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navybrat817 · 2 months

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Open Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You help Bucky feel better when he's in a mood.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral (m. receiving), possessive behavior, dirty talk, slight jealousy, threat of violence (not against reader), slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: A Sinday treat inspired by this gif! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You found Bucky in one of the interrogation rooms. He had his leather jacket on, but didn't appear to be in a hurry to leave. Taking in his rigid posture from where he sat in his chair, you guessed it wasn't a good day. You wondered what happened or what exactly was bothering him. Considering he didn't look toward you, and he had to know it was you who walked through the door, you sensed that he wasn't in the mood to talk.

It didn't mean you couldn't try and make him feel better.

“Hey, Sarge,” you said, shutting the door behind you before you walked across the room. “Bad day?” You asked, stopping a few inches in front of him.

A pair of steel blue eyes snapped toward you and you couldn't suppress the shiver that rolled down your spine. It wasn't fair that he appeared so commanding when he was the one sitting in a chair and you were on your feet. “You could say that.”

“Anything I can do to help?” You asked with an almost innocent look in your eyes as he spread his massive thighs.

“Yeah,” he replied, gesturing to his crotch with his metal hand. “You can get on your knees and suck my cock.”

Your throat went dry as you looked in his lap, watching with growing interest as his thick fingers swiftly unbuckled his belt and pants. What if someone walked in? It was no secret that you and Bucky were together, but it didn't mean anyone should have to witness any of your endeavors. Then again, wasn't the thrill of getting caught part of the fun?

“Are you sure that's what you want? You could fuck my pussy,” you offered, your panties embarrassingly damp considering he hadn't touched you. If he asked you to, you’d ride him in that chair until his eyes rolled back.

The low chuckle he let out made your throat go dry. His laughter didn't fool you. He wasn't in the mood to play or tease. “If you want my cock in your cunt so badly, you better earn it by taking me in your fucking throat first,” he growled.

Your knees just about gave out, which gave you the perfect excuse to sink to the cool floor. “Will that make you feel better?” You asked as you crawled to him and slid your hands up his legs. Your cheeks flamed under his dark gaze. It was a thing of wonder to have his full attention. “Your big cock fucking my throat? Making me swallow every drop?”

“It’s a start,” he whispered, cupping your jaw with a tender touch. His thumb reached over to trace your lips, but pulled away before you could suck the digit into your waiting mouth. “Need that pretty pussy filled, too.”

You clenched, wishing he’d shove you on the back, push your legs apart, and drive his cock in so deep you'd scream. But you wouldn't get what you wanted if you didn't take care of him first. And having his dick in your mouth was something you craved, so you would enjoy it.

“Tell me you need it,” he ordered, his tongue wetting his bottom lip before his teeth dragged along it.

“I need it. Need you to fuck my throat,” you begged, unzipping his jeans and peeling them down with his underwear as far as you could. His thick cock bobbed free and you couldn't help licking your lips at the sight. You gripped the base and preened when he hardened more under your touch. “It’s so big. You can choke me with it if you want to.”

He groaned, heat curling in your gut when he rocked his hips up. “Look at you. So eager for it. Bet you'd rub your pussy against my boot if I told you to just to get a taste,” he rasped, making you whine. You’d love to leave a shine on his leather. “Everyone thinks you're a good agent and a good girl, but you’re my little cockslut.”

You pouted as you looked up at him. His blue eyes had gone black, the light shining over his head giving him the appearance of a dark angel. Beautiful, tortured, and heavenly. “I’m all of those things,” you said, licking from just above where your fingers held him to the tip. “I’m a good agent and a good girl. Your good girl.”

Because if there was anyone you wanted to be good for, it was Bucky Barnes.

“Fuck,” he grunted when your enclosed your lips around the head. The taste of him bloomed on your tongue, but it was just the beginning. He’d spill down your throat by the time you were done so the very essence of him lingered. “You are, doll. You’re so good and all mine,” he said, growling the last word.

You pulled off with a sweet smile, his praise bringing out your need to please him more. “And I’m very much your cockslut. So fuck my throat, Sarge,” you said, wasting no time swallowing him down.

“Your fucking mouth,” he groaned, bringing a hand to the back of your neck.

You hollowed out your cheeks and sucked in a breath through your nose as you relaxed your throat. As tempted as you were to reach between your legs and give yourself some relief, you rested your free hand on his thigh. The muscle twitched beneath it and he would feel it if you gave him the signal to stop. You never once had to.

You took him every single time.

He touched your jaw again, making sure your mouth stayed wide open around him. He forced you to take him in deeper, his hips thrusting up as you gagged. “That’s it. Suck it just like that,” he urged, making you moan around the thick length of him. “My good girl. Everything I need right here.”

Tears blurred your vision, but they quickly spilled over. He looked back at you with half-lidded eyes, your heart pounding at the sight. You knew you looked pretty stretched around him. And you knew he wanted to keep you.

“So beautiful on your knees,” he praised, his hands moving to grip each side of your head to control the pace. You whimpered when your hand fell away and nose brushed the curls at the base of his cock. His metal thumb wiped away a tear as he made you bob your head. “Take it, doll. I know it’s a lot, but you can take it. I know you can.”

Those weren't just words to stroke his ego or your own. It was a lot to take. Drool seeped from the corners of your mouth, adding to the mess from your tear tracks and running makeup. You were certain you looked ruined, which only made you more stunning in his eyes. Because he was the cause and effect. He broke you so beautifully and put every piece back in place while leaving a bit of himself behind as a reminder of who you belonged to.

“You're my girl,” he said in a deep voice, quickening his pace as your throat contracted around him. “Mine.”

“Yours.” The muffled reply made him growl. You reached up to cup his balls, still allowing him to keep the pace. He said he wanted to fuck your throat and you wouldn't stop him, but you wanted to make him feel good.

“My dirty girl on her knees. Bet the camera’s recording us right now,” he went on, your mouth pliant as he continued to thrust. You almost forgot about the surveillance. “Should swipe the footage. Make you sit on my cock while you watch how well you take it.”

You moaned, sending more vibrations through his cock as he groaned and panted. His rhythm almost faltered when you gently squeezed, feeling him twitch in your mouth and under your hand before you let go. He was so close, chasing his release. It was getting harder to breathe, your eyes stinging with tears again, but he was almost there.

You had to get him off.

The slight drag of your teeth did the trick. “Take it. Don't waste a fucking drop,” he grunted, his face twisting and keeping your head down as his release flooded your mouth. Glancing up at him as you did your best to swallow it all, he looked like such a pretty mess, too. Parted lips, warm cheeks, pupils blown with lust. He was just as ruined as you.

No one else had that kind of power over him.

You gasped and greedily inhaled when he pulled you off of him and slumped in the chair, catching his breath, too. He groaned when your tongue went out to catch another drop that dropped from the head of his cock. Your soaked panties from having him in your mouth didn't matter. He’d get you off soon enough.

As long as he was okay from whatever bothered him earlier, that was all you cared about.

“Fuck,” he sighed, pushing the chair back and joining you on your knees. He slotted his lips against yours as he pulled you close, leaving you breathless once again as his tongue explored your mouth. You carded your fingers through his short hair as he took what he needed, his stubble leaving a slight burn on your skin.

Another subtle reminder that you were his girl.

“Better, Sarge?” You asked once he finished, your voice raw. If he wanted to talk, you’d listen.

“Much better,” he promised, his next kiss sweet and tender. The earlier tension he held in his body had disappeared, which gave you some relief. “Thank you.”

“Good,” you smiled against his lips.

He closed his eyes, his nose touching yours. “I'm not a killer anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow. Those weren't the words you were expecting to hear. “I know,” you said.

“But I had to stay here,” he said, kissing over to your ear. “Because if I bumped into the agent who touched you earlier, I would've shattered every bone in his hand.”

“Bucky,” you breathed, your heart pounding when he pulled back to stare at you. Lust lit up his eyes again, but there was an underlying rage building as his nostrils flared. Was that why he was in a mood? Because an agent had touched your arm before you said you had a boyfriend? It was so meaningless in your eyes that you had forgotten about it.

But, fuck, if this slightly possessive side wasn't hot.

“You told him you were mine because you’re my good girl. Still pissed me off that he checked you out when you walked away. Still wanted to break his hand,” he snarled, laying you on your back. “And I know your voice is a little hoarse, but I need to make you scream my name. I want everyone nearby to know you’re my girl,” he said, his eyes on you as he pointed to the camera in the far left corner. “And anyone watching.”

So, that happened. Lovelies, you may go about your business. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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daisynik7 · 9 months

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[M4F] Husband Catches You Listening to Audio P*rn, Teaches You a Lesson [Soft Mdom] [Established Relationship] [Mild Degradation] [Praise] [Overstimulation] [Multiple Orgasms] [Creampie]

Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

cw: established relationship, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), sex toys, mutual masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, sex without a condom, creampie, overstimulation, soft dom!Nanami, breeding kink, mild degradation (use of slut and whore), praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names (honey, sweetie, sweetheart, princess, baby)

Summary: Nanami comes home early from his business trip and catches you doing something naughty in your bedroom. Author’s Note: Inspired by all the audio porn VAs that I listen to! Special shoutout to @mrsackermannx for raving about AugustInTheWinter with me. If you have not listened to him yet, PLEASE check him out, he’s incredible. Also, I’m clearly very delulu for Nanami currently, considering this is the third piece I’ve written for him within a week, but hey, this is my outlet! So I hope you enjoy! MDNI divider created by @/cafekitsune. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading!

Your skin is sweltering against the sheets, sweat damp on your forehead and neck. Thighs are apart, vibrator buzzing on your clit, sleek with lube and arousal. You’re home alone; Nanami doesn’t return until tomorrow morning. Still, the thought of the audio porn playing on speaker makes you shy, so you have both earbuds in, listening to the sultry tones of your favorite voice actor moaning expletives directly into your ear. Such a good girl, oh fuck. You feel so good, sweetheart. Take that cock for me. You are so fucking tight, holy shit. The added sound effects of thwapping and wet squelches in the background immerse you into a state of erotic bliss, gushing for the second time tonight from the sensation of the toy pulsing on your throbbing bud.

“What do we have here?”

You jolt up when you hear your husband’s voice from the doorway, startled to see him standing there, leaning against the frame with a serious look on his face. His spectacles are on, covering his eyes, which you can tell are boring into you in this lewd position.

Popping your headphones off, you hide the vibrator under the pillow, as if he hasn’t already caught you red-handed. Closing your legs, you bat your eyelashes, feigning an innocent expression. “Honey! What are you doing here?” More heat rushes into your cheeks, scorching hot from your recent orgasm and current embarrassment.

He steps forward, sitting at the far edge of the bed, avoiding your gaze by staring at the floor, acting disappointed. “I managed to catch an earlier flight. Wanted to surprise you.” Dramatic, he turns to face you, eyes narrowed through his tinted lenses. “It appears that I am the one being surprised.”

Biting your lip to hold back your laughter, you crawl towards him, naked from the waist down, your panties discarded on the floor near his feet. He’s not actually upset; having been together long enough and in tune with each other’s emotions, you can tell that he isn’t seriously mad at you. This is a role he indulges in occasionally: stoic, strict husband with a mean streak when things don’t go his way. And you know exactly where this will lead to, so naturally, you play along. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t think you would be coming home tonight. I just thought I’d have a little bit of fun.” You massage his shoulders, nuzzling your face to his nape, giving him a loud smooch.

He shifts around in the bed, confronting you. “What were you listening to?” There’s legitimate curiosity in his voice, and now genuine guilt builds in your chest upon his question.

You swallow hard, anxious to admit the truth, too ashamed to lie to him. “Um, I was listening to porn. Audio porn.”

He raises a brow at you, confused. Then, he says, “Let me hear it.”

Reluctantly, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, resuming from where you paused. Wet slaps blare through the speaker, then a man’s voice, moaning, “Ah fuck, let me hear you. Let me hear you moan on my cock. Let me hear you take this cock. Yeah, like that baby, take it just like that.”

You bury your head in your hands, absolutely mortified as the pornographic dialogue continues. The audio comes to a halt when Nanami stops it, silently tapping at the screen. You’re still hiding in disgrace, squeezing your legs together tightly to conceal the evidence of your supposed sin. The tension is palpable, with neither of you speaking or making any sudden movements. You’re dying to know what he’s thinking, simultaneously terrified of his judgement.

He clears his throat; you peek through your fingers to catch him loosening his tie around his collar, removing the glasses from his face. He’s blushing, brows tight with contemplation. “Did you come to this?” he asks, almost breathless.

You lower your hands, fisting them into the sheets beneath you, nodding. Anticipating.

“Show me,” he demands, eyes at your lap. Too eagerly do you spread your legs, displaying your sopping cunt to him, staring at his lips part slightly, a barely audible growl resounding within his throat. Your uneasiness gradually slips into arousal, aching to be touched, even punished, by your formidable husband. He bows, licking his mouth, inspecting you like prey he’s about to devour. Flicking his eyes to yours, he mutters, “You’re a dirty slut for listening to this filth. Have you no shame?” He kneels before you, unbuttoning his dress shirt, exposing the white tee underneath. Chiseled chest and abs carved into the fabric like fucking marble.

Losing composure, you blurt out, “No shame, absolutely none. I’m fucking filthy.” Your pussy aches, toes clenched, thrilled.

“I can’t stand you listening to another man’s voice while you get off. It makes me sick thinking about it. Makes my blood fucking boil.” His tone is menacing in way that titillates every inch of your skin, has you shuddering from the low growl at the end of each sentence.

“Are you going to punish me?” you goad, saliva collecting on your tongue, heavy with lust.

“I can think of something better.” Reaching for your phone, he navigates through it, finding your voice recorder app. He taps on the big red button, setting it beside you. “From now on, you only come to my voice. Got it?”

You swallow hard, almost chocking on your spit when you respond, “Yes. Yes, baby.”

He grins, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he cups your cheek tenderly. “Good girl.” His thumb traces the outline of your parted lips, your mouth inviting him in. But he doesn’t, leaning back on his wrists, observing you with the obvious bulge protruding from his slacks. “Get that vibrator. Show me how you do it.”

Obeying, you search for it under the pillow, retrieving it to rub the tip up and down your folds, finger on the trigger. “There you go,” he encourages, a cocky smirk on his face, slowly unbuckling the belt around his waist, sliding it from the loops and tossing it aside. “Tease it a little before you turn it on. Make sure it’s exactly where you want it.”

You tap the toy on your swollen bud, already sensitive from your earlier climax. You meet his gaze, waiting for a signal. He slides out of his pants and briefs, revealing his erection sprung against his belly. Before he does anything else, he grabs your phone and sets it on the bed between you. Palming his length, he grins. “Go ahead.”

What a fucking menace he can be.

Pushing the button, the vibrator immediately pulsates on you, causing you to twitch from the intense sensation. He watches, fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking himself, thumb grazing the slit. “Look at you. My gorgeous girl,” he purrs. “My perfect angel with the prettiest pussy. Can’t wait to stretch you open with this cock. Bury myself deep inside you. Fill you up with my cum.”

“Fuck, Kento,” you whimper, pressing the fluttering tip firmer, sweat beginning to bead on your forehead. You’ve always loved his hands; how pristine they are with his knuckles tight on his skin. Large, strong, then rough on the pads of his fingers from hard work and constant use. They’re even prettier in a fist surrounding his cock, wrist jerking hastily, precum glistening at the tip. Your entire focus is on him touching himself while he watches you do the same, the toy’s low hum enhanced when it’s snugly nestled to your clit.

“You like it when I talk nasty to you, huh?” he huffs, readjusting himself nearer to you. He’s so close, you can practically feel the tip of his cock at your quivering pussy. “Is it better than listening to your ridiculous pornography?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine, jutting your hips out, attempting to close the gap.

“Unlike them, I can actually touch you,” he muses, his tip teasing your entrance. “I can do whatever I want, whatever you want. They don’t get to fuck this sweet cunt like I get to. They don’t get to taste you the way I do.”

Suddenly, he grabs the vibrator from your grasp, shutting it off and setting it back under the pillow. He shifts down the bed, positioning his head between your thighs, diving in tongue first onto your puffy clit. Pleasure resonates from your core throughout your limbs, legs shaky and mind hazy as he slobbers all over you, covering your bud in his frothy spit. It’s sloppy, salacious, straight up nasty. After only a few strokes of his tongue, it’s already enough to send you into your third orgasm of the night, more powerful than the first two combined when you were alone.

You’d be a fool to expect him to let up after coming once with him; still, it shocks you when he doesn’t stop. He latches to you harder, suckling on your sensitive clit until it’s plump between his glossy lips and you’re crying out, “Too much!” overstimulated and spasming above him. Sometimes, when he’s in one of these moods, he forgets his own virility, always so keen on making you orgasm multiple times in one go. Tonight, he forgets that you had already been prepping yourself since earlier. With a gentle kiss, he relents, indulging in his work by running his tongue along your gushing pussy, drinking up your cum. He reaches for his cock, stiff between his stomach and the bedsheets under him. On his knees, he returns to his spot from earlier, stroking his cock with the tip just barely in your entrance.

You’re absolutely spent, but you yearn for him inside you, desperate to be filled with his load. “Come in me, baby,” you beg, gripping his wrist to pull him closer. “Fuck me.”

He lets out a disapproving tsk, shaking his head. “Not yet, princess. You have to be patient. We’re just getting started,” he smirks, stroking himself faster. “Are you just so fucking needy for my cum?” You nod erratically, tempted to thrust yourself onto him.

“Then beg for it,” he orders, sliding his cock the slightest bit further inside you. “Convince me that you deserve it.”

Understanding what he wants, you retrieve your little toy again, rubbing small circles with it on your bud, smearing whatever is left of your orgasm around it. “Please, Kento. Please. I need it. I need it.”

The sight of you like this has him dangling on the very edge, so close to climax. “Turn it on,” he demands. You do, the buzz electrifying all the nerves in your body yet again. You chant his name over and over until he shoots insides you, spurts of opaque cum flooding your pussy. “Yes, yes. Good girl. Take that fucking cum. Take all of it. Fuck.” His voice is hushed, breathy and trembling from the high.

You stop the vibrator, tossing it to the floor carelessly. Nanami crawls next to you, cradling you in his arms. With a kiss to your forehead, he whispers, “Are you okay?”

You smile, turning to face him, nuzzling his chest. “Of course.”

He caresses your face, trailing down your body to rest his hand at your waist. He glances at your phone beside you. “We’re still recording, you know.”

You giggle. “And…?”

He kisses you softly, tongue flitting past your lips, guiding you flat on your back, spreading your legs apart. “I’m not done with you yet.” His hand glides to your loins, toying with your swollen clit before teasing your entrance, brimming with his creampie. “Can you still take it, sweetheart?”

You nod, breath hitching, cuddling closer to him. Smiling sweetly at you, he eases a finger in, cum overflowing your pussy and trickling out from your slit. He slides in another easily, stretching you open, a whine escaping you. His mouth is hot on your ear. “You love this, don’t you? Me finger fucking my cum deeper inside you. Taking it like an obedient whore.” He picks up the pace, your cunt clenching his digits. “I’m going to get you pregnant tonight. Breed you, make you mine. You want that, sweetie?” His fingers writhe inside you, hitting that sweet spot repeatedly until you’re tight around him, ready for another orgasm. At this point, you’ve stopped keeping count, lost in a sex-fueled craze instigated by your husband.

“Yes, Kento. Give it to me. I want it. I want it so bad.” You notice he’s hard again, his erection stiffening against your leg. Reaching for him, you rub your hand on his length, feeling it twitch from your touch.

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling out from you. He sits up, back to the headboard, beckoning. “Get on my lap. Hurry,” he urges, hoisting you towards him. You straddle him, guiding his cock to your entrance. “Sink down on it. There we go,” he instructs, eyes wide, desperation etched in his tone. He needs this just as much as you do, and it drives you wild. You follow his command, lowering yourself onto him, his dick sliding in smoothly, bottoming out. “That’s my good girl. Fuck. You’re so good to me. So fucking good to me.”

You start riding him the way he likes, your ass slapping loudly on his thighs. He’s moaning endlessly, throwing in the occasional fuck and pet name as he grips your hips, bouncing you on his cock. You wrap your arms around his neck to keep steady, holding him tightly. “Want your cum,” you manage to utter, enraptured in the scorching pleasure he surrounds you in.

He's fucking up into you, feet planted at the end of the bed. The mattress creaks with every thrust of his cock. In a huffy breath, he says, “Milk it out of me, honey. Milk me fucking dry. You can do it sweetheart; I know you can.” The praise encourages you to ride him faster, rougher, your bodies in tandem, springing on the bed, moaning into each other’s mouth with a passionate kiss.

Soon, he pulsates inside you, stuffing you even fuller with his cum. You climax once more, gripping his cock with your fluttering pussy. He cradles you in a cozy embrace, catching his breath, nuzzling his nose to your chest. You giggle, running you fingers through his hair, smooching the top of his head. “You okay?” you ask, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.

He nods, exhaling deeply. “Just let me hold you. Need to calm down.”

You laugh, amused by his current state of post-coital euphoria. Fetching the phone teetering precariously at the edge of the bed now, you tap on the red button to stop the recording. Seeing this, he mentions, “You know I don’t actually mind you listening to that kind of stuff, right?”

You smile, noticing the guilt in his voice, massaging his back. “I know, honey. I know you don’t.”

He squeezes you, taking a deep breath. “Okay, good. Just want to make that clear.”

You cup his cheek, thumb caressing the stress lines along his face, gradually relaxing to your touch. “If it makes you feel any better, I’d much rather listen to this than some stranger on the Internet.”

Chuckling, he replies. “Maybe it makes me feel a little bit better.” He snuggles closer to you, hugging you tight, reluctant to let you go. Eventually, the two of you slip beneath the covers, getting comfortable with Nanami spooning you from behind.

You glance at the screen, showing the several minute long recording and the play button adjacent to it, ready to be tapped. “So,” you start, craning your neck to smirk at him. “Should we give it a listen?”

He returns your grin, shifting beside you, cock growing hard between your ass cheeks. “Absolutely.”

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bruisedboys · 5 months

Note

Jealous Finnick part 2?

Instead it’s with Peeta and training for the Quarter Quell? 👀

of course honey! thank you for requesting x

finnick odair x fem!tribute!reader

Finnick's not exactly pleased when he finishes in the training simulation and finds you teaching Peeta how to make a fish hook. Your fingers are quick and delicate as they work thin bronze wire around a makeshift hook. Peeta copies you, pressed far too close to your side for Finnick's liking. The younger blonde is totally enraptured, and sure, Finnick doesn't blame him, you're beautiful, but still — a frown works onto his face on it's own accord.

"Hey," he makes himself known as he approaches your workstation, because you're too focused on your work, and Peeta's too focused on you.

You look up at the sound of his voice and beam. It makes Finnick feel a little better you're so happy to see him. "Finnick, hey. You're done already?"

Finnick's frown deepens. "Yeah. I got bored."

"You got bored of chucking your spear at stuff?" You tease.

Peeta laughs next to you. Something claws at Finnick’s heart.

"Very funny, sweetheart," he tells you, ignoring Peeta. He rounds the table to get an arm around your hips, tucking his chin over your shoulder, his front pressed to your back. "What are you making?"

You warm at his closeness. "Just a hook. It’s not very good. Mags showed me how, remember?"

Finnick hums, watching your hands over your shoulder. "Mm, I remember. It looks good to me."

"Peeta's looks better," you say. "Pete, hun, show him yours."

Pete? Hun? Finnick feels suddenly like he's been punched in the throat. He can’t focus as Peeta hands his hook over and you show it to Finnick, raving about the attention to detail, or something. He‘a hardly listening, too busy trying not to kick Peeta in the leg. Pins and needles bite at his skin and dance over his palms. He accidentally digs his fingers too hard into your hip and you twist in his hold to look up at him, concerned.

"Hey, are you okay?" You ask him. You forget the hooks, setting them on the table and twisting to look at Finnick properly. You touch his arm. “Baby, you're really stiff."

Finnick pretends he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “Am I?"

You hum and take his jaw in your hand. "Yeah, honey." You pout at him, your hand dropping to his shoulder where you dig your thumb into the muscle there. "Could I give you a massage later, would that help?"

Finnick swallows hard. "I— yeah, okay." You want to give him a massage? You’re the loveliest person on the planet, he thinks.

"Okay,” you nod. “Remind me tonight, yeah?"

You beam at him and push up onto your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. Finnick feels far too overwhelmed to kiss back. He’s still dazed when you pull away and turn back to Peeta, who looks half embarrassed, like he shouldn’t be watching such an unabashed show of affection.

“Peeta was gonna show me some of his camouflage tricks,” you tell Finnick. “Did you wanna come, too?"

Finnick doesn’t answer right away, and at his pause, you lace your fingers through his and smile up at him, the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Please?” You ask, all sugary sweet, practically dripping in fondness.

“Okay,” Finnick nods, feeling a bit like you’ve put him under a spell. “Yeah.”

You beam at him and then drag him with you to follow Peeta to the opposite corner of the training room. Finnick doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but he knows for sure now he never had any reason to be jealous.

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed 🤍

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ladyelissarose · 10 months

Text

‘Stop Thinking!’

Miguel O’Hara x girlfriend reader

Warnings; 4K!!! NSFW, smut. Very fluffy- Like fluffy overload. Soft Miguel. I feel like he would be such a soft and sweet person while off-work. (Like look at how sweet he was with Gabriella) anyways. Enjoy y’all!

 Author’s note: so this is my first time writing smut. I have no experience in this area of writing. But I wanted to try something new for y’all. So far I’ve been learning from all the amazing smut fics I’ve read. (There are some great ones out there!!) So please, I’m willing to take some word from y’all if y’all like or see something that is fixable! Likes and reblogs are much appreciated- much love y’all! message me if you’ll like to mention something in private;)

“Oh!- Miguelll. Ah! That’s tickles.”

 You let out a soft giggle as Miguel laid on top of you in bed, at your shared apartment, kissing your soft stomach wherever he pleased. You both decided to take the day off, (more like you pushed him to finally agree because you saw how exhausted he was) after being stressed out and running on 24 back to back shifts all to protect the spider-universes.

Jess and Peter B. had it in their control, along with LEGO Spider-Man too, (Miguel actually trusted that poor LEGO and seemed more at peace with him along with the others than not.) Anyways, while a very attention deprived Miguel tried to shower you in his once all pent up love and touch, you were too busy still thinking and being busy.

 “I wonder if Hobie is going to pull a funny prank once you get back, he hates your guts yet can never leave your lair area.” 

Miguel mumbled incoherent words as his lips kissed every part of your soft tummy, your shirt now scrunched up to your neck. You were in simple panties while Miguel rested in his boxers, choosing to have less clothing between the two. You felt Miguel all over you, relaxing in his touch but thought a little more before adding,

 “Baby can I babysit MayDay one day? So Peter B and you can work better together and he’s not very distracted?”

This time he let out a groan which you considered a ‘yes’.

 “Oh yay!”

To that he softly bit your tummy, to which you let out a soft squeak but nonetheless put forth,

“Or maybe I’ll go on a mission with all the teens, they all seem pretty fun, especially Miles and Pavtir. Gwen gives me ‘mommers’ energy, I’ll invite her to the mall instead. ohhhh.”

  He had just left a super wet kiss in between your breasts after giving attention to them, but he replied, “Hmm hmm amor.” Miguel loved to hear you talk, it was no doubt that hearing your voice made his day better (especially when certain spiderlings gave him a hard time.)

But right now, he didn’t want to hear that, he just wanted to hear your soft sighs, those little hitched breaths when he kissed a certain spot. Although more than any of those, it was the whimpers and pleading cried you made for him, along with the sweet moans that were addicting and music to his ears.

Buuuuuut, you wouldn’t god damn shut up. Your mind was working to fast instead of slowing down. “Hey Miguel, when do you think Jess will have her bab-“

Ok, he has had it, pushing his hair back with one hand he lifted up off of your for a second before stressing out his desperation,

 “Por Dios amor, can you shut the hell up for one minute?”

Silence filed the room instantly, you snapped out of your chatty self and saw Miguel’s warm brown eyes hold a yearning in them, and he was breathing hard yet letting in and out slowly. You felt bad for being selfish much, and for not being able to decompress for him.

“I’m sorry Miguel.”

A pout fell on your lips which he kissed away instantly, “It’s ok amor... I’m not mad. Just... relax.”

You nodded and he then kissed you, feeling that you might give in already, but you began to make excuses against his lips. Mumbling the words against him as he had refused to separate from your lips, “-ut Migg-“

He pulled away with a huff and held up a very serious finger to your lips gently, “Don’t ‘But Miggy’ me. Miguel, your boyfriend is telling you to shut up and let me love you. No more work, or nothing. All I want to hear from those pretty lips is moans and my name. Es todo, y nada mas.” 

A little snicker passed your lips as you then exaggerated with heavy pants,  “Oh yeah! Yes please! Ohh- AH MIGUELLL! Oh- fuck!!” 

Miguel let out a delicious chuckle with a smirk, groaning lowly as he seated himself deep inside you, relishing in the fact of how you squeezed him so perfectly, hitting all the right spots for him. You were left breath and wordless, as his sudden act caught you off guard and now shut up. You let out a shaky breath and a small moan, trying to suppress it as he pressed in harder and held his place as he whispered to your ear,

 “Wanna be quiet now? Thought you wanted to be loud? Hm queirda?” 

Teasingly he dragged his fangs across your neck, placing feather light kisses behind the wet trails he left. You squeezed his broad shoulders tightly and in that moment you tried to admire his stealth and magnificence above you, but your mind went racing, and you lost yourself in his eyes as you once again went into thinking, ‘How’d his big size fit in so quickly and unexpectedly-‘ 

“Amor. Are you ok with this- I’m sorry if I-“

Miguel had the guiltiest frown and started to pull away, and you felt as if your air was being taken from you. How could he think he was in the wrong for absolutely praising and pleasuring you?

With grabby hands you pulled him flush against your chest as you pleaded,

“No no no! You’re ok baby, I swear.”

  His brow picked up a bit as he then asked curiously, showing how much he actually cared about ‘you’ over everything, even while still balls deep inside you, “Then what’s wrong amor? Hm?” 

His homey brown eyes bore only yours as you calmed him, “Sorry, I was just.. lost in thought.”

  His frown was long gone as he pursed his thick lips and couldn’t help but tsk, “You still have a question do you?”

 Your cheeks burned bright red as you slowly nodded and whimpered,

“yes.”

He propped himself on his elbows to not crush you as he then threatened with a kiss to your nose, “You have one last question to ask before I rail you until you stop thinking.”

  A breath left your chest in satisfaction as you wiggled a bit, biting down a moan from feeling him swell harder in you, and perfectly ignoring how he bit his lips hard to contain himself. You then raked your hands across his back as you perked, “How’d you squeeze yourself so easily inside of me? When it usually takes-“

Then you took one of his hands and kissed his knuckles before continuing, “-your fingers to warm me up?”

  Miguel let out one of his warmest smiles that had a hint of tease in it as he replied, “Well... you were to busy thinking up here *kiss on your head* instead of thinking down here!-“ 

And with a quick pull back he slammed himself back into you, causing you to arch into him and this time really moan out, “Ahhh! Oh Miiiguel.”

 “Si? I’m here amor. And you-“

Another deep thrust*

“-were long ready before you even knew it.”

deep thrust*

“Oh go-“

“No amor.. just me.. Miguel. Vamos amor, say my name.”

Lust and pride burned red in his eyes as he looked down at your smaller form under his, adoring every move and sound you made, because of him.

With gentle but hard moves he thrusted into you, being the cause of your short breaths and little whimpers that he was now happy to receive and hear. Arms wrapped around him you pulled yourself up and bit onto his lips, and you left him a sweet kiss before challenging with a sultry voice,

 “Make me, Miguel.”

 His slower, languid movements suddenly stopped, as he watched you look up at him with a high chin. You let go of his arms and dropped yourself back down, lifting your arms above your head and resting them there. You were sure in a damn mood huh? But it only excited you and brought more to your arousal when he growled,

 “Lo hare entonces.”

  Eyes now glowing red, in seconds he had one hand clasped with both of yours, fingers intertwining in a bruising grip, holding them high above your head. With his other hand, he put a soft pressure on your lower stomach, and trailed it up, expanding his fingers to get a whole feel of your skin against his. He stopped his hand right at your throat, his sweet voice betraying his sharp demeanor when he asked- of not pleaded,

 “Por favor amor? Do you trust me?”

 You sent him a confident smile with a verbal reply, knowing he preferred those for good confirmation,

 “Yes love. I trust you.”

 Fingers embracing the hold your neck gave him, he squeezed lightly, not wanting to push it too much, but it was just the right amount.

Miguel loved pushing you and trying new things, but he always did it after asking and making sure you were absolutely comfortable. If not he wouldn’t ask twice to do it or make you feel bad about not going with it.

Now your legs found place around his waist, hugging him tightly as he had pulled back and you refused him to go any further out.

But your worries about that were cut short when he began to pour his love out to you with every sharp thrust. Hitting every spot in you had you almost seeing stars, warmth seeped into you from the inside out. Low whimpers escaped his lips all while he made sure loud moans came from yours.

Also, one thing Miguel couldn’t go through this without- was the praise.

“You’re taking me so well amor, eres perfecta. All mine hm?”

A kiss to your lips he added, “Look at you, hermosa. Tan bueno... look at me.”

You eyes had tried to flutter shut, but at his whimpering plea you couldn’t deny him. Your fucked out eyes looking into his hungry and lustful ones, you both fed off on one another, pleading for more.  Words were almost not able to get out from how breathless he made you with every thrust. Bit with a certain one that hit you right where it made all the butterflies go all out, you did muster out, “Y-Yes! Jus’ for you Mig- ah! Please- don’t stop!”

A heavy sigh left your lips as tears prickled in your eyes, the pleasure all too good to keep a straight face. You could feel it all building up, but it felt all too right and perfect to want to finish it and let it go so fast. And you knew Miguel felt the same when he groaned, “Just a little longer amor, no quiero parar tampoco.”

Your legs pushed him further into you and you dug your heels into his muscled lower back, reaching up to kiss he parted lips.  Lips then connecting he took your breath away yet provided leverage with his hard pants escaping into you. His muscles rippled under you and you could feel his every movement as he pressed himself impossibly closer to you, not getting enough of your touch or your skin against his.

A light coat of sweat covered you both at the close proximity, but neither gave a damn as you dove into the heat of this moment, embracing into this warmth and heat that was like no other. It was the kind that made you feel safe, known, belonging, cared for, and most of all.. unapologetically loved.

After every other thrust Miguel seemed to be going faster, his hand leaving your neck to use his fingers to rub against your clit, prompting you to reach your high he called his trophy.

Your moans spurred him on as you could feel that familiar and all different warmth of pleasure grow in your lower tummy. You squeezed Miguel’s hand tightly as you pleaded in between moans, “Ah! Miguel, please.”

With a harsh but quick kiss to your lips Miguel teased, “Please what? Qué deseas amor?”

He let out a deep groan when your walls tightened around him, making him let out a sweet low moan that was rare to get but you swallowed his every sound desperately like a drug. He smiled with his lips on yours as he asked, “You close amor? Hm? I can feel- ahhhh.”

You’ve never heard Miguel this vocal before, and you couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t triggering something deep in you. Finding him strong in his vulnerability, as he moaned to your words, “I’m close baby- please! F-Faster!”

Miguel then let go of your hands, and wrapped his arms around you, settling with one hand splayed on your back, and the other gripping your waist tightly, threatening to leave ‘love tattoos’. With a single kiss to you lips Miguel growled, “Como deseas, aferrate a mi.”

  Your arms grasped tightly onto his broad shoulders, closing whatever gap was left between you two. Your cheek was pressed on his and you held his head against you possessively.  

Miguel put himself onto his knees, and laid you down while clinging onto him for life, as if you were afraid to let him go and lose everything of him. With a reassuring kiss to your head, the fight for your highs became utterly real.

With quick, deep thrusts he began to absolutely rail you, grinding onto your sweet spot with every hit, spurring you on and raising your cries for him. “Oh Miguel! Ah! Please please- Miguel!!”

He could definitely feel how close you were to an euphoric moment, velvety walls swallowing his length and milking him for what was to come. It only encouraged him to suck up what was left of his adrenaline to sink further in and gift what he could in pleasure.

  Miguel loved you entirely, he’d kill and die for you. You had given him your heart and knew he wouldn’t screw up again, and if he did, he swore with his heart and life that he’d pay for it. In return he had finally given his to you, once he saw and knew you’d do the absolute same for him, if not more.

His life was harsh and more than occupied, he wore a mean facade 99% of the time so he wouldn’t be stepped on, but with you, he could be 100% himself, and this is who he was. A loving, self-sacrificing man, who was vulnerable and healing by giving his all to you. Showing his love endlessly by making himself yours and you his.   Feeling himself coming to close to his release, he let go of your waist and trailed his hand to your clit, using his fingers to press down harsh and tight circles that have you curling your toes. “Vamos amor, come baby I’m right with you. I’m h-here.”

  His words cut short when you finally let go at his command, gushing on him as you let out a deep cry of his name and ‘I love you’s’.   Miguel embraced you close as he let go right after you, panting and kissing your neck as he let his cum paint inside of you, marking you once again as his. With a couple last deep thrusts, he finally came to a stop and took deep breaths in between heartfelt words.

 “I.. I love you amor.. so m-much.”

 You responded with a light kiss to his lips and a mumble, feeling the exhaustion slowly take over, “I love you... more baby.”

  Miguel got up on his elbows, muttering comforting words as he slowly started to pull out, but you whined a bit and held his shoulders, a small but visible pout on your lips. He thought you were very sore after such a long and hard session, but you quickly said, “Stay inside.. I.. I want you close.”

  Miguel smiled at you sweetly, knowing that he too would love to do the same, but you needed a refreshing bath first. So he bargained and promised, “Why don’t we take a quick bath, then we can do that, yeah amor?”

You thought for a minute before accepting he was right, the sticky feeling in your legs showing so. The thought of having cool yet warm water embrace your growing sore body, had you ready to get up immediately.

 “Ok baby, let me get up to start it-“

“No no no... let me carry you, come on.”

 Like the strong man he was, he was able to sweep you up into a bridal style, carrying you gently into the bathroom as you muttered, “Thank you..”

“Anytime amor. Sit here while I get the stuff ready.”

  He gently placed you on the sink and wrapped you with the sheet you dragged along so you wouldn’t get cold, pressing a kiss to your lips twice, he then went on to prepping your bath.  

Having memorized all the salts and bath bombs you preferred most for soreness and relaxation, Miguel efficiently and quietly placed them all into the warm water, splashing it a bit to make more bubbles (as he knew you secretly loved it passionately)    In peace you watched how his back muscles moved so enticingly with every thing he did. They were so big and comforting to touch.

He used his strength to take out big scary guys and protect his multiverses... but he also used them to make your bath perfect, and that thought... did warm your heart and make you fall harder for him as always.

His chiseled chest gleaming in light and in his sweat, brought you back to earth as he walked toward you with a warm smile and soft words, “Ok mi amor, it’s ready, come on.”

  With one arm he picked you up, only confirming how tough you thought he was, and he gently and carefully placed you both in. His chest against your back he held you close, his hands never leaving your body.  

You two sat in quiet for a bit, relishing in the water and in each other, soon then Miguel asked if you were ok and not hurt at all, you responded with, “I feel complete with you. I’m perfectly safe and happy baby.”

  With peppering kisses you two helped each other clean up, you too also asking him questions to make sure he was ok as well, and he responded assuringly, “Never been better. Contigo estoy contento amor.”

  Little after you both were ready to hop out, as the water had cooled down. Drying off with fluffy towels, exchanging shy and loving glances at your exposed bodies made you both giggle a bit and have rosy faces, but you’ve never felt more free and safe.  

Massages were given to your sore legs and back, as Miguel rubbed on some lotion for you. You tried to do the same, but ended up being enthralled by how rock hard his abs were that you got distracted a couple of times.

So you instead helped him back by getting some fresh water and popping some fruit in his mouth, he couldn’t resist but return that favor but also steal fruity kisses. Then you two put out clean sheets, it all felt so romantic yet domestic, and beautiful combination that was so perfect.   Now completing his promise, the big, strong, mean and hard Miguel held puppy eyes and crawled on top of your laying form and whispered, “Can we still...?”

“Yes baby, I haven’t changed my mind. C’mere.”

  He smiled like a dork, as he guided himself into you once again, this time he was soft yet firm, but you both sighed contentedly once he was fully inside.

Half of his weight rested on you, his legs to the side as his face came to hide in your neck, his hand finding place on your head and the other intertwined with yours. You cradled his head and kissed it sweetly, “Goodnight baby, get some sleep.”

  Your words sounded like he was the only one going to be sleeping. Your voice sounded so alive compared to his, and he could only grumble, “You better not be thinking. Go to sleep.”

“Miggy-“

  His head lifted to be above you as he worded seriously yet with a tease, “Go mimis. Please amor. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You lifted a brow and sassed, “Promising another round sir?”

  Calling ‘sir’ had him smirk and threaten,

“More like rounds. I won’t only make your legs sore but your brain too.”

“Mmmm challenge accepted-“

He sighed a short laugh of disbelief at your still sassiness as he plopped back down into your neck. “Mimis amor. Now.”

You were going to respond, but a sudden deep yawn came over you, and in seconds you felt extremely exhausted. Eyes closing slowly you worded lastly, “G’night baby.. love you.”

  Miguel hummed against you, content to hear you passing out as he replied, “Sweet dreams amor.. love you too.”

  You passed out before he even finished, he felt the deep breaths you took and how your hand went limp on his head. He smiled to himself and got comfortable, before riding his sleeping chariot alongside you.

Spanish Translations; amor- love Queirda- dear Como deseas- as you wish Es todo, y nada mas- that’s it, and nothing more Lo hare entonces- I’ll do it then. Aferrate a mi- Hold onto me Vamos- come on Contigo estoy contento- With you I’m happy Eres perfecta- you’re perfect Mimis- night-night

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader fluff #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara atsv #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spider man 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv x reader #atsv smut

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moonkissedvisions · 1 month

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PAC ♡ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ please read:

Hey! welcome to another reading. This reading includes the following questions, I drew one card for each of them: -How do you see yourself? -How do you think others see you? -How do you project yourself to others? -How can you improve your projection/image? -Who/How are you, really? Use your own intuition and discernment to read my interpretations. Remember that this is a general reading so not everything has to resonate. This reading was only made for guidance and entertainment, it´s not a replacement for professional advice of any kind. I use a Rider-Waite deck and you can ask me about the cards if they aren´t named in the reading. Check out my other readings at the end of this post and consider liking/reblogging/following if you liked this one.

ʚ♡ɞ Now, look for your pile and hope you enjoy it. ʚ♡ɞ

♡ Pile 1

How do you see yourself?

You see yourself as a joyful person who likes to have fun and juggle many things at once. You view yourself as adaptable, dynamic, and fast-paced. You strive to maintain balance in your life. Perhaps you see yourself as someone who is too agitated, trying to keep everything together but struggling with a bit of messiness. You are worried that you can't always solve every problem or you aren't versatile enough. You are practical and you tend to take too much at once, but you know you are good at that.

How do you think others see you?

You believe that others perceive you as a resilient and strong individual who has gone through many challenges in life. You think they see you as a warrior who can endure any obstacle that comes your way. You also believe that you excel at setting boundaries and people recognize your persistence, ability to push forward, durability, and unwavering stance on important matters.

What do you project?

You project that you are struggling emotionally. maybe you suffered from heartbreak recently and that's why others see you struggling. When you experience heartbreak, loss, or betrayal, it can be difficult to hide the impact it has on you. Often, others can sense that you are not feeling your best. This may be due to your facial expressions, gestures, and body language projecting your sorrow, depression, or grief. However, others may also sense that you possess the strength to endure emotional pain and anguish, and that you have the capacity to cope with difficult times and emotions. Despite the challenging circumstances, they can see that you are getting through it.

How can you improve your image?

To build a positive image, focus on developing self-confidence, optimism, and a sense of self-assurance. Recognize your own strengths, resilience, and determination, and celebrate your successes and progress with others. Cultivate a positive self-image by showcasing your talents, achievements, and skills, and don't be afraid to reward yourself for your hard work. By accepting love and attention from others, you can build strong and supportive relationships that will help you achieve your goals and thrive in life. Remember, with dedication and perseverance, you can create a positive image that reflects your true potential and inspires others to do the same.

Who/How are you?

Whether it's in the present, past or an ongoing experience, you may have encountered a sense of loss, betrayal, heartbreak or any other kind of ending that has left you feeling defeated, physically and mentally exhausted, unable to react, powerless, discouraged, and sad. It's a feeling that things have come to an end and a new beginning is approaching. You may feel resigned to this situation, and it may have taken you by surprise. Someone or something may have hurt you deeply, and you may feel like there is nothing you can do about it. But with time, a new beginning will approach, and you'll be able to start your life anew. ♡

♡ Pile 2

How do you see yourself?

You perceive yourself as someone who is often lost in thought, too absorbed in your mind to notice what is happening around you. Perhaps you are moody, bored, or indifferent. You don't seem to experience gratitude or joy for anything in particular. You may overanalyze things and miss out on opportunities as a result. You see yourself as someone who is introspective and contemplative, but you struggle to feel content or fulfilled. You don't have a passion or feel emotionally connected to anything. You may be stuck in a negative/lack mindset and find it difficult to appreciate what you already have.

How do you think others see you?

You believe that others perceive you as a patient, moderate, balanced, and a calm person. You think that people see you as someone who enjoys going on adventures and embracing all kinds of experiences. Additionally, you think that others view you as open-minded, flexible, and capable of accepting diverse opinions and ways of living. You don't consider yourself as a person who thinks in black and white, but rather as someone who avoids extreme points of view. Perhaps you believe that people see you as someone who is not vengeful, holds no grudges, and is diplomatic and stable.

What do you project?

You exude calmness and balance while projecting emotional intelligence and the ability to empathize with people's feelings. You possess the skills to help others with their emotional problems and have the ability to connect with your own emotions and creativity. People feel heard and understood when they talk to you, and you have a reassuring presence that can comfort and uplift them. You healthily express your emotions and are unafraid of being perceived as sensitive or emotional. You have a strong intuition that enables you to read others' emotions accurately and know when someone needs support. You are a loving, artistic, and magnetic individual who is capable of dreaming big and inspiring others with your creativity and passion.

How can you improve your image?

Be ready to unleash your inner child by embracing your childlike wonder and free-spirited personality. Ignite your adventurous side and discover new horizons with an open and curious mind. Don't let a lack of enthusiasm hold you back - break free from routine and indulge your curiosity. Follow what intrigues you. Get out of your head, and look at the bright side. The key to finding your passion is to approach life with a playful attitude and a desire to explore new ideas. Don't take yourself too seriously and don't worry about making sense of everything. You don't need to get attached to something to find it fun. Work on your fears. As you embrace your journey, you'll inspire others to follow your lead and tap into their own sense of wonder. Let humor be your guide and start smiling more as you uncover all the exciting experiences that await you.

Who/How are you?

You possess a reflective, methodical, and calm personality. You are someone who doesn't rush into things and takes their time to contemplate and evaluate the situation before action. You are careful with your work and like to commit yourself fully to it. You are a perfectionist. Your introspective and composed nature allows you to think through things deeply and come up with practical solutions. You value your work and like to reflect on the outcome, which helps you learn from your experiences and grow. You are intellectually practical and don't take any risks without careful planning. You are a patient, dedicated, and meticulous individual who values quality work and likes to appreaciate the fruits of their labor.

♡ Pile 3

How do you see yourself?

You see yourself as someone who possesses a remarkable collaborative personality that enables you to effortlessly blend the energies and abilities of all team members, resulting in outstanding project outcomes. Your ability to work in teams is a testament to your skill and capability. You are focused, dedicated, and driven to succeed, with a good eye for detail and a talent for employing practical skills to achieve your goals. Your meticulous planning and thoughtful consideration of all aspects of a project reflect your reliability and conscientious nature. You are aware of your strong work ethic, combined with your friendly and trustworthy demeanor. You are highly committed to your work, practical, and reliable which inspires confidence in your abilities.

How do you think others see you?

You may feel like others don't fully understand you or perceive you accurately. It's possible that you have an unclear sense of your own identity, or that your identity is constantly changing based on your emotions or what's currently going on in your life. This can make it difficult for others to get a clear picture of who you are, and you may feel misunderstood. You might even feel like you can't be your true self, or that there isn't a true version of you that you can show to people. It's possible that you feel like others see you as fake or delusional, or that they pick up on your insecurities and emotional struggles so their perception of you is clouded by emotional projections. You may worry that you confuse people or that they have false beliefs and wrong ideas about you.

What do you project?

You might unknowingly convey your inner feelings of doubt and unease to those around you. Perhaps you are currently low on energy, and those around you can sense that you are feeling defeated. You might be projecting an absence of assertiveness in your communication and actions, indicating that you are unsure of your ability to win your battles and succeed. It's also possible that you are projecting a lack of confidence in yourself and your boundaries, giving off the impression that you are easily giving up and that you don't stand up for yourself. Maybe others perceive you as someone who starts unnecessary conflicts and behaves recklessly. You may also be projecting a lack of experience and commitment, which could result in you frequently stepping back from challenging situations. Overall, you project insecurity and a lack of motivation.

How can you improve your image?

To improve your image, you must embrace the unknown and uncertainty with boldness, readiness, and vitality. Identify the factors that are holding you back and draining your energy. Instead of wasting your time and focusing on insecurities, learn to be assertive, spontaneous, and willing to take risks. Redirect your focus intelligently. Feel the fear, and do it anyway. Trust in your ability to overcome any challenge that comes your way. Don't hold back your wild side; be authentic and unapologetic. Take care of your health and engage in sports that will help you gain confidence and vigor. Expand yourself and seek ways to grow instead of limiting yourself. Remember, you are capable of achieving anything you set your mind to.

Who/How are you?

You may be currently undergoing a process of healing, or are considering such a journey. You are beginning to view your pain, struggle, and grief in a new light, and as a result, you are experiencing a sense of release from emotional pain. You are starting to feel more peaceful and serene, and you are gaining a deeper sense of self-awareness. You are recovering from a past event that has had a profound impact on you, and you are gaining hope and faith in your healing journey. You are engaging in various forms of emotional release, such as journaling, meditation, or talking to someone. You help others to heal by sharing your own journey. You are attuned to your feelings and learning to experience them, rather than trying to control or over-analyze them. You are someone who is overcoming emotional obstacles and developing a sense of self-acceptance and inner peace. Your journey of healing is a testament to your strength and resilience, and serves as an inspiration to others who may be going through similar experiences.

♡ Pile 4

How do you see yourself?

You appear to be someone who possesses a strong sense of willpower. You are confident in your abilities to manifest your desires and you have all the resources at your disposal to achieve your goals. Your skills and creativity are impressive, and you possess the strategic prowess and focus to make things happen. You also possess a sense of empowerment and cunning, which makes you a natural leader with a flair for innovation.

Your persuasive and analytical abilities have made you a force to be reckoned with, and you are well aware of your power and influence. However, you may have noticed that this energy is not always directed in a positive direction. You may have used your persuasive abilities to manipulate, control, or deceive others, rather than using them to inspire and motivate. Perhaps you have struggled to channel your creativity in a way that benefits yourself and others, and as a result, you may have suppressed it altogether. You may also feel that you lack consistency in your endeavors, which can lead to wasted potential or a lack of progress. You may struggle to be honest and coherent with your thoughts and actions, which can lead to a sense of confusion or frustration. Despite these challenges, you deeply understand that you have the potential to overcome them and tap into your full potential.

How do you think others see you?

You believe that others perceive you as a deep and dynamic individual, characterized by a continual process of transformation and evolution in your life. You feel that they recognize your innate ability to undergo significant metamorphoses and serve as a catalyst for change. You sense that others regard you as someone who wields profound influence, capable of instigating transformative shifts within themselves and their surroundings. You believe that people perceive your resilience and profound depth, viewing you as a revolutionary figure who fosters renewal and facilitates healing processes. You think others see you as a radical person.

What do you project?

You appear to be experiencing a sense of detachment from your expertise and proficiency. You project that your level of engagement with your work has diminished compared to previous times. Your attention and organizational skills seem to be faltering, leaving others with a feeling of uncertainty regarding your reliability and dependability. It appears that practicality eludes you, and you are out of harmony with those around you, resulting in a lack of confidence in your abilities both professionally and in your daily pursuits. Your friends or colleagues may detect a noticeable disconnect, sensing that you are not resonating on the same wavelength as before and that your connection with them has weakened. Don't take this as a further discouraging message. Remember that this is also part of your journey so embrace it, and seek to realign at your own pace. You may be projecting this however it doesn't have to be the truth about you.

How can you improve your image?

Enhancing your image begins with embracing both your triumphs and setbacks, as they are integral parts of your journey toward personal and professional growth. By acknowledging and learning from your experiences, you pave the way for self-improvement and evolution. Make time for introspection, allowing yourself to release any burdens and cultivate gratitude for the lessons learned. Reclaim your power by reframing disappointments as opportunities for growth and resilience. Stay proactive in seeking out avenues for advancement and expansion. Re-center yourself by decluttering not only your physical surroundings but also your mental and spiritual spaces. Through this deliberate process of self-care and empowerment, you position yourself to thrive and radiate confidence in all aspects of your life. Remember that you can't grow new flowers until the old ones have decomposed into soil. Focus on growing new flowers, not in the decomposed old ones.

Who/How are you?

You have a vibrant persona thar radiates humor, making interactions with you a delight. You exude a carefree optimism that uplifts those around you. Your approach to life is characterized by a refreshing lack of attachment to material possessions, opting instead to savor experiences with an insatiable curiosity and boundless enthusiasm. You embrace each moment as an opportunity for joy and discovery. Recognizing the analogy of life to a perpetual celebration, you conscientiously cultivate an attitude of a gracious host, ensuring that every encounter is filled with warmth and vitality. Your capacity to maintain a lighthearted perspective, coupled with an unwavering focus on the bright side of life, reflects a remarkable depth of wisdom and resilience. You have an infectious smile and unforgettable laughter, and you embrace your childlike wonder.

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arminsumi · 7 months

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Breakfast fluff

G. Satoru — さとる

NOTE : pls ignore errors i have neither slept nor proofread this 👍 i'm just craving breakfast so bad rn which is funny considering i hate cooking breakfast lol

SUMMARY — waking up to Gojo making breakfast and fussing over the kids on a typical Sunday

CONTENT — domestic fluff, just a wholesome morning with hubby Gojo

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

It's a very early morning. The sunlight through the sheer curtains is soft. You take your time getting out of bed, soaking up the enjoyable softness of the blankets and pillows. Though you're quick to miss the warmth that you usually wake up to. Blinking awake and going into the bathroom, Satoru hears the soft thumping of your footsteps down the hallway and smiles to himself.

Satoru's not usually an early riser, in fact he usually stays in bed with you and locks an arm around your waist when you try to leave. But it's a Sunday morning, and Sunday mornings were special. Because it became a tradition to go down to the bustling market, clutching the week's savings in his hand, and buy thick bacon and eggs. The freshest kind.

You and Satoru were living in a bare bones apartment with sparse money, as two young "parents" with three tots under your wings. Somehow, you two made it work, even though there were struggles you smiled through them and never strayed from each other's sides. He'd often work the night shift, and come home at ungodly hours so tired that he melted into your body like a sick child, aching for your affectionate touch.

While you lazily carry out your morning routine in the other room, the kids crowd around Satoru as he stands in the kitchen — trying desperately to balance the chaos of entertaining Yuji, Nobara and Megumi while simultaneously cooking up breakfast.

And he cooks breakfast with such meticulousness. He considers it an art form. There's a remarkable swiftness in the way that he wields a kitchen knife to cut the bacon block into strips, and a talent in the way he cracks open eggs with one hand.

" Nobara, Yuji, what are you yelling about ? "

A little voice whined, " Nobara bit me ! "

" Nobara, don't bite Yuji. " Satoru lectured softly, eyes focused on the food cooking in the pan.

" I only did it because he tried to take your sweeties out of the pantry, dad ! " she reasoned.

" Don't eat my sweeties Yuji, you can have some later today — smell this ? Daddy's cooking up yummy breakfast so don't spoil your appetite, okay. You're gonna love it. "

The bacon and eggs crackle and pop in the oiled pan, sometimes so loudly that it makes Megumi jump in fright.

" Gumi, don't stand too close to the skillet. " Satoru warns, placing a hand on his head of messy bed hair and ruffling it, causing it to look even more unruly.

A steamy breakfast aroma wafts down the hallway and satisfyingly fills your lungs. You can hear the four of them chattering and Satoru's interspersed mini-lectures.

You look at them from the doorframe, Yuji and Nobara run out the other way into the interleading sitting room.

" Who's that peering 'round the corner ? " Satoru playfully teases, his voice bringing you warmth.

" Maaa. " Megumi groans and trots over to you, giving you as big of a hug as his little body could manage.

You comb your fingers through his hair, fixing up the mess that Satoru's previous ruffling caused — as usual.

And he flashes a look behind him at you, winking like a cheeky flirt. His smile is so big because of how purely happy the sight of you makes him; especially with that bleary-eyed morning face. You look so cozy, it makes his heart lurch to see you wearing his oversized t-shirt.

" Hey ! You didn't give me a morning hug ! " Satoru pouts and complains to his son.

Megumi groans. With a small encouragement from you, he quickly dives in for a rushed and almost shy hug. His arms wrap around Satoru's legs. And like the menace your husband is, he ruffles Megumi's hair to ruin again — making the boy groan annoyedly and break the hug.

" Ugh, daaad stop. Mom just fixed my hair. " Megumi grimaced, promptly running away when Satoru smiled down at him evilly — because that smile was the one he made before going in for tickles. And tickles from Satoru? They were devastating, truly.

So little footsteps thump out of the kitchen and the two loud voices that have been sounding from the sitting room become three loud voices. You notice how Megumi's accent takes after Satoru's rather than yours, and it warms your heart.

You approach the stressed, apron-clad chef and immediately he turns around to engulf you in an energetic kiss and embrace.

" You're burning the bacon, dad. " you giggle, face squishing into his torso.

" NOOO — shitshitshit. " he mutters under his breath, lips tingling from that tasty kiss he just snatched off your lips.

" Language, 'Toru. " you murmur at him, arms wrapping around his slim waist. You give him butterflies and then he loses all composure, causing a burnt disaster in the pan. The eggs are crusted brown, the bacon is glitterring as it sizzles a deep color.

Automatically, you go around the kitchen collecting and preparing plates and cutlery for the meal. The clang and clash of plastic reminds you that today is a big deal; you and Satoru were going to go out and use the rest of your weekly savings on new kitchenware.

Stopping for a moment to amire the attractive view of your husband's physique from behind, while he rather chaotically shovels the cooked contents of the pan out onto the serving plate that you slide next to him.

" Ah the bacon is saved. . . " he breathes in relief.

The sizzling food finds its home on plates. Satoru steals a quick kiss.

And then another. And another and another until the two of you zone out for a moment and feel like you're just two teenagers again, stealing lovey dovey kisses on your way to morning classes, of course his lips always caused you to be you late to everything back then.

But before you and Satoru can completely intertwine like lovers, there's the common interrruption of Yuji's wailing coming from the sitting room. You and your husband exchange those parental sighs and smiles, before you head into the other room to fix the little commotion. Poor Yuji complains to you through teary eyes that Nobara bit him "for being annoying" and Megumi is just wandering back into the kitchen to help his dad serve up breakfast without him even needing to be asked. He was just a sweet boy like that.

And it's a good meal. One that hits all the spots. You wish you could have more, even though Satoru did put from his plate onto yours throughout the meal. It's a caring habit of his that you never realize until after you've devoured everything. You pay him thanks with a tasty kiss, and he smiles into it like he always does.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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harringtonstilinski · 1 month

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Call It What You Want - Steve Harrington

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 3,080 Warnings: fluff, squint hard for angst, ignore the fact that eddie has risen from the dead, lol Requested: no | yes; i hope it meets your expectations, @stevesxyellowxsweater!! came from this prompt list Smut: no | yes; A/N: Hi, friends! So, this hellsite decided to delete/eat the original fic of this. If you like this, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

Steve Harrington. Your childhood best friend turned… acquaintance? Hell, you don’t even know anymore. You two used to be inseparable before he became King Steve, then your friendship went to shit… or at least you think it did.

When he started spending less and less time with you over the course of high school, your mind couldn’t help but go to the worst case scenarios. He didn’t want to be your friend anymore, he didn’t like you as a friend anymore, he was in the popular crowd while you weren’t so that made him not like you, Tommy H. and Carol, and many more.

Everything came to a head during both of your Senior year. You had asked him to hang out a couple of days after he and Nancy broke up, just wanting to cheer up your best friend. When he ditched you for a whole ass month, you decided to quit trying.

It was now summer of ‘86, just a couple of months after the earthquake. You were volunteering at the high school gym, or makeshift shelter, when you spotten him, folding clothes.

You tried to avert your eyes when he looked up and over, feeling eyes on his figure, but you couldn’t. Lost in those hazel eyes that you were once your favorite things to look at.

He pulled his lips together in a tight smile, nodding his head once at you before looking back down at the shirt in his hands, finishing the fold he started on it.

“Why don’t you just, I don’t know, talk to him?” Robin said, effectively scaring you.

After jumping ten feet from your skin, you placed a hand over your heart, bending at the waist ever so slightly, resting your free hand on the table in front of you. “Holy shit, don’t do that again.”

“Look, I know it’s been years since you guys have talked, but–”

“If you tell me it’ll benefit us both in the long run again, I’m gonna take these suspenders and snap them on your tits,” you interrupted, eyebrow raised.

Robin held her hands up, looking down slightly as she said, “Okay, fair enough. But seriously, though? Just saying hey and catching up wouldn’t hurt anyone. Especially Dustin.”

You looked over at your little brother, watching as he continued to hand people cups of water and blankets, his leg having long been healed from his fall back into the Upside Down. Sighing, you whispered, “I know,” before looking back at Robin. “I know he’s already lost Eddie. He can’t lose Steve, too.”

“Even though it feels that way,” your brother said, setting his tray down next to you.

Wrapping your arm around his shoulders, you sighed. “You haven’t.”

“He’s always going on dates.”

Brows furrowed, you replied, “He’s always gone on dates. His asshole of a father always told him that if he wasn’t settled down by a certain age then he was considered a failure in his eyes. Which he isn’t… nor will he ever be.”

Dustin and Robin looked at each other behind your head, both of them raising their eyebrows in unison at your words, realization hitting them both. You had a crush on Steve.

And of course, your shithead of a little brother looked back at you with a devilish smile after watching Steve take a few steps towards you. “Well, here’s your chance to get that date you’ve always wanted.”

Looking at him confused, you asked, “What are you–” before being interrupted by both him and Robin saying, “Bye!,” walking away as Steve approached the table.

You looked from Dustin to Robin as the two of them walked away, mouth ajar before bringing your bottom lip between your teeth and looking in front of you. A small smile appeared on your face, seeing that playful smile that Steve always gave.

“Hey, loser,” he said.

Releasing your lip, you scrunched your eyebrows, greeting him with, “Buttface.”

A chuckle came from his mouth, his head bending forward as his chin became parallel with his collarbone. When he brought his head back up, you saw nothing but amusement in his eyes as he said, “Buttface? Really?”

Crossing your arms, you retorted, “Well, you are. You fucking ditched me.”

All amusement left his eyes at your words, fear and anxiety crashing into yours. “Oh, my god. Steve, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say it. I just slipped out–”

“It’s okay,” he said, stopping your words. Nodding, he added, “I mean, I did deserve it. I was an asshole and I’m majorly sorry for that.”

Smiling a little to yourself, you tilted your head and quietly asked, “Did just say majorly? What is this? 1982?”

He looked at you confused, but laughed nonetheless. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

Going back to messing around with the items in front of you at the table, you said, “You were always one for trends. Still are, apparently.”

“What do you mean?”

Gesturing to his clothes, you eyed his outfit before locking eyes with him again. “Need I say more?”

“What about the hair?”

“Still on trend with that. It’s your best attribute. I predict, though, in about… twenty or so years, you’re gonna cut it short.”

Leaning his hands on the table, he asked, “Will I still look good?” “Of course,” you chuckled. “You always have. Even when we were kids and your parents made you get those… oh, what are they called?” You thought for a moment before gasping. “Oh, my god! It was a bowl–”

“You finish that sentence and I’ll make sure everyone sees your haircut from the late 70’s.”

With wide eyes, you said, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t try me, princess.”

You narrowed your eyes at the nickname he used to call you when the two of you were kids. You loved it until you reached high school when Carol started calling you princess to get under your skin.

He started using it in a derogatory way after that just to please his friends, which pissed you off to no end. Steve would end up going home after school or hanging out with Tommy H and Carol, regretting the words he’d said to you.

That’s when you both made the conscious decisions, separately, to stop hanging out. When you two walked across the stage at graduation, you cheered and clapped for each other, spotting each other in the crowd and giving each other a small smile.

Realizing what he’d called you, his eyes went wide with shock. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry.”

Waving him off, you looked down. “It’s okay, Steve. I’m over it.”

“Clearly not with the way you just looked at me.”

“And how was that?” you asked, looking from the blanket you were moving into Steve’s eyes.

With a small smile, he replied, “Like you wanted to kill me.”

“Oh, my god. Just ask her out!” Dustin said, walking behind Steve.

Your eyes went wide, not believing that just happened, but… Steve apparently believed it because not five seconds after Dustin had disappeared, he asked, “Would you? Go on a date with me?”

Flabbergasted, you opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, your brain going a million miles an hour as you tried to come up with an answer as an arm came around your shoulders, ultimately halting your train of thought.

“Of course she’d love to, dingus,” Robin said. You could hear the smile behind her words… and see it as you turned your head to face her.

“Robin,” you quietly hissed.

“Oh, shush,” she whispered. “You know you want to.”

You knew, deep down in your heart you knew you wanted to go on that date with one Steve Harrington. You had always wished that he would ask you, but alas… he never did. Always asking out the popular girls, the girls on the cheerleading team or dance team. And it always broke your heart.

This time, though, was different. It was you he was asking, not some other girl that only wanted to get into his pants… or he into theirs.

Sighing, you closed your eyes for a moment before gathering your thoughts and nodding your head. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Yeah, okay, what?” Robin said, the smile evident on her face.

“Yes, Steve, I’ll go on a date with you.”

~~~

Two weeks had gone by before you were standing in front of your vanity mirror, looking over your outfit.

“Hey, female - holy shit.”

You turned and spotted Eddie standing at your doorway, a cassette tape in his hands that he nearly dropped. Chuckling, you said, “Hey, Eddie. What’cha got there?”

“Uhh,” he said, looking from you to the cassette. Looking up with a devilish smile on his face, he played with it, before tilting his head and scrunching his nose. “Maybe it’s that album you’ve been looking for.”

Scrunching your brows in thought, you wracked your brain trying to think of what album he could be talking about until it hit you with a gasp. “Def Leppard’s Pyromania?”

Pointing at you with the cassette, Eddie smiled and said, “The very one.”

Squealing happily, you ran and jumped into your best friend's arms, hugging him tightly around his neck before releasing him, hands cupping his cheeks. “Thank you, Ed.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He gave you another quick hug before adding, “Oh, by the way. You look beautiful. You’re gonna knock Harrington’s socks off.”

Chuckling, you said, “Thanks, Eddie.” At the sound of Steve’s laugh, your body tensed the slightest bit, your best friend noticing.

“Hey,” Eddie said, voice gentle. “It’s gonna be okay. Don’t worry. If he tries anything, just let me know and I’ll kick his ass.”

“In what? D&D?”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes going the tiniest bit wide before he nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, you got me there.”

You laughed as you turned to put the cassette on your vanity, giving yourself one more look over before exiting your room, purse on your shoulder. When you spotted Steve standing at the door with Dustin, laughing, your heart leapt into your throat. Steve looked damn good, and you knew tonight wouldn’t end without the two of you making things official… after talking everything out.

When Dustin looked at you, his smile never faded. “Well, here she is. The lady of the hour.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, giving him a side hug as Steve chuckled.

He opened the door for you, escorting you out, Dustin, your mom and Eddie wishing the two of you a good night.

“Ten bucks they end up together,” Dustin says.

“I’ll up you ten and say they’ll do more than just ‘get together’,” Eddie replied.

With a disgusted look on his face, Dustin looked up to his mentor, saying, “That’s my sister, you gross ass.”

~~~

The car ride to the movies was silent, but comfortable. The film choice for the night was The Karate Kid Part II. Your main reason for seeing it?; Ralph Macchio.

Max had told you if you didn’t see it that she’d hunt you down and murder you in your sleep. An empty threat from the redhead, but nevertheless, you told that you’d see it, a smile spreading across her face at your words.

Once the movie was over and you voiced that you were starving, Steve drove the two of you to Benny’s, home of the best burgers and fries in Hawkins. As soon as you two walked into the diner, the waitress smiled to herself, already getting her notepad and pen out, writing down yours and Steve’s orders.

She waited on the two of you during your Freshman and Sophomore years of high school before Steve became King Steve. Gloria, the waitress, had always wondered where you were when Steve would come in with Tommy H and Carol. Steve had explained that the two of you weren’t really hanging out anymore, which made her sad, so seeing the both of you at the diner together, made her smile.

The both of you took your normal booth in the middle along the wall of windows. You turned your head to the right, looking out at the cars passing by on the road. Sighing, you felt content before looking back at Steve, whose eyes had been on you the whole time.

Steve was immensely happy that you had decided to go on this date with him. He always felt bad at the treatment you got from him, and always wanted to make it up to you in the best way possible. This was the best thing he thought of. Doing what you’d always used to do; movie and then burgers at Benny’s.

“What?” you asked, reaching up to touch your cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”

Chuckling, Steve looked down at the table before looking around the diner, eyeing Gloria, giving her a nod, a small smile on his face as he did, your eyes watching his movements.

Turning your head to look towards Gloria, your face lit up with happiness, the seasoned waitress walking over with her tray resting on her hand, bringing the two of your food.

“Oh, my goodness,” she smiled. “Look at how grown you two have gotten. I was wondering when you two were gonna come walking back in here together.”

Your face flushed as Steve’s eyes widening the slightest bit at her words. She always rooted for the two of you. After Gloria had set your drinks in front of you, she smiled and said that she’d be right back with a special treat for you and Steve.

Shrugging, you picked up your burger after topping it with your condiments and veggies of choice that were on your plate, you took the first bite, eyes practically rolling into the back of your head. “Oh, my god. I forgot how good these burgers were.”

With furrowed brows, Steve picked up a fry and asked, “When was the last time you were here?” before popping it into his mouth.

“The last time we both were here,” you said, after swallowing your bite, going back in for another.

Steve hummed to himself, taking a bite of his cheeseburger, having topped it with his toppings of choice.

About half way through your meal, Gloria set your favorite milkshakes in front of you, a big smile spreading on your face after she walked away. Using the spoon that was in the cup, you brought a spoonful of the thick milkshake to your mouth, quietly moaning with an eye roll at the flavors hitting your taste buds.

Pointing to the shake with the spoon, you said with a mouthful, “The best damn shakes in Hawkins.”

“The best damn shakes in all of Indiana!” Steve exclaimed, holding his own spoon out with some of his shake on it.

Scooping another spoonful, you ‘clinked’ your spoons together, laughing at the silliness of it all. You had missed it, though, and so had Steve. Once your laughter had died down and you were finished with your meals, Steve had tried to pay, Gloria insisting that it was on the house, courtesy of Benny himself.

The drive back to your house was quiet again, but comfortable. Steve had his hands on the steering wheel and gear shift, respectfully, while yours was in your lap. All the words you wanted to say were a mess in your head, every thought that was tumbling around in your head caused you to lose track of time… and where you were.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back, your head turning towards Steve. “I’m sorry, what?”

He chuckled, his hand never leaving your shoulder. “I said, we’re here and asked if you were okay.”

“Oh,” you said, sheepishly. “Yeah. Got lost in thought, I guess.”

“What were you thinking about?”

Shaking your head, you looked down and whispered, “It’s nothing.”

Putting his hand on yours and gaining your attention, Steve said, “Hey. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

All you could do for the next ten seconds was look into those hazel eyes you used to get lost in before you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, closing your eyes and sighing. Steve sighed and closed his eyes, as well, bringing his hand from yours to cup your cheek.

“I’ve missed you, Stevie,” you whispered. You felt him stiffen just slightly, your opening and head lifting from his for just a moment before he brought your forehead back to his. “I’m sorry. I know you hate being called that.”

This time, it was Steve who lifted his head to look at you, his hand never moving from your cheek. “You’re the only one that gets to call me that, ya’know? Always have been, always will.”

A small smile spread on your lips, Steve’s hand moving slightly back towards your neck, his thumb rubbing at the top of your jawline near your ear. “Don’t hate me for this,” he whispered.

“What are you–” you started, but your words were cut off by Steve’s lips on yours. You were a little shocked, to say the least, but you kissed him back regardless. It wasn’t a hungry kiss. It was more of one that was testing the waters

With lips slowly moving in sync, you couldn’t help but feel happy that his lips were actually on yours. You hated to admit it to yourself, but you’ve always wondered what it would feel like to have Steve’s lips on yours, and now that they are… you couldn’t get enough.

You wanted to keep kissing him until your lips were red, swollen, numb, the whole nine yards. All you wanted was Steve, and now… you think you have him.

When you both pulled away, breathless, you rested your foreheads against each other’s, simultaneously. As you caught your breath, you smiled, a soft chuckle making its way from your lips.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, a smile on his face as well.

Rolling your head to the right a little, you bit your bottom lip before lifting your head and looking at those hazel eyes you’ve always loved. “I just can’t believe that happened.”

Moving his hand back to your cheek, Steve smiled that smile you hadn’t seen in years. “Well, you better believe it… because I plan on doing that more.”

“I’m counting on it, Stevie.”

Steve chuckled while shaking his head, bringing your lips back to his with a smile on both of your faces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: hi, friends! let me know what you thought about! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes:

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

Steve Harrington Taglist: @madaboutjoe

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on March 22, 2024

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #joe keery x reader #steve harrington

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pink-sparkly-witch · 7 months

Text

All She Wants, Part Three (Finale)

Summary: Dean’s experience with the wrong hormone suppressants makes him feral. The only person who can get him out of it and save his life is Y/N, the omega he had been mating with for years until she left six months ago. Without a claim and with no prospects of Dean ever giving her one, Y/N finally had enough and broke the bond they’d forged in their years together and left him, but with Sam now begging her to go to Dean and save his life, will she go, or will she leave the green-eyed alpha to his biological fate?

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Alpha Gone Feral for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: dub con claiming, omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, language, ruts, feral alpha, agitation, aggression, smut, rough sex, biting, oral sex (f rec), fingering, p in v sex, hair pulling, heavy angst, aftercare, fluff

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Here we go… the super angsty finale of this alpha!Dean mini-series! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

You can catch up here!

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Y/N’S POV

The knocking on your motel room door startles you, and you grab your gun from the waistband of your jeans and cautiously step towards the door. Flicking the safety off, you place the barrel onto the wood and cautiously open it just enough to see who’s on the other side.

“Sam? Cas?” you gasp, throwing the door open wider.

“You should be more careful, Y/N. We could be demons or shapeshifters or any other kind of monster,” Cas speaks first, and you blink at him, amused, as always, by his directness.

“Nice to see you, too, Cas,” you smirk, opening the door wider to let them in.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says as he leans down to hug you. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Sam,” you smile as you close the door behind them. You know whatever this unplanned visit is, it’s about Dean.

“You seem healthy,” Cas states, tilting his head to the side and frowning as if searching for something. “And yet—”

“So!” Sam interrupts quickly. “How have you been?”

“Fine…” You narrow your eyes at the alpha’s strange behaviour. “This isn’t a social visit, is it?” You finally ask.

“No,” Cas confirms, and you don’t know if you’re glad he’ll get straight to the point or if you’d prefer Sam to dance around it all a little more.

“Dean.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. You knew from the way your stomach dropped the second you saw them that this wasn’t a good news visit.

“I asked Cas to find you,” Sam said softly.

You and the younger Winchester have stayed in touch since you left the bunker, but you agreed you wouldn’t tell him where you were, and he wouldn’t ask. It was one thing for Dean to find out they were talking, but it’d be another entirely if he knew Sam knew where she was.

“What happened?” Your mind goes to the worst possible scenario, and you try to fight the rising nausea.

“Dean has been taking store bought suppressants,” Sam says, and you feel your blood boil.

“What? Why? Why would he be so goddamn stupid? Did he know what they’d do to an alpha in his situation?” you fume at the men as you pace the threadbare carpet.

“No. He knew they weren’t suitable long-term, but the side effects he experienced weren’t typical,” Cas answered.

“I thought it was a mix of the drugs and rejection sickness and that it’d ease over time,” Sam says calmly and quietly. “But I think he suffered some kind of chemical reaction to them, and by the time I found out what he was taking, it was too late.”

“Too late? Sam, what are you saying?” You’re terrified of what he’s so anxious to tell you.

“He’s feral, Y/N,” Cas finally puts you out of your misery, and while it’s bad news, it’s not the worst thing they could’ve told you. “But I don’t understand why you are not.”

It’s not an accusation. The angel is just curious about alphas who mate with but don’t claim omegas. To his literal knowledge, an alpha finds an omega, they mate, there’s a claim, an unbreakable bond, and pups. Your situation with Dean had always intrigued the celestial being.

“Because I’ve been taking the suppressants I should. Prescribed by a doctor. Why didn’t he do the same thing?” Contrary to the angel’s question, yours is accusatory as you look between Sam and Cas.

“You know what he’s like, Y/N. He doesn’t talk about these things, and I didn’t know until a few days ago. He’s been overcome with guilt for how he treated you, and I think…” Sam trails off, noticing from the look on your face that you know what he was alluding to.

“You think this is some kind of self-sacrifice?” you ask in disbelief. Dean is well known for his self-depreciation, and it’s something you’ve seen and heard from him many times, but this? “No… No, I don’t believe that. Why would he put himself through that just to go feral anyway? Why not just lie down and let it happen on its own?”

“You really want me to answer that?” Sam asks, and you frown.

“Sam, you can’t be serious! Dean is not doing this to punish himself for hurting me. There’s no way,” you argue, but you know the green-eyed alpha better than he knows himself. It does sound like something he’d do to himself—some kind of fucked up repentance for his behaviour.

Sam only shrugs, and you sigh, knowing you’ve both come to the same conclusion.

“So, what? You want me to go to him? Get him out of this mess?”

“You’re his mate. Only you can get him back from this,” Cas says, and you laugh bitterly, taking the angel by surprise.

“I bet Dean loves that!” you scoff. “Anytime I told him that like it or not, we’re mates, he shot me down in flames!”

“I know he hurt you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, and Dean knows it too. He told me not to look for you. That he doesn’t deserve your help, but I’m asking you to think about it. Please?”

“I don’t know, Sam. If I go to him, you know what it means, right?” you check, not convinced either of them fully understand what they’re asking of you.

“I do,” Sam responds.

“And you know it’s pretty much a done deal that he’ll claim me in his feral haze? And then when he comes to, he’ll regret it and reject me? You’re asking me to sacrifice myself for him? Because I won’t survive his rejection, you both know that, right?”

“He’d never reject you, Y/N,” Cas confirms what you know in your heart, but it brings no comfort.

“Oh, because a forced claim and being stuck with someone who doesn’t want me is a better fate than dying from rejection!”

“He does want you. He loves you. He just can’t—” Sam starts, but you interrupt with a scoff.

“Give me what I want. I know, Sam. He’s told me that so many times it’s imprinted in my memory!” You huff, quickening your pacing.

You want to say no. You want to protect yourself and your fragile heart that’s still trying to heal, but you know if you were the feral one, Dean would already be here, doing everything he could to get you through it—even claiming you just so you’d survive.

He doesn’t deserve to die, and yet, you don’t deserve to be someone’s mistake, but you can’t see any other option. If you don’t go to him, he’ll die. If you go to him, and he doesn’t reject you, you’ll be miserable, but you’ll both be alive.

“Fuck!” you yell in frustration. Once again, you feel that self-loathing that only Dean seems able to bring out of you. You hate yourself because you still love him even after everything, and you’d sacrifice everything to save him.

“Where is he?”

Walking up to the secluded cabin, you shiver at the deathly silence surrounding you. As if being this deep in the woods isn’t ominous enough, there isn’t even a bird chirping or an insect buzzing in the heavy air.

You’re so deep in the woods that the midday sun can’t even breach the trees. You drove as close as you could, but you’d had to abandon your car about a mile back. This is probably the safest house Bobby had ever found, and you have to admire Dean for choosing this one to hide out in.

Sam had given you the key. At first, you’d been shocked he’d lock Dean in with no way to escape, but you knew feral alphas aren’t to be taken lightly. There had been cases of ferals going on murder sprees, and the green-eyed hunter would never risk putting people in any kind of danger.

“Dean?” you call out as you knock on the door. “It’s Y/N. Sam found me. He said you need my help.” With no response, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for being too late, and put the key in the lock.

Pushing the door open slowly, the sour smell of Dean’s feral rut slams into you, and immediately your body begins to respond to the distressed alpha. Your skin tingles, heat floods your veins, and slick pools at your entrance. You’ve never been more grateful for a heat to come on as you are now. If it didn’t, Dean could seriously hurt or even kill you trying to get himself out of this.

“Omega,” Dean growls from the doorway of the bedroom and with one look at his bloodshot eyes, you know there’s little to no humanity in him right now.

“Alpha,” you whimper and bow your head in submission.

“Mine,” he groans in front of you, and you jump, having not heard him move across the room.

Dean buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent, gasping as if he’d been suffocating, and your scent is his oxygen.

“My ‘mega,” Dean snarls and slams you against the wooden door. You whimper at the pain and remind yourself not to fight. If you fight, things could get ugly.

Pawing at your jeans, he tries to undo them, but in his desperation to get at you, he can’t grasp the little brass button and punches the wall next to your head in frustration.

“Hey,” you purr, placing a hand on his cheek and smiling as he leans into your touch, “It’s okay, Alpha. Let me.”

Loosening the button and pulling the zipper down, you kick off your shoes, slide the denim from your legs and step out of them. Moving to your shirt, you begin pulling at the material when Dean slaps your hands away.

“No!” he growls. “Mine.”

Dean isn’t gentle when he claws at your shirt, grabbing the neckline with both hands and ripping the cotton from your body. The groan that rumbles from his belly when your lace-covered breasts are exposed to his gaze has slick soaking through your underwear.

He wastes no time placing his lips on the tops of your breasts, biting and sucking the sensitive skin, marking you in a way he never has before. Dean pulls the cups of your bra down and quickly finds a hard nipple, and you groan from his overzealous assault.

You whine as the alpha pulls away from you, but before you can complain further, Dean lifts you on his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom.

“Strip,” he orders as he places you back on your feet, and you don’t dare disobey or take your time removing your bra and panties.

“Good girl,” he praises as he takes his clothes off, and you wonder if just being here is making him a little less feral. “Get on the bed, Omega.”

Again, you don’t dare take your time and quickly crawl onto the bed and wait for his next instruction. Dean kneels at the bottom of the bed, pulls you down by your ankles, and pushes your knees down to the mattress.

“Mine,” he growls as the scent of your slick reaches him, and he lowers his head between your legs. He’s not gentle, anything but, and his longer stubble scratches and jabs at your soft, sensitive skin. It’s sore, yet you quickly fall apart on his mouth.

Before you fully come down from your high, Dean’s fingers are inside you, and he’s sucking and biting his way up your body. When this is over, your skin will be an interesting spectrum of colour; you can already see patches of red on your breasts from earlier, and Dean’s not done with them yet as he goes back to sucking and biting your nipples.

As your forced heat takes over, the pain from Dean’s bites and rough hands ease, and all you can feel and hear now is desire and pleasure and growls and snarls, and Dean, mumbling mine over and over again while his teeth nip at your neck.

“Present, Omega,” Dean growls as he pulls back from your body just enough to let you turn around. You crawl further up the bed and lean forward onto your elbows. You unintentionally wiggle your ass as you get comfortable in your new position, making Dean growl deeply and spank your round cheeks.

You feel his hands slide up your thighs and over your ass. His touch soothes and cools your heated skin. When he finally slams into your slick, aching pussy, it’s hard, rough, and deliciously painful.

Dean is fully feral, and there’ll be no stopping him until he comes out of the rut in five or six days. You know it won’t be pretty, and you won’t come out of this unscathed. At least your heat is making you feel like a wanton whore.

As your humanity is overtaken by omega, much like Dean’s is with alpha, your last thought is being grateful for being in a cabin in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere.

It’s been six days, and Dean still pounds into you like there’s no tomorrow. Your heat is starting to wane, but hasn’t subsided so much that you won’t still be pliable under his hands. Still, at least the heat fog is beginning to lift, and you hope it’s a sign that Dean’s rut is finally ending.

It took four knots to get him out of his feral state, but his rut is intense, and he’s insatiable. You suppose the combination of suppressants and being feral will do that to an alpha.

“‘Mega,” Dean grunts as his hand slides up your spine and grips your neck. “So good for me, baby girl.”

His praise makes you purr, and you feel his hand slide from your neck into your hair and wrap his fist around it, making your body turn to jelly. Dean tugs your hair, and you’re forced to raise to your knees, your back pressed against his chest, and he pulls your head to the side by your hair, exposing your neck to him.

It’s already black and blue from the gnawing he’s been doing there this past week, but this is different. He’s scenting you and licking your mating gland and whining. Dean loves licking and kissing your neck, but not like this. It feels different. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and his thrusts are brutal and stuttered.

You try to move, try and get him away from you, but he snarls and yanks your hair painfully, keeping a hold of it so you can’t move.

“Dean,” you whimper, and he snarls again at the use of his name, and you know he’s not as far out of this rut as you’d hoped. “Alpha, please,” you beg, but it’s useless. He’s too far gone again. His mouth is sucking on your mating gland, and he’s growling and grunting as his knot swells and catches at your entrance.

“Please don’t do it, Alpha. It’s just the rut. You don’t want this… you don’t want me, please!” you cry. But as his knot slips inside, locking you together, your head falls back on his shoulder, and when his teeth break your skin, you scream your release and lose the little self-control you had earlier.

Coming down from your high, you notice that Dean is still latched onto you, and you can feel blood dripping down your neck. The sudden rush of hormones and pheromones from the claim makes you reach another orgasm, and this time, you take the alpha with you. Grunting and growling, Dean’s release coats your walls, and you let the blackness take over.

When you come to, you’re on your side, and Dean is cleaning and soothing the wound on your neck with gentle licks and soft kisses. You’re still locked together, and every twitch of his cock catches your G-spot and fills your womb with even more of his seed.

A brief thought that he could’ve gotten you pregnant crosses your mind, and you hope the fates aren’t so cruel as to have this be when you get your wish of pups; not like this.

The last week finally catches up with you, and the lullaby of Dean’s whines and whimpers, combined with his soft kisses, lull you into a deep sleep.

The sun’s warmth on your face begins to wake you from sleep. Your muscles feel heavy, and Dean’s lips caress your back and shoulders.

“Morning, Omega,” he rasps behind you, sliding a warm hand over your hip, and a pang of dread settles in your stomach. You’re tired, every muscle in your body is screaming at you, and your pussy is in agony from a week of rough pounding and knots courtesy of the alpha pulling you closer to his body. If he’s still not out of this rut, you don’t think you’ll survive another round.

“Don’t worry,” Dean chuckles. “I’m not feral anymore, and the rut has gone.”

You’re confused, wondering how he knew what you were thinking. You don’t think you groaned. In fact, you’re pretty sure you didn’t even move. Your body is too sore to even tense up.

Then you remember Dean claimed you and that he did it while in a feral rut.

As your whole world comes crashing down around you, you do the one thing you’d rather die than do in front of Dean.

Cry.

DEAN’S POV

Devastation. That’s all he can feel radiating from the omega next to him. When he woke an hour ago, he’d been happier than ever. The second he claimed Y/N, there was a shift, and all felt right in the world.

He thought—naively, he now realises—Y/N would be happy. It’s what she wanted. What she needed, but the sheer anguish from her tells a different story. The worst part of all this is the shame he feels for claiming her without her consent and the knowledge that now, she’s stuck with him whether she wants to be or not.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay,” Dean tries to soothe her and presses his lips to her shoulder. “Y/N, look at me, please?” She remains on her side, facing away from him and crying, and the alpha in him takes over. His omega is in distress, and he needs to fix it. “Omega, look at me!” he growls lowly, and watches as Y/N obeys his order and timidly rolls onto her back.

Dean’s jaw drops, and he’s disgusted with himself as he takes in her abused torso. There are a couple of bites and bruises on her back and shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to what covers her neck, breasts and stomach. There’s so much bruising that barely any skin has been left unblemished. As he scans further down her body, he can see the same damage over the tops of her thighs and between her legs.

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I—” Dean can’t finish; he has no words for what he did to her. He immediately gets out of bed and fills the tub with hot water. There’s only so much he can do for her out here in the cabin, but the safe house is stocked with first aid supplies, medication and dry and tinned food.

When the tub is full, he shuts off the water and walks back into the bedroom, seeing Y/N still lying on her back and seemingly void of all emotion. Whether it’s on purpose to shut him out or she’s in shock, Dean’s not sure.

Walking over, Dean lifts her from the bed and carries her into the bathroom. He lowers her into the hot water and bathes her gently, mumbling words of comfort, hoping she can hear him and that she can find it in her to forgive him.

Y/N’S POV

After tenderly bathing you, Dean left you to soak in the warm water a little longer, telling you there were clothes in the wardrobe and that he’d make something to eat.

“Please eat with me, omega. You need to get your strength up, and we need to talk,” Dean had begged before he left, closing the door but not fully so he could still keep an eye on you.

He was right; you do need to talk. And eat. You feel weak and lightheaded and desperately in need of something to take away the pain that’s pulsing through every inch of your body.

When the water has lost its warmth, you climb out and wrap yourself in a towel, avoiding the mirror in the corner. Dean’s reaction earlier is enough for you to know you’ll burst into tears if you see it for yourself. And you can’t bear to see his claim on your neck when it was given under duress.

Pulling clothes from the wardrobe, you choose the softest and biggest things you can find. You know from the smell that the sweats and t-shirt are Dean’s, but you’ve always gotten comfort from his scent, and you suspect you’ll get even more from it now.

Coming out of the bedroom, you follow the noise towards the main part of the cabin and find Dean spooning pasta into bowls in the kitchen.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks, stopping what he’s doing to give you his full attention.

“Sore,” you chuckle, pulling out a stool. You hiss and wince, the throbbing—and not the good kind—between your legs getting worse for a few seconds as you sit.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean… I hate that I was so rough. That I’ve hurt you,” Dean says as he pushes a bowl and fork towards you.

“You were feral, Dean. It’s not your fault,” you reply, and you mean it. It’s really not his fault.

“It is, though, sweetheart. If I had taken the right suppressants, I wouldn’t have gone feral, and I wouldn’t have claimed you without your consent.”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. I’m just sorry you’re stuck with me,” you smile sadly. “And if you want to leave, I get it. I know I’m not what you want—”

“Would you stop saying that?” Dean interrupts. “I do want you. I have always wanted you. I’m scared that tying you to me will put you in danger.” The desperation rolls from him in waves, and you know he’s telling you the truth. You can feel it. “I want you, Omega. I want this. I don’t regret claiming you. I regret doing it against your will, and if you want to leave me… reject me… It’s what I deserve, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now, but please stop saying that I don’t want you, Y/N. You’re all I want.”

The chemical bond you now share with Dean is overwhelming. He feels more deeply than he ever lets on, and regret over the non-consensual claim is putting it mildly. He’s distraught over it, and his feelings are so strong that you can almost hear the thoughts in his head telling him he’s stupid and he’s fucked things up before it’s really started between you. You can’t take it. You can’t let him think you don’t want this too.

“You’re all I want too, Alpha. The reason I got so upset when I realised you could feel how I felt is because it was a rut claim, and we’d be stuck together and miserable and resentful, and I didn’t want that for either of us, but I could never reject you, Dean. I love you too much.”

The relief that washes over him makes you smile, and because of your new bond, you know he knows every word is true.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it before, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you wanted sooner.” Dean slides off his stool and comes to your side with a tube of cream in his hand. “Now, let me see that claim. It needs something on it, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head to the side and pull the neck of the shirt down, exposing the angry, swollen bite mark. Dean gently covers the wound with the medicated cream, and you hiss at the sting.

“Sorry, baby girl.” Dean winces, feeling your discomfort as clearly as you can. “Now, eat and then bed, Omega.”

“Just to sleep, right?” you ask, scrunching up your face and wriggling in your seat at the thought of him going anywhere near your pussy for at least a week. “No sex?”

“No sex,” Dean laughs. “You need to rest, sweetheart, so just lots of cuddles and closeness and bonding and sleep.”

THE END

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567

#j3bingo #omegaverse #a/b/o universe #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o

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ovaryacted · 24 days

Text

STORY OF US - SERIES MASTERLIST

PAIRING: DI! Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

RATING: Explicit. MDNI/18+. NSFW.

SUMMARY: For your whole life, all you’ve known was violence, brought into a job where you followed orders and killed whatever was no longer considered human. Bound by responsibility, you and your mentor navigate this way of life without thinking of deviating from the norm and wanting more. What happens when the lines between the professional and the personal become blurred?

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Canon-adjacent. DSO Mentor/mentee dynamic. Forbidden work relationship. Age gap (Leon is 38, reader is 25). Reader has their own background & lore. Leon & reader have an established working relationship of 4 years (nothing was done until later). Eventual smut. Violence & gore. Trauma. Descriptions of government missions and dynamics.

NOTE: Parts of this story will contain content that may be uncomfortable or triggering to some people. Some of what you may see include: attempts & mentions of sexual assault, depression & mental health issues, suicidal ideation/attempts, alcohol abuse, childhood trauma, child neglect & abuse, domestic abuse (not towards the reader), body mutilation, and more. There will always be warnings at the beginning of every chapter containing said material, please read them.

A/N: Hey guys, long time no post. So this is my first ever series, I've been drafting it for so long that at this point I just bit the bullet and posted the masterlist. I hope it's something everyone enjoys and that it is engaging for those who decide to read it. (Masterlist aesthetics are subject to change).

NAVIGATION | MAIN MASTERLIST | AO3

CHAPTERS

CH. 1 - PILOT

CH. 2 - COMING SOON

(total number of chapters are not currently listed)

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #fic: story of us #resident evil fanfiction #ovaryacted fics #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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bloatedandalone04 · 6 months

Text

In The Way I Need You | Part 1

Series Masterlist

➪in which joey starts school and clay realizes he might have to listen to his mothers advice of hiring a sitter, but quickly warms up to that after idea meeting a seemingly sweet girl while on his way to work.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.6k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Clayton Beresford, get up,” the sound of his mother’s voice made Clay cringe as he grabbed his pillow and placed it over his head. “Clay, get up. Joey has been asking for his dad for the last half hour, you need to get up.”

Clay groaned as she ripped the pillow away from him and threw it on the opposite side of the bed before walking over to the curtains and pulling them open. “Mother,”

“Don’t mother me, Clay,” Lilith scolds as she moves back around the bed and stands over him. “You need to get ready for work, and get Joey ready for school, it’s his first day.”

With a huff, Clay sits up and throws the sheets off him. “You couldn’t have gotten him dressed for me?”

Lilith scoffs, walking towards the door. “I made him breakfast, you can pick out his clothing,” and then she was gone and Clay was left alone in the bed that felt all too big for just one person.

Looking around his room, he sighs at how messy it had gotten since his last attempt at cleaning it. He grew up damn near spoiled and never had to worry about cleaning his room or making his bed, so now at the age of twenty seven, he was terrible at both those tasks.

He looks over at the right side of the bed, and more specifically at how empty it was. That spot should be filled. She should be here, with him and with their son, but life really enjoys playing with him sometimes.

Sighing again, he gets up and throws on his work clothing, which really felt more like a formal event outfit than anything else. He finishes buttoning up his white shirt as he enters the kitchen, his eyes instantly landing on his son. “Hey, buddy,” he greets as he leans down and kisses the top of his head. “Did you have a good sleep?”

Joey nods and sets the crust of his toast down on the plate. “I’m still tired,”

Clay laughs and picks up the half eaten toast. “You are?” He asks and finishes his kids breakfast, his mind going back to when he was Joey’s age and also didn’t like crust. “You went to bed pretty early last night. Unless you were just pretending to be asleep when I came and checked in on you.”

Joey shakes his head quickly as Lilith laughs from her place at the sink, her arms crossed as she blows on the coffee mug in her hand. “No, dad,” he answers as he stares up into Clay’s matching blue eyes.

“No?” Clay hums, picking up the now empty plate and walking over to his mom.

She stays still as he reaches around her to set the plate down in the sink, a teasing smile on her lips. “He’s got you wrapped around his finger,” she stated. “You’re aware of that, right?”

Clay laughs and nods, looking back at his son as he scribbled on a blank piece of paper with a yellow crayon. “I know,” he agrees, looking down at his mom’s attire. “Are you staying home today?”

Lilith glances down at her housecoat clad body with a shrug. “I’m wrapped around that kid’s finger, too,” she grinned, finishing off her coffee and putting the mug in the sink as well. “I’ll get my work done early so I can be here when he gets home, but I really think it’s time we start looking for a more stable sitter. I know you don’t like talking about it, but I think you should consider hiring a nanny.”

Clay sighs and moves away, standing behind Joey and placing his hands on the back of his chair. “I said I’d think about it,” he muttered. “I haven’t come to a conclusion yet.”

“It’s not a bad idea to have someone here to look after him while we’re at work. Someone to get him to and from school, helps get him ready in the mornings,” she pointed out. “Like a nanny.”

“He doesn’t need a nanny,” Clay mumbled, reaching a hand up to flatten out Joey’s messy hair. “I don’t want my son growing up in that kind of environment.”

“You had a nanny when you were little, Clay,” she reminded as she moved away from the sink. “You turned out pretty well.”

“I’m a single dad at the age of twenty seven, mother,” he rasped. “And I still live with my mother.”

“I told you I never liked that girl, Clayton,” she scolded as she wrapped her robe tighter around her body. “And I also told you that this is your home for as long as you want it to be. You want to move out, fine, but then who will be there to help look after Joey? No one. Unless you listen to me and hire someone to do it.”

And then she was disappearing down the hall to get ready for the day. Grunting under his breath, Clay leaned down and pulled Joey’s chair out. “Come on, let’s get you dressed,” he held his hand out, grinning when the much smaller one grabbed it.

The phone rang five times before Clay was sent to voicemail.

He wasn’t surprised, but the silence still irked him. Glancing at his driver, Clay turned a bit and tried to make it a little more private, but he was literally in the backseat of a car on his way to work. How private could it really be? “Hey, it’s me again,” he started, not missing the way Rick, his driver, glanced back at him. “Joey started school today. Can you believe it? Our son started school.”

Rick straightened up at the harsh tone of Clay’s voice and quickly put his attention back on the busy street of New York, surely sensing that this would not be a nice voicemail.

Clay paid him no mind as he continued, “He’s four now. Did you know that? You should, he’s your kid, too. You should know how old he is and you should’ve been there for his first day of school,”

He wasn’t entirely sure if his ex even still used this number, or if he was just making these calls for nothing. She must, seeing as her voicemail hasn’t gotten full yet, and he’s been giving her these updates for the past three years now as a way to cope with not having her in his life anymore.

Clay knew she didn’t deserve to know about what’s been going on in Joey’s life, and he knew he shouldn’t be wasting time leaving her messages, but he couldn’t help it.

He didn’t know if he wanted to rub it in her face about how good of a parent he turned out to be, or how amazing their son is. He just wanted her to know that she royally fucked up when she decided to leave before Joey even turned one.

“You should’ve been there, Sam,” he said again, his voice wavering as he let his anger that had been building up since she left get to his head. “How the fuck could you do that to him? To us?”

Clay looks out the window and sees that he’s almost to the building in which he would be spending the next eight hours in.

Sighing, he wraps up the call. “Whatever, Sam. I hope you realize one day how much you’ve missed out on and how much our son has missed out on,” he muttered. “Not that you even care. Delete this, listen to it, do whatever you want. That’s what you’re best at.”

And then he hung up and was left feeling even worse.

It always ended that way, with him heated up with anger and with Sam probably feeling great at the fact that she is still able to rile him up without even being there.

Rick pulls off to the side of the street and looks back at Clay. “We’ve arrived, Mr. Beresford,”

Clay scoffs quietly, shrugging off his jacket since his skin had begun to sport a thin layer of sweat from how annoyed he got during the one-sided call. “Mr. Beresford was my dad,” he says, leaning back against the seat. He wasn’t ready to go in there yet. He was so frustrated and didn’t want to accidentally go off on anyone in that building because he still isn’t over his ex. “It’s just Clay. You know that.”

“I do,” Rick nods, sending him an apologetic smile in the rearview mirror. “Everything alright, Clay?”

Nodding, Clay looks out the window. “Everything is fine,” he lies as he watches a girl pace back and forth on the sidewalk. New York was a massive place and not easy to navigate through, but it was clear that she was new here. She wore a pale pink skirt and a white top that ended just above the hem of the skirt, which is not something people here usually wear.

Clay has lived here a long time and the people of New York were stereotypical in the way they wore their favorite sports teams logos on their clothes or baggy jeans and a t-shirt.

Most of them didn’t care and didn’t put a lot of effort into their appearance, simply because no one would notice. It was why he got a lot of stares whenever he walked around in dress pants and a tie.

The girl looked confused and lost and Clay felt a bit bad for her. Even he got a bit turned around at times, and he’s lived here his whole life. He owns half of it, too.

He also couldn’t ignore how pretty this girl is.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen his ex in years and he hadn’t let himself look at any of the women in the city as a potential partner as he was overly protective of both his son and his heart.

Or maybe it was because he simply felt bad for the girl and her clear lack of directions.

Whatever it was, it had him opening the car door without much of a second thought.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you looked up at the street sign then back at the paper in your hand.

After living in New York for the last couple weeks, you were beginning to think you would never get to know your way around it. The place was massive and so confusing to navigate through if you didn’t know where you were going, and you clearly didn’t.

You had been waiting to hear back from this job for days now and when you were finally given a chance for an interview, you couldn’t figure out how to get there. Your coffee did nothing to wake your brain up enough for you to be able to think clearly, and you debated on just throwing the rest of it away, but you were raised not to waste food or drinks when there are others who are less fortunate than you.

With an annoyed sigh, you stopped walking and stared down at the page again, not paying any attention to the car you were now standing beside as the door opened and someone stepped out.

You don’t look up from the paper as you move forward and walk straight into another person, your coffee slipping from your hand and spilling onto the pristine white shirt of a man. “Oh, my God,” you gasp, not noticing that the page that held the address had also gotten soaked from the spill. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

It was the least of your worries as your eyes trailed up and met a pair of blue ones. Your breath hitched as the stranger smiled and shook his head as if he didn’t care at all that his white shirt was now stained with warm coffee. “It’s okay,” he said and his voice lived up to his appearance. Dreamy. Hot. Intimidating, even.

“That looks expensive,” you think out loud when you look back down at his ruined button up, then quickly wipe the worry off your face and replace it with fake confidence. “Which is totally fine, I can pay to have it fixed or cleaned or…whatever.” Really, you most likely couldn’t afford to do that, but he didn’t need to know that.

The stranger laughed and it was probably the sexiest thing you had ever heard. “Don’t worry about it,” he waved you off and took the napkin from you when you held it out to him.

You chew on your bottom lip as he begins to wipe up some of the coffee, though you both knew it wouldn’t do a thing to save the shirt. “Were you just going to work or something? I’d hate for you to have to wear that for the rest of the day,” you gestured to the mess on his shirt but he just shrugged and threw the napkin into the trash can that was nearby.

“I was actually debating on whether or not I should go home and skip work, then I saw you and thought you looked a little lost,” he grinned at the way your face flushed and how your cheeks were tinted pink. “Thought I could help you out a bit but ended up wearing your drink, instead.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “I’m so sorry,”

“It’s fine,” he brushed you off again then looked a bit hesitant as he added, “I’m Clay.”

He holds his hand out to you, making you look down at it before back up at his eyes. “Y/n,”

You shake hands and hate how you found yourself wanting to hold his for much longer than a few seconds. “So, in hopes I don’t sound like a total creep when I ask,” he begins, giving you a somewhat nervous smile. “Where were you trying to get to?”

Laughing, you shake your head and look down at the ruined paper. “No, not at all,” you say, throwing the paper into the trash as well. “It’s that obvious that I’m lost, huh?”

Clay shrugged again, stepping back towards the car and opening the backseat door. “Only a little,” he teased and pulled out his jacket, efficiently covering up most of his shirt. “I’ve lived here my whole life. Maybe I can point you in the right direction, if you want.”

You knew you were late for the interview, but you wanted to stay and talk with him for a bit longer. What was wrong with you? Why do you always do this around cute guys? Though, calling Clay cute felt a bit like an understatement. He was by far the hottest man you had ever seen in your life. “Please,” you say quietly, stepping towards him. “I was trying to get to this interview at the Milton Hotel, but the directions were hard to understand even before I got coffee all over them.”

Clay laughs and closes the door, turning around and nodding towards the intersection down the street. “You were pretty close, believe it or not,” of course, you wanted to say but held back. “You just take a left at the lights and go straight for about three blocks until you reach a bookstore that’s across from the old jail.”

He turned back to face you and you realized you were barely paying attention to his directions as you were far too focused on how good his backside looks.

“The hotel is above the bookstore,” he finished and you gave him a grateful smile. “So, not too far now.”

“Thank you,” you say and look down the street, not quite ready to leave the presence of him.

Maybe he didn’t want you to leave, either. “What’s the interview for? If you don’t mind me asking,”

You wave your hand. “Not at all,” you say again. “Just some babysitting gig. I finally got my CPR certificate and know how busy New York is. Thought it would be a good place to start.”

What are the odds..

Clay nods and tries to come off as casual as he leaned against the backdoor of the car. “Babysitting? Do you have much experience?”

“Yeah, about three years worth,” you answer, fidgeting with your fingers and Clay found himself hoping he wasn’t making you uncomfortable with all his questions. It had been too long since he actually let himself talk to a girl for more than a minute since Sam, so he was glad to see he was still able to decently hold a conversation. “I did it a lot through high school.”

“Yeah? When’d you graduate?” He wasn’t sure why he wanted to know so much about you, but it was clear the two of you got along pretty well for two strangers. He was sure he could hook you up with a job if you didn’t get this one, and now he was once again wondering why he cared so much.

“Two years ago,” you replied and it didn’t seem like you were uncomfortable with him at all, so he decided to try his luck.

“Well, I hope the interview goes well,” he says and thinks about how he wouldn’t mind having someone like you around his son for the hours he was at work. Though Clay has some massive trust issues, he knew he would need to find someone to look after Joey soon. “And if it doesn’t, there’s many other opportunities that are waiting for you in this city.”

“Yeah?” You gave him a teasing smile and Clay had to physically hold back a smirk in response. “Like what?”

Clay stiffened a bit as he chose his words carefully. “You said you’re a babysitter, right?” And when you nodded, he continued, “My son started school today, but he still needs someone to watch him until I get back from work. If that is something you’re interested in, there’s an opportunity for you right there. But I’m sure the interview will go great.”

You study his face for a bit, making Clay think he said something wrong, before you grin up at him. “Thanks for the boost of confidence,” you soften your smile. “I might take you up on that offer, if your kid is cool, that is.”

Clay laughed as he reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. “He’s the coolest kid in New York, that’s for sure,” he says and hands his phone to you. “Let me know how it goes? And if you’re interested in looking after the coolest kid you’ll probably ever meet for a few hours of your day.”

Your laugh reaches his ears just as you take his phone and quickly type in a number, one he hoped was actually yours and not a fake one. He couldn’t lie, it wasn’t often he asked for girls’ numbers, but you seemed sweet and like you knew what you were doing. Except for when it came to reading directions, but even that was understandable. He was also doing this to give his poor mom a break, and to make sure his son was in good hands when he was gone. “I’ll text you,” you promised as you handed him back his phone. “Thanks for the help. I really appreciate it.”

He took his phone and pocketed it. “It was nice to meet you, Y/n,”

You begin backing away as you smile at him. “You too,” you wave. “Sorry again about your shirt. You wear that coffee well, if it helps.”

Clay laughs again as you turn around and begin heading down the street in the direction of the lights.

The window of the car rolls down and he briefly hears Rick clear his throat. “I’ll pick you up at four, Mr. Beresford?”

And Clay was far too distracted to be able to correct him again, so he just nodded before tearing his eyes away from your retreating form and heading into the building.

Clay had gotten held up today and he had to text his mom and ask if she could pick Joey up from school. He knew it would be so much easier if he had a stable sitter to ask, and he was quickly beginning to agree with his mothers requests of hiring one.

While Clay wanted to be the one to pick Joey up from his first day, he was glad he would have his grandma there. He knew his mom was probably his son’s favorite person, and he couldn’t even get mad at that fact because Clay had to admit; Lilith Beresford was an amazing woman and an even better mom.

As he began packing up his things, his mind drifted back to you for what felt like the tenth time since meeting you all those hours ago. He didn’t know what it was, but Clay felt captivated by you.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t let himself get close to another girl since Sam, let alone have a full on conversation with one.

Maybe it was because he found you cute and sweet and a bit funny.

Either way, he was thinking about you as he shrugged his jacket back on and over his stained shirt at the same time his phone went off.

He checked it as he turned off the lights to his office, a genuine smile finding its way onto his lips as he read the text,

The interview was a fail. I think it was over before it even began. Any chance I could set up one with you? Very curious about this supposed coolest kid in New York.

And when you added a,

This is Y/n, by the way. The one who ruined your shirt because I have no sense of direction.

He knew he was probably screwed.

#clay beresford #clay beresford imagines #clay beresford x reader #clayton beresford #Clayton beresford x reader #clayton beresford imagines #hayden christensen blurb #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen icons #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen #awake 2007 #awake #in the way i need you series #in the way i need you

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megamindsecretlair · 2 months

Text

So Full of Love

Pairing: Dom!Big Stunna x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) fingering, (female receiving) , use of sex toys, orgasm control, teasing/mocking, cum play/swallowing, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. ONE SHOT!!!

Summary: Stunna comes home late one night and finds out that you haven't eaten all day.

Word Count: 5,208k

A/N: I could not get this out of my mind. Maybe it's the full moon, maybe it's Maybelline. I'm definitely exposing myself and this is definitely self-indulgent, but I hope you enjoy! How'd this taglist get so long??? LOVE YALL! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @melaninpov @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @thedonsfactory @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @nworbaij @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @cardi-bre91 @jay-mach

You backspaced on the draft you were currently working on, not liking your word choice. Had you used it too many times in a short span of time? Probably.

You groaned. You were probably thinking too much but it couldn’t be helped. You needed it to match whatever scene was playing in your head between your two characters. You could see it so clearly. But it lost its luminesce by the time it traveled from your brain to your fingers. The edges weren’t shiny, they weren't perfect.

“Baby?”

“Room!” You called out. You hadn’t heard the door opening and closing but that wasn’t unusual. When you were in the middle of one of your writing fugue states, you had no sense of your surroundings. A burglar could rob you blind while you were writing and you would be none the wiser.

Stunna’s heavy footsteps traveled down the short hallway to your room. He stopped in the doorway. You glanced at him with a smile. “Hey baby,” you said.

“You are so damn cute, you know that?” He asked.

You giggled and shook your head. There was a burning need to continue. To keep going and ride your train of thought to the very end. However, it was hard to focus once Stunna was in the room. He occupied your thoughts on a near obsession level. He took up the whole room even when he was partially in it.

You glanced at him again, wearing a white polo and jeans, gold chain around his neck. He looked good enough to eat and your thoughts naturally drifted to what he had in store for you tonight.

“You’re cute,” you said with a yawn. You rubbed your eyes. Now that you weren’t in a fugue state, your check engine light came on.

Your body creaked as you stretched, rolled your neck, cracked your knuckles. “Shit,” you groaned as you stretched again. Your muscles protested from sitting for so long. A random ache in your foot from laying it on its side.

“You been writing all day?” He asked.

“Yeah, I had a dream that, like, completely fixed my plot hole!” You said. You grinned at him, excited about your idea.

Your stomach grumbled, you had to pee, and your wrist was starting to burn. Everything you ignored for the past few hours was coming back to bite you in the ass.

“You drink some water?” Stunna asked. He leaned back against the door frame, cocking his head to the side. Your body instantly reacted to how fucking fine he was. Your mind went on a little trip, imagining peeling his clothes off of him.

Stunna chuckled. “Babe? Water,” he said, his voice getting deeper.

You pouted. “I promise I’ve had water. All sixty-four ounces like we agreed,” you said. You grinned, proud of yourself for remembering to take your breaks and get some water. You were even able to pick up your train of thought after and continue with your writing.

He grinned, showing off a set of grills that were solid gold on his canines and hollow across his top row. It gave the illusion of a vampire and now your mind offered images of being underneath him while he sunk fangs into your neck.

“Good. How was your lunch?” He asked.

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him that the ravioli he made for you was absolutely perfect like always. But then you got a furrow in your brow as you thought about what you did today. And eating was not one of them.

You looked away from him, sure the guilt was written all over your face. In the downturn of your lips and the widening of your eyes.

“About that…” you said slowly.

Stunna made a dissatisfied grunt and you continued to look everywhere but at him. Did you eat it? You would have remembered?

You chewed on your bottom lip as you tried to remember what you did today. During your breaks, you refilled your water and you did some light stretching. Really, you were just too anxious to return to the idea. You had been proud that you remembered the water, that he wasn’t going to be upset with you about it.

Hell, sometimes it was just hard to remember to eat. Your relationship with food was tumultuous at best. Toxic at worst.

“Did you or did you not eat your lunch?” Stunna asked.

You sighed. “No,” you admitted. Shit. You were on track to do everything right today.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

It took you a couple of tries, but you turned your gaze towards him. Oh, he was pissed. His nostrils were slightly flared and his grin was gone, replaced with a disapproving look that you didn’t like to see. Well, at least when it was aimed at you.

“I’m sorry! I forgot!” You said. Your eyes turned round, bottom lip poking out. “I’ll eat it right now!” You said.

“I know you will. What did we say about you eating?,” he said.

“I didn’t think about it,” you said.

His face didn’t change. He continued to look at you like he didn’t know what he was going to do with you and your lack of self-preservation. You truly didn’t do it intentionally. Sometimes, you didn’t want to eat. Or feel like eating. Your screaming stomach told you that you needed to. But you always had something more interesting to do.

“Go handle business and meet me in the kitchen,” he said. He left without another word. No parting pleasantries or insights to what he was thinking. This punishment was going to be worse than last time. You could feel it in your bones.

You took care of business in the bathroom, washed your hands, and then came out to the kitchen. The smell of ravioli filled up the kitchen and Stunna stood in front of the microwave, watching the plate spin round and around.

You stood next to the table, nerves skittering throughout your body. His shoulders were sloped, head cocked to the side, and hands resting behind him on the tile countertop. You studied his profile.

Sometimes you had to pinch yourself that he was yours forever. There usually wasn’t certainty when it came to relationships. But not yours. There were zero doubts between you. Like your souls were written in the heavens before you found each other in this life.

The microwave beeped, pulling you from your poetic mind. Stunna grabbed the plate from the microwave, a paper towel, and a fork and came into the room. He didn’t smile when he noticed you were in the room.

Guilt tore your tummy up. He went through so much trouble to make you delicious meals every day, sometimes snacks and dessert as well if he had time, and you couldn’t remember to eat it.

He placed the plate onto the table and pulled out the bench seat that sat against the wall. He sat down, leg extended off the edge of it, and turned to look at you.

“Off,” he said.

You suppressed a whine as you began to slowly take off your oversized gray T-shirt, some ratty thing that you stole from him. But it was soft and smelled like him and you practically lived in it. Your shorts were next, panties as well because you knew that was going to be his next command. Before long, you were completely nude while he was fully dressed.

He patted his knee and you sat down on it. Stunna grabbed a box that had been sitting on the table that you didn’t see. Your heart rate spiked seeing the plain blue wicker box as he slid it across the table.

He opened it, making noises with his mouth as if this were a simple dinner. As if he were waiting for you to sit down beside him and discuss the weather or latest TV show. He rummaged around in the box and you wondered what he would bring out.

He waved his fingers, deciding. The anticipation tore your insides to shreds. Your breathing increased watching his hand skate over various sex toys. He finally plucked the nipple clamps out. Shit.

You played with your fingers while he kissed your neck. “Relax,” he said.

“I can’t! You’re killing me!” You said.

“Punishments ain’t supposed to be fun, baby,” he said.

“It was an accident!” You said.

“Once is an accident. You conveniently forget too often to not be on purpose,” he said.

He hummed while he put the nipple clamps on you. You sighed as the clamp put pressure on your nipples. A chain dangled in between, lightly knocking against your chest every time you breathed. You instantly felt it echo as a throb in your pussy. You gripped your thighs trying to get used to the pain.

You took deep breaths. Steam rose from the ravioli and the smell was making your mouth water. No, punishments were not supposed to be fun but you couldn’t help wondering if Stunna didn’t secretly enjoy it when you skipped meals. If he wasn’t sometimes hoping that you did so he could try out all kinds of different punishments on you.

Next, he selected a pair of handcuffs. “Aw, baby no!” You said.

“What?” He asked. He turned your head towards him by pinching your chin. He forced your eyes towards his. His cold, cold brown eyes, like a hibernating bear, merely stared at you.

“Please! I’ll do better,” you pleaded with him.

“I wish I could believe that. Hands,” he said.

You pouted some more while you pulled your hands behind you. He leaned back and secured the handcuffs to your wrists. The fuzzy inside tickled your skin but you weren’t in a laughing mood. You wanted to touch him while you ate. You hadn’t seen him all day.

He yanked on the chain in between the handcuffs, making sure they couldn’t come off. Then he pulled on the nipple clamps and you hissed at the tug of pain. “How you feeling?” He asked and kissed your shoulder.

“I’m good,” you said.

Stunna nodded and picked up the fork, grabbing a piece of food. He blew on it lightly to cool it off more and brought it to your lips. You opened your mouth. It was easier to obey him now than face his wrath later.

“Tell me about your day,” he asked you while you ate.

While he fed you, you had to concentrate on not cumming and telling him about your day. You ran some errands, you took your breaks and drank water, and did some laundry. He listened to it all as if it were his favorite news program. That your little mundane life meant the world to him.

It was a small act that only made you fall more in love with him. He didn’t have to do all that. He could be happy with the simple version of events. But he once told you that he liked listening to the sound of your voice. The way you lit up when you got on the subject of your writing.

“What was the plot hole you fixed earlier?” He asked. He fed you another bite and waited till you finished chewing. You told him how your dream helped you fix it. That it wasn’t a problem with the character’s actions, it was the setting. You were married to the setting, but sometimes you had to kill your darlings. It hurt, but it was needed.

Stunna licked the corner of your mouth and you moaned, pussy throbbing from the swipe of his tongue. “Almost done, you’re doing so well, baby,” he said.

The praise made your heart soar. You shifted on his thigh and he yanked on the chain between the handcuffs to keep you in place. You were eager. Restless and too ready to feel him. You were needy for his touches. You couldn’t touch any part of him like this.

He was clothed so you couldn’t feel his skin on yours. Your hands were tied so your fingers couldn’t search for his.

There was a nice little wet spot growing on his jeans underneath you. You felt it every time he bounced his knee to help you concentrate.

He kissed your cheek and began to tell you about his day. About all the bullshit he had to put up with. He figured that you were writing when you didn’t text him back and he told you that he’d been dreaming about getting back between your legs.

“The things I was gon’ do to you tonight,” he purred in your ear, sealing it off with a kiss.

“You still can,” you said.

“Naw, we gotta do better about eating. I worry about you,” he said. The fork scraped against the bottom of the plate as he grabbed the last bite. He brought it to your lips and you opened your mouth. Your tongue dashed out to lick up every drop of sauce. Out the corner of your eye, you saw Stunna’s eyes zero in on your mouth. A quiet sigh escaped him.

You looked down and could see the imprint of his dick straining against his zipper. If only your hands were free, you could help him out with that.

You swallowed your food and nodded. “I don’t mean to make you worry,” you said.

“But I do when you don’t eat or take care of yourself. I need you here with me,” he said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said.

“You gotta eat consistently,” he said. He shook his head. He placed the fork back on the plate and faced you. He wrapped his hands around your waist, linking his fingers together.

You didn’t know how he did it. How he made you feel so small and dainty in his arms. You were a big girl, proud of it. You had your issues, but you ain’t get this tummy for no reason. You liked to eat and enjoyed food. It just wasn’t a priority to you.

He leaned in and kissed you properly. His big lips covered yours and kissed you slowly, methodically. He treasured you with sucking your bottom lip and tongue delving inside, tangling with yours.

Each kiss turned you on more and more. You would never look at ravioli the same. Every time you’d run across it now, you’d think of this. Of the burning neediness in your veins.

As he kissed you, he untangled his fingers and drew his right hand across your belly. “You nice and full?” He asked.

You nodded. Breathed him in. “Yes, Daddy,” you said. His fingers moved lower, in between your legs, and lightly drew his fingers around your clit.

You gasped against his lips. A few more swipes of that and you’d cum on the spot. You moved your hips, trying to get him to keep playing with your clit. To tell him without words that you were close.

He licked his thumb and returned it to your clit, drawing tight little circles that made your mouth drop open on a strangled moan. He kissed along the length of your neck, swirling his tongue every so often. It tickled, but you were far too focused on what his hand was doing. You hissed as your pussy throbbed, so close. So close. Almost. Your body tensed, ready for it, ready for the pleasure.

Stunna moved his hand. “No!” You cried out. Your pussy ached and you panted, brain not comprehending that you weren’t about to cum.

“It’s cute that yo ass think I was gon’ let you cum,” he said. He continued to kiss along your neck. You felt your orgasm retreating, backing away from the edge. You sighed and dropped your head back.

“I’m sorry!” You said.

“Mhm, I know you are,” he said. He continued about his business, kissing and licking against your skin. There was nothing you could do. Nothing you could say. He would not listen to your apologies. He was only about action.

You’d have to set alarms or some shit. As much as you loved the way he played with your body, you loved it more when you could touch him back. You wanted to run your hands across his scalp. You wanted to twist your fingers between his. Or unzip his pants and wrap your lips around his dick.

You couldn’t do any of that with your hands behind you. He knew it too. He knew how much you loved giving him pleasure.

He licked his fingers and then tugged on the chain of the nipple clamps. You hissed at the bite. The ache had retreated to the back of your mind until he yanked like that. “Still good?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy,” you said.

“That’s my good girl,” he said. He kissed your cheek and then helped you stand. “Go wait for me in the living room.”

You walked to the living room and then knelt on the paisley carpet. It was soft beneath your knees. You heard Stunna as he moved around the kitchen, washing the plate and fork. He moved towards the bedroom, you think, until he emerged in his soft gray briefs.

Your mouth watered taking in his body. He worked hard on it, ensuring that he looked good and felt good. Narrow hips. But a round ass that you loved to grab. He had legs for days with his tall ass. He towered over you like a skyscraper from this vantage point.

He petted your head while he walked around you carrying the box from the table. He sat down on the couch and widened his stance. He took his time turning on the TV, flipping through channels. You bit your lip as you watched him.

This was so damn unfair. This punishment was worse than watching him get himself off without you. You had to listen to him groan and grunt and close his eyes while he painted his cum on your body like a canvas.

He found a sports program, getting invested in the game while he rubbed the back of your neck. You didn’t know who was playing or what the fuck the announcer was saying. Your eyes were glued to his dick.

You rubbed your cheek against his knee, light hair there tickling your face. He didn’t stop you from moving closer, settling against his leg more fully. He turned his attention to you with a little smile. You saw a hint of his grill. You were so fucking wet. You needed him to make his point so that you could cum.

“This wouldn’t entirely be part of your punishment, but you are too damn cute sitting there,” he said. “You gon’ look cuter with my dick in your mouth.”

“Please,” you whispered.

He licked his lips as he took in your prone form. His eyes dropped down, down, down as if he could see straight to your pussy. He grabbed his briefs and lowered it enough to free his dick.

You smiled. He was hard as a brick. Thick head leaking precum already. He stroked himself a few times and groaned softly. “Come here and please Daddy,” he said.

You moved between his legs, leaning up onto the couch. He guided his dick into your mouth and groaned at the contact. You sucked him down as far as you could, moaning a bit at the taste of him. That salty and spicy mix of his scent. The feel of the tip of his dick against your tongue.

You looked up at him and he finally grinned. “Don’t look at me like that girl, gon’ make me nut early,” he said.

You continued to look at him, moving your head up and down. You drooled on him, getting his dick wetter and wetter. Your slurps began to compete with the sound of the game. You sloppily sucked him down, licking underneath the head, and then swallowing him down.

“Fuck, look at you being so good for me,” he said.

You moaned. You kept bobbing your head, wanting to fit all of him inside. You hadn’t managed to do so thus far in your relationship but practice made perfect. Your eyes flicked from his veiny dick to his eyes as he watched you please him.

You watched for any variation on his face. Any hint that he was close to busting. He licked his lips when you took him deeper. He hissed when you played with the tip with your tongue. The chain that dangled between your titties cold against your chest, blasting you with awareness every time it slapped your skin.

He groaned, cursing under his breath. He moved his hips, fucking into your mouth. You moved closer. His dick poked the inside of your mouth, your cheeks, and threatened to make you gag.

“Fuck, baby. Needed this. Needed you,” he moaned.

You watched the muscles in his chest and arms contract. Watched his stomach rise and fall in quick bursts. He grabbed your neck and squeezed. You groaned. You licked his dick like a lollipop before suckling him back in.

He jerked and then laughed. “Fuck, I’m finna bust,” he groaned. A second later, his dick pulsed as jets of cum filled your mouth. You swallowed him down with a moan. Some escaped your mouth. He gathered it up with his thumb and pressed it into your mouth. You suckled his thumb too as if you were still sucking his dick.

“So fucking sexy,” he said.

He kissed you. Big, wet, sloppy kisses. He bit your bottom lip and you groaned. “Please, let me cum,” you begged.

“Not done with your punishment yet,” he said.

You whined. “Please! I need you inside me, Daddy,” you said.

He nuzzled your nose and placed tiny kisses all over your face. You sighed with a small hum. Why was he so damn cute? And hot? And just gorgeous all around? Sometimes it felt like you were so full of love, you could survive off of it like sweet nectar. You didn’t want for anything as long as love filled you and surrounded you.

“I can be nicer when you start being nicer to yourself,” he said.

“I will! I promise!”

“I know you will, baby,” he said. He told you to take deep breaths while he took the nipple clamps off. You were prepared for it, but it still hurt like a motherfucker. You hissed as he released each one. He discarded the clamps onto the coffee table, ready to be cleaned later.

He helped you stand and then sit in his lap, facing him. His dick rubbed against your folds and you groaned. You straddled him, putting your titties directly in his face.

He leaned down and began to lick away the sting from the clamps. “Oh fuck!” You moaned.

Waves and waves of pleasure suffused you. Your whole body shivered from the delicious, torturous swipes of his tongue on your aching nipples. He moved back and forth, getting both nice and wet. The sting from the clamps began to dissipate. But the roaring fire deep in your belly only got worse and worse.

He tugged and pulled on your nipples, hands gripping onto your ass and squeezing. Was it possible to die from too much pleasure? You felt like you were going to pass out if he kept this up.

You were making desperate, wild sounds as he took his pleasure from your body. His hands moved up and down your back, wiping away goosebumps. He kneaded your skin all over. He touched as much of your body as he could.

“How you feelin’ baby?” He asked.

“Feel, ah, so good,” you whispered.

“How’s your arms?” He asked.

“Good, they don’t hurt,” you said. There was enough slack between them that your arms didn’t feel like they were about to fall off. Stunna smirked against your skin.

He stood with you in his arms. You yelped. “I got you, I got you,” he said into your chest. He helped you onto the couch, onto your knees. You couldn’t hold yourself up, so your face was mushed against the couch cushion opposite where he sat.

You heard him rummaging around the box until he made a satisfied sound. There was a soft click and then he pushed the vibrator against your clit. You cried out, ass lifting higher as if you could escape him, as he pushed the vibrator closer.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cried. Your legs shook. He placed one hand on your back and pushed you down, pushed you to stay still and accept what he was doing to you.

“Yo ass gon’ eat from now on, right?” He asked.

“Yes! Yes! I promise!” He pressed the vibrator into your clit and you were shaking in earnest now. You were..so…close…

He moved it away and you screamed out. Tears gathered in your eyes. Your lower belly hurt at this point. You couldn’t take all this damn edging.

Stunna leaned down and pushed his tongue into your entrance. “Oh SHIT!” You moaned. Stunna slapped your ass, moaned, and then moved his tongue to your clit. He flicked it and you began to drool on the couch.

The sounds you were making were low, soft, and like you were in pain. Shit, you were! You were out of your mind. Desperate, needy. You’d sell your left titty if he’d let you cum at this point. However, you were too far gone to plead now.

Tears escaped your eyes and you sniffled. You were leaking everywhere. From your eyes, nose, mouth, and pussy.

“Making such a mess, baby. Tasting so fuckin’ good. Hmmmm,” he said and rolled his whole head with how he ate you out.

Your whines increased in a crescendo, reaching higher and higher. Fuck, you were about to cum. You didn’t have enough air in your lungs to tell him. To warn him.

You should’ve known. He stopped eating you out and you whimpered. “Please,” you breathed.

Stunna chuckled. He rubbed your body and your body relaxed in increments. You weren’t going to survive. He was going to have to make funeral arrangements for you. Your body shivered painfully and you moaned while he massaged your body.

“Now what did we learn today?” He asked.

“Eat m-m-more,” you said, your teeth chattering.

“That’s my baby,” he said.

He got behind you, pulling your hips back against him. His dick brushed against your pussy and you whimpered. He moved his hips, trying to line himself up. It didn’t quite do so, so he moved his hand to guide himself inside you.

Once the tip pushed into you, he shoved inside and you cried out. “Shit, Daddy!” You screamed.

He slapped your ass. “Bounce that shit back,” he said.

You moved, bouncing back on his dick. Your ass jiggled every time you made contact with his thighs.

“That’s it. Work that sexy ass on this dick. You took your punishment so well. I’m so proud of you,” he said.

He moved his thumb to your clit and soaked his finger. He then pushed it into your ass and your hips jerked, dropping forward as any remaining strength left you. His thumb wiggled into your ass and you cried, fat drops of tears streaming down your cheeks.

He took over slamming and pounding into you. “Oh fuck, Daddy! Daddy!”

“Go on and scream my name, baby,” he said. “You feel so damn good squeezing Daddy’s dick. You missed me, huh?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy. Fuck,” you moaned.

“You missed me, baby?” He asked. His voice was soft and sweet but his strokes were deep and punishing. The dichotomy made your pussy flutter. He groaned, feeling it.

“I missed you, Daddy. I missed this dick,” you moaned.

He moaned and seemed to get even deeper. As if he had been giving you shallow strokes before. Fuck, he was so big. Stretching you out and giving you exactly what you had been craving. You were going to be sore as hell after this.

You squeezed him more. It felt like he was truly in your guts. As if you could feel him moving in your tummy. His thick head rubbed your inner walls and your eyes crossed. More drool escaped you.

“Daddy, let me cum. Let me cum,” you begged.

“You can cum baby, you deserved it,” he said.

You screamed as your body released on his command. Your body spasmed and flopped on his pounding dick as an intense, earth-shattering, soul-cleansing, full body meltdown erupted inside of you. This orgasm rivaled any other he ever gave you.

You may have passed out. You may have died a little. You may have entered the fifth dimension somewhere. But a moment later, he was joining you. His loud grunts infiltrated your foggy thoughts as he climaxed, stuffing you full of his cum.

He pushed into you and stayed there, plugging it inside you. You twitched and jerked on his dick and he finished with a deep, rumbling moan in his throat.

“Love you so fuckin’ much,” he said.

“Love you so fuckin’ much,” you said.

He slowly left you and you groaned. Already your pussy ached. He removed the handcuffs from your wrists and rubbed them. His fingers felt heavenly as he moved to rub your shoulders as well.

He kissed your cheek. “Catch your breath, baby,” he said.

“Yes, Daddy,” you said. You’d agree to anything right now. Absolutely anything.

The next thing you knew, you were being lifted in his arms. You made a soft, questioning sound as he kissed your cheek. He carried you bridal style towards the bathroom.

It smelled like sweet vanilla and he lowered you into the tub. The hot water made you sigh with pleasure. He climbed in behind you and pulled you against his chest. He put your bonnet on first followed by your shower cap, carefully tucking your hair inside without getting it wet.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmured. You were so sleepy. Between the thorough fucking and the bath, you would likely sleep through the night and well into the morning.

He whispered softly to you as you bathed together, washing away all the nasty shit he did to you. You talked more about his day, your plans for tomorrow, and any other random things on your mind. He tickled you in between kisses to your neck and you giggled as you wiggled your ass against his dick.

He rolled your ear between his teeth and warned you to quit while you were ahead. Afterwards, you dried each other off. You lotioned each other up with your respective lotions. You stole kisses. You breathed each other in.

Then, he carried you to the bedroom because you said your legs felt like noodles. He chuckled and scooped you up, laying you under the blankets and tucking you in. He kissed your forehead before joining you in bed.

He scooted closer, his chest warming your back. His hand caressed your belly. He placed a final kiss on your neck and you fell asleep feeling like you were on top of the world and never wanted to come back down.

THE END!

WHEW! Need more? The Secret Big Stunna Files

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flaticeball · 7 months

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hey! as the first season of connor bedard gets underway i, your local indigenous hockey fan, have a request of you: please don't let this kid's sure to be marvellous and jaw-dropping rookie season make you complacent with the racism of the blackhawks as an organization. it is beyond heinous that they were able to secure the first overall pick this year for a number of reasons i'm sure we're all familiar with, but i am pleading with the hockey community not to let the racism of this org fall through the cracks.

they drafted connor bedard and handed him a jersey with a giant racist caricature on the front. their mascot is named tommy hawk. they continuously fail to curtail their fans' egregious displays of anti-indigenous racism at games.

i'm not going to ask anyone not to post about bedard. i know he's huge news and i'm bummed as all hell that i won't be able to enjoy the beginning of what is sure to be an incredible career myself. but i am asking, given that his presence on the team is likely to increase the prevalence of people making and reblogging posts about the blackhawks, that you please care, loudly and actively, about the racism of this organization and how much it hurts indigenous fans to see that go unquestioned so often.

consider mentioning it in posts. consider amplifying the voices of indigenous fans and community members about the issues of these types of sports organizations. consider reading up on the history of the person they claim to 'honour' with their hideous effigy of a logo. consider censoring the logo in your posts if you are able to (please do this if you are able to). consider tagging posts so that indigenous fans are at the very least able to blacklist that team and not have to see it.

above all, please just. don't forget about it. don't forget about us. we belong here too.

#gav gab #connor bedard #chicago blackhawks #i jsut. it makes me feel sick every time i see that thing.#this racist caricature of a native man's head on their jerseys on their ice in their locker room #a native man who had his body mutilated in death including having his head removed #it's fucking grotesque and it makes me literally sick #i was really looking forward to see what that little wizard boy could do!#and now it is wholly ruined for me #and i keep seeing people just. posting about it like this team is normal. like it's any other team #no ethical consumption under sports is true but some things ARE worse than others #and there is no justification or excuse for being a blackhawks fan in the year 2023. there just isn't.#and like..... it bums me the fuck out for bedard himself too #like he didn't choose this #he just got like. put into this situation #it sucks #he's a teenager and now he's in the middle of this whole mess he didn't create and isn't responsible for #and i can't expect him to do anything about it #but boy was i excited to see him play #and now it just..... yeah #well.

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cheollipop · 9 months

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calico

navi | taglist

pairing: ex!yoon jeonghan x bartender!reader

w.c.: 3.1k

tags: fem!reader, smut, angst, past infidelity/cheating, this is really toxic.... hate sex though....

the heartache from a past game of cat and dog—leaving you with nothing but a stained bed and a broken heart—came back tenfold when freshly-chopped hair and a sly smirk greeted you through the cracked-open, tinted window.

warnings: car sex, so semi-public sex, hate sex, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, some cockwarming, degradation (mentions of past cheating, both reader and jeonghan refer to the other as "slut"), reader is also called a cockslut at one point, hair pulling, pussy slapping, nicknames (hannie; darling), jeonghan is really toxic (and a big asshole), past infidelity, seungcheol is mentioned a few times *wink wonk*

A/N: this is for the anon who requested jeonghan ages ago. I might be 5 years late to writing it, but it's here hehe~ I'm so glad I finally got to write more for svt! this was really fun to write~ please consider leaving feedback/reblogging if you enjoyed! ^^ happy reading~~

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Frosty air cooled the sweat sticking to your exposed skin, heeled boots clacking over the pavement as you stumbled out of the creaky, metal door at the back of the club. You were way too sober, you thought, eyebrow twitching at the memory of your fight with the new manager. ‘No alcohol after you clock in,’ the high-pitched sound repeated in your ears. You worked just fine with a shot or two in your system; you’d argue you worked even better, able to drown out the slurred pick-up lines and simply pour drinks. Friday nights were the worst, and having to deal with clingy men who didn’t understand rejection—most of which not even your type—without alcohol had you considering a career change. So the second the clock hit eleven, you hurriedly wiped your station before another batch of college freshmen crowded the bar, grabbing your stuff and scrambling out the back exit.

Your legs carried you out of the small alleyway and onto the lit main sidewalk, thankful that the council finally replaced the flickering light bulb. Your eyes zeroed in on the bus stop down the road, and you quickly made your way towards it before the last bus could arrive.

A sudden horn blared to your right, cutting through the stillness and sounding over the distant music from the club behind you. Your fingers dug into your pocket on instinct to circle around the tube of pepper spray, your body tensing defensively as you faced the Jeep parked in front of you. The driver’s tinted window rolled down, a head of short, brown locks peeking through the gap. Your hand eased around the spray when you met with familiar, downturned eyes, hooded with what seemed like amusement. A shot of pain seared through your chest, your heart pounding against your ribcage as Jeonghan stared back at you blankly, a simple “hey” reverberating in the air between you.

“No bitches to cheat on tonight?” You spat, tightening your fingers around the jacket in your hand.

Why was he here? After you’d finally stopped looking for him in every corner, hoping he’d pull you out from behind the bar to give you a tearful apology? After the scent of his misdeeds had faded off your bedsheets, your slumber no longer interrupted by dreams about your heart being used as a plaything?

Jeonghan's eyebrow twitched, his amusement blending with irritation. “Seungcheol’s taken now, whose cock would they jump on if I did?”

Resentment seeped into your chest, and you considered pepper spraying him just to erase that smug smirk off his face. But you turned away from him, sucking in the cool air while scheming eyes bore into your profile. You willed your legs into motion, your footsteps sounding to the beat of the muffled club music as you continued your journey down to the bus stop. A car door slammed somewhere behind you, and you picked at the side of your index finger while you walked, hoping it was just a clubber who’d been running late. A firm hand wrapped around your upper arm and twisted you around, striking out the previous possibility when Jeonghan’s hot breath brushed against your face.

“Let me drive you home,” he mumbled, his hand relaxing around your arm but not quite releasing it.

You couldn’t help but pity him in this moment. A man who’d broken your heart and left you to mend it alone, curled up on your bedroom floor while he stuffed his belongings into a worn-down duffle, not even an apology or a goodbye, only the loud clang of his spare key landing on your console before the front door slammed shut. That same man, two years later, parked in front of your workplace—for God knows how many hours—only to drive you home? A part of you was curious why that was. The other, though, wanted to get the fuck away from him.

“Why? So I can hear more about how not sorry you are? No thanks,” you tugged against his grasp, now tight around your arm again.

“(Y/n), please. I won’t say anything, I just wanna drive you home,” the subtle hint of desperation in his voice alarmed you. It didn’t make sense, and yet the unanswered question overshadowed your confusion. The anger that had been simmering in your gut was beginning to boil.

“So you actually don’t feel guilty?” You didn’t mean for your voice to crack, and yet the ache in your chest nearly made you double over the further his silence stretched—the same one that had robbed you of sleep, kept you away from all potential love interests, had you curled up in the same sheets the reeked of adultery and betrayal while Jeonghan continued to jump from woman to woman, a trail of his sins dragging behind his indifferent figure. “Let me go, Jeonghan,” your tone was weak, defeated, once again faced with agonizing reality—he’d moved on long before that day.

You missed the way his eyelids fluttered at the delicate roll of his name off your tongue, the sound sparking a memory into the front of his mind, a collage of smiles and easy laughter echoing in his ears. His hand raised to grab onto your other arm, possessiveness laced with concern slowly overtaking him at the sight of you—shoulders slumped, eyes glassy and your fingers shaking where they curled into fists at your sides, the mere mention of his indifference reducing you to the same, hurt woman he's left behind.

“It’s late. Let me just-” He paused. Jeonghan never paused, not even when you stood at your doorway, looking him in the eye while he soiled your bedsheets with someone else. “I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

You blamed it on the quiver in your legs, the loss of willpower to move yourself away from him, but this time, you didn’t argue.

‘I thought you would be okay,

You thought I would be the same,’

Dpr Ian played through the speakers, the volume on low despite the silence stretching between you and the man in the driver’s seat. You realized you hadn’t needed to give him directions, a relationship of three years enough to engrave the way to your apartment into his mind forever. Your eyes flitted over to the side every now and then, taking in the shadows cast over Jeonghan’s cheekbones with every passing streetlight, his fringe fanning over his forehead in a way unfamiliar to you. Looking back to the front, you decided you preferred his longer hair, and missed the innocent glimmer in his dark eyes. Though despite all the changes—new car, new hair, new attitude and style—Jeonghan still used the same perfume, one that you’d bought him for the first birthday you’d celebrated together. Something in your gut stirred at the thought, but you were unsure whether it was pleasant or not.

‘it’s just another show,

Don’t want your world no more,’

Jeonghan cleared his throat, “I got promoted to manager,” he spoke, breaking the silence.

“Good for you,” your tone was cold, uninterested.

“Yeah.”

Dpr Ian continued to play, ‘You’re so addicted to my bad decisions.’

“How’s bartending been?”

“It’s okay.”

He hummed, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as he took a right turn. “Mm, I worry about you sometimes. People can act crazy when drunk.”

Your eyebrow twitched, irritation creeping into your tone, “you don’t get to be worried about me.” You felt the urge to slam your fist into his unnecessarily sharp jaw, to watch bruises paint his face until the rage embedded so deep within your soul dissipated.

A few seconds of silence passed as Jeonghan parked parallel to the empty sidewalk in front of your apartment building, sighing while turning off the engine and twisting in his seat to face you. “You know, I’m just trying to be nice here.”

Your fists clenched, mirroring Jeonghan and turning around to look at him with hooded eyes, your muscles clenching and relaxing in an attempt to calm yourself down. “Well, maybe you should’ve thought to do that before you fucked a random girl in my bed,” you spat, content to have watched his face fall before turning your back to him and reaching for the door handle.

A hand flew over your shoulder before your fingers could reach their target, his index and thumb grabbing your jaw and forcefully forcing you back into your prior position. “And you thought sleeping with my best friend was a good way to handle it?” He pulled you closer to him, your lower belly digging into the console as he bent you over it, his face mere inches away and his breath blowing warm over your cheeks.

“You don’t get to blame me-”

He was quick to interrupt your defense, “you think I didn’t notice you acting like a slut to get his attention? Way before anything even happened,” his grip on your face tightened, inching his own closer as he spoke, each word falling off his tongue making the knot in your stomach wind tighter. “The looks,” something in his eyes glimmered, and while that once made butterflies flutter in your stomach, it now grew the lump in your throat until it restricted your airway. “The touches,” his breath fanned over your face, small beads of sweat pilling over your skin at the humidity, and perhaps at the rasp in Jeonghan’s voice as he laid out your sins before you. “The pictures.”

Your fingers gripped the console, slipping off with streaks of sweat staining the black leather. Heart pounding in your ears, you hoped Jeonghan’s hearing somehow declined during the years you’d spent apart, the ringing in your ears fogging up all thoughts. You blamed the nerves on his accusations—a dark past you thought you’d buried without trace—and yet the proximity, the lack of space between your face and Jeonghan’s, the mint lacing his breath and the rasp in every word he spoke, you found hidden tinges of arousal mixed in with your anxiety, dousing your panties as you tried to escape the man’s grasp.

“Why are you here, Jeonghan?” Your voice wavered, but this time, you didn’t miss the wave of what seemed like relief painting his face when his name rolled off your tongue.

“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”

The ache in your chest returned, your eyebrows furling until you appeared wounded by his words. “Not for a second,” your voice remained firm, though, sparing him no glimpse at your heart.

Jeonghan only scoffed, amused by the contrast between your tone and expression. He leaned closer—as though your indifference urged him to prove himself to you—pressing his lips the corner of your mouth, whispering his next words against the soft skin, “you’re not entirely wrong… but I did miss one thing.”

‘I thought you would be okay,

You thought I would be the same.’

Your lower back dug into the steering wheel, the leather beneath your knees creaking as you adjusted your position over Jeonghan, your pants shamefully thrown over the passenger seat. Teeth clacked against each other, heavy breaths mingling between your open mouths as your tongues pressed together in a battle of lust.

Two fingers spread you open, curling between your sopping walls until your eyes rolled back, his other hand holding up the window switch, waiting until the darkened glass closed fully before moving it to your hip.

Squeezing the supple flesh, Jeonghan groaned into your parted lips, “still so fucking tight, did Seungcheol not fuck you well enough?”

Heat flared up your chest, “shut up.”

You’d thought two years and countless hookups would’ve blurred Jeonghan's memory of you, but his fingers fucked into you with purpose, as though every inch of your body, every motion that drove pleasure up your spine had become second nature to him.

“I bet he didn’t know how to satisfy my pretty slut,” he pressed his lips to your cheek, using the hand on your hip to guide you over his fingers.

“Sh-shut up-”

He slipped out of you, gliding his digits down your cunt and over your clit before landing a harsh slap over the nub, your body jolting over him and a broken cry sounding in the humid car. The wet clap of his hand on your drenched pussy repeated, and you mumbled incoherently through a breathy moan.

“What was that? Speak up for me, darling,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

The urge to punch the playfulness off his face dissipated when skilled fingers brushed over your clit, “fuck, again-”

And he conceded, bringing his hand down on your pussy once more to watch your back arch into the steering wheel behind you, lips parting as pain mingled with pleasure, your cunt throbbing under Jeonghan’s palm. That same hand swiftly moved to your face, fingers digging into your jaw and smearing your arousal over your skin while his other worked over his zipper, quickly undoing his pants and pushing them down far enough to take his cock out. It leaked precum over his black button-up, the vein lining the underside throbbing at the sight of you above him—eyes glazed over and fixed on his hard length, your tongue digging into the inside of your cheek.

His fingers tapped against your clit, once, twice, before landing another rough slap over it. He grabbed himself around the base, groaning at the sudden contact as he positioned you over the leaking cockhead, “be a good girl for once and- fuck-”

You cut him off before he could finish his sentence, sliding down his length unprompted until his cock was sheathed entirely between your fluttering walls. You rolled your hips to adjust, forcing your chests flush as you moved and pressing your lips to the shell of Jeonghan’s ear.

“You talk as if you’ve done nothing wrong, but you’re just as much of a slut as I am, aren’t you, Hannie?” Trailing feathery kisses over his jaw, you slipped his cock halfway out of your cunt before sliding him back inside, squeezing your walls around him to feel the stuttered rise and fall of his chest against you. “You fucked me that morning, then brought that bitch into my bed a couple hours after,” you pecked the sharp edge of his jawline, moving your lips back to his ear to whisper your next words, “didn’t even have the decency to take her to your apartment-”

Rough fingers tangled in the hair at your nape, tugging your face back until you met with unfocused eyes. Jeonghan readjusted under you, digging his feet into the clean mats and thrusting upwards experimentally, scoffing at the moan you tried to suppress. Your neck craned uncomfortably, gritting your teeth as Jeonghan eyed you silently, a hand on your hip keeping you still and leaving you helpless to do anything but warm his cock.

So you commenced your taunts, desperately trying to wiggle out of his grasp while you spoke, “how many hours have you been waiting outside, huh? Just to get your dick wet-”

“I have you on my cock now, don’t I?” His fingers tightened around your hair, and he leaned back in his seat, fucking up into your clenching cunt before you could think of anything to say—assuming you were still capable of processing anything but the smooth drag of his length between your pulsing walls, his nails digging thin crescents into the flesh of your hip. His breathing grew heavy, and yet his words remained clear, contemptuous. “You may hate me, darling, but whether you like it or not, you’ll keep coming back to me,” the hand in your hair eased, fingers scratching soothingly at your sore scalp and pushing your head closer to his, bringing his voice down to a whisper, “because you’re my pretty cockslut, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan nuzzled his nose into your cheek, planting a tender kiss to the heated skin while you frantically nodded your head. A staccato of moans and repetitions of his name rolled off your tongue as he brought you down to meet his relentless thrusts, his own grunts adding to the stuffiness in the closed-up car. He pounded into your dripping cunt, taking in the jolts of pleasure shaking your body every time he drove his cockhead into your g-spot, your moans growing needier the closer he pushed you towards the edge.

With one final slap to your throbbing pussy, your vision darkened and your body curled in on itself. Jeonghan’s fingers rubbed quick circles over your swollen nub, watching you writhe on top of him as waves of pleasure seared through you, your moans high-pitched and desperate as he guided you through your orgasm with unrelenting fingers, spark after spark of simmering heat blinding you to everything but Jeonghan.

He felt his own high approaching at the tight squeeze of your walls around him, his thrusts slowing down when you tumbled over the edge, but returning to their frenzied pace to chase his orgasm. Your fingers closed over his upper arms, tinges of overstimulation blending with the ecstasy of his cock slamming into your used cunt.

“Fuck- where do you want me, darling?” He rolled his head back over the headrest, eyes lidded with burning arousal and his thighs beginning to cramp up at the pace he was going at.

“Inside, Hannie, hnngh! Please, inside,” you said, words slurred and interrupted by a harmony of moans, disregarding the soreness between your legs while you begged Jeonghan to come inside you.

He laughed at the desperation, the sweet noise—airy, gravelly with the lust clouding his every sense—was cut short, interrupted by a throaty grunt as he emptied inside you, hot ropes of cum pulsing out of him to paint your walls. Cupping your ass with both hands, he sunk his fingers into the flesh and guided you over his cock in slow rolls of your hips, breathing in the air the other exhaled, eyes locked as the last spurt of cum warmed your insides.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but now, with your head resting on Jeonghan’s chest, his steady heartbeat echoing in your ears and cum slowly dribbling out of you while his cock remained sheathed deep inside, you realized you’d let your walls down for the man who’d caused them to go up, sinking into the pleasure he so generously poured into you. The walls you’d been holding up for two years, the pain he’d left you with sparking fear in your heart every time someone tried to get closer. And yet, the same man who’d planted that fear inside you somehow breached past the infrastructure you’d spent so long strengthening.

While you laid there in the faux sense of security Jeonghan so easily provided, you realized he was right: you will always find your way back to him.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #yoon jeonghan angst #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen fanfic #yoon jeonghan fanfic #yoon jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan imagines

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daisynik7 · 8 months

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OMG I love your party idea it's so cool!! how about "slow down baby" by Christina Aguilar for Eren Yeager 💓💓 one of my favs

Slow Down Baby

Slow down baby and don't act crazy, don't you know you can look all you want but you just can't touch

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: modern-day au, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, implications of cheating, cheating, sex toy use (vibrator), dirty talk, pet names (good girl, princess)

Summary: Your boyfriend Jean is working late again, and you can’t help but be suspicious that there’s something nefarious happening behind your back. Pent up from not seeing him this whole week, you take this alone time to treat yourself to some much-needed self-care.

Eren Jaeger knows that his friend is cheating on you, and he hates it. You don’t deserve it, not one bit. When Jean asks him to do a favor to try to cover up his infidelity, Eren seriously considers telling you the truth, ultimately deciding against it because of “bro code”. But what happens when he walks in on you taking all your sexual frustrations out on a little toy? Can he really keep his mouth shut?

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request @shepnicolo! Love me some Xtina, great song for the y2k karaoke party! This was a fun one for me, so I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading everyone! MDNI banner designed by @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest.

“Hey babe. Sorry, but I’m going to be at work late again tonight.” It’s already past nine in the evening when Jean calls you, informing you of this last-minute change of plans.

“Again?” He’s had overtime every day since last week. He’s also been leaving early in the mornings so by the time you wake up, he’s gone. It feels like you’ve barely seen him at all. “How about dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah. I already ate.” There’s shuffling in the background. And maybe it’s just your paranoia, but you swear you hear a woman giggling quietly beside him.

You swallow hard, asking, “Is someone with you?”

“Huh?” His tone shifts, as if you’re asking the most ridiculous question. “What do you mean?”

Immediately regretting it, you rephrase, not wanting to sound accusatory. “I was just wondering if anyone else is working overtime with you. That’s all. Didn’t want you to be lonely there.” The last statement is a lie; you sincerely hope he’s alone and not doing what you’re suspicious of.

He clears his throat nervously. “Oh. Well, yeah, there are a few people here with me, so you have nothing to worry about.”

Too late for that, you think, listening carefully for any more clues. When you can’t hear anything else, you sigh into the phone. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you later then.” You wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t. Quickly, you add, “I love you – ”

He hangs up before you can get it out completely.

Jean had been pulling away from you for a while now. It didn’t just start with the overtime. It began over a month ago, when you noticed how glued to the phone he was while the two of you watched TV together. When you asked who he was texting, he answered, “It’s my new coworker. She’s asking some questions about work.” At the time, it didn’t raise any alarms in your head, so you dropped it. Every day, he was immersed to the screen, sometimes excusing himself to take a call outside on your balcony. You resisted every urge, every temptation to eavesdrop on his conversations, look through his text messages, interrogate him further.

You continue to give him the benefit of the doubt. There’s no way Jean would ever cheat on you. While you haven’t been together for that long, you like to think that you know him well enough to be sure he’s a faithful boyfriend. You don’t even have proof of his infidelity. It would be unfair to accuse him of such atrocities over some silly speculation, right?

Since he’s been in the office late this entire week, the two of you haven’t had sex in what seems like forever. Pent up and frustrated, you take this time to care for yourself, since Jean’s not around to do it. It starts with a serving of your favorite dessert, then a warm bath, soothing the tense muscles in your body. You surround yourself in a comfy robe, brushing your teeth with the full intention of falling asleep as soon as you do the one thing you need to make yourself feel better tonight.

With all the lights off, except for the dim glow of the lampshade on the nightstand, you snuggle into your bed, untying the robe so it’s splayed beneath you. Inside the drawer, you retrieve your favorite vibrator and a small bottle of lube, pouring a tiny bead on the tip. Spreading your legs wide, you smear it on yourself. Using your free hand, you navigate to your favorite dirty audio, playing it out loud.

~~~

Eren hates this. Absolutely hates it.

He’s driving towards your apartment with a set of keys in his pocket and a bouquet of roses sitting in the passenger seat. All because your friend is a piece of shit.

Eren’s known for a while now that Jean is cheating on you. It started with a not-so-subtle comment in the group chat. My new coworker is fucking hot. That alone disgusted him. Connie, of course, laughed it off. Armin didn’t say anything, probably unsure how to respond at such a statement. It only went downhill from there.

She’s got the best body omg.

I’m in trouble now.

This is bad guys lol.

Don’t tell the girls okay?

Jean has always rubbed Eren the wrong way, ever since they were kids. But at least he respected him. Now, not so much. Not at all, actually. You don’t deserve this, not one bit. No one does, but especially you. And maybe the reason he can’t completely berate Jean is because Eren’s harboring a secret of his own: He’s head-over-heels for you.

Of course, he’s never acted on it. Bro code, right? Thou shall not hook up with another bro’s girl, or whatever the unofficial rule is. But what if said bro is acting like a total asshole? And what if this bro would treat you the way you deserve and more? Then what?

It’s because of this stupid code that he finds himself in the most ridiculous, aggravating situation. Earlier in the night, Jean texted the group chat. SOS SOS SOS. Armin and Connie were both busy, so didn’t respond, leaving Eren to answer the cry for help.

Jean explains it quickly through the phone, voice all panicky and guilty. “Dude, I need you to do me the hugest favor right now. I would you owe big time if you could help me out.” Basically, he needs Eren to buy a big bouquet of roses and deliver them to your apartment, where you can see them first thing in the morning.

“Why?” he asks, irritated by this request.

“I think she’s suspicious. So I need to do something to throw her off the scent,” he explains. Eren can already see the cocky, shit-eating grin on his face. Why is he friends with this douchebag? And why did he agree to do this? He’s complicit in this mess now, not only for keeping his friend’s infidelity a secret, but for helping him continue it. He wants so badly to tell you the truth so you can escape this relationship. At the same time, he’s supposed to have his friend’s back no matter what, even if he is being a massive prick.

So, he decides to help his buddy out, no matter how much it’s killing him. He meets Jean at an unknown address, most likely his side chick’s place. “Dude, seriously. I owe you one,” he says, patting him on the shoulder.

Eren nods silently, not wanting to speak in case he lets his true feelings slip. Jean hands him the spare keys to your apartment. “Just sneak in and set the flowers on the kitchen counter. She won’t suspect a thing.” It takes all of Eren’s willpower not to punch him in the face, so he quickly turns around to get into his car and drive off.

It’s almost midnight by the time he arrives to your apartment. Surely, you’re asleep by now, still completely unaware that your bastard boyfriend is cheating on you. Still, he shouldn’t meddle in your relationship, even though he wants what’s best for you, which is not Jean.

He unlocks the door quietly, tip-toeing into the kitchen to set the flowers down, as instructed. He notices your bedroom door is ajar, a faint streak of light coming from the inside, and the undeniable sounds of a man growling expletives like, Come for me, slut. Yeah, give it all to me.

His eyes widen, surprised that you’re still awake, even more so that you’re listening to something like this. Curiosity gets the best of him; he stealthily makes his way beside your door, peering through the tiny opening to get a glimpse of you.

You’re laid out on the bed, bare and exposed, gripping a vibrator to your pussy. The sight alone is enough to put him into a frenzy. Hearing your soft whimpers from your mouth along with the electric buzz from the toy fluttering on your clit sends him into a trance that he can’t snap out of. Before he can think logically, he’s pushing against the door, making his presence known.

~~~

“Eren!” You sit up in bed, flinging the toy off to the side, covering yourself with your robe. “What are you doing here?”

He stands before you, a crazed look in his eyes, an obvious bulge protruding from his pants. He stutters, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, glaring at him.

His mouth is agape, unable to get the words out. You’re losing patience, watching him struggle to explain why he’s here, inside your home, watching you masturbate. You grab your phone, making sure to exit out of whatever filthy audio that’s still playing, fingers ready to dial your boyfriend’s number when he blurts out, “Jean is cheating on you.”

You freeze on the spot, heart sinking from having your worst fear confirmed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, staring down at his feet. “I’m so sorry.”

There are no tears in your eyes, surprisingly. Instead, your throat is heavy with emotion as you repeat for a third time, “So, what are you doing here?”

Still avoiding your gaze, he answers, “Jean thought you were catching on to him, so he asked me to bring you flowers to throw you off.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you ask, “How long have you known about it?”

“A few weeks.” He looks up at you, saying your name this time. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

After a deep breath, you sigh, relaxing against the headboard. “I’m sorry you’re involved in it.” You smile at him. “And I’m sorry you had to see me…you know.” Embarrassment catches up to you, heat rushing into your cheeks, aware that you’ve just been caught touching yourself with your vibrator, which is still in plain view beside you.

He steps forward, inching closer towards the end of the bed. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Jean is a fucking asshole. You don’t deserve this.”

“What do I deserve, Eren?” You peer at him, tears welling in your eyes now, desperate for any ounce of comfort he can give to you in this moment.

He sits near you on the edge of the bed, keeping his distance. “You deserve to be loved by someone who’s always going to treat you right. Someone who’s going to love you from head to toe.”

“Someone like you?”

A gentle smile forms on his face. “Yeah. Someone like me.”

No matter how badly you want to close the distance between you, want to feel the love he says he can give to you, guilt holds you back. Sensing your hesitation, he scooches nearer. “Let me help you. Tell me what you want.”

Eren has always been sweet to you. Too sweet, in fact. You’ve always gotten the sense that he cares more for you than he lets on. And maybe it’s because you’re hurt right now, fragile, heartbroken, even a little scornful towards Jean. Whatever it is, it makes you realize you’ve been too busy with the wrong man to notice the right one has been here all along. However, two wrongs don’t make a right. Even with the confirmation of Jean’s adulterous behavior, you’re still his girlfriend until you officially end it, which will be soon.

In the meantime, you manage to come up with something you can do to take advantage of this moment.

You let go of your robe, letting it fall to your sides, displaying your nude body to him, arousal wet between your legs from earlier. He watches you carefully, cock straining against his sweatpants, breathing heavily.

“I’m not a cheater like Jean,” you mutter, spreading yourself wider, showing off your glistening cunt.

“I know you’re not,” he whispers, scooting forward, hand drifting to his lap.

Reaching for your vibrator, maintaining your gaze on him, you say, “I’m a good girl.”

He swallows hard, palming his erection through the fabric. “Fuck. You’re a good girl. Such a good girl.”

“You can look, but you can’t touch. Understand?” Your finger hovers over the button, tip pressed to your throbbing clit.

He nods erratically, licking his lips. “Yes.”

“Good,” you smirk, turning the toy on, ready to give him a show. “Tell me all the things you want to do to me.”

He shoves his boxers down, cock sprung stiff against his abdomen, the slit shiny with precum, veins bulging on his shaft. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, better than what’s-his-face by a longshot, though you might be biased now, given the circumstances. Eren wraps his fist around it, jerking himself off while he watches you tease the tip on your swollen bud. “I want to fuck you into this mattress,” he moans. “Pound this pussy until we break the bed.”

“Yeah?” you purr, pressing the fluttering tip deeper into your clit. “What else?”

“Want to bounce you on this cock, watch you cream all over me,” he huffs, stroking himself faster. “God, this is hot. So fucking hot.”

Pleasure ripples through your body, toes curled from the sensation, so close to your climax with his soothing voice spitting his nasty fantasies at you. “I wish you could fuck me right now,” you confess, limbs quivering from ecstasy, pussy fluttering around nothing, aching to be filled.

“Me too, princess. Me too. But you’re a good girl. And good girls don’t cheat.” He readjusts himself onto the bed, kneeling in front of you, stroking his hard dick. “I can give you this cum, though. That’s not cheating, right?”

You blindly agree with him, approaching your climax. “Yeah, give it to me. Give it to me, Eren.”

He swears loudly, shooting his load onto you, spilling over your clit, dripping down your pussy. “Fuck,” he groans, marveling at how pretty you look covered in his seed.

You smile at him, relaxing against your pillows, dipping the tip of your vibrator in his mess. His mouth hangs open, eyes half lidded, watching as you stuff it inside your cunt.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers, stroking his cock again, eyes fixated on your pussy.

Do technicalities even matter anymore? All you know is that you want to be loved from head to toe by Eren Jaeger. You set aside the toy, sitting up to close the gap between you, pressing your lips to his. He hesitates before deepening the kiss, tongue slipping inside your mouth, sloppy and eager for more.

When you break apart to catch your breaths, he leans his forehead against yours, whispering, “Are you going to be a bad girl now and take this cock?”

Grinning, you nod, pulling him in for another kiss.

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