don’t.”

“I’ll get fired,” you quip, buttoning two more. He reaches up to unbutton them and you gasp. “Carlos!”

“You still haven’t given back my…” he inspects your outfit to point out something “of his.” “…Shorts.”

“These are your shorts?” You tug on the hem of the denim that hugs your thighs, clearly not his.

“Fine. My panties.”

“Carlos.” You can’t help but laugh at his desperation, endeared by the fact that he needs you close by all the time. “If you’re into that, we can talk about it in bed tonight.”

“Your report can be about how good I am in bed,” he jokes, hugging you close. You kiss his head and clamber off, pulling your sandals on.

“As a journalist, I’m a firm believer in not spreading fake news,” you say, laughing as you grab your bag and escape the hotel room.

You fix your hair before leaving, still hearing him grumble with early onset separation anxiety on the other side of the door, which opens when you’re just two paces shy of it—

—and a hand comes through and yanks you in for one last kiss, sweet and yearning for more. “Good luck today,” he says. “I love you, miss reporter.”

“Good luck too,” you mumble into his lips, smiling. “Love you more, Carlito.”

#f1 #leclsrc3000 #carlos sainz #car #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader

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smuttyfantasyfics · 1 year

Text

Training You

Pairing / Dark!Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x Innocent! Reader

Warnings / Grooming, Public Sex/Masturbation, Choking, Slight Somnophilia (Let me know if I missed something!!)

Bucky Barnes was not a good man, if people knew the thoughts he had about you they’d call him a monster. Maybe he was but he didn’t care, how could he when he was presented with you, so beautiful, so perfect. He knew he had to have you, it wasn’t a question of it but of when and how.

Marrying your mom was the easy part, he knew he was good looking, could charm anybody and your mom had always been soft on him anyway. He couldn’t have cared less about her but she had given him you, the greatest gift of them all.

It was easy to get you to trust him, so easy it was almost laughable but Bucky had a clear plan, one that ended with his cock buried in you until you were sobbing, begging for more, begging for less, a mess on his cock as he fucked you.

It started of innocently enough, he had to get you used to him first, it wasn’t like he could just come into your bedroom and shove his cock in you. No, he needed you to love him properly, to be so taken with him that you’d keep this a secret, that it would be seen as something special for you from him.

He started with some light touches here and there, soft caresses that wouldn’t be read into if seen by anyone else and you certainly wouldn’t think much of them but eventually you would come to associate Bucky with those soft touches. He’d let his fingers run across your face as he brushed some hair away for you, let his hand rest on the small of your back as you stood together, wrapped you in his arm on the sofa and let his fingers trail along your arm soothingly.

All innocent enough touches and god if Bucky didn’t love when you reciprocated them. When you would come up to him and wrap your arms around his waist, your head against his chest, when your hand found his as you walked together or the way your head fell onto his shoulder and you’d fall asleep against him.

It took everything in Bucky to control himself, to not pin you down then and there and have his way with you.

But he behaved himself. Enough so that he could start on the next part of his plan to get you to trust him, to associate all these warm feelings to him. Next he introduced kissing between the two of you. Nothing outrageous at first, just a simple peck to your forehead here, a press of his lips to your temple there. Nothing that could be seen as inappropriate. It was only when the two of you were alone that he tried his luck, nothing too bad but if you happened to mention it to your mom it would definitely raise an eyebrow. When it was just the two of you he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, not letting himself linger like he wanted to but he was glad that when he pulled away he could see a soft blush on your cheeks.

You never did say anything about that kiss though and Bucky couldn’t help the thrill of pleasure that ran through him. He let himself kiss you again a few more times, so close to your lips but forcing himself to stop before he closed the distance. The first time you turned towards him and placed a kiss to the corner of his lips it took all of Bucky’s self-control to stay relaxed.

It was months, long, agonising, tempting months of this but finally he got a small taste of what was to come. He timed it perfectly, your mom was out of the house and it was just you and Bucky. He could see when you had decided to kiss him, turning to face him and reaching up. Bucky waited until you were just about to touch him to turn his head, your lips connecting with his and Bucky’s cock jumped to attention, half hard already at the simplest touch.

You had pulled away like you’d been shocked, doe eyed and so damn innocent, apologises falling from your lips but Bucky just shook his head.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” He had assured you, reaching up and brushing a strand of your hair away from your face, his fingers trailing down to your cheek and cupping it softly.

“No it’s bad, I’m really sorry.” You repeated and Bucky had to bite his lip to stop a smirk taking over his face. God, you really were perfect.

“No, no it’s not bad, Y/N/N.” Bucky told you, watching confusion spread across your face and you looked up at him. “It’s not bad, it’s just a…special kiss.”

“A special kiss?” You asked, confusion contorting into a wide smile and Bucky knew he had you, you weren’t ready for anything more, not by a long shot but he’d known he could get this small thing from you.

“Oh yeah, lots of daddies have special kisses with their girls.” Bucky told you, keeping his tone light and casual like he was talking about the weather or some story on the news when really he was barely keeping himself from forcing you onto your knees and shoving his cock down your throat. “Only daddies and their girl know about it otherwise it wouldn’t be special, right?”

“Right!” You nodded, smile widening and Bucky let a smile spread across his face, his thumb brushing across your cheek bone. “Can we have a special kiss? I promise I won’t tell.”

And Bucky believed it, he could see it all over your face, how excited, how eager you were to please him, to have a special kiss with him.

Fuck Bucky was going to cum hard tonight…too bad he’d have to make do with your mom and not you.

“Course we can, Y/N/N.” Bucky said and he watched as you immediately leaned back up to meet his lips.

God you were perfect. He let you take control at first, barely holding back a moan when your lips brushed with his again but this time you didn’t pull away, you kept them there, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Bucky lasted only a few moments before he moved his lips against yours, keeping the kiss soft but making it last longer, smiling when your lips moved with his.

It went on for months like that, with Bucky savouring every sweet kiss you gave him, the memories of those kisses keeping him occupied every night. They grew longer and deeper as you became more and more comfortable with them and Bucky was impressed with his own self-control, even if he did have to walk around with a half hard cock for the rest of the day.

Eventually though he needed more, it was like a compulsion, he had to have you but he knew he had to play it right, one wrong move and you would get scared and he’d risk losing you. Not that he’d let anyone take you from him of course, if anyone tried they’d be dead before they hit the ground.

The next part was getting you used to more touches, not the innocent ones from earlier, no this time he needed to feel you. It started when the two of you were alone on the sofa together, Bucky hadn’t planned to do it now, your mom was in the house still but you were so tempting, he just couldn’t resist.

He kept an ear out for your mom, still hearing her upstairs with the shower running. Bucky didn’t know how long he had so he turned to you, smiling when you automatically faced him and your eyes fell to his lips. Bucky wasted no time leaning over and kissing you, keeping the kiss slow, almost lazy like he wasn’t thinking of how his fingers would feel inside you.

“We can’t!” You gasped, eyes darting to the door and Bucky smiled, he had you so well trained already and he’d barely done anything.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Mom’s not here, we can have our secret kisses.” He told you, bringing his voice down to a whisper causing you to giggle but you nodded, trusting his word and let yourself be pulled back into a kiss.

His hand that he placed on your cheek trailed downwards until it cupped your neck, Bucky smiling as you leaned into the touch. He let his hand stay that for a few moments before he moved it again, slowly, not rushing as he let you feel every movement.

His hand fell from your neck, trailing down lower and lower until it brushed against your clothed chest. The little gasp you let out against his lip was like fucking drugs and Bucky was hooked just like that, he had to hear that noise again. Bucky shifted his hand before he smoothed it against your clothed tit, drawing another gasp from you but this time you pulled away to look at him with those wide, innocent eyes.

“S’okay, Y/N.” Bucky murmured, his hand still just resting against you though he longed to cup and squeeze, pinch and nip at the smooth skin hidden from him. “Just another part of our special kiss. You like it?”

Bucky watched you nod with a sort of dazed look on your face, glancing from him down to your chest where his hand lay and Bucky hoped he hadn’t screwed this up.

“Like it, feels good.” You told him and Bucky let himself relax, he knew what he was doing, there was no reason to doubt himself.

Your tone had gone breathy and Bucky felt his cock twitch in anticipation but he didn’t focus on that, not when you were being so perfect for him.

“Yeah, it feels good?” He asked and you nodded again. “That’s how our special kisses are supposed to feel, they make you feel all good and warm inside.”

Bucky watched as you nodded again, a smile pulling at your lips before you looked away from his hand and back at him, leaning in again and pressing your lips together. This time Bucky couldn’t stop the small groan that escaped him, not when his fingers twitched and he cupped your tit in his hand, not when you let out the softest little moan he’d ever heard in his life.

The noise was enough, the feeling of your tit in his hand and your lips against his was enough that he could feel pre-cum soaking his boxers. He felt like he could cum in his pants like this alone but forced himself to relax.

Instead he focused on kneading your breast in his hand, drawing quiet, breathy moans from you. It wasn’t until he let his fingers nearly pull away, going only far enough to find your nipple did you pull away, he pinched the soft bud between his fingers and you pulled away, your head tilting to the side and exposing your neck, forcing Bucky to stay still and not bury himself against you.

“That feel good, baby?” Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle as you nodded, seeming to have to force your eyes open, half lidded as you looked at him. He heard footsteps on the stairs and cursed himself for becoming so occupied with you that he stopped listening for your mom.

You seemed to hear her at the same time because you looked at Bucky with wider eyes before smiling at him, lifting your finger to your mouth in a silent shush motion. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at you, his earlier thoughts of how well he had you trained showing clear as day.

He’d never done anything with you in front of your mom, no kisses, no touches like this. He had to admit he had been interested to see how you’d react but this was better than anything he could have imagined, especially when you shifted and cuddled into his chest, turning your attention to the TV just as your mom walked in, the woman smiling at the sight.

It made it so much better, knowing he was getting away with it right under her nose, her in the next room whilst he kissed and played with her daughter, not a single suspicion raised and you, you so eager to keep it a secret, so wrapped around him that he knew it wouldn’t be long before he was burying himself in that tight, untouched pussy.

God, he was drenching his boxers, so much pre-cum spilling out of him, his cock desperate for you. As the three of you sat in the living Bucky couldn’t stop himself, it was risky, your mom was sat on the armchair next to you, if she turned her head she had a clear view of the pair of you, but he couldn't help himself and gently let his fingers reach out until they brushed across your tit again.

He felt you jump at the touch but thankfully you managed to stay quiet and your mom kept her gaze on the TV. He just let his fingers lazily trail across your tit at first until he stopped at your nipple again, pinching softly at the bud and pulling it up as he rolled it around his fingers. He felt you shudder against him, your head digging into his chest before it rolled to look at him and he could see your wide eyes gazing up at him.

Bucky just smiled down at you before pursing his lips to tell you to keep quiet and you smiled, seemingly thinking it was a game for just the two of you and Bucky was so close to bursting. His fingers dropped your nipple and cupped your tit again, kneading it around as you shifted and he could see the way you were biting your lip to keep quiet.

Fuck, you really were so good for him.

His hand left your breast, his fingers light and soft as they trailed downwards, not going as far as he would have liked but they lightly danced down your stomach before finding their way back to your tits and down again. Bucky grinned as you started fidgeting even more before turning your head fully into his chest and nuzzling against it.

Your mom chose that moment to turn to face you, the shifting finally catching her attention. Bucky moved his hand just in time and smiled softly at her, glancing down at you and seeing you had your eyes closed.

“She fell asleep,” He murmured and watched her smile as he shifted you until he was able to pick you up. “I’ll take her to bed.”

Your mom nodded and thanked Bucky, watching the two of you leave. Bucky carried you up the stairs and placed you on the bed, tucking the covers around you as you watched him.

“Good girl keeping it our secret.” Bucky praised and watched as you smiled at him. “You feel good, baby?”

“Feels funny.” You murmured tiredly and Bucky had to stop himself from grinning.

“Funny?” He asked instead, watching as you nodded and shifted closer to him, humming as you did.

“Uh-huh, in my stomach.” You told him and he couldn’t stop his lips twitching upwards but kept them in a soft smile.

“That’s good, sweetheart, means the special kisses are doing their job making you feel good.” Bucky assured you and you looked up at him with so much trust he felt another dribble of pre-cum escape him.

“Love you.” You told him softly, tilting your head up and puckering your lips expectantly and who was Bucky to deny you a soft goodnight kiss.

When he closed your door he let his head hit the back of it and couldn’t stop himself from slipping a hand into his sweatpants, groaning when his fist closed around his soaked cock. He bit his lips and gave himself a few tugs before he forced himself to move, heading downstairs, knowing he needed more than his hand tonight.

It wasn’t long before he was back upstairs, his cock buried in your mom as he slammed in and out of her at a brutal pace, cumming harder than he could ever remember cumming, his thoughts not on the woman in his bed, she was nothing more than a hole for him to use until he had you where he needed you. His thoughts were filled with soft, deep kisses, the feeling of your tits and those delicious sounds you made.

It was so easy to get you used to his touch along your tits, he let that last for a couple of months before he needed more. The next part was the part he was dreaming about, finally getting to touch that little pussy. He knew he had you in a place where you thought this was normal, that this was what happened between daddies and their girls, he knew he could touch you all over and you’d keep quiet.

He waited until your mom was out of the house this time, knowing how much you struggled keeping quiet when he played with your tits, there was no way you’d be silent for this, though the thought of him toying with your pussy in front of your mom without her knowing did send a wave of dark pleasure through him.

The two of you were on your bed together, you had called Bucky in to show him something and it had evolved into kisses and him kneading your breasts. He waited until you pulled away from the kiss, settling yourself against his chest whilst he played with you before he made his move, he wanted your full attention to be on his fingers.

His fingers trailing down your clothed stomach was something you were used to so you didn’t think anything of it when Bucky’s fingers went down towards your belly button but you did notice when they slipped lower than usual.

Before you could say anything though you let out a soft squeak as Bucky’s fingers grazed down the front of your pussy. Your head shot up to look at him but Bucky just smiled at you and let his fingers trail back up, stopping at your clothed clit and letting his fingertips trace circles around the bud.

He watched as any words on your tongue dried up and instead you let out a soft, whining moan, looking up at him with wide, confused eyes as warmth spread across your lower half. He smirked to himself as your eyes fell closed with each circled rub and your lips parted, more soft whimpers escaping you as he alternated between trailing his fingers up and down and rubbing circles against you.

He tried to keep his touch soft and light, he really did but fuck if those noises weren’t doing everything for him. Unconsciously he found his fingers picking up the pace, the noises escaping you coming out faster and louder and Bucky greedily drank them in.

“Does that feel so good, baby?” Bucky asked and you let out a breathy moan, hips bucking unconsciously up into his touch and he couldn’t stop the soft groan that left him, his cock hard and straining against his jeans.

“Uh-huh, it feels really good.” You told him, trailing off into a mess of moans and Bucky wanted to touch you, he wanted to feel your clit against his fingers, wanted his fingers to slip across your hole, maybe accidentally sliding in just a little bit.

And so he didn’t stop himself. He knew you were so blindingly trusting of him by now that you wouldn’t tell anyone, hell he knew you were ready for him to fuck you and would keep your mouth shut but he wasn’t going to push it.

He did need to touch you though, desperately.

His fingers left your pussy causing you to let out a loud whine, pouting up at him but Bucky didn’t waste any time. His hand coming up to the top of your pyjama shorts and slipping past the waistband of those and your underwear.

This time he couldn’t help but moan when his fingers grazed your pussy, trailing down and feeling how wet you were for him already. At the same time Bucky moaned your breath hitched before you let out a gasped moan, looking at Bucky with wide, doe eyes and it took all his strength not to force his fingers into your hole, to fuck you silly on them until you were a crying mess.

With a deep breath he managed to control himself and let his fingers play with your pussy softly, circling your clit and drawing more and more gasps and moans from you, your head buried in Bucky’s chest as you hand gripped his shirt.

He sped his fingers up, smirking to himself at how far gone you were already and he had barely even touched you, this was just a taste of how good he could make you feel but he wouldn’t push it yet, he’d get you used to it until you were begging for more.

“That’s it, baby girl.” Bucky praised as his fingers trailed down to feel how wet you were and god you were soaking, “let Daddy make you feel good.”

“Please Daddy.” You whimpered and Bucky moaned, throwing his head back as he forced himself to not cum in his pants because fuck if that didn’t feel good.

“Daddy’s got you, sweetheart.” Bucky murmured and he could see you were ready to cum, so he increased the pressure, grinning when you let out a strangled moan and pressed down into him.

It didn’t take long before you were throwing your own head back, letting Bucky see your face as you came apart on his hand. You were beautiful like this, lips parted as you cried out, eyes scrunched shut in pleasure.

Bucky continued to work your oversensitive pussy until you were whimpering and burying yourself back into his chest. When he finally pulled his fingers off you he couldn’t help but gather some of you cum onto his fingers, sneaking a taste of you as you hid in his chest, groaning at the sweet taste.

And if Bucky left the room not long after with a wet patch on his jeans then nobody else had to know.

Bucky felt like he was losing his mind waiting and getting you ready, it had only been a month or so since he started playing with your pussy, slowly introducing more and more, slipping his fingers inside you and groaning about how tight you felt around him. It was exhilarating and he was impressed with his own patience, impressed by how well he had managed to not snap.

But Bucky was only a man and when your mom suggested the three of you go out for dinner tonight and you came downstairs wearing that little black skirt he felt all his self-control slip away. He was desperate, he needed to have his hands on you and it was killing him to have to keep his fingers to himself.

In the restaurant you took the seat next to Bucky with your mom sitting opposite the pair of you, chatting away oblivious to Bucky’s thoughts of wanting to be buried in her daughter. Bucky sat back in his chair and couldn’t stop his gaze straying to you, god you were stunning.

His eyes drifted lower and he had to take a deep breath when he saw the skirt you were wearing riding up slightly. He glanced away but his thoughts were wild with images of you squirming and whimpering as he played with your pussy.

He knew he shouldn't, he knew it was risky but he couldn’t help himself, he was so desperate to touch you that he couldn’t control himself. He looked over at your mom, still prattling on and so stupidly oblivious before his hand slipped discreetly onto your thigh.

Bucky didn’t look over at you when your head shot over to him, just continued to nod and smile in the right places as his thumb brushed up and down your inner thigh, squeezing the skin lightly until you relaxed again.

Then his hand slipped higher up until his palm cupped your pussy, his thumb stroking against your clothed clit as his fingers shifted against your hole. Again your head snapped back to him and he could feel your breathing hitch but he showed no signs of seeing you, just continued to stroke at your pussy.

He couldn’t stop himself from smirking as you shifted in your seat and brought your elbow onto the table, your palm coming up to rest on your cheek and covering your mouth as you desperately tried to hold back whimpers.

You tried staying still but you couldn’t stop your hips from moving, trying to get closer to Bucky whilst not showing any signs that something was happening under the table. Bucky was in heaven, here you were in front of your mom, in public, letting Bucky play with you because you trusted him so much, because you were so ridiculously well trained that he knew he could do anything he wanted and you’d go along with it.

Bucky couldn’t stop his smirk pulling wider when the waiter came to take your orders and you stuttered your way through your answer, your mom asking if you were ok afterwards and you clenched your thighs together as you nodded.

He could tell you were getting close now, he knew it had to be killing you to stay silent. You were always so vocal, he loved that you never hid your pleasure from him, never stopped the cries and whimpers escaping you. It was intoxicating but this was doing just as much for him, watching your cheeks flush, seeing your palm digging into your mouth to stay quiet, feeling your hand tighten against his wrist as his fingers worked you over the edge, it was beautiful.

When you came you couldn’t stop the breathy moan that escaped you, head tilting to the side slightly towards Bucky and your eyes slipped closed. Your mom raised an eyebrow at you and asked if you were sure you were ok and Bucky just about held a chuckle in when you nodded after a few moments, struggling to keep your breathing under control before Bucky let his hand pull away from you.

“I, uh, I don’t feel too good.” You choked out and your mom’s expression shifted into one of concern whilst Bucky hid a smirk. “I’m just, um, restroom. I need to use the restroom.”

Bucky watched you stand, pulling your skirt down as you did and his eyes immediately fell to your ass as you walked away to clean yourself off your cum.

“I hope she’s ok, she looked a bit flushed.” Your mom said, turning to look at Bucky who nodded and brought his hand to his face, scrubbing it across his stubble and letting his fingers drag across his lips, letting his tongue poke out enough to taste you on himself.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Bucky assured and tried not to groan at the sweet taste of you.

It wasn’t much longer after that that Bucky made his mind up. It had been so long, so much time invested into making sure you trusted him, into getting you to associate anything sexual with him. It had been so long and Bucky was aching for it. He was rubbing himself sore with how often he had to take himself into his fist, thoughts of your little moans as you came too much for him to ignore.

He waited until the house was empty for the weekend, your mom out of town on some business trip that Bucky hadn’t bothered to listen to. In all honesty the second she told him she’d be gone he stopped listening all together, his thoughts already on his cock stretching you out.

Bucky had waited so long for this, so damn long. He couldn’t even wait a full hour after your mom had left before he was opening the door to your room and making his way over to your bed.

It was still early, the sun not long having risen and you were still asleep when he climbed onto your bed, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck. He couldn’t help but smile at the sleepy whine that left you even as you tilted your head to the side to make room for him.

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle against your neck before he slipped lower, mouthing at your clothed tit. He didn’t waste any time lifting you shift enough to wrap his mouth around your nipple, groaning as he sucked it greedily into his mouth, feeling you shift and push up into him.

His other hand came up to knead at your other tit, you moaning and whimpering and fuck even when you were asleep you were so responsive to him.

He finally managed to pull himself off your tits, smirking at the whine that left your lips before he trailed kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your pants.

He’d never gotten to taste you before, not properly, not like this and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hard already, so desperate for it. He’d be so patient, he deserved to take everything from you.

He was able to pull your pants and underwear down in one quick motion, groaning when he saw the wetness already staining your underwear. God you were so perfect for him, he really had trained you well.

Bucky wasted no time aligning his face with your pussy, pausing only to place a soft kiss to your inner thigh before he dove in.

He felt you wake with a gasp, your thighs closing around his head but his hands were pushing them wide apart, spreading you open as he licked and sucked at your pussy.

“Bucky!” You choked, “mhm, wh-what, oh, what are you-“ you tried to ask but cut yourself off with a strangled moan.

Bucky didn’t bother to pull away to answer you, he had waited too long for this and now that he had a taste he was hooked, eating you out like a man starved. Your whines and whimpers were only pushing him further, he needed more from you, he needed you crying and begging whilst he ruined you, whilst he took your innocence away, knowing that you were trained so well, loved him so much that you wouldn’t tell a soul.

Bucky could feel when you were about to cum, the change in your breathing, the way your pussy clenched around him. It took all his effort but he managed to pull away from you, a cry of displeasure leaving your lips because you were so close to that good feeling only Bucky could make you feel.

“Daddy’s got you, baby girl.” Bucky murmured, shifting up the bed to press a messy kiss to your lips, groaning as he shoved his tongue into your mouth.

Bucky had positioned himself in between your legs and gave a roll of his hips as he kissed you, rocking his cock against you and hearing you let out a confused whine. He couldn’t help but smirk into the kiss before pulling away, seeing those wide eyes focused on him.

“Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart.” Bucky told you, thumb brushing against your lips, moaning as he pushed it into your mouth and you automatically sucked on it.

He moved away and pulled his shirt off, watching as your eyes widened even more, confused and yet still taking him all in. Then he moved to pull his pants down, dragging his underwear off too and keeping his eyes on you.

“It’s alright Y/N, you trust Daddy, don’t you?” And god if the nod he immediately received didn’t send a wave of pleasure through his cock. “Daddy’s gonna take care of you, you’re gonna let Daddy play with you, huh, make you feel real good?”

A swarm of emotions was clear on your face, confusion being the main one but Bucky was over the moon to see that there was no hesitancy, no fear. He’d trained you so fucking well, it’d be no time before you were nothing but a needy set of holes letting him use you however he wanted.

“That’s my girl.” Bucky praised when you nodded again, a smile pulling at your lips.

Bucky couldn’t hold himself back anymore, he tried to be gentle he really did but once his head lined up with your hole he couldn’t help but push himself halfway in in one deep thrust, relishing in the pained sobbed that escaped you.

“It’s alright Y/N/N, it’s gonna feel so good, Daddy always makes his baby feel good, right?” Bucky managed to ask once he’d got through the wave of pleasure that hit him because you were so fucking tight and he could feel you clenching around him.

“Always Daddy.” You answered and he couldn’t help himself, hearing you call him Daddy sent him over and he slammed the rest of the way into you, seeing the tears that had formed in your eyes leak over and onto your cheeks.

“So pretty for me baby.” Bucky praised, looking down at your closed eyes and the tears making their way down your face, your mouth parted slightly as you panted for air.

Bucky’s hand came up to your chin, thumb trailing along your lower lip before he let it wander lower, wrapping gently around your throat and watching your eyes fly open when he applied the smallest bit of pressure.

“Shhh, it’s alright baby, trust Daddy.” Bucky told you and you stared at him for only a second before nodding.

Just as he felt you relaxing he started moving inside you, he somehow managed to keep his thrusts soft and slow at first, the pace and the tight heat of your pussy driving him crazy. At some point your sobs of pain turned into cries of pleasure as tears still leaked over your eyes.

Bucky started to increase the speed of his thrusts, pulling right out of you only to slam deep back into you and your cries and whimpers were music to his ears. It was so much better than he could have thought, all this time fantasising what you would feel like and god the real thing was so much more than he could have hoped for.

As he picked up his pace he applied more pressure around your neck, watching as a moan got stuck in your throat as he pressed you into the bed. Your eyes widened for only a moment before you relaxed, looking at him with the most trusting, adoring look he had ever seen and it was all he could do to not bury his load in you then and there.

But he was close, the pretty picture you made, a fucking beautiful mess of tears as his cock stretched out your tight, little hole, lips parted as he choked you. He couldn’t stop himself from hammering into you, small little whimpers managing to escape you that went right to his dick.

He could feel you were about to cum all over his cock so he tightened his grip on your throat even more and watched seconds later as you threw your head back as best you could in his hold and he could feel you clenching around him as you came with a soundless moan.

Bucky lasted for only a few more thrusts before he was burying himself as far into your tight pussy as he could, feeling himself cum deep inside of you, the thought of him filling you up full of his cum causing his hips to buck impossibly further into you.

Bucky stayed buried in you, his grip on your neck even tighter as he focused on his own pleasure, you nothing more than a hole to him right now and it wasn’t until you managed to let out a choke noise that he turned his attention back to you.

You were always, even still, overwhelmed whenever you came but with the added pressure of his fingers around your neck and his cock you were out of it, completely dazed and eyes unfocused. Bucky couldn’t resist squeezing your neck one last time, savouring the choked cry that left you before he finally let up and let you breathe.

The second his hand was off you, you were panting, head falling to the side and lips parted. You were fucking ruined and Bucky loved it. He loved it even more when he pulled out of you and you let out a whine, he loved watching the mix of your cum and his trailing out of your hole, smirking when he saw a trail of blood too, knowing that he hadn’t tried to hold back once he started.

Fuck, you were a mess. He knew he could shove his cock right back in you and you’d just lay there and take it, mind so far gone on his cock. It was intoxicating, finally seeing all his time and effort paying off, finally knowing how your tight, little pussy felt around his thick cock.

He knew he could make the most of this weekend, knew it wouldn’t take much to turn you into nothing but his mindless, cock hungry slut. He’d only fucked you once and you were already so far gone.

So yes, people might have called Bucky Barnes a monster but if they could feel the things he felt, felt how good your virgin hole felt stretched around him, if they knew how well trained you were, they would praise him for how well he had done with you. He had you right where he wanted you, thinking he was the sweet, loving, caring step dad who only wanted to make you feel good rather than the step dad who wanted you so dumb on his cock that you’d give him anything he wanted.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes imagine #stepdad!bucky #stepdad!bucky x reader #step dad bucky x reader #stepdadbucky x reader #marvel x reader #dark marvel x reader

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chrolloluvr · 2 months

Note

Hello! Can I ask for general relationship headcannons with Mammon from helluva? I know he's toxic but I just love this bastard and his australian accent lol.

General Mammon SFW Relationship Hcs pt.1

Note: YESS TYSM FOR REQUESTING THIS!! I love this dude idc what anybody thinks, also i might do a pt2 if this gets enough traction!! This is also a Female!reader, but if you squint it can be Genderneutral!reader

Warnings: Some cussing, use of pet names, some creepy behavior 💀

Starting off, Mammon would probably love to show you off. At his clown pageants, royal meetings, and basically anywhere important. If he's going somewhere, you will most likely be there, with his hand on one of your hips, or carrying you on his shoulder. However he won't let anybody get to know you, or even get their grubby hands near your precious body. Most of his fans speculate that if they see you somewhere, Mammon is always somewhere near you, or he at least has his servants follow you. I also imagine he also brings you to interviews.

He just loves to talk his head off about you. When it comes to his little lady, he just can't keep his mouth shut. I swear this man will be talking to Beelzebub or one of his business partners, and be like “Yeah that's nice and all dickhead, but Y/N is better at that by a long shot.” HE WILL BRING YOU UP AT THE MOST RANDOM TIMES! He will also twist his words in a way that involves you.

Loves and lives to buy you things. He feels obligated to get you luxurious items, even if you don't want them or feel bad. He knows he's one of, if not the most wealthy man in hell, so just let him spoil you, because he won't take no for an answer. If you don't like something he buys you, he won't be mad at you, but the people who made it. You're his pride and joy, so anything he buys you is very luxurious and one of a kind. When you go out to events with him, the press and 666 news will go crazy over the latest new necklace he bought you. If you just look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, he will move heaven and hell for you.

He knows your weakness is his boisterous voice. He notices every detail about you, including the way your knees lock and your demeanor softens when he does that deep, Australian accent. He likes to grab your cheeks, and say in a low husky voice how you're so cute babe, my perfect little woman. Or when he calls you or leaves voicemails, he will talk innocently about something, but you never fail to take his voice and imagine it in, well, other ways.

I feel like Mammon would give you nicknames all the time. He rarely calls you buy your real name, unless hes upset, but he is never truly upset with you. He will call you babe most of the time, misses, my little lady, sweetheart, princess, my queen, woman, babycakes, and my little money maker (sometimes). He will call you these things, but also when he wants something from you like a warm hug, or to rub his shoulders, or to bring him his morning breakfast. He doesnt call you by your real name often, because he thinks its too serious, and in his eyes, you arent serious,you are just his little innocent woman, oblivious to the dangerous underworld.

There is an obvious power imbalance between the two of you. There's Mammon, a powerful deadly sin, the king of greed, and loved by billions of demons. And then there's you, a lowly demon/sinner who in his eyes, can barely do anything by yourself, hell, you need him to open a nutella jar for christ sake. He thinks of himself as your big strong protector, and also your king who you should bow down to, who you should be thankful for, because millions and millions of girls would die to be in your position.

When you two date, he want complete control over your life. Your social media, friends, people you talk to, family, etc. He most likely implanted a tracker somewhere on your body while you were sleeping. He controls all your socials, and most likely put “Account ran by the handsome king of greed” im your Sinstagram bio 😭. He also deleted any hate comments. One time somebody put “Miss girl is getting that little dick every night” And he got so butthurt, so he blocked them and personally killed them. He also wants you to stay innocent.

He loves to touch you. whether it be groping you, or slowly dragging his gloved fingers over your skin. He does not care about your size too, whether you are chubby or skinny, he loves you for you and that only applies to you. It does not matter how big or small your boobs are, he will guaranteed grab them atleast twice every day randomly. His favorite part of your body is most likely your belly and your boobs. But he loves everything about you, dont get me wrong.

He will never, and I mean never, let you down. He wants to see your pretty smile. If your going on a flight? First class. A show? Front row. You two are staying at a hotel? Presidential suite. He has you covered. Hes the sin of greed for crying out loud. He uses his status to get you the best of the best. If he sees you upset, he is upset at the people around him, and throws a big temper tantrum. In his eyes, he always needs to be the person to make you happy. If he ever sees you laughing at another mans corny jokes, he makes a mental note to personally handle them, and show them that he is your man, not some low class, vile excuse of a man.

#mammon #mammon hb #helluva boss #mammon hb x reader #mammon x reader #mammon x reader hb #hb mammon #hb mammon x reader #hazbin hotel #mammon helluva #mammon helluva boss #mammon hcs #mammon headcannons #mammon sfw #helluva boss x reader #alastor x reader

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iznsfw · 10 months

Text

above the law, (under you)

TWICE's Chou Tzuyu x Male Reader Smut

4,629 words

Categories | lawyer!Tzuyu x criminal!you, thighjob, blowjob

Quick one for TWICE's maknae. Hope you like it.

The thing about law is that it's actually quite flexible. Forget what your law professors taught you and all those fines the government threatens. If you manage to lie with just a bit of space for truth to distort your falsehoods into, you can get out of anything easily. That's certain, actually, no matter what consequences are inscribed into whatever bible juries and judges have. Maybe you'd only have to spend a few days in jail, probably narrowly avoid a death sentence.

At least, that's how it works when you've got a good lawyer.

Oh, yeah, that's what Tzuyu is for. Lucky you.

"So you understand," she says, spreading your files on the desk like it were butter across toast (don't mind the choice of comparison; your stomach is growling), "that it gets suspicious."

Actually, you don't. "Do elaborate."

Tzuyu sighs. She drags a hand along her golden hair. Normally, colored hair in the courtroom would be looked down on, but she's reached that kind of status that it doesn't matter what she does or who she represents—whether she wins or loses the trial for you, she's Chou Tzuyu, and everyone still gives her the deserved respect.

But with you, the situation is more dangerous. It's a hit or miss with you, and now, the two of you are getting closer and closer to missing.

"You've been in and out of juvie since you were in middle school," she says, one pinky up to count the factors. Another as she goes on, "And you haven't stopped robbery and physical assault since then. You raged in the divorce court, too, so trust me: when it comes to custody of your kid, it doesn't get easier."

Three fingers. Three's the charm, right?

"Well," you curl down the sides of your mouth and raise your hands, "obviously."

Again, you're lucky to have Tzuyu. She's the only one who's paid enough to put up with your bullshit. She's the only one who can get you out of said bullshit. If you said that to anybody else, they'd kick you out, and you know enough already about being excluded and rejected.

That's not to say you feel sorry for yourself, just to be clear. You're too used to this rowdy lifestyle that your own actions don't humiliate you. Neither does the fact that you haven't matured from the age of sixteen.

In that case, you do feel sorry for Tzuyu, though. She's an intelligent and beautiful young woman. She's only going forward from here on out, but you'll always hang onto the hem of her dress pants like a tail. You're a mistake that no Mongol pencil top can erase, and that's been sealed into her mind long after she accepted to represent you.

She's the one getting paid anyway. No need to muck over it.

"Did you do it, though?" Tzuyu asks.

"Do what?"

"Did you beat up your ex-wife's husband in front of her?"

Honesty is a virtue that only your lawyer is deserving of. So, "Yeah."

Tzuyu pinches her nose. "And the drunk texts?"

"Uh huh."

"The lamb blood on the yard?"

"All me, baby," you answer.

You're a bit regretful, to be honest. Not for the fucked up shit you did to coax your ex-wife into getting back with you, but with how you failed to use your own blood to write out "YOU'LL ALWAYS BE MINE, DAHYUN!" in front of her house. But you've already crossed one too many lines.

"You sound proud," Tzuyu notes. "Don't you realize how this can influence the trial?"

Do you? Probably, but you've gone to court so many times, against so many people, that it's become like a second home. The Corinthian columns looming over you don't scare you anymore. Neither do the judge and jury.

Maybe the reason you keep fucking shit up is the need for something to feel?

You haven't felt anything in a long time besides anger. Maybe that's it. Maybe that's why you keep doing what you do despite knowing it can ruin your few good relationships with the few good people who deal with you.

"You can get me out of this alright, Tzuyu," you say. Prop your feet on the opposite plush seat that stands at the front of her desk. "Just lie—you know, it's your job."

"I'm a lawyer, not a magician," Tzuyu says, speaking through her grinding teeth. "I'm not another foolproof way to buy yourself out of consequences."

"That's nice. Got that comeback off searching 'badass lawyer quotes'?"

Tzuyu stares at you. She's really too cute to be in a courtroom, but the way her full lips are set and her eyes glare through your soul make you remember that she's up there for a reason. All these certificates and awards placed on her wall and bookshelves aren't out of nothing. She deserves respect from you because she's still your lawyer, she's still your only way out of going to prison.

"You just… don't care, huh," Tzuyu remarks. "Everything about this is just one huge joke to you."

Her tone isn't far from her usual formal one, but it's mixed with realization, too. She realizes that you'll always be like this. It's not your job or your kids or work—it's you. It's all on you.

"But really," she continues, with a small, bitter laugh, "the funny thing is I actually held out hope for you."

She did?

You've been waiting a lifetime to feel something that isn't rage. You're surprised to find out that it would happen, and the thing would be guilt.

"I—I thought that if I did everything I could for you," she says, her fists curling tighter to the beat of every syllable, "for you to get away scot-free, you'd actually put some sense in yourself." She smiles sarcastically. "But I was stupid to think that, wasn't I?"

Everyone's been disappointed in you one way or another. It's no lie that your parents are. There's also a reason why your siblings won't talk to you anymore. But the disappointment riding off Tzuyu's words hurt unexpectedly. It breaks you.

It also, somehow, angers you.

"Get out of my office." She points to the door. "I'm done with you."

"No, you're fucking not," you reply.

Tzuyu's accustomed to your banter and attitude, but that actually stops her in her tracks. She looks at you with disbelief.

Your smile quakes with anger. "We're not done until I say so, Tzuyu."

"That doesn't work on me."

"Come on, let's face it, attorney," you say, stressing the title with false respect. Set your hands on the desk scattered with files and folders. "You like me."

Tzuyu rolls her eyes. "Oh, please, spare me the—"

"No."

Your steps trace a marble path to the back of her desk, to the place that should be off-limits to you. You never raped or anything, but you remain a criminal, and she remains a lawyer who has to set boundaries.

However, all boundaries are crossed when you've got her backed up to the edge of her desk, when her pretty face is centimeters away, and your hands are itching to tear the high fashion uniform off her slender body.

It's the first time you've ever seen Chou Tzuyu scared. Her face is set to a poker expression in the courtroom and out of it, but seeing her parted lips and wide doe eyes ignite your emotions. It's new, it's different, and you love it more than you should.

"Come on, Tzuyu," you press, tilting your head to the side. "You know why you want to keep defending me after all the fuckery I did."

"And what can that be?" Tzuyu asks. Her brows are raised.

Another question, you see. This girl really should stop inquiring about things she knows well the answer to, but, graciously, you say it out loud for her. You're a good guy like that. "Didn't I say it already? You like me. Admit it: you're tired of defending guys who at best stole from Walmart. You want the real horror. You want me."

It's all delusions to grope for the upper hand, but you see Tzuyu's eyes. You can read them well from all the time you've unwillingly(?) spent together, you know that her rare expression of vulnerability means something:

You've caught her.

"Oh." Smile. Your rambling holds some truth after all. "So I'm right. Of course you like me."

"Don't flatter yourself," Tzuyu snaps. She struggles to keep eye contact with you.

"No, no." Guide her face to meet your gaze. "You want some relief. It's not easy being a lawyer, definitely not easier to fall for a psychopath client. But it just happens. You can't control it."

She swallows, looks down, and shakes her head. That's something she's humble enough to admit. "No…"

"Of course. I can give you what you want, you know."

"I don't want anything from you," says Tzuyu. Her eyes fire an unspoken word of caution to you. "You don't know what you're trying to do."

"For a lawyer," you chuckle, "you're a terrible liar. I thought that was the whole thing with you people."

"I told you to leave already."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," you say, sliding your hands down to her tiny thing of a waist, "until you tell me what you actually feel."

You can feel Tzuyu's breaths accent the rises and rests of her tight midriff. She's contemplating this over, but she knows that she's grown fond of you. You know this, too. Like you said, there's a reason for her staying with you.

You have to admit you've grown fond of seeing her, too. Her face is more than easy on the eyes. Hearing her as well is an everyday delight; her soft voice is melodious, even when she's describing your crimes.

So, what's there to say?

"It's not right," Tzuyu says. The shakes of her head are too repetitive to be sincere. "I can't be biased towards you. I… I have to be professional."

"It's just you and me, sweet," you quip. Step closer so that her body's flush against your form and her gaze can go nowhere. "Live a little. Who cares if it's wrong?"

"My career—" she tries.

"Tzuyu. Come on. Fuck the convict you want so badly. I put you through enough already."

Understanding passes through her eyes, mingled with hesitation and a sprinkle of fear. She wonders, as she peers at your face from a taller height, how you knew about the whole crush ordeal. Was she too obvious? Flirty? Patient? It can be one or the other, and she'd still have to dial it down.

But her heart skips several beats that her words come unrehearsed. Your hands at her waist, so close yet so far to where she needs them to be, trigger her needs.

So, there it is: she needs you. She has to accept that.

"O-okay," Tzuyu finally agrees.

"There you are. You finally came around."

"Just shut up and fuck me."

"Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?" Your shameless kisses end up on her neck and collarbone that peek through the ends of her blazer and the neckline of her innerwear. "I know you thought about it, Tzuyu. How I'd bend you over on this desk, fuck your brains out, make you cum more times than you can count."

As you pull the blazer from her body, Tzuyu hisses, "Don't get too happy, dickhead."

How unprofessional of her. But you have to admit it feels powerful to be able to extract the most unladylike of words from a woman who'd never dare utter them. And you're just getting started—she's only sitting on the edge of her desk, and not even filled with your cock yet.

Your fingers aren't idle. They appreciate her tall curves and the fullness of her thighs. They even slip under that pencil skirt to feel around for her center.

Of course, you find it. You find it under a layer of flimsy shorts and panties. Tease her clit; have her legs join in attempts to undergo the stimulation.

And then—

"Oh my god," she whines. Tzuyu purses her lips. Curls her fingers at the cliff of the desk. "Feels so good."

"I know it does," says you. "Why don't you return the favor? Jerk off my cock with those pretty hands?"

Her posture becomes too straight to be proper as you press your fingers at her sensitive pink walls. "I've done too much for you. Y-you don't deserve any more favors."

That's fair. She's still a smart girl, even when she's soaking your fingers.

Can she be a good girl? To be a good girl or not to be—that is the question.

"You're right. My cock deserves to be inside you, not just in your hand."

The faster pace has Tzuyu's legs jerking. "Fuck you."

Chuckle. "You are."

Maybe you don't need a handjob as a warm-up. Your cock already erects by itself watching Tzuyu react and moan to your digits pumping in and out of her. Her beautiful arms, free from the blazer, struggle and strain to stay upwards with how quick you're fingerfucking her. Her unkempt whines are so unlike her that there's complete pride inside of you, an arrogance, even, that's birthed from the fact that you make her like this. You're so fucked up that it turns her on when it shouldn't, and now that you're fucking her, the immorality of everything gets her wet.

"P-please," she says. Her doe eyes are watery with need.

She's never said that outside of the courtroom, where she says that only for formality's sake. But here she is, anyway, begging you for something she'll have to spell out if she doesn't want you to go crazy and fuck her in every corner of her office.

Maybe that's what you'd do anyway.

"What is it, Tzuyu?" you ask. Your fingers strain while the heel of your hand hits and rubs her clit. "Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need."

"Please," again, "faster. Oh my god, that's all I ever want, please go faster."

No more do her legs close. Rather, they part. They welcome your thrusts and rubs. She's completely allowing you to fuck her, despite how wrong it is and how it can screw up your future trials. Bias this and bias that are things she doesn't care about anymore. All she knows is that her nipples ache to be pinched, and her pussy awaits more of your thrusts because she's close. So close that she could taste euphoria already.

"Should I go rougher, hm?"

"Please, fffuck, I don't know." As you squeeze one of her handful-sized breasts, she bites her lip hard. "Just fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please, make me c-cum—"

When Tzuyu orgasms, it's messy yet quiet. Her formality shows up even in sex. Her moans are tight and so is her pussy as it clenches down on your fulfilling digits, and you have to perk your ears up to hear her sounds of pleasure. She's still a quiet girl, barely talkative (though you've managed to pull a few pleas out of her already), and you're completely trying to change that with your pumps.

Your lips create a purple bruise on her neck. Tzuyu sighs and gasps helplessly. She's wetting your fingers like a flood, and you keep provoking the natural yet woman-made disaster; you drag your fingers at her velvety, weak spots and venture deeper.

You don't have to ask her if it was good. She's panting heavily, and sucks on the soaked fingers you've led to her face to calm herself down. Watching her pink lips work away at your hand, as if she were suckling something completely different, makes you more turned on. Her warm wet mouth deserves to be somewhere else rather than just your pointer and middle.

"Now that wasn't so bad," you say. Draw them out of her mouth. "You didn't leave any for me to taste. How selfish."

"You still could." Tzuyu points to her mouth.

It's clear that she's wanted you to kiss her forever. When your lips press against her mouth, she immediately slips her tongue inside. You return the favor, but also to have her own self-made taste of love.

As expected, she's fucking delicious.

You hold her head in place as the two of you kiss for seconds that felt like hours. After, you're breathless.

"You're a good kisser," she comments.

"You want me to tell you what else is good?"

"Oh, please. Show, not tell."

Your belt's off and soon, your trousers are as well. Tzuyu's gazing at your hard cock with admiration. It just boosts your pride and arrogance—you can never tell the difference between the two when they mix and match with each other so often.

"No one told me criminals had big dicks," says Tzuyu. She skates her hand on your cock, stroking it softly. Her eyes have left it and instead seal on your faltering gaze.

"You learn something new everyday." Try not to make your shuddering breaths obvious when she starts jerking you off. "You like?"

"I think… I think I want to suck it."

"Go ahead. No one's stopping you."

"There're a lot of people stopping me," she informs you. "If they find out I'm fucking a client, then what?"

She doesn't live up to her words of concern because she hops off the table cleanly and kneels anyway. Her small face looks even tinier next to your cock. And you realize now how her mouth is miniscule too after she wraps her lips around your cockhead.

You shiver.

Tzuyu's staring again.

This time, her large eyes are directed up at you. She doesn't have to focus on your dick when her mouth is doing it for her. With each harsh swipe of her tongue on your tip and the drawing of her mouth closer to the base, your cock grows wetter with her drool and precum.

"Your mouth is amazing, Tzuyu," you say. You're not afraid to admit that.

She responds to you not with words, but with more suckling. She closes her lips around your base then slowly brings her mouth up. She repeats this cycle of pleasure until your whole rod is coated with her. When she feels you throb in her orifice, she giggles—what's more satisfying than seeing the guy who put her through hell become weak?

You're in a daze of your own, too. As much as you like seeing Tzuyu dominate the court with her steady voice and no-nonsense look, she looks so much better when she's on her knees. When her hands wrap your hips to thrust her head forward and force your length down her tight throat. When the usually serious look in her eyes fades into obscurity and is replaced with an almost innocent look that says "come on, use me, fuck my mouth."

That's exactly what you do anyway. You don't need her prodding to fuck her pretty face.

Tzuyu's hums vibrate on your sensitive flesh. The back of your cock slides deliciously on her tongue and almost all of your rod slides down her throat. It bulges; you can tell even without looking down. She's a slim girl after all. It's easy to fuck and fold and use her. This situation isn't any different.

"Yeah, that's it," you say, grinning. "Take my cock, Tzuyu. Take it like a good girl."

Her ears burn. Her thighs squirm together, and that's how you find out that she might like being called a good girl more than you'd think. Stroking her hair that looks like it was personally woven with real gold has her whining. You can't believe the tough lawyer has a submissive side, too.

Has she done this before? She seems to be taking the thrusts to the back of her throat well. Perhaps she simply enjoys this. You'll never know.

"I'm gonna cum, Tzuyu," you announce. "You better swallow it all like the slut you are."

Her cheeks hollow as your cum fills her mouth. Her lips remain sealed on your tip so the flow of your semen ends up nowhere but inside her.

After you pull out, you realize then that you've just fucked your lawyer's face. It's like everything was a lucid dream that eventually blended into reality, because there's Tzuyu, still kneeling and gulping down your cum, and your cock out in the open between your bare legs. There are lines you've crossed before, but you never thought you'd do the same to the boundary that's been set between you and Tzuyu.

Where's the rage you felt earlier? Why does arousal take its place?

"I'm not a slut, by the way," says Tzuyu airily. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I'm not your good girl either."

"Oh, alright. Does that mean you won't let me fuck you?"

"Jerk," she spits. "Your cock isn't even that big."

"I guess I should leave then. You were a good fuck, Tzuyu."

Turn your heel with faux intention to exit, like she's told you to do earlier, but you're pulled towards her again. She tugs your wrist and pulls you to herself, her ass snug against the edge of the table and you pressed against her slim frame.

Okay, so—

"I fucking hate you." Tzuyu tears the buttons off your shirt with a clean rip, and kisses your chest. Your neck. Grabs your waist to ensure that you're going nowhere. " I hate that you're so fucking annoying. I hate that I can't spend all day fucking myself on your huge cock."

"Did you just say I had a huge cock?"

"Like I said," Tzuyu snarls, "shut up."

Whatever snarky response you could have come up with on the spot is lost into an embarrassingly loud moan. She's forced your still sensitive cock inside her, and now her hips are dancing forward and back. It's a dance of death with how it bears its weight on your mind and girth.

"Thought I told you to be quiet," she says smugly.

Her skirt has ridden up her waist. You take advantage of this to get a feel for her thighs. They're slim yet round at the same time, creating the perfect balance that fits your squeezing hands. Tug on them to pull her closer. Your remaining inches make it past her folds, and Tzuyu moans in delight.

"And I thought you didn't like me," you say. But it's difficult to be cocky when her tight little pussy is just that good, squeezing you as if determined to drain your might and taking you good and well.

Tzuyu scoots her wide hips side to side, arms sedentary on the sides of the table as she rests down on it, and bites her lip. Intentional or not, it's too fucking sexy. "Things change."

So, that's how it works out: your lawyer on the flat of her desk, above scattered piles of papers describing your crimes and issuing your statements, with her legs spread around your midriff and receiving your cock as a traveller in the desert would receive water. She's desperate, is what you're saying—her gasps are timed to the beat of your thrusts, and she's accompanying it with soft curses. This whole sex thing could be a song, you see. Tzuyu can play the vocals, and her cleavage that bounces behind her vest could be looped and made into a matching music video. It's just so perfect.

"So good, you're so good," she sighs, her mind addled with thoughts of you ruining her insides and, probably, fill her up with semen. "Fuck me harder. Touch me. Use me, my god, just fuck me."

You pull up her vest to devour her breasts. The brown nipples end up in your mouth, suckled on and chewed, while the softness of her small tits are relished with squeezes. Tzuyu whimpers quietly, volume hushed down as it always is with her. Although her quiet whines turn you on, it's the will inside you to have the silent lawyer screaming that propels your thrusts. Drives them with a purpose that's so specific your hips could have a mind of their own.

Dragging her vest off her torso is how you see that your cock is bulging through her tight midriff. The lines of her abs hide not your cock forcing yourself through her hole. Tzuyu notices it, too, and you feel her become wetter underneath you, because she loves it. She loves how wrong this is, how she's letting a person she shouldn't even be acquaintances with outside of her career use her like a doll.

"P-please," she says (for the millionth time, yes, but you'll never grow tired of hearing it.)

"Should I go harder?" Do exactly that, rutting her against the table, even without her answer. "Rub this little thing here?"

Tzuyu cries out. There's a completed mission—you've finally forced her to scream, and it's all thanks to your thumb toying with her clit.

"Oh my god!" she yelps. She looks at you with eyes filled with shock at how good it feels. "Oh my god, yes, keep doing that! It feels so—fuck!"

"Keep screaming like that and I'll make you cum. Do you want to cum, Tzuyu?"

She nods dumbly. "Yes, make me cum. M-make me cum around that stupid big dick, I love it so much, please!"

You're reaching places inside her that her own fingers couldn't embark to. The bulge on her stomach goes farther, and you think of how you're rearranging her guts so deliciously, how she's pounding at the table in frustration and pleasure and screaming, and how you can give her bliss with just a few more pumps.

Your thrusts hold purpose—they're driven by Tzuyu's boobs lifting with the creaks of her desk, the squeeze of her pussy as it swallows you whole, the helpless look on her face. She's so beautiful, really, and you're glad to be able to—

"Gonna make me cum!" she wails. "Gonna make me cum, gonna make me cum, don't fucking stop!"

Tzuyu's pleasure reaches an all-time high. She clenches as hard as her muscles can bear and screams. Her throat must be sore because of that, so you don't forget to kiss all over it as you extract a violent orgasm from her with rough, untimed pumps.

She's shivering, eyes unfocused. She's rambling senseless words that don't quite give clues to what they should be comprehended as.

That's exactly what you want.

You pull out. "I want to fuck your thighs." Show so after that: slip your dick in between her soft, supple skin, and add, "Gonna explode on that fucking stomach."

"W-why not inside me?" whines Tzuyu. She closes her eyes as your cock unintentionally brushes over her folds and prods at her bundle of nerves.

"You're already fighting to give me custody of my kid," you chuckle. "What makes you think I want another?"

Tzuyu manages a laugh. You're too laser-focused on fucking her thighs though to appreciate her first love beauty when she smiles, since you're as close as you can be. With the soft flesh holding your length captive as you pray for your soul not to be by the eyes of justice, you have no choice but to do what you said: cum on her tight midriff.

White above tan skin is a beautiful color on your lawyer.

"You're… you're a little evil, you know that?" Tzuyu makes out. She glances at the puddle of cum on her rising stomach with fascination.

"Oh, love." Lean down to kiss her, with your arm pillaring the space on the table not occupied with paperwork. "You're just now figuring that out?"

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #twice smut #chou tzuyu smut #tzuyu smut #twice tzuyu smut #idol x male reader #idol x reader #male reader #reader insert #pov smut #x reader

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ker0senebunny · 2 years

Text

you've always had me✫*ﾟ･ﾟ(walking on a string ii)

steve harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader

part one

summary: steve misses reader a whole lot (dustin smacked some sense into him). now, how does he win her back? (angst, fluff, smut)

warnings: afab!fem!reader, language, angst, fluff, smut (18+), UNPROTECTED SEX (pls remember to practice safe sex!!), kinda soft!dom steve? but no use of sir or daddy etc, apology sex, loss of virginity, PRAISE so much praise, oral (f!recieving), fingering, p in v sex, use of pet names, size kink (for like one second), dirty talk, no use of y/n, a little bit of roughness at the end (but not degredation or anything like that!! cheerleader!reader likes to be called pretty and good while she's getting railed), all characters are 18+, discussion of insecurities, soft tummy steve rights, NOT BETA'D (seriously if anybody wants to, pls shoot me a private message!)

word count: 6,187 (wowza! was not expecting that)

notes: THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS WTF!! when i published walking on a string, i had about 30 followers so thank you so so much for keeping up with my silly little writings. i'll do a little celebration party later - i’m thinking something along the lines of blurbs from a prompt list, so send in asks! without further ado, here's the second part! seriously, thank you all for all the love you've been giving me. it really keeps me motivated to write! i hope you all enjoy this part before i start my taylor swift trilogy and ballerina!reader oneshot!

p.s. i also got a couple of asks that have perhaps inspired a part three (!!!) in the adventures of steve and his cheerleader, so thank you to the anons who sent those in! lmk if you guys would be interested in that xoxo

the things you said are hanging in the middle of my mind, tonight.

i can’t turn them off.

you hadn’t been to family video in three weeks and steve desperately missed you.

winter had arrived in hawkins, bringing with it shorter days and longer restless nights. a tangy cold ran through the air, slipping under the door of the video store and creating a stupid fucking draft. steve watched the door anxiously as the stale air burned his nose. robin snorted. “dude, she’s not coming in,” she said. he huffed out a quiet “shut it, buckley” in response, keeping his eyes trained on the door. she rolled her eyes. “it’s your funeral, dingus.”

now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen you around town either. he never saw your sweet face at the grocery store. or in the park where sometimes, he'd catch you lying on a blanket, enjoying the pre-winter breeze and blasting duran duran on your walkman's tinny headphones. hell, he even went to the library to seek you out. but it seemed that you had just plain disappeared from his life.

only his life.

steve asked anybody who came into family video if they knew where you were; they always made some offhanded comment about seeing you at a party or at your favorite boutique. the one you always got your little low cut blouses from, where trina denman had made you cry once and so he chewed her out the next time she came in to rent a movie -- pretty in pink. your movie.

"steve, you are a dipshit."

steve rolled his eyes and turned his gaze away from the door to see dustin standing in front of the family video counter.

"tell me something i don't know, henderson."

dustin rolled his eyes right back before hopping over the counter to get into steve's personal space.

"hey! man, what the hell are you-"

"apologize to her."

steve was startled at dustin's sudden seriousness. he'd only ever seen the kid get serious about upside down stuff or d&d. or, when he talked about you. he knew that you two really got along when he introduced you to all of the kids, but your bond with dustin ran deeper. you both often met at the old creek to go look at the wildlife there. you taught him about the flowers and the moss that surrounded you both, palming crisp bark and teaching him to appreciate the world around him, inadvertently worming your way into steve's heart even more as dustin regaled him of these tales.

"dustin, she doesn't want anything to do with me."

"because you haven't apologized yet. jesus christ, steve. it's like talking to a toddler. i swear." robin let out a sharp cackle from where she was eavesdropping. steve flipped her off.

dustin sighed. he just wanted to see you and steve happy. he snapped his fingers in front of steve's face to get his attention.

"i'm not a fucking dog."

"i'd argue against that." dustin chose his next words carefully: "whatever you do next has to matter more to her than anything you’ve ever done before."

i'm in a twisted web,

and i can't pull my head from it.

that first day when you came in was one of the best days of steve's life. he couldn’t believe that you, the golden girl, were speaking to him with such softness. but then, the thoughts he tried to cram away constantly invaded his mind, clouding whatever emerging feelings he felt for you. steve decided for himself that you were playing a game - making him the fool. and so he decided on revenge - playing you right back. poking out his tongue whenever he looked you up and down (which was quite a common occurrence). letting you cuddle into him whenever the two of you were seated even remotely close to one another (this was definitely not for his benefit as well). posing for pictures that you’d take with your polaroid camera that was “so annoying” to him (he’d never tell you that the picture robin took of the two of you, your back to his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lives in his wallet - next to the first of your little notes).

steve liked to take his time with things and he knew you needed space, but three weeks was a long time, right? it was too long of a time for you to have not pranced into family video, excited to show steve your newest purchase. too long of a time for him to go without smelling your peach shampoo on his sweater after you’ve fallen asleep during one of your many viewings of pretty in pink. he missed the sting of your manicured nails on his forearm when you were so excited to tell him about a new trick that you landed, that you physically glimmered. he realized with a start that he missed your silly notes and the mirth in your eyes as you laughed at a dumb pun he made. he missed how you would light up even more than usual whenever one of the kids said hi to you outside of one of their hangouts that they'd taken to inviting you to. he missed you.

and he fucking hated himself for it. he felt stupid, used, and above all -- guilty. why would he feel guilty if he saved himself from whatever heartache you could bring him? your teary face flashed in his mind.

oh.

because you hadn't been trying to use him -- you actually liked him. a lot.

and he definitely was a little bit (a lot) in love with you.

and he only just figured it out.

robin watched her best friend as his face changed. she snapped her gum in her mouth before plunking down on the stool next to him. "i smell wood burning," she said, "what are you thinking about?"

steve turned to her.

"i fucked up."

i hang my head

and feel the oxygen drain.

agonizing hours passed as he thought about what to say to you. he almost missed the tinkle of the bell above the door, letting him know that there was a new customer in the store. from where he sat, all he could see where white sneakers. his eyes snapped to the top of the doorway, and he shrank in disappointment. walking through the door was chrissy cunningham, not you. she was holding pretty in pink, no doubt to bring it to you to cheer you up.

so, it seemed that you were just hellbent on avoiding him.

chrissy gave him a polite smile as she brought it to the counter. steve cleared his throat. she nodded at him in greeting. robin stood a little further back, entranced by everything in front of her (did she sort of want her best friend to get punched by chrissy cunningham? …yes).

steve handed chrissy her change and just as she left, he jolted to his feet.

“wait!” he said, as if the words couldn’t wait inside his mouth any longer. she hesitated, already knowing what he was going to ask.

“how is she?” he said, eyes honest as he searched chrissy for an answer.

she set her mouth in a grim line as she shook her head at him.

“steve, i’m not going to lie to you. she’s really hurt.” steve felt his mouth dry up instantly.

“would she even want to see me?”

chrissy sighed exasperatedly and gave him a shrug before looking at his wounded face. for however much he was hurting, she knew you were hurting way worse. she slammed her hands on the family video countertop, mustering up as much of a threatening tone as she could, pushing herself to the tips of her toes to look steve directly in the eye.

“i have never known someone as kind or genuine as her,” the tiny girl said very seriously, “so you better fucking fix this harrington, because even though you’re a dickhead for what you did, i know you care about her. and for some reason, she cares about you too. probably too much.” steve opened his mouth to reply but chrissy jammed her pointer finger into his chest. “fucking. fix. it,” she said through gritted teeth before waving to robin and swaying out the door.

you're never running out of ways

to worm your way back in.

the past few weeks have been hellish for you, to say the least. getting not only rejected but belittled by steve harrington, the boy you…love? yeah, love would be the best way to put it. you'd pined after that idiot since freshman year, your feelings only intensifying with time and your prolonged visits to family video. those same visits evolved into impromptu sleepovers due to your absent parents, nights out when the local carnival was in town, watching out for the kids on halloween.

you pretended to be fine in front of your friends, a group made up of jocks and the cheer team. you knew that lucas sinclair, one of the new basketball players, was friends with steve. so you avoided him as much as possible, but that didn’t help. everywhere you went, you felt like steve was following you. seeing the people he loved (because he obviously didn’t love you) caused the rift within you, one searing with pain and self-loathing, to deepen.

there was less of a pep in your step. your gentle attitude remained, but you were more melancholic than anyone had ever seen you. sure, you were always willing to lend a hand or a listening ear, but as soon as you were left with your own thoughts, it seemed like a shade had passed over your demeanor.

you hadn’t let anybody into your room since the pep rally, sinking into a cocoon made of your duvet and throw pillows for hours on end. your walkman was always pumped up on full volume. crumpled tissues blanketed virtually every surface - a palpable reminder of his words to you that continued to hang in your mind. you tried to block them out - to block him out - but steve had become so engrained within your daily routine without you even noticing.

his yellow sweatshirt lay on your desk chair, directly in your line of sight, which didn’t help with your attempts to wallow and just get it over with.

you didn’t even let chrissy in to talk to you - she had to resort to seeing you in public or talking over the phone. your room was your safe space: your zone away from anything (or anyone) else but you.

which made steve’s raucous entrance at 2 am all the more unwelcome.

anyone who knows what love is will understand;

you’ve always had me,

walking on a string.

you’d finally been pulled under into what could almost be described as sleep when you heard a thump and a quiet “fuck me!” you were alone in your parents’ large house (something about visiting your dad’s old boss — you couldn’t care less), which made the nighttime extra unnerving to you as a young woman, alone in the middle of fucking nowhere. that was something steve had known about, before he broke your heart.

you shot up immediately, rolling out of your bed and grabbing one of your sneakers to hold up as a makeshift weapon. your eyes were wide with fear and your voice shook as you spoke, “don’t come near me, perv!” you launched the shoe at the tall, dark figure, striking them in the shoulder. whoever it was taken aback and made a noise of pain. you were reaching for your other shoe when you heard your name. “it’s just me, sweetheart.” you lowered your arm as you took in his outline in the dark. you didn’t need light to know what he looked like; you’d spent long enough memorizing every freckle on his face. the slight gap in his left eyebrow from when he got cut in a fight and it scarred. how the right corner of his mouth used to be permanently curled in a smirk around you.

you squinted still.

“stevie? did you sneak through my fucking window?”

you couldn’t help but use his nickname. three weeks of the cold shoulder doesn’t exactly undo months (nay, years) of pining.

“you could’ve used the front door, you know. my parents aren’t home.”

he hadn’t said anything to you yet, allowing you to fill the silence with your half-awake rambling. he gave you a sheepish smile as you moved to stand in front of him, looking up at him with your arms crossed over your chest in worry.

“why are you here?”

you hated how your voice cracked.

he looked down at the floor and then back at you, meeting your eyes. you hated how you immediately got sucked back into the warm umber of his gaze. he sucked in a breath through his teeth, shaking hands in his pockets.

“i need to tell you something,” he said with as much sincerity as he could pour into his words. you rolled your eyes, turning to get back into bed. “i think i’ve heard everything i need to hear, harrington.” he said your name pleadingly, reaching out to envelop your fingers in his.

you hated how you let steve's warm fingerpads trace the inside of your wrist.

you especially hated that it made you feel better.

“please let me say this and then i’ll be out of your life forever.”

you nodded.

“i didn’t think that you’d want anything to do with me.”

your heart ruptured.

he continued: “you’re this stunning, whip-smart, sweet girl who everyone loves. and i’m just this washed-up guy who chauffeurs for six children and works in a video store.”

steve paused to look at you, not quite understanding the emotion pressed into the creases of your face.

“i thought that your friends put you up to this - to me. i thought you were just using me to get a laugh, so i thought i would use you right back.”

tears bubbled up along your lower lashline. your lower lip wobbled as he poured out the deepest, darkest crevices of his mind to you in your moonlight bedroom. your eyes adjusted to see him

“but then i got to know you. like really know you. and i realized that you were one of my favorite people ever. and then i felt like i’d fallen into your trap. and so i lashed out and i was a fucking dumbass and ruined whatever i could’ve had with the girl i love. what i’m trying to say is - i was an idiot and i really don’t want this to end before we even had the chance to start it, sweetheart.”

you let the tears fall unknowingly, but unlike the gym, steve cradled your face gently in his hands, swiping away the beads of saline that ran down the apples of your cheeks. you sucked in a breath, but it felt like the oxygen cascaded out of you instead; you brought your face closer to his.

“you’re so fucking stupid, harrington.”

and then you were kissing him.

it felt completely natural to you both - no hesitating, no waiting. he moved his mouth over yours, pressing your scantily-clad pajama-covered body into him. you felt the softness of his stomach and the hardness of his chest against you as you tried to get yourself impossibly closer. from where his shirt was slightly unbuttoned, you saw some of his chest hair. a path of warmth made its way down to the root of your core. he pulled away and you whined, chasing his mouth with yours.

he breathed out your name like it was a poem.

your smile was just as bright as it usually was, even through all of the salty wetness sliding down your face.

“i love you, stevie."

he looked at you like he wanted to bring the stars closer, just so you could get a better look.

"say it again," he teased gently as he nosed at your throat, prompting you to lift your chin and expose your neck. he started to pepper open mouthed kisses on your neck.

"i-i love you."

he sucked harshly on one spot, making you softly cry out. you pulled back and watched his pretty face form a pout.

"but you’re gonna have to make it up to me.”

he looked down at you with a boyish smirk, before dipping down to meet your lips with his once again.

“i can think of at least one thing that might help.”

he kissed you with a ferocity, a deep-seeded wanting. you sighed into the kiss and whimpered when you felt his tongue nudge against the seam of your mouth. you opened your lips in a surprised moan and he slipped his warm tongue in, licking the roof of your mouth. you let out another whimper, and he groaned. “those sweet little noises are gonna fucking kill me, baby.” his words were strained, his voice raspy, lips slick with a mixture of yours and his spit. you felt your face warm to match the heat emanating from your sex. he dove in to kiss you again, gently leading you toward your bed.

your back hit your cornflower-dotted duvet as steve caged you within his arms. your hands had made their way into his hair, mussing it far past anything that a few puffs of farrah fawcett hair spray could ever remedy. you felt the ache between your thighs grow and in your steve-induced haze, your hips jolted up to meet his. you were surrounded by him: the feel of his warm, wet mouth on yours. his smell -- lemongrass shampoo and pine cologne and something that just made him steve. steve tasted like promises and the cherry slushee he'd gotten with robin after work. his rough fingertips soothed over the spot at your waist where your flimsy tank top had risen. you maneuvered your hips over his groin again. the tiny bit of friction that his rough, tented jeans provided against your throbbing clit made you whine out his name.

“stevie,” you pleaded.

he moved his lips down your neck, lapping at your pulse and leaving a trail of bruises in his wake. the stimulation only made you move your hips more in desperation. you were already surprisingly close — not even nights alone in your room with your hands shoved down your cotton panties, imagining this very moment, were you ever close this quickly. one of his hands came down to squeeze your hip — not harshly, but as a reminder that he was in charge. he pulled away when he felt you move your hips again. he sighed. “pretty girl, i want to take my time with you. be patient.”

you looked at him through your heavy lashes, pouting a little as you grabbed for him to come back closer to you. “but i wanna feel you!” you exclaimed, pulling him down toward you to latch on to his neck and grind up toward his bulge. he hissed as you found his sweet spot, right between where his collarbone meets his neck. he panted out your name as the hand gripping your hip got tighter; you could see the hand near your face clench into a fist and he breathed shakily. “i want to feel you too, but i have to get you ready first, sweetheart. is that okay?”

your heart swelled so much you thought it might beat its way through your chest. you nodded bashfully as his hands finally slipped under your tiny pajama tank top. steve kissed you as his fingers danced over your ribcage. you shivered at their warmth and giggled when he intentionally tickled you. you felt him smile into the kiss (which did almost make your heart explode). but all thoughts of just how much you loved him went out the window when you felt his hand rub over one of the stiff peaks of your covered breasts. you arched upwards, pushing your chest into his hand. he chuckled at your eagerness and detached himself from your wanton mouth to remove your tiny top. your breasts met the air and steve looked at you in wonder, as if you deserved to be immortalized in the louvre. “god, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured.

you suddenly felt shy, his words bringing you back into the present. here you were, topless with steve harrington giving you hickies. you grabbed his bicep gently with nerves puddling in your still lust-blown eyes.

“stevie, wait.”

he immediately gave you space, asking you oh so kindly, “is everything okay, baby?” you nodded. “more than okay. i just…” your voice faltered and you looked at your hands. he put his hands on the sides of your face, letting you sink into their warmth and weight. “it’s okay, pretty girl. you can tell me anything.” you bit your already kiss-bruised bottom lip.

“it’s just that i’ve never…this is the furthest i’ve ever been with anyone,” you rushed out. you desperately hoped that you hadn’t ruined things with him again. he sponged a kiss to the tip of your nose before saying, “i won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” your eyes widened and you placed your hands over his on your face. “no no! i just wanted to let you know before we did anything else. i want it to be you, stevie. i love you.”

he smiled at that. “i love you too, sweetheart. god, i can't stop saying it.”

it was a miracle that your heart had still remained lodged in your chest at this point.

“kiss me, please,” you cooed, and he happily obliged, removing your thin pajama shorts in the process.

he left soft, wet kisses along the column of your throat, biting down gently on the top of your left nipple when he arrived at your tits. “perfect tits” as he called them. you squeaked and he laughed, the vibrations around your puckered bud heading straight to your pussy. you half-believed that your panties would be sheer from how wet you were.

he kneaded and pinched at your right nipple as he laved his tongue all over your left, giving you little nips that made you squeal and kisses that made you melt under him. he alternated between breasts and when your tits were sufficiently marked with imprints of his teeth, he placed his hand over your searing cunt. he watched your face change, your eyes rolling back, from the lightest of touches. you were equally as whipped for him as he was for you. steve groaned as he felt your thighs trap his hand, pushing the wet part of your panties into him. his eyes rolled back at the sight before him, your tits marked with his teeth, your eyes darkened for him, your pussy rutting into his hand, all covered in white cotton panties with a little pink bow. you whimpered when he took his hand away, searching for relief as your clit pulsed.

“what did i say, pretty girl?”

“that i have to be patient,” you answered shyly. he hummed.

“good girl.”

you burned from head to toe at his words.

he peeled your panties off of you, inhaling sharply as a string of your arousal connected you to the sopping cotton, only snapping once he had your panties partway down your thighs. “all for me, sweetheart?” you nodded shyly and pressed your thighs together, but he caught you and spread them again. “i wanna see you, baby,” he said before lowering himself to face your drooling cunt.

he licked a fat stripe up your slit, making you jump a little and let out a breathy gasp. steve grinned before spreading your folds with his hands and prodding at your quivering hole with his tongue. he moaned at your taste — tart and heady and you. you moaned as he sponged wet kisses to your folds, before moving up your thigh toward your needy clit. he looked you in the eye as he devilishly licked around the bud before latching his mouth onto you. steve sucked your clit into his mouth, gently brushing his teeth across your sensitive bud. you rushed your hips to meet his face and your hands flew to his head again. he gave a little laugh at your want. he kept his mouth attached to your clit as he gathered dipped his index finger into your folds, gathering your slick before pushing into your poor little hole. he muttered a curse under his breath.

“shit, sweet girl. you’re so fucking tight.” you contracted around his fingers at his voice, about to reply before he put his mouth back on your clit, sucking harsher than he had before. you felt yourself get impossibly wetter as steve began to pump his finger in and out of your entrance. you tried to move yourself on his hand, pleading for “more, stevie, more!” his middle finger slid in to join his index and you hissed at the stretch. he stopped to let you adjust and you marveled at how full you felt just because of two thick fingers. he eased the two of them in and out of you slowly, spreading you open for him. you were so lost in the pleasure that he was doling out that you almost missed his calls of your name.

“baby, can you take another one? d’you think you can?” his face had moved to hover over yours now; you could see your juices on his chin. you nodded frantically, shifting back and forth on his already dripping fingers. “please stevie — need it. need you.” he kissed you heatedly as he inserted his ring finger, swallowing your gasp with fervid swirls of his tongue. you keened as you felt the girth of three fingers inside of you; your fingers and imagination couldn’t do steve’s hands justice. he gave an experimental thrust, keeping up with his assault on your clit, with the heel of his hand. he kept kissing you, switching between gentle presses of his mouth to yours and hot, frantic swipes of his tongue. he noticed your cunt start to pulse, steadily getting tighter as you mewled. his fingers squelched as he slid them in and out of your sopping cunt. “steve, stevie, m’gonna-” you could barely get the words out before you let another loud moan. “gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he teased, speeding up his ministrations. your voice was but a shred in the back of your throat at this point; the only response you were able to give him was a high-pitched sob. your mouth fell open and your head tilted back, renewing him access to your neck and chest. you felt yourself tighten even more as his lips brushed across the tender bruises he’d already made. the combination of his lips on yours, on your skin — his hand between your thighs — you were completely surrounded by him. he was knuckle deep by now, allowing your gummy walls to suck him in. your nails cut into his biceps as you breathed rapidly. “cum for me, baby,” he said through gritted teeth. at his permission, you let the taught string in your body snap. your walls tightened like a vice around his fingers, so tight that steve swore it could’ve cut off his circulation. your cunt fluttered around the fingers seated deep inside of you. your back arched off the bed and your gut tightened as the intensity of your orgasm washed over you in waves. your vision blurred as your body went limp, twitching with aftershocks. you said his name like a prayer through it all, finally blinking to clear your vision. you were met with his smug face as he gave you one last push with his fingers. you squeaked at the contact and he smiled at you, giving you a doting kiss on your swollen, bitten lips.

“all good, baby? you were so good for me. my good girl.”

you nodded, thoroughly exhausted, but also craving him. “stevie, i wanna feel you inside of me,” you said, giving him your best puppydog eyes. he gave you an easy smile, before searching the pockets of his jeans for a condom. “oh shit,” he said, exasperatedly. you sat up with a frown as he rooted through his belongings. “stevie, honey, what’s the matter?” he looked at you apologetically. “i don’t have a condom,” he said dejectedly. you reached out to kiss the corner of his mouth, to push the frown off of his face. you gave him a small smile and said, “s’okay! ‘m on the pill.” his pupils dilated, darkening his eyes so that only a sliver of hazel showed. “and i’m clean, because, yanno…”

“fuck,” he rasped out, “you can’t say shit like that to me, baby. i’ll cum in my pants like a fuckin’ dope.” you laughed your real laugh, his favorite laugh, and in that moment, he felt overwhelmed with love for you. so overwhelmed that as he pulled his cock out, he told you again. he called your name softly to get your attention.

“i love you so goddamn much,” he said, pouring every drop of earnestness he could into his words. now that he knew that his words actually did matter to you.

“i love you too, steve harrington,” you said as you leaned up to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. he chased your mouth with his to lay a series of quick kisses to your lips, muffling the giggles that tumbled from your throat. he rose to his knees above you and shucked off his jeans and his boxers.

now, you’d never seen a cock before in your life, but fuck, were they all as pretty as steve’s? his cock was just, so pretty: a red tip that gave way to a flesh-toned shaft, thick with a vein on the underside of his length. his head was leaking in frustration. your eyes widened as you took him in, wondering if his massive shaft would be able to fit inside of you.

he teased his ruddy tip through the wet mess between your thighs, stroking himself with your cum from earlier. he placed one of his hands on your hip, interlacing the fingers of his other hand with yours, letting your entwined hands rest by your head.

“are you ready, sweetheart?”

you gave a soft “yes” in reply and gulped down a breath. he noticed how you tensed up and squeezed your hip gently. “we don’t have to if-” “no!” you exclaimed, “i want to it’s just…what if i’m not good?” his heart almost shattered as he looked at the worry written across your sweet face. he brought his lips to the crease between your brows, pecking you there to tell you to relax your face. “you’re perfect to me already, baby,” he said, oh so honestly. and you believed him, because it was your stevie looking at you like you were the only real thing in his life. “okay, i’m ready,” you said, relaxing into your bed a little more.

steve guided his tip to your quivering entrance and kissed you as he slid the fat head of his cock in. you gasped as he breached your walls, arms winding around his neck. your jaw fell open, slack against where your chin rested on his shoulder, almost impossibly close to him. the fullness of his fingers was one thing, but this was totally different. the stretch was addictive as he slid into you inch by inch. he worked you open gently, and you wanted him to stay inside you forever. he noticed that you’d gone quiet and brought a hand up to comb through his hair in order to see you better. “everything okay?” you nodded fervently, wriggling your hips and mewling out, “stevie more, more.” at your words, he bottomed out, heavy balls slapping against your ass and you made a strangled noise into the air as he moaned into your neck. “fucking- holy shit, you feel so good.” your walls contracted around him and steve had an idea. he started slowly thrusting into you, allowing you to get adjusted to the feeling of his heavy cock inside of you. all the while, dripping praise into your waiting ears.

"you're doing so well f'me," he said, still thrusting into you slowly -- wanting to make this about you, not him.

but something inside him snapped when you said, “stevie, fuck me.” he started pounding into you, jackhammering his hips against yours, making your eyes roll back so far in your head that all you could see was black. his chest hair brushed against your nipples, meaty thighs brushing against you with coarse hair during every thrust. you choked out a loud moan at the sensation, clapping a hand over your mouth at the volume. he noticed that your sounds had become muffled and whispered into the air between you two: “c’mon pretty girl. i wanna hear those sweet sounds you make.” his balls slapped against your ass as he rolled his hips into yours; the sounds of flesh against flesh ricocheted off the toile wallpaper in your bedroom. the wetness between your thighs kept spreading, creating a lewd slap as he plunged into you over and over again.

his spongy tip pushed against your g-spot and you clenched around him desperately. he moaned at the sensation, muttering a curse under his breath and something about how tight you were. you bit his shoulder after a particularly hard thrust, causing him to hiss and shudder. your walls started to spasm around his cock as that big vein of his pummeled into your sticky cunt. your whimpers became faster and higher as you chased your orgasm, steve right there with you. “stevie!” you yelped as he continued his brutal pace. “’m right there with you, baby. let go,” he whispered, his lips covering yours. you did just as he asked, a borderline pornographic whine slipping its way out of your throat and plastering itself across his mouth. you clenched impossibly tightly around him, stuttering out, “want it inside, please stevie,” as you were pushed over the edge. your pussy pulsed and your body shook, muscles tense as he milked your puffy cunt for all of your juices. you sobbed while you came; it was the hardest you’ve ever cum, your intense love for steve amplifying every shockwave. your legs were wrapped around him, heels digging into his back as he gave you one lasting thrust, his hips stuttering. you felt a warmth extend through your weeping cunt as he painted your sweet walls. the feeling of his hot ropes of cum filling you caused you to tighten around him once again, riding out the last waves of your orgasm.

neither of you moved for a while as steve remained inside of you, both of you at a loss for words. he raked a hand through his sweaty brunette mop and gave you a kiss, pushing all of his feeling into it as he eased out of you. you whimpered at the resulting emptiness, reaching your arms out to keep him in bed with you. he smiled, dropping a smattering of kisses to your face. you giggled and held his head in your hands to catch his lips. he pulled away with one final peck to your lips, pulling on his boxers. you sat up with a melancholy look in your eyes, but he squeezed your ankle in reassurance, telling you that he was “just gonna go ‘n get a washcloth for you, sweetheart.”

he returned moments later from your ensuite with a damp cloth, kissing up your leg as he wiped down the apex of your thighs. he wiped himself off and grabbed his shirt for you, gently telling you to raise your arms as he slipped it over your head. he lay down and opened his arms for you, as you giddily landed on his chest. you reached over him to turn on your bedside lamp and he quirked an eyebrow up at you.

“just wanna look at you s’all,” you said delicately, as you let your fingers play with the curls at the nape of his neck. his heart stumbled at your words and he squeezed you tighter.

“i’m sorry,” steve said again, “i love you so, so much.”

you yawned and snuggled into him, throwing your other arm across his body, murmuring into the air shared between you two: “you’re the only one for me ever, stevie.”

he looked at you in the buttery light of your bedside lamp, half-asleep on him, drowsily babbling about everything you loved about him (his jokes, his freckles, his loyalty), nose squished into his neck as far as possible.

and he realized, in that moment, that he’d always walk on whatever string you led him on.

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