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neopuppy · 3 years

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Dive Into You: Part 4.(M)

Preview: “What brings you into confession today?”

Pastor Lee’s voice sounds through the small wooden booth around you. Uncomfortably shifting in your seat when the reality of confessing your sins to the one who brought them into this world settles.

“Pastor… what does the bible say about pre-marital sex with two brothers?”

“At the same time?!” Pastor Lee spits out abruptly, gagging on his words.

“Separately Pastor!”

Pairing: brothers Jeno/Haechan x female reader

Word Count: 4k

Genre: pwp, church boys AU, smut, love triangle, brothers nohyuck, a little angsty

Warning: sacrilegious themes, explicit language, master manipulator Haechan, innocent Jeno, corruption, cheating, religious innuendos

Smut Warning: dry humping, fingering, in public setting

Intro—>

Part 1–>

Part 2–>

Part 3–>

“Oh my gosh goodness, that woman is old enough to be his mother!” Your mother gasps, hand over her chest. Haechan strutting into mass with, quite frankly a woman old enough to be his mother. Scantily clad in a tight skimpy hardly there dress. Arm securely draped around her waist. Your jaw falls open following where he leads her into a pew. Both Mark and Jeno sharing looks, back and forth between you and Haechan. Mumbling whispers erupting throughout the crowd of church-goer’s gathered.

“Isn’t that woman just a bit too mature for Pastor Lee’s son?” A voice behind you whispers. Conversations sparking around faster. Pastor Lee awestruck at the podium, slack jawed similar to you and others questioning what Haechan is doing. Your mother scoffing eavesdropping in on everyone muffling their words.

“That is just disappointing. Such a promising young man, wasting his time with an old whore like that.” She lets out a sound in dismay. Never noticing how you hide your face behind the scripture for today's mass. If you muted everyone's speaking enough, sure enough, you’d be able to hear your heartbreaking this very moment. Blinking away hot tears threatening to pass over the rims of your eyes.

Your mother may have not noticed, but that didn’t mean the altar boys missed the way you sunk into your seat. Sadness taking over your features as Haechan relaxed in the pew across from you. Arm around this woman’s shoulders, large smirk displayed. Jeno and Mark gave you many warnings, too many. Your stubborn fault for not listening…always insisting to do things your way. Maybe this was how life worked? How could you have expected a guy like Haechan to want you for more than sex?

Your eyes lift to the ominous cross hung above the altar where you let Haechan commit sin with your body. This church becoming more like a place to drag your mind through hell than anything. Ah, but what was really the point in letting yourself get upset over this? He used you, like some brainless naive idiot you danced along to the pied pipers fiddle.

With a few rapid blinks you return to stare at the floor until this dragging mass ends. Catching Jeno’s gaze before you land on the dirty brown itchy carpet. His lips part open, surprised when your eyes lock on each other. The question passing through his mind all too obvious in his stare. A silent ‘are you ok?’ that you didn’t even deserve from him.. Forcing a smile, your eyes end on the floor, defeated. What if Jeno was the angel on your shoulder that you turned a muted ear to? Turning the volume up for the devil on your other side. Consequences, that’s what the bible was all about wasn’t it? Learning your lesson and living with the aftermath.

Eve bit into the apple of temptation, you were no different.

——————————————————————————

“Father Lee insisted we provide fruit along with baked goods. Health is wealth!” Your mother slaps an apple in your palm. Turning to greet approaching bodies with a shining bright small. Like a wire hanger was propped in her mouth.

“Watermelon! My favorite!” Mark’s brows wiggle, picking up a plate of vibrant fruit. “The fruit of salvation. You know fruit represents, pleasures.. overindulgence, temptation.”

Mark holds up a slice of bright red watermelon. Pale light in the bible room dimming it’s flavorful beauty. Admiring it as if it’s the best thing in the world. He takes a large bite, avoiding seeds. Juice spilling down his chin, speaking between chews- “Can’t always agree with the bible I guess.”

“That’s shocking coming from you..” you look at the apple in hand. Thumb rubbing over a bruise developed on the red yellow coating.

“Nothings perfect right? Only God is perfect. Look at that apple, bruised but still serves a purpose. Sort of like us, we have our flaws but we’re doing our best.” Mark shrugs, devouring the rest of his watermelon.

“You’re pretty logical when you’re not quoting Samael 6:66 all the time.” You smile, earning the jaw drop from Mark as expected.

“Now that is just blasphemous, you little harlot!” Mark scoffs. Damn finger waving about in front of your nose. “Jesus said..”

“Save the quote, I’m not seeing the gates of heaven anytime soon.” You quietly interrupt Mark. Setting down the apple with the other fruits. Some more pristine then others, none perfect. How could perfection be defined anyway..

“I’m pretty sure my invitation to the sky above got revoked years ago.” Perfection spoke up. Jeno standing by, catching the tail end of your conversation. Hands shoved into the pockets of his tight black jeans. Form hugging black t-shirt tucked in. Defined trimmed waist leading down to sculpted long legs. Physique of a God if you’d ever seen one.

“Gods for sure not the only perfect being..” you mumble under your breath. Mark and Jeno’s eyes both lifting to you curiously. Smiling, shrugging off a response. “Well I’m sure you redeemed yourself with all that bible camp stuff. God loves shit like that.”

“Does he now?” Jeno’s arms cross over his chest. Forehead wrinkling in surprise. Mark muttering into another bite of fruit how you needed to stop cursing all the time.

“He doesn’t communicate with me, but I’d imagi-…” Haechan’s loud laughter cuts your speech off. Entering the room with that woman old enough to be his mother. Pulling them closer to the table filled with coffee, pastries, fruits. Shifting side to side anxiously as they near, stomach bubbling in.. embarrassment? Was it because Mark and Jeno knew?..or could at least assume very well.

“Aw nono, you already changed out of your cute little altar boy get up? Wanted to introduce my girl to my cute innocent little brother. Now you just look like hot topic threw up on you or something.” Haechan pokes at Jeno. Smirk plastered across his face. Jeno’s ‘fuck off’ reply coming in like garbled words.

My girl?! My girl? All of a fucking sudden? Hag. Haechan wasn’t even sparing you a glance. If he was trying to make it clear there was nothing between the two of you- he didn’t need to try much harder. Accepting the situation the best to your abilities or not wasn’t going to stop the rush of tears attempting to streak down your face. A quick spin had you racing out of the church, Jeno’s neck snapping catching sight of your back exiting.

“You’re such a dick Haechan.” Shoving past his older brother, Jeno pushes past a few bodies. Running out of church behind you.

“I didn’t watch the porn because there was a watermelon in it…BUT there was a watermelon in it…” Mark’s eyes lift expecting to see you and Jeno. Too engrossed in his favorite snack. Haechan staring at him dumb founded.

“This is exactly why I don’t believe in God.” Haechan’s head shakes, teeth clicking. Nudging the woman at his side to agree with him. “He’s my distant cousin. Emphasis on distant.”

——————————————————————————-

“Hey! Wait up!” Jeno catches up to you easily. Long legs sprinting out faster than you were moving. Hand wrapping around your arm, revealing your wet tear stained face with a turn. His face instantly falling, chest moving up and down returning to a regular breathing pace.

“It’s ok..” hands lift covering your face. You should be accustomed to this sensation of embarrassment by now. Hunching in, sobbing harder the more it settles in. Humiliating deeper because it wasn’t some secret you could live with. Jeno knew exactly how easily you walked into his brothers trap.

His hands shook, staying still in the air near your head. Internally resisting the immediate urge to comfort you. Arms dropping, hands flopping down by his sides. Lips pursing annoyed he couldn’t bring himself to even touch you. The fact was- you weren’t interested in him. You were another broken girl, crying at his feet over Haechan. Ignoring the stinging pain in his chest, from watching you break down. From knowing why you were in such pain. Who knew either way, Jeno wasn’t going to admit it.

“I can.. take you home..”

His delicate rasp reaches your ears past muffled cries. Pouting, rubbing your palms across wet heated cheeks. Reminding yourself in the back of your mind how you probably looked like shit. The last way you’d prefer for Jeno to see you, not that it mattered.

“Don’t wanna go home..” you sigh into your hands, shoulders shaking trying to control yourself. “Dad’s home..”

Jeno looks around, eyes falling on his bike under a large tree. Shaded from the bright daytime sun. Mouth lifting to one side, he could take you to the diner? The book shop was closed on Sundays to prioritize mass.. or maybe..

“I got a place..” Jeno pulls your wrist. Sad face reveal causing another type of tight clench in his chest. “Come with me.”

Gently leading you toward his bike, unclasping the helmets attached along the back. The memory of riding attached to his back still drawing impure thoughts to your mind. No idea who you even were anymore. Riding around on the back of an attractive boys motorcycle. Losing your virginity in church of all places.

Arms circling around his flat stomach. Jeno smelled nice, clean and fresh. Nothing too strong, your nose tempted to dive in with a deep inhale. Opting to rest your chin on his broad upper back where it dipped down the middle. Not bothering to question where he was going to take you, grateful he even cared.

He cared.

“What is this place?” You cautiously stepped forward. Looking down the ledge of the cliff Jeno had brought you to. Setting the helmets back on the bar attached at the end of his bike.

“I guess I come here to get away.” He shrugs, moving to stand by your side. “Small town, not many places to go. It’s hard when you’ve lived here all your life, everyone thinks they know you..”

“Yea..” guilt gnaws away at your gut. You were no different from everyone else. Like your mother looking at Jeno with preconceived notions, judgement. “It’s hard when you’re the town pastor’s son, I can only imagine..”

“Pft.. cause he’s so innocent. Somehow brain washed everyone into forgetting he cheated, knocked up my mom while still married to Haechan’s..”

“Oh…” scuffing your boots nervously against dirt. Sparing glances Jeno’s way. Chiseled jaw having you ready to swoon like some sad teenager passing her crush in the hallway. Mind so far away distracted, screaming at yourself that Jeno’s trying to have a deep conversation with you. “I didn’t uh…know that about your dad.”

“He just lucked out my mom didn’t tell anyone about the church intern fresh out of high school that she filed divorce papers over..” Jeno says, removing his jacket. Holding it open for you with a questioning look. Your eyes widen, immediately caving in a moment of weakness. Allowing him to drape the material around your shoulders. Fresh scent engulfing your sense of smell.

“You’re really.. nice Jeno. Considering everything, I have to admit I expected you to be more like Haechan..” you express, pulling the jacket around yourself tighter.

“We aren’t that different, growing up together will do that. Someone has to be the scapegoat, unfortunately it’s always me. Typical younger sibling syndrome right?” Jeno rubs his exposed arm, muscle tank revealing bits of tattoo. You nod to his words, unable to picture Jeno and Haechan getting along like two loving brothers.

“Your tattoo… your dad doesn’t know about it right?” You inquire, returning to topic back to Jeno. Ready to forget his brothers existence, at least for the time being.

“Oh yea..he’d probably ship me off to Jerusalem, peace core or some shit.” Jeno laughs, pushing the loose cut off sleeve up. Further exposing the evil creature blaring into your vision.

“Why a demon?”

“Why not right? I lost my faith in religion when my dad kept coming up with new excuses for why his sins were forgiven. God isn’t real anyway.” Jeno finishes. Eyes narrowing, expecting a reaction from you.

“I think you’re right actually..” you nod, softly smiling. Awestruck eyes staring into yours, satisfied. “..I should probably get home. Didn’t even tell my mom I was leaving. She’s gonna be so pissed..”

“Ah yea..can’t have that. She’s pretty intense huh?” Jeno scratches his throat anxiously. The voice in the back of his mind yelling at him to do something now. “..I’ll take you home.”

You take languid drawn out steps together. Tension surging between your bodies like electric shocks. Jeno reaching for his helmet. Fingers hesitating to open the clasp.

“Can I ask you something?” he looks away, teeth digging at his bottom lip. Was that nerves?

“Of course” you promptly respond, bouncing on your toes.

“If Haechan..hadn’t.. I don’t know, gotten to you first..” Jeno cringes. Focusing his eyes on the ground. Ending his curiosity there, struggling with his hope that you’d ever like him.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow, moving in, closing the space between your bodies. Jeno’s eyes meet yours, giving away the intent behind his question. “..you..why are you asking? You don’t..”

“It’s nothing, forget it.” Jeno’s head shakes, realization hitting you. Guys like Jeno never gave you the time of day..

“Would you have?” Boldly your hand lands on his, pulling fingers away from the helmet. Still wearing his jacket, could you be more oblivious?

“I wanted to..” those words are all it takes. Pushing up on your toes, lips smashing on his. Fever like heat raising your confidence to go for it. Jeno’s been good to you- the cold demeanor a cover up for how painfully shy you make him.

Hands find your hips, pressing you against the seat of his bike. Ass digging into the warm leather, jacket falling from your shoulders. Jeno kissing you back needy, full of desperation, loud breaths passing through his nose. Finger nails scraping the material of your dress, gathering the fabric up. Skin rubbing on the sun kissed bike under you. He presses in, tongue flicking out, asking for permission to enter. Fisting the cotton shirt on his chest in a wrinkled mess. Mouth parting so fast, too fast. Wet tongues eagerly meeting, rolling against the roof of your mouth.

Jeno’s groans are hot, raspy and deep. Affecting you quickly, sinking back on the bike when his hips roll between your thighs. Hard on tenting angrily in tight jeans. Grinding against your soaking core.

“God I..” Jeno mumbles on your lips, lapping spit across your mouth. His own pouting out cutely, blood tinted lips shining in outdoor light. “I really…whoa..fuck..”

“Jeno..” your arms lift, wrapping around his neck. Bringing your bodies together impossibly close. Pained moan trapped in his throat, thrusting in anguish. Craving to bend you over on his bike, slap your ass and fuck you until you can’t even remember his brothers name.

Jeno’s thumb shoves between your wet mouth, tongue swirling around. Groaning louder with another crushing thrust. Cock screaming for release, working up a faster speed. Demanding movements bouncing you on the bike. Eyes falling shut sucking at his thumb, picturing the length prodding at your walls sitting heavy in your mouth instead. Both of you growing needier with each dry hump against each other. Calves finding Jeno’s hips, lifting yourself up writhing against the hard fabric of his worn jeans.

“You feel so good..fuck..” Jeno captures your upper lip, sucking harshly. Hips growing furious, thigh muscles flexing tightly. Dragging sweet panted moans out of you, thumb opening your mouth. Saliva drooling past both of your lips messily, chins coated in each other.

“Please..” you whimper, pleading. Unsure what you could be begging for. Jeno nods reassuringly, gripping the back of your neck. Hand falling from your mouth, finding space between your legs. Drenched underwear shoved aside, sliding long fingers up and down. Catching your wetness, palm covered, landing loudly on your mound. Jeno finding your clit, pressing down hard. Surprised scream releasing from your chest. Tongue covering your exposed neck, nipping at dips.

“Can I?” Jeno’s fingers prod your opening up entrance. Head nodding rapidly, eyes wide. Gliding past your convulsing walls. Groaned curses repeating from his lips, finding way deep inside of you. Slender pretty hands working you to a heightened pleasure. Jeno continuously licking around your jaw, catching parted lips in bites. Hard enough to leave you a swelling pained mess, lips pursing out asking for more.

He lets your neck go, face dropping, forehead hitting his shoulder. Tattoo coming to life so close up, licking the expanse inked skin. Jeno grits his teeth, whimpering with squeezed eyes. Hand squeezing your hip, fingers jabbing in and out. Thumb circling your clit with expertise, nothing innocent in his touches.

He squirms on your thigh, member begging to fuck you open. Resisting to need for himself, fully focused on getting you off. Enjoying the way your eyes roll, tongue hung out letting your mind succumb to his touches.

Your hips jump up, wriggling into the thrusts of his fingers. Reaching far deep within, hitting every delicious spot. Lips landing together in a bruising sloppy kiss, muffling strained moans. Jeno’s thumb pressing down just right on your clit, precise fingers hitting where you need him in repeated motions. Trembling around him, walls gripping tightly. Jeno’s motions slowing down, letting the climax high wash over you. Softly tracing kisses atop your burning cheeks, staggering down to your neck. Soft nips turning into hard bites, leaving marks of himself behind.

“I..” Jeno’s forehead rolls over yours, skin dragging against his. Nose nudging gently at you, nerves still clouding his sense. Hard breaths landing on your face, eyes finding yours, mind returning back to you. “I want.. I like you.. I need…..I want..to take you out, like…date out...”

You nod a bit too excited, nose hitting his. Jeno’s stressed words making you clench up around his fingers yet again. Another pained groan blended into a sigh sounding around you. “I want that so bad Jeno.. I really want you.”

—————————————————————————-

“What brings you in to confession today?”

“Pastor… what does the bible say about pre-marital sex with two brothers?”

“At the same time?!” Pastor Lee spits out abruptly, gagging on his spit.

“Separately Pastor!” You shriek out. Fingers stopping your lips, wondering if Pastor would recognize your voice. It’s not as if you spent time speaking to each other much..

“Well..” Pastor Lee’s throat clears, adjusting the collar tightening around his neck. “That’s..good to hear. Are you planning to wed one of these men?”

“Wed?! Like marry?” Your forehead creases, thinking it over. It was way too early to even consider such a thing. “I’m not pregnant pastor!”

“That’s…that’s good news my child.” Pastor audibly swallows. Sweat gathering at his hairline. “You..wish to know what the bible has to say about this?

“Am I going to hell if I choose to…have intercourse with both of them? I’ve only slept with one..”

“Only?” The pastor sounds flabbergasted. Gulping down another loud breath of air. “You won’t go to..hell over this. You need to repent for your mistakes none the less. God is good, and forgiving.”

“So, I’m not going to hell right?” Your frazzled tone sounds around the booth. Growing frustrated the longer he skirts around your questions.

“Yes my child, of course God does, but!-…”

“….God forgives all right? Like…God will love and forgive me even if I do happen to…somehow…you know..fornicate with uhm..” you chew on your thumb nail, catching yourself ready to say- ‘your sons’. “..siblings?”

Pastor Lee becomes frantic on the other side of the confessional booth. Fingers quickly turning through thin pages of his bible. Murmuring sounds of ‘uhm’ between, buying extra time to find an explainable excuse for why you absolutely should not do such a thing.

“Now my child.. yes God loves you, of course. I cannot say he would approve of you doing this! What about the brothers bond you could end up destroying?? That would be greed and lust! Those are sins child, sins!” Pastor Lee exasperates. Patting a handkerchief along his sweating forehead. Small towns hardly ever brought him confessions this extreme.

“Pastor, did you not have sex out of wedlock once too?.. more than once! With two different women! Does God approve of that?” You sit up straight. Hand slapping over your mouth after speedily replying. Shit, God probably didn’t care much for this conversation, that’s for damn sure..

“Child of God! now..” the pastor continues, avoiding your accusations. “Are you going to go through with this regardless of what excerpt from the bible I give you?”

“Yes father…I believe so..I really like this guy..” you timidly say. The thought that the pastor could have you in mind making your stomach turn.

“Well then..” with a heavy dissatisfied sigh, Pastor Lee continues. “Twenty hail Marys and Fifty our fathers should do it.”

“Fifty?!” your mouth falls open, disbelief stricken by the idea of sitting here for the next three hours repeating prayers.

“Make that seventy child. Ten for each seven deadly sin.”

You pause for a moment, hand on the door knob ready to exit. Mouth gaped considering asking what the bible says about losing your virginity in church. A minute of contemplation later, you decide it’s best to add another fifty hail Mary’s.

“Thank you so much Pastor Lee!”

——————————————————————————

It felt a little scary, but fun, getting ready for your date with Jeno. Of course you still wanted to leave an impression, even with his confession.

Repeating it in your mind over and over again: A. Date. With. Jeno.

Holy fucking shit. What alternative universe had you stumbled into moving to live here. Maybe the best way to get over someone really was by getting under someone else…younger brother and all. God had to be real if this was how your love life was playing out.

Walking up to Jeno, he was a complete vision. Black messy hair pointing different directions, as if he just ruffled it and said ‘good enough’. Leather jacket all too tight over his defined rippling biceps, like a second skin. Silver chain necklaces shining under the sunset across the orange red sky behind him. Hoops adorning his ears making the sparkle in his eyes come to life. The large steel ball chain necklace catching your eye against his pale thick neck. Imagining him on top of you coated in a sheen of sweat. Cold chains dangling down on your skin..

“Isn’t this… your brothers car?!?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of sockets asking the question. Drawn out of the quick fantasy you’d almost drifted into. The cherry black trans am practically glowing behind Jeno.

“It is, isn’t it..” Jeno’s smile lifts into his eyes. Fingers waving around a set of keys mid-air. “Who do you think Haechan learned how to pick pocket from? Still no match to the king.”

Jeno unlocks the car, opening up the passenger door for you. Surprising you first with his tattoos.. now this. Maybe he wasn’t the innocent cute younger brother you’d perceived him as all this time.

The engine sounded alive, Jeno pulling out of your driveway. Better looking than any heart throb you’d see on some terrible basic cable teen drama. Arm reaching around the space between your bodies. Other stretched in front of him. Long fingers attached to pretty veins flexing around the spinning steering wheel. All he had to do was grab your thigh to set you bursting up in flames. Stealing subtle looks at him picturing the tattoo adorning his perfectly sculpted shoulder.

“Haechan doesn’t know you borrowed his car I’m guessing? Won’t he be mad?” You wonder out loud. Jeno’s smile spreading into his cheeks. Eyes squinting under the low sun coming through the windshield. Relaxed in the drivers seat making way down the empty road. Arm closest to you splaying out, fingers wrapping around your exposed leg. Shivers shooting up your heat from where his large palm covers the majority of your visible mid-thigh.

“That’s the plan.”

Final—>

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kiridarling · 3 years

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𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

eijirou kirishima | f!reader, DARK CONTENT, drugging, noncon, but also the reader isn't not into it bc like...i have my limits okay, talk of vomit for a sec (no actual vomit), degradation, bondage, size kink, hair pulling, ripping clothes, slut-calling once or twice. minors dni!

— 3k words

"'S this what you need, Sweetheart? Y'need me to use you to get off while you just lie there and take it?"

"See somethin' you like, Sweetheart?"

"U-Um," you flush a deeper red than the stranger's hair and pray he can't see it under neon red lights. Either way, you've been caught red-handed, and recoil. "Sorry."

The stranger's crimson eyes soften before relaxing into a kind smile, and he lifts a dismissive hand. "I was just messing with you! That's on me."

He lifts a hand to scratch the back of his head and the smile grows wider, displaying the rows of predatory sharp teeth that shouldn't look as gentle as they do. You relax in the seat to his right, immediately turning to the bartender to order a funny named a drink. The redhead raises an eyebrow, leaning his arm on the counter.

"A Stranger Danger?" He nearly deadpans.

"Club Special," you shrug. You've never been particularly great at holding your alcohol, but this drink provides just enough punch for a buzz, aka what you need to get through the night. The bartender slides over a tall, rose-dyed wine glass without another word.

"Eijirou Kirishima," the stranger says with his sharp teeth, offering a large hand to shake. He looks comical next to you, all hunched over the neon bar while you sit up straight for your head to reach his shoulder, and as you take the handshake, can't help but notice how his palm eats yours like it's nothing.

"Y/N," you smile. His hand lingers before it pulls away, and he tells the bartender he'll have what you're having.

"So," Eijirou starts once his order has been placed. "You come here often?" You snort at the cheesy line, and the way Eijirou smirks implies he knows just how cliché it is.

"Sometimes," you shrug vaguely. The club's fairly new, so it's not as if you can say you've been going here for years. You lift the drink to your lips, the sugar-crusted rim tickling the corners of your mouth. "You?"

He shrugs, "When I want to get out."

You nod at that and offer him your glass with a raised eyebrow. Eijirou shakes his head, lifting a glass of his own. Your nose scrunches.

"Beer?"

He takes a sip before answering, lips white from the foam before his tongue licks them over, "Stella Artois. Want some?"

Your eyes shift between your dainty glass and his not-so-dainty one before you snort, "I'll pass."

Eijirou shrugs, reclining back in his seat and beer in hand, "Suit yourself."

You pat your back pocket for your phone, but when you realize there's a loss of weight on one side, you pat your right buttcheek to realize you left your wallet in the car. Fuck.

"Uh, hey," you say, knocking the redhead on the shoulder. You figure he's trustworthy enough, and the bartender always keeps an eye out for you anyway. "I'll be right back—left my wallet in the car."

Eijirou nods at that as you push away from the counter practically shaking your head at how distracted you can be sometimes. Seriously, your wallet?

At least the bartender didn't ask for your ID. Yikes.

You slam the car door shut with a huff, wallet finally in hand as you trudge back to the bar. When you return, Eijirou's got the beer lifted to his lips and greets you with a small wave as you sit down.

"Long time no see."

You giggle while grabbing your glass by the neck. As the club starts to fill out, you begin to shrink into your shell—throwing the entire drink down the hatch fixes you right up, though.

"Oh wow okay, looks like we're just going for the whole thing, then," Eijirou chuckles as he takes a much more civilized sip of his. You smack your lips with a satisfied aah.

"Gotta get the buzz going somehow," you wink, before getting comfortable in your seat. Alcohol warms your veins already, prompting your body to start pulse in time with the bass of the music. Eijirou smiles, watching you.

"You like this song?" he asks softly, before adjusting so you're both sat the same way—elbows and backs against the counter, facing the club and all its chaos. You shrug.

"I guess. I've never heard it 'till now."

He tosses his head back onto his muscled shoulders in a chuckle, and you watch the entire act in slow motion. The glint of his teeth in the neon lights, how his chest balloons and quivers under the weight of a bellow. You find yourself staring much harder than you intend to, but he doesn't seem to notice, eyes locked on the dance floor.

"Touché, touché," he says upon recovery. The alcohol in your veins turns to syrup and time starts to blur more than you're used to it being, body so light and weightless you have to pat the chair to make sure you aren't floating. That usually doesn't happen.

"You okay?" Eijirou frowns when you falter. You pull a smile and nod.

"Mhm," you say, though silently panicking when you feel like you're falling out of your seat. You grip the countertop just in case. "Mhm, yeah."

He raises an eyebrow, "You sure?"

"Yeah," you nod, before clearing your throat. Your body flashes hot then cold, and you wonder if you shouldn't have taken that drink down like you did. "I'm um—I'm going to go to the bathroom, one sec."

You're unsure if Eijirou says something as you leave because you pour all your energy into stumbling across the obnoxiously loud club, filled with too much bass and pandemonium for your liking. You're suddenly overwhelmed by everything and your esophagus goes numb at the thought of vomiting, but you make it to the singles bathroom just in time to shut the door and control your goddamn stomach.

With a sigh, you rest your head against the cool sink. The incessant buzz of the overhead lights is much, much better.

You take a deep breath and flick on the sink. Ensuring it's as freezing as it can possibly go, you launch some into your face. You don't even consider ruining the amount of work that went into your outfit today, because ultimately you aren't sober enough to give a shit, blinking back at your reflection to find it fairly blurry. You nearly stumble and fall, but your vice grip on the counter keeps you alive.

"You okay?"

The second you step back into the noisy club, Eijirou's there—with his sweet sharp-toothed smile, he's posted next to the bathroom door and you find yourself grappling his jacket for stability.

"Whoa—Careful now," He chuckles at your sloppiness with a lifted eyebrow. You blink once, twice—the spots floating in your line of vision don't disappear. His hands snake around your waist to keep you from falling and eating shit, and you dig your forehead into his muscled chest.

"Gotta—I gotta go home."

"Okay," Eijirou soothes softly upon realizing how utterly shit-faced you are. "How'd you get here?"

"Walked," you groan and nearly cry, looking up at him with a pout. Eijirou coos.

"Well, no offense but I don't think you're good to walk on your own, Sweetheart."

His voice is heady with something you can't quite recognize, but it's comfortable, and you melt into his chest with a weak nod.

"Mhm."

"Can I help you home?" He offers with a kind smile. You nod, fists gripping his shirt in tufts.

"Yes please."

"Oop—careful."

"I am al—hic—always so fu—fucking careful," you slur. Your body has gone so numb that Eijirou gave up and resorted to carrying you bridal style the rest of the way instead. But he has to set you down so you can stuff your keys in the door, but you can't even do that right.

"Need me to do it?"

"No!" You puff your cheeks, trying twice more before you successfully get it in the keyhole. "'Mma strong independent woman who don' nee' no mahn."

Eijirou chuckles, and using his big shoulder, opens the door to chauffeur you inside. Neither of you get very far, maybe halfway to your room, before your legs give out and the only thing that saves you is the hand on your waist.

"Down this hall?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod so profusely it gives you a temporary headache.

You blink and you're in your bedroom, your front hitting the sheets with a soft thump. Huh. Maybe he carried you the rest of the way. With a face full of pillows, you groan at the new and improved position as you feel the bed dip behind you, and Eijirou grab both of your wrists.

"You're so cute, you know that?"

Something soft and silk ties your fists behind your back. You recognize the material as the belt from your robe, tossed carelessly on your bed during the chaos that ensues every time you get ready for the club. It's not until you try to pull your hands apart that you realize they're tied tight.

"Pulling is only going to make it tighter," Eijirou says with an absentminded sigh, like he's done this before, and trepidation spikes in your chest once he raises your hipbone and slides a pillow underneath to angle them, the only way you could break free—especially with the new grip on your hips.

"Ei—" you try to squirm, legs kicking blindly into the space behind you, but once he seizes your thighs he's sitting on your calves to keep you in place. There's the undeniable sound of cloth ripping and your behind is suddenly met with cool air, prompting a shiver or two.

"Eijirou, what are yo—"

You're interrupted by a stinging slap to your ass and a growl. "Don't tell me I gotta gag your pretty mouth too, Sweetheart."

His voice is low and sharp with a threat, his grip tightening around your thighs.

"You're soaked already? Fuck...and I bet you taste so sweet too..." he bites back a groan in thought, sliding a finger down your slit.

He clicks his tongue but it's damn near mocking. You gasp as he fills you with two large fingers instead of one, body tensing as the alcohol-induced numbness fades in favor of amplified arousal. Eijirou chuckles at your reaction.

"Taking it so well already," he purrs, hand caressing the crest of your ass. In your defense, there isn't much you can do but take it. Ah-ah, Sweetheart—Speak up for me."

"O-Ow," you hiss when your head is wrenched. upwards via your hair to expose your broken moan. Eijirou's grip only tightens after you complain, and you can feel his hot breath ghost the base of your neck. His thumb finds your clit and doesn't move, it just sits there as heavy weight—and it's just as frustrating as it is teasing.

"Ei," you rasp into the pillow, voice hoarse and thick. "I nee—fuck, more—"

"More?" He chuckles derisively, shaking his head with a tut. "Two fingers and you want more? Fuckin' slut."

Each word is loaded with something pitifully mocking and if you were in any other position you would've curled a lip and spat back. But that's a little hard with your face in the pillow and Eijirou's weight above you, isn't it? You shake your head against his fist until he lets go in favor of crackling a solid hand against your ass.

"Oh, you like that, don't you Sweetheart?" He grunts and his fingers increase in speed, the lewd squelch bounces off the walls of the bedroom and echoes in your head in the most insulting way. "My fingers fill you up that good?"

"Y-Yeah, I—" you choke around drool that gathers in the corners of your mouth and shake under his palm. "Fuck me Ei, I nee—"

The quick spank cracked against your ass shakes you from your thought process. "Dirty fucking girl—you really so desperate to let a guy you just met fuck you like this? So goddamn easy."

But he's removing his fingers regardless, stuffing them between your swollen lips as he assumes the space behind you. You hear the quiet fumble of his belt and the run of his zipper, before you feel his hot cock pressing against your soaked entrance.

Eijirou pushes in with a groan, his free hand finding your hips to keep them in place. Your legs thrash as he fills you up with a pleasurable burn, and by the time he bottoms out, you're positive he's filling you up all the way to your lungs.

"Fucking hell," he heaves above you, and the fingers in your mouth disappear to grasp the sheets. You shake along with him, back straightening in a poor attempt to alleviate the burn—and he barely gives you a second to breathe before he's pulling out and slamming back in.

"Fuck!"

You jump each time the head of his cock rams against your cervix, feet scrambling in a poor attempt to escape. Eijirou growls and puts all of his weight in his hips to ensure you'll stay still, a big hand smushing your face into the sheets.

"Sing for me, Sweetheart—I wanna hear ya."

Your voice cracks as Eijirou speeds up, simply using you for his own pleasure—but maybe that's what excites you the most.

"Ei—"

"'S this what you need, Sweetheart?" He spits, and you can feel the sweat dripping from his shoulders onto your exposed back. "Y'need me to use you to get off while you just lie there and take it?"

You whimper uselessly and nod, but Eijirou growls, yanking your head up for a proper answer.

"I said, don't you?"

"Fuck I—" he hikes your hips even higher for a better angle and gets one, the head of his cock forcing a scream out of your lungs as you yelp, "I do!"

"'Course you do," he chuckles, and drops your head back onto the pillow, "'Course you fuckin' do—"

"Ei-Eiji—" you gasp like you've been underwater forever. "I can't, I nee—"

"Dumb little baby can't even speak," he coos, before his hand finds the sides of your neck and squeezes. "What? Whadd'ya need, Sweetheart?"

And honestly, you're not completely sure what you need, you just know you're chasing after *something—*and Eijirou's got you sprinting after it while you melt into the sheets into a hot, gooey mess. You think the split ends of EIjirou's hair ticking the back of your arms, but you aren't sure. The only thing you are sure of is the burn between your legs and the feeling of being very, very close.

"'Mma cum!" You squeal, the vein in the side of your neck bulging. Eijirou grunts and slides a calloused hand under your stomach to play with your clit, hissing as you squeeze around him.

"Awe, the little slut's gonna cream all over my cock?" He coos, and you're positive his hips speed up just a bit. The grip on your neck slides to the hands tied behind your back for leverage. "Yeah she fuckin' is—I can see your eyes rolling back already."

And he's right, because the weight of your orgasm knocks the wind out of your lungs and your lips round to form and 'o'. You couldn't say if you screamed or not, as the ringing in your ears peaks with your orgasm. The only reason you know Eijirou finishes is because his hips stutter to a stop while you lay face down in the pillow, heart thrumming against your ribcage.

"Hey, you okay?" Eijirou nearly scrambles to get your back on your chest. You know this type of thing gets him nervous, but he does it oh so well, and there isn't much you can do but smile at the ceiling lazily.

"You just railed me into the sheets and you're asking if I'm fine?" You snort at your boyfriend's frazzled appearance—and the afterglow doesn't help, his chili red hair sticking in every other direction except the one it's supposed to.

"Yeah," Eijirou doesn't even hesitate and then gives you a quick peck on the lips. His voice edges on a petulant whine as he says, "I was rough, Sweetheart."

"Because I asked you to be," you quirk an eyebrow and finally, the redhead stumbles to your joint bathroom butt naked. "And don't forget to wet the towel this time!

A little shuffling in the bathroom, and then:

"That was one time!"

"And my vag will never recover!" You holler back. Eijirou just snorts before the white noise of a running sink takes possession of the conversation, and you scoot to the section of your shared bed that isn't soiled with a sigh.

You roll onto your side and come face to face with a framed selfie of you and Eijirou on your first date. Next to that one is first anniversary, second anniversary, third...

Now you're edging on the fifth, comfortable enough where he's walking around with his soft dick out and you've given up in swatting at his hands every time they grab for your tits. You two are comfortable—this is comfortable.

Eyeing the bathroom door, you still hear running water. Sneakily, you reach for the drawer where Eijirou keeps the the ring he doesn't know you know he hides. But frankly, you're the only one who cleans this goddamn house, so it wasn't like you weren't going to find it. You open the red velvet box to blink down at a diamond ring, thumb caressing gem. It glimmers even when the lights are low, and you can't help but be jealous of it—which is silly. You know it'll be yours anyway. The ring is always smoother than you expect it to be, but that thought doesn't last long, because you quickly toss it back into Eijirou's drawer and assume a less suspicious position upon hearing the sink turn off.

"What?" he asks with a small grin as he walks in with a wet towel in hand. "You're giving me that weird look again."

You snort, rolling your eyes before adjusting so you face the ceiling again. Spreading your legs, you demand, "'S nothing. Now clean me up, big boy."

Eijirou huffs at that but he assumes the space between your legs with a light blush. You smile.

He'll do it. When he grows the balls.

#—𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 #CLUB 777 #mha smut #kirishima smut #bnha smut

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Note

Hello Raven! May I request a scenario Jamil, Ace, and Floyd calling Azul Zuzu just to be shits? ...... yeah you know who this is LANDJKSJFJS

For @pianostarinwonderland~ ;3c

Fun fact, I actually have a friend that gets “drunk” off of non-alcoholic apple cider. They were the inspiration for this piece, so shoutout to them!

Imagine this...

“Cheers!”

Laughter bubbled up. Cups were raised and clinked together, the colorful liquids inside dancing about in the dim lights of the Mostro Lounge. The jellyfish lamps strung up above cast pinks and blues in purples into the fruit juice--juices of rich plums and cherry reds.

Ace polished his drink off in a few short swigs, then slammed his cup down with a satisfied “Phwaaah! That really hit the spot!”

He jerked his head toward a taller boy and called out to him. “Yo, Floyd-senpai! Thanks for bringing the Basketball Club here! I haven’t had stuff this tasty in a while.”

“Mmm? Kani-chan likes it?” The eel shared a sly smirk with their server--Azul--before slapping an encouraging hand on the small of Ace’s back. “Good, good~ Eat and drink lots more, then~”

“I am pleased to hear such a rave review,” Azul gestured to the pitcher in his hand. “Would you care for another refill?”

“Hit me.” Ace eagerly thrust his cup out to the octopus--but a hand caught his wrist and brought it back down. The Heartslabyul student cut a glare at his team mate. “Oi, what’s your problem?”

“You shouldn’t drink more,” Jamil warned, his voice steady, yet stern. “At this rate, you’re going to drain the club finances...”

And your dignity.

Jamil had attended enough Basketball Club gatherings to pick up on Ace’s behavior patterns. The first year was already brash as it was, but he became even more mouthy when he was high on happiness and a full stomach.

“Haaah? Butt out, Jamil-senpai. We won the game, so stop being a buzzkill and just let me celebrate how I want!”

“This is Azul we’re talking about. And you,” Jamil added, folding his arms and turning his attention to Floyd, “had a hand in this as well. You suggested the Mostro Lounge for our victory meal. I suppose you two thought this would be a good opportunity to line your pockets.”

“My, so you’ve already uncovered my nefarious scheme,” Azul gasped dramatically, clutching at his heart. “I should have expected nothing less from the great Jamil-sama.”

Scarabia’s vice dorm leader frowned. “Stop that.”

“Mouuuu, Umihebi-kun’s got us all figured out, Azul.” Floyd pouted, his cheeks puffed up like an inflated pufferfish.

“No matter,” his boss replied, quickly dismissing his remark. Azul plastered on his most polite smile before addressing Jamil again. “I must commend you for your quick wit. As an apology, please accept all drinks on the house tonight.”

The octopus generously topped off Ace’s glass, then moved to replenish Jamil’s--only to find the rim completely concealed by the vice dorm leader’s hand. Azul’s lip curled, but he made no move to challenge his classmate.

He agreed a little too easily. They must be up to something else, Jamil concluded, eyeing Azul warily.

“Phew!” Ace gasped, having hammered down another cupful of fruit punch. “Gimme ‘nother round...!”

His words were starting to slur, his eyelids fluttering. A dopey grin had etched itself onto Ace’s face. He was full--full, and loose-lipped.

If it’s not money they’re after, then it must be information.

Jamil’s eyes flashed as the revelation dawned on him. He abruptly stood, yanking Ace’s empty glass away from him.

“I think it is about time that we take our leave,” Jamil announced coldly.

“Noooo, my juice...!!” Ace whined loudly, glancing desperately between his three upperclassmen. “Zuzuuuuu, gimme moooore! I wanna drink moooore!! You can’t just cut me off like thiiiis!”

The entire lounge went dead quiet.

“Zu...”

“... zu?”

Floyd and Jamil exchanged confused looks with one another.

“I... I beg your pardon?!” Azul cried, taking a step back. His expression was twisted with both shock and horror, betraying his beauty. “Wh-What is the meaning of this?! S-Such a juvenile nickname...”

“Zuzu is Zuzuuuu,” Ace insisted, his declaration decorated with hiccups and giggles. “Cuz Zuzu’s cute, and the name Zuzu’s also cute...”

“Take it back right this instant!!”

“Naaaaaaah... Zuzu is Zuzu, and Zuzu’s cute... Das mah story, and I’m stickin’ wif it...”

“... Pfft. Ahahahahahah!” Floyd launched into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. His entire body shook as he violently howled, and he attempted to cradle his stomach to keep from keeling over. “K-Kani-chan got you good, Zuzu!”

“Whose side are you on here, Floyd?!”

“I-I’m on... I’m on--” The eel paused, gulping down a massive breath of air... before immediately bursting out in another peal of laughter. “I’m always on Zuzu’s side...!!”

“FLOYD!!”

“Ahahahahah!!”

“You are NOT helping!!” Azul spat, glaring at his dorm member.

He turned to Jamil, pulling his sweetest smile and most honied voice. “Dearest Jamil-san, seeing as how I cannot rely on Floyd, would you care to assist your peer in his time of need?”

“... I’ll pass,” Jamil replied coolly. A smirk found its way onto his lips. “Surely the great Zuzu-sama can resolve this situation on his own.”

The octopus’s face flared with embarrassment. “I cannot believe that you and Floyd would betray me like this!”

“Well, life is just full of surprises, isn’t it?”

“You...!!”

“Oi, Zuzuuuuu, how much longer do I gotta wait for my puuuunch?”

“Zuzu, don’t keep Kani-chan waiting~”

“Yes, you should dutifully tend to your customer’s demands, Zuzu.”

Azul’s gaze became steely, his mouth forming a straight line. “All of you, out--get out. The Mostro Lounge is closed for the evening!!”

#twst #Azul Ashengrotto #Floyd Leech #Ace Trappola #Jamil Viper #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland requests #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #curiouser and curiouser

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odetojeons · 3 years

Note

Hello! If this isn't a bother, what do you think Joshua's biggest kinks are? You did It with Jeonghan and Wonwoo, so I was just curious! Thank you :)

Nooo, it’s never a bother, don’t worry!! It’s the purpose of this account after all hehe

Role Play — Okay, I don’t know if you’re gonna agree with me on this but Joshua’s so into role play. He wouldn’t be too much into the heavy ones though, would like you to wear pretty clothes for him as he wears a suit (why a suit I have no idea, but I can imagine him sitting on the edge of the bed while dressed in a suit, manspreading as he waits for you to crawl over at him and kneel between his legs, big and veiny hands caressing your cheek before he pulls you closer to mouth at his clothed cock).

Over Knee Stockings — Damn it, I just think Joshua gets so turned on with pretty clothes. He would love when his partner uses stockings for him, and if you put a garther too... Oh, he would go absolutely insane. He would pull on the strap and let it snap back on your skin as you sit on his lap, and to be honest he would admire you so much wearing this kind of stuff for him.

Lace Kink — I SWEAR THIS IS THE LAST CLOTHING KINK,, I think. Just. You wearing lace. Not much of a explanation other than Joshua loving to see the soft fabric on you. Lace underwear or lace bra, if his partner has boobs or likes to wear bras; any type of lace, really. Especially if it’s a lace choker. Something about your neck looking delicious and extremely inviting with it.

Body Worship — Oooh, Joshua is such a body worshiper. My heart clenches just thinking about it. He would lay you down on the bed, completely naked, and just stay there looking at every centimeter of your skin like it’s his new favorite thing. Would trail his fingers from the tip of your toes, passing through your calfs, knees, thighs, even teasingly brush against your private parts before he goes to the belly button, circles his finger around it to watch your lower stomach clench, and then pinch your nipples suddenly, all in the while he praises you gently. Which brings to the next kink:

Praise Kink — Joshua is all about praising you. Every few seconds he would tell you how beautiful you are, how you look so pretty on the clothes you’re wearing, so stunning falling apart just for him. He’s very gentle with words (emphasizes on words, Joshua is only gentle when he speaks, but his actions says otherwise, whether it’s when he manhandles you around when you’re having sex or fucks you so hard you think the bed might break).

Face Sitting — Haha. I think I might start crying from unholy places very soon. Um. I just think he would love when you ride his face, and it’s actually one of his major kinks. Whether it’s for rimming or cunnilingus, Joshua would want you to sit on his tongue and move those beautiful hips of yours until you’re a moaning mess and coming all over him. He’s all about giving you pleasure instead of pleasuring himself, because every time he sees you feeling good it’s like he’s getting a personal stroke to his cock.

Spanking — His HANDS. They are the reason. Joshua has such big hands, would love to watch them all over you, especially if it meant to have a red mark adorning your pretty ass. He wouldn’t do it for the sadistic part though, but wether to see the flesh jiggle when he slaps it hard, or your needy little whine after it. He would actually feel pleasure to see the print he just left on you.

Choking — His HANDS part 2. Just. Yes. His hands on your neck. I don’t think Joshua would do to the point of cutting your airflow, but rather squeezing at the sides to leave you light headed and possibly make you cry from it. I mostly think he’s a soft dom, but there’s this evil part of him that wants to see tears of pleasure on your face, although I don’t think it’s big enough that I add dacryphilia on this list.

Cock Warming — Oh shit Joshua and cock warning skyrocketing on my list of otps,, in general, his partner on top of him as he tells them what to do is such a turn on for him. Now you sitting on his cock, all pretty and quiet for him, isn’t different. Joshua would even put a movie just so you could cock warming him as he watches it, because he wants to feel the heat of your body close to his in a moment of calmness in which the both of you become one. Does that make sense?

Overstimulation — Joshua wants to pleasure you as many times as you want, so I don’t think he would be much of a edger (since it’s mostly for teasing and punishment purposes). He just wants you to feel so good you don’t know what to do with yourself anymore, be a crying and moaning mess and writhing all over the bed.

Pet Names — Well, not really a kink but I just think Joshua would be so into cute pet names. Such as sweetheart, darling, baby, my love, princess, prince, pup, sunshine, any of that kind. Especially the first two. He just exhales the sweetheart energy, calling you softly by it like he’s not fucking your soul out of your body.

Shibari — Oh yes. YES. I have even written a short imagine about this already (you can search for it on my pinned, if you want) and I think it’s such a Joshua thing. Not all types of bondage, but shibari especially, because he thinks the rope patterns are beautiful and interesting, even more so if they are sitting across your skin. There’s this deep part of him that gives a feral satisfaction on watching you try to squirm away, only able to take what he gives you, but you didn’t hear it from me.

Love Making — Not precisely a kink again, but I felt the need to put this here. I think no matter how kinky things get with him, everything will be done with so much love you sometimes might even feel (positively) overwhelmed. Joshua would tell you how much he loves you all the way through, make sure you’re okay and take care of you, and something tells me his aftercare is so damn loving. As always a gentleman.

The end!! I hope you liked this one too, I really love the concept of soft dom Joshua when it comes to sex JKWSKSK

#seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt imagines #joshua imagine #joshua x reader #joshua smut #hong jisoo smut

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celestialmango · 3 years

Text

Unwilling prey, homebrew humanoid mimic pred, fear play, soft vore, safe vore, fatal implied (for your party), reader insert, DnD type setting

🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭

Your heart pounds in your chest and you're gasping for breath as you lean against the cave wall and collapse, breathing hard you can help but think how stupid you were to agree to follow your group members as they wandered off from the main group and from the designated trail to explore, you're lvl ones, it's bad enough you guys got literally sucked into the campaign you were playing, DM included, then they wanted to split the party, but they wouldn't listen to you when you expressed how bad of an idea it was to explore an unknown dungeon if you split the party. Unlucky for you that had them decide that nobody was gonna pair up with you and now you're in this mess.

You had bumped into one of the DM's homebrew monster races a fucking humanoid mimic based on your DM's idea of "ok how about a mimic but this type of mimic is sexy and can be born from other races though still be full mimic but they at first they look completely normal and can shapeshift only the lower half of their body and ears with only minor changes to the appearance of their torso like if they try to turn into a fully scaled mer they're successful with their ears and tail but only get a few scales on their face and chest, and like, they take the abilities of the creatures they turn into and they can be any alignment"

And then your remember what else your dm said "I'm going to use them in vore campaign as a pred" a predator species, this is the vore campaign, what the fuck do you do now?

Your palm covers your mouth as you inhale sharply, your DM still controls certain aspects, you still have to role against the DM though they're trapped with the villain of the campaign they can still tell you when to roll and you can still tell them your role with some form of dice telepathy you don't really understand.

when the party split the DM made you make stealth checks when you entered the dungeon, you failed and as a bard the DM had you playing music which you asked if you were at least going to play well, you rolled a Nat 20 for that, and the DM told you if you lost the dice and didn't roll when you needed to you may end up screwed. the mimic ate yours. How? Well.

----

You failed a perception check and sat on the random chest you found, you heard and voice tell you it sounded nice, you react by immediately jumping off it as it opens your dice bag fell to the ground with one of the mimic's hand snatching it off the ground, their crossed arms resting on the rim of the chest and propping their chin up with a mischievous grin on their face they address you," oy, why ya stop playin?" Failing to get a response out of your stunned form they push themselves up before they toss the bag in the air a few times, they dangle the bag in front of them " ya need this aye?" You nod feeling tense, the mimic grins, opens their mouth and tossing your dice bag in their gaping maw before snapping it shut as you stare in horror at the disappearing bulge of your dice as the mimic swallows them.

"Phooo,how bout ya come n get em? Go on n reach in." they place their elbows on the rim of the chest and prop their head up their maw gaping open once more while they look at you deviously, you turn tail and run.

---

You grimace, if you don't get those dice back then...., taking a deep breath you turn around and walk back into the room, they're still waiting and grinning at you while you approach, "change ya mind?" They open their mouth again, you kneel and slowly shove your hand down their throat,their throat is relaxed, it feels like you're shoving your arm into a slimy tube lined with balloons, you reach in all the way to your shoulder you should have reached the dice by now, it's then you remember what else your DM said

"they'll have like six stomachs, and like four are bigger on the inside, 2 are not connected and are just filled with treasure n shit then there's and with the other four only 2 are digestive and the digestive ones are connected to each other and vise versa with the non-digestive ones, the top ones are stretchy and durable enough to hold a god damn chimera without much trouble but their stomach would look about half the size of what they ate because bigger on the inside and the bottom ones are like hammer space, once something is in you wouldn't even see a bulge, the friendly acting ones like to trick their targets into feeding themselves to them, only-"shit, oh fuck.

Your face goes pale and your eyes widen , you jerk your arm out to your elbow before the mimic's throat captures it in a vice grip, they grab your other arm and shove it in too gulping thickly you're pulled back in up to your shoulders, you stare at their face in terror, their eyes tell you all you need to know, they're going to eat you, there's no escape.

They grab the back of your head and shove your face into their salivating maw swallowing harshly, you're cries are muffled by the slick flesh pressed against your face, they grab your belt and pull , a sharp gulp forcing you in up to your hips, the mimic shifts their shape as they heft your kicking legs in the air giving themselves legs as they stand lifting themselves up and grasping your kicking legs in the air, they swallow and as your thighs pass their lips your hands push through a ring of flesh. Squish tight by thick muscles pulling you down you try to think of anything that might help you in this moment, a few more swallow your head enters the chamber.

Shit you can't think of anything, it's only a few more rounds before you're forced to curl up inside their gut, from the outside it looks as if they had swallowed a beach ball,you feel something hard under you and you grasp it, pulling it out from under you, you discover your dice bag, you roll to while you attempt an escape, you don't meet the DC, the only thing that escapes is air as the mimic let's out a belch loud enough to echo for several seconds.

They slap their hand on their stomach,"Ur-up, oy now, ya don really think tha would work did ya? Once I swallow something it ain't comin out easy, feel free ta keep tryin tho, ya squirmin feels great." Shit, you roll to persuade them to let you go as you struggle, kicking and pushing at their stomach wall, you tell them you didn't come in here alone, that your party will no doubt come investigate where that echo came from.

You fail once more,you can't see the wild and vicious looking grin that forms on their face, "a meal an a fight, sounds great ta me"shhiiiiit they're one of those types, you feel them move around a bit, you try to remember the last thing your dm said about the humanoid mimic's race, only, only what? "Only thing that can save you at that point is making it appealing to keep you alive as one of their many items they swallow, like give them something no one else can do" something no one else can do, the homebrew spells you chosen.

'what if I told you I had the ability to summon food and drink?' you feel them stop "I'd say ya were bullshitin me." 'but what if I can prove it?' You feel a hand slam down on your back and wince "then prove it, how bout ya summon me a beer?" 'i will need you to press a waterskin against your stomach.' "oh?" 'it's not a long range spell,' you feel them press something again their stomach and cast the spell hoping it will work through flesh, the mimic looks at the waterskin sceptically as it fills, they uncork it and lift the spout to their nose, they take a sniff and don't find anything off about the liquid so they take a swig, then proceed to down it.

You tense hearing them gulp and get ready to become drenched in alcohol...but it never happens,no drink comes raining down on you, you're confused they said a meal and a fight, you, weren't you the meal? What's going on?

"Ah, tha's some good stuff." They pat their gut, "was jus gonna take ya in for yur bounty but now I changed ma mind-" 'I have a bounty?' You interrupt, the mimic scoffs "wha ya didn know?" 'no, why do I have a bounty on me?' "oh yur serious, ya know tha group uh nobles ya pranked a tha had ya run out uh towns a while back?" 'oh them......I regret nothing...but wait, you said a fight and a meal after I told you about my party, what did you mean by that?' you ask apprehensive, "what ya think I meant?"

Oh, oh no, you shift uneasy, 'you're planning to fight and eat my companions aren't you?' "maybe I am,wha ya gonna do bout it." ....well the DM did say that it appears even if you end up dying here you can always roll-up a new character and come back as long as someone from the original group is still alive but you won't remember how you died.

'I'm in your magic damage resistant stomach, I don't think there's anything I can do except offer to summon food so you won't eat them.' they pat their bulging gut, "nice try but I ain't a bout ta give up on a fight an a squirmin meal, as fur wha I'm gonna do with ya now" you hear a groan beneath you and their gut clenches pressing down on you as you begin to slip through to the stomach connect to this one you hear them say "can na have ya givin me way, so I'll have ta swallow ya deeper."

You take a small plummet before landing in something soft and wet, you quickly cast dancing lights, you see you landed in a bunch of fabrics and other soft items, you think you see a few pillows and you have a bit more room despite being shoulder deep in fabrics and pillows, the sphincter above you looks twice your size now, damn you think, they really are bigger on the inside.

You sigh feeling a bit bad knowing you accidentally sent what is most likely a very high level mimic after your party, but hey, you did warn them splitting the party was a bad idea, you can't hear much now except the groans of their organs around you, knowing your not actually in any danger now you lift your arm out of the fabric and slam a fist against one of the fleshy walls surrounding you in frustration, their stomach jostles and you clap your hands over your ears at sound of their booming laugh "still got sum fight in ya ey? An after I made ya all nice n comfy, gave ya my bes room, could a put ya with all the gol n weapons after all." They joke, and you sigh again and rub their gut wall, "tha's better. I'm gonna enjoy having ya round,"

That sounds like they're still not going to let you go....fuck maybe you shouldn't have let them know you could be a source of free food and booze, on the other hand the nobles probably would have did you in for the embarrassment you caused them, guess you're stuck with a mimic bounty hunter, by the time they get here again from the starting point you're sure the mimic will be long gone and they won't be able to find you.

#safe vore #soft vore #v*re #v0re #fatal implied #unwilling prey #fear play

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savagetrickster · 4 years

Text

Caffeine Rush (NSFW) | BNHA

anime | character: bnha | bakugou katsuki

word count: 17,845

Themes/warnings: 18+, aged-up, praise kink, blowjob, fingering, spanking, overstimulation, swearing, mild degradation, unprotected sex

The office building that made Ground Zero agency was quiet and still. The appointed office hours were over hours back.

Most staff had already retired for the day. Among the black, lifeless screens on the desks, only hers stayed running bright and full of words on its screen.

The cursor behind the word on the tail of her report was left to blink repetitively as she dragged her feet to the pantry.

Her head felt numb with mental exhaustion as the weight of the nearing deadline reared its ugly head once again as the dreading thought of it reminded her again. The uneasiness and brooding anxiety that it brought about was no help in elevating the stress on her.

Between her heavy thoughts about the report taunting her from her computer screen, her legs brought her to the coffee machine.

Her hand fell into a mechanical motion as it placed her mug on the dispenser and lifted to press the Espresso option on the LED screen.

This was her third cup...no, fourth. Wait, or was it the sixth?

It didn’t even matter anymore.

She just needed to get through one more night of slaving away to finish it, and she would be fucking done with this long-due paperwork.

It was stupid of her to procrastinate so much; now she had to pay the price.

In the lonely silence of the pantry, her weary eyes watched the dark coffee dribble over her mug, sending one central ripple across the smooth steaming surface.

Her hand returned its grip to the handle once again, tugging it out of the dispensing holder.

A yawn left her as she turned away and instantly greeted with a startled-

“Fuck-” As the coffee in her mug was sent swishing and splashing over its rim as her hand collided into something solid with a curt jerk.

The scalding sting over her hand made her hiss. Her eyes flew up with irritation, her mouth opening to yell.

And she froze.

Then her eyes widened, horror seeping in when she realized she was staring at the angry face of...Ground Zero himself.

Her eyes followed his gaze down to the coffee dripping off his pants.

Well, shit.

A hasty jumble of ‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry’ tumbled out of her mouth as she placed down her mug on the countertop behind while her other hand tore a handful of paper towels.

Her knees met as she quickly lowered herself before his stained pants.

Maybe it was the nights spent over the stupid report.

Maybe it was the coffee.

It seemed that all common sense or whatever would have kept her from grabbing the front of her boss’s pants had died along with her overworked brain cells.

Her apologies continued stumbling out of her mouth as her hands worked in a hasty pace on his pants, her eyes focused on wiping away the spillage.

Too caught up in her guilt and her panic to realize anything else-

The warmth in her hands was trying to pull away.

The stuttering mess of curses uttered above her.

The stiffening within her grasp.

He just returned from a long day outside to take some stuff and his craving for the aromatic bitterness of coffee was what brought himself straight to the pantry the moment he stepped through the main door.

It was absurd to think he would end up being groped by a female employee in the pantry. The brewing words he wanted to yell at the woman with fell at every brisk rub down him.

Bakugou could feel the resisting voice bubbling in his chest growing quieter at every stroke.

Fuck. While this was bizarre and all to him, the jolting thrill running up his length sent a delicious chill up his spine.

A particular thrill of friction brushing over the protruding vein on his clothed erection shook his next breath out of him.

Loud and harsh enough to draw her eyes up to him, her hands pausing.

And was met with a flustered yet irritated face glaring back at her.

Her eyes drifted back to her hands blankly at where her fingers were wrapped around - something was thick and kinda...lengthy.

In her hands was Ground Zero’s...oh wow.

She always had dirty thoughts about her boss but damn, this was not what she had ever imagined herself doing.

Along with muscular, lean built and tall stature that could give models a run for their money, the bulge accentuated in his flattering, somewhat fitting pants was a big distraction for the females in his agency...or maybe it was just her.

Exactly as she had imagined, he was indeed...big in her hands.

And it was...

Her fingers tightened slightly. ...hard.

A responsive jolt accompanied by a hissing curse made her jump, slapping her with a cold splash of realization.

Shit.

That she was on her knees in her company’s pantry, caressing her boss’s cock.

Oh shit.

Her hands flinched away from him as if scalded and her legs scrambled to get her away. A bright, red blush colored the flustered horror on her face.

She was so fired.

So so FIRED-

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Her eyes raised to find him looking down at her with a towering glare brimming with impatience and frustration.

“You think you can just get away like this?”

“I’m so sorr-”

“Weren’t you just fondling with my cock?” His usual husky voice sounded rougher and breathless. “Who the fuck said you can stop?”

She stared, stunned. Wondering whether her ears were failing her as well.

But clearly they weren’t because she could hear an intriguing strain in his voice.

The struggle in his gruffness and the red eyes prodding into her sent a needy ache within her, feeling a gush of her arousal soaked through her panties underneath her dress.

A slip of her eyes from his face, a shiver ran through her at how his nipples on his well-defined pecs were poking through the tight clad of his hero costume on him.

Her eyes slipped even lower.

The huge tent prodding through his pants made her eyes waver and her breath quivered through her lips.

Was she high from all the coffee? Or had she officially gone nuts?

She wasn’t sure what, but she didn’t even want to care.

The man of her dreams himself was offering himself to her.

She could feel her body trembling with a strong ache. The long, yearning ache that had followed her through the years and pushed her to join his agency.

An ache to be filled by Bakugou Katsuki, the world’s second strongest man.

An ache to feel him shove his cock into her.

An ache to make her wild thoughts about him come true.

She felt the last straining thread holding herself back snap as her hands flew forward, immediately working on the buckle around his waist.

Her lips were stretched over his leaking cock as soon as it sprang free from his pants.

The pre-cum spilling over from his swollen tip smeared over her lips as she moaned giddily at the melting heat in her mouth.

The hand tugging harshly onto her hair dug even more pressure into her scalp as a throaty groan joined her muffled moan.

“Ye-Yeah, show me what you’ve got.”

A grin stretched across Bakugou’s face as he pressed himself harder into her, feeling his cock sink deeper into her warm cavern, her moans spiked with a choke.

“And I’ll give you a good one later.”

His hand left her head to join the other clutching onto the edge of the countertop behind her.

Her walls clenched to his words just as her eyes watered at the pressure pressed to the back of her throat.

Fuck, he was as thick as she had guessed. But she had never imagined he would be so...veiny.

She drew back and relished in the heavy pants and moans from above, tracing her tongue daringly across the trails of veins running along with his lengthy girth.

Her hands raised to join her mouth, adding on with tightening squeeze as she lingered at the tip of his bulging cock.

A slow, elaborate lick across the weeping slit on it, her throat swallowed with a deep gulp.

Almost instantly, a dragging grunt rumbled through his body.

Humming in delight at what she heard, her cheeks hollowed as she started to suckle heatedly over the hot running tip.

Within the firm grip of her hand, she could feel his thick girth filling up, growing thicker as she welcomed more pre-cum into her.

The husky moans from above light a smirking glint in her eyes as she reached a hand up his length and clamped over his balls with a teasing curt squeeze.

Immediately, the husky moans from him hitched with a broken grunt.

Her walls clenched tight at how erotic that sounded.

“Y-You take my cock so well. Do you think you deserve to be fucked by me?”

The small collected pool of her own arousal on the floor beneath her heated cunt was rained upon by another surge as her walls convulsed with need.

“No, I-I don’t,” His stiff cock popped free from her mouth, a slick thread of her saliva remained connected to its flushed, bloated tip.

“Bu-But Bakugou-sama, you deserve to be inside me.” Her eyes were fogged with hazy heat and her cheeks red.

Bakugou…

His cock spluttered another rush of pre-cum.

...-sama?

“I-I’ve been ready for you ever since I laid my eyes on you.”

His red eyes shook with his expelling breath as a carnal jolt rippled through him, his cock tightening even more with the growing pressure within.

“Strip completely,” His eyes blazed as he spat his order, “Get on that table and show me how much your pussy wants me then.”

Clothes were strewn on the floor in an irregular trail to the broad table sitting in the center of the pantry.

Propped by her arms behind her, her legs shook with effort to keep her thighs wide apart for him.

Her heated cunt wouldn’t stop leaking, trickles of her slick fluid continued to join the collected puddle on the table below as the man took his time to approach.

The way his hungry gaze sat fix on her weeping folds stretched wide enough for the chills from the air conditioner to tickle her.

Red eyes took in the sight before him greedily.

The clench of her eyebrows on her forehead

The way she bit down on her lower lips.

Her face flushed red and her breasts rising and falling with harsh pants.

And the way her raised thighs were spread wide apart for him.

“Look at you,” Bakugou stopped before her, his lips forming a smug smirk at the sight for the glistening trickles slipping out of her, “...Already dirtying my property with your slutty pussy.”

Her breathy pants spiked with a moan as he pressed two fingers to her clit, pinching it briefly before moving down.

A gathering of her warm arousal coated his fingers as they ran lightly over her-

“I haven’t even done shit yet,” -and paused to pry her sopping folds apart. “But fuck, you’re already so wet.”

A gasping whimper puffed out of her as his fingers pushed through the thick coat and into her aching walls.

The wet, lewd squelch dragged through the air as her wispy whimper rose to a drawn moan at the delicious thrill his fingers made as they bulldozed their way into her sensitive walls.

She found it hard not to stare at the way his erected, weeping cock prodded against his toned stomach. Wondering with a wistful sigh about how it would feel inside her.

“Ba-Bakugou-sama, I-” A rough shove of one more finger into her tore a startled cry through her words.

“You what?” His lips widened with a grin as his fingers curled and stretched teasingly within her pulsing walls.

“P-Please…”

Her eyes raised to his, staring back helplessly at the amusement in his dancing red eyes, trying not to give in to her aching desire to return to his cock. “...fuck me.”

Her struggle against her straying eyes was not missed.

“Aren’t my fingers already doing that?” His knowing grin widened. “Oh you mean...like this?”

His calloused fingers inside her suddenly sped, thrusting through her walls vigorously.

Gasping moans rode through her throat as fast, furious friction of the loud, lewd squelches accompanying his pumping fingers rubbed the heated air between them frantically.

The building pleasure within her was making her dizzy with euphoric fever as her moans rose.

Uncontrollable hot tears escaped her dazed, wavering eyes as she watched his fingers work heatedly between her wide opened thighs.

Her walls were convulsing, resonating with her urgent need to release the pent-up pressure inside her.

Not even coffee could keep her this awake.

The jolting thrills were shaking her overstimulated body. “Baku-Bakugou-sama, I’m-”

His fingers were ripped out of her before she could finish. A startled moan elicited out of her at the same time.

The slick threads connecting his fingers to her spilling cunt quivered as Bakugou brought his hand up, his eyes admiring the result of his work with a satisfied glint.

He brought his heavily coated fingers before her panting, parted lips with a smug, intense gaze.

“Clean up this shit.” His gruff voice was commanding and blunt.

Her lips immediately latched onto his fingers, hastily lapping up her own fluid. It tasted weird on her tongue, but she didn’t bother too much.

She could feel her body shivering with impatience and frustration. One big gulp down her throat, her eyes raised to him with anticipation, in time to see his hand run over his cock.

“I think it’s time I give you your little reward.” His eyes met hers. “Be grateful that I, Ground Zero, even considered putting my cock inside you.”

“Tha-Thank you, Ground Zero.” Her eyes followed his hand as it slid over his swollen tip.

“Bakugou-sama suits your mouth better. Eyes up here,” The edge in his voice hardened. Her eyes raised to his obediently. “Thank me properly if you want me inside now.”

A thrill jolted through her cunt.

Fuck, in her head where her imagination ran wild, he was always the dominating one but witnessing it with her own eyes...Shit, she never knew he could be any more sexier.

“Thank you, Bakugou-sama.” A sultry purr reverberated in her chest as she sighed giddly at the sinful sight the way his leaking arousal was giving away his own needs for her cunt.

Today was probably by far the best day of her life. The sex gods if there were any, were smiling down on her.

“Now, get down onto the floor on all fours.”

Her slick arousal cascaded down her thighs the moment she eagerly set herself on her knees. Her softly arched back accentuated her ass as her excitement ran through her throbbing walls.

A shuddering chill ran up her spine at the light brush of his cock across her protruding ass as Bakugou planted himself behind her.

His eyes narrowed at the gap between her thighs.

“Is this how you show me your gratitude?” His hand landed on her butt cheek with a harsh slap. She responded to him with a sharp cry as her body jolted.

“Open wider.” A sharp sting rang across her other butt cheeks as another slap landed.

“...And I’ll fuck you like the little slut you are.”

His words sounded so...hot to her ears.

With a shivering whimper, she obeyed, lowering herself with forearms propped shakily on the floor beneath her.

Her butt cheeks spread open as she pushed her thighs apart for him.

His breath shuddered out of him as he watched the quivering threads of her slick fluid stretched, following the widening space between her sopping folds she made from parting herself.

All these...

A strangled groan escaped him.

...for him.

The tight pressure strained in his bulging girth even more. Fuck, he couldn’t wait anymore.

His hand slipped up her arched back and wrapped itself tightly around the end of her long hair, her back arching even more to his firm grip on her, as his other slathered his needy cock over her dripping slit.

The delirious whimper shuddering down to her cunt fanned his carnal ache to shove himself in.

The tightening grip on her hair was her only warning before his hip shot forward. His cock plunged through the pouring flow of her arousal and buried completely into her in one powerful rut.

The bright flash of pleasure searing through the sudden big, wide stretch of her cervix forced a choked moan out of her, hot tears spilling out of her widened eyes at how thick he was.

“Fu-Fuck,” A trembling grunt shook out of his lips as he drew himself back through the walls clamped in a vice-like grip around him. “What a tight little bitch you are-”

His cock rammed in one bruising thrust, shoving an instantaneous sharp cry out of her mouth.

More continued to tumble out of her as he continued to hammer into her, his hand tugging harshly onto her hair like it was his rein.

The other hand in a clutching grip on her hip as his cock drove fiercely through her pulsing walls.

Helpless sobbing moans forced out her mouth at every rough snap of his hip. Her eyes nearly rolled back every time he pounded into her.

A sly grin stretched his panting lips as he thrusted mercilessly into her

“Too much for you?” A slap on her ass drew another cry from her.

Somewhere between his powerful ruts, his hand had left her hair and joined the other on her hip in a harsh grip.

His intense gaze glared into her as she staggered weakly on her shaky arms with giddy whimpers and groans. She was a slobbering mess beneath his towering stance.

“Keep up with me.” A growl ripped through his words as he gave her another slap on her ass.

In the smothering heat ramming between her clenching walls, she was beginning to see white flashes behind her fluttering blinks.

Blazing brighter and brighter as she felt his rushing cock push her fast to the edge. She couldn’t anymore.

It was too...

“Ba-Bakugou-sama!”

A tattered shriek broke her voice as a starburst of electrifying ripple shattered through her shaking body, her orgasm instantly flooding his relentless cock with her rich arousal.

The hiss sifted through his gritted teeth as Bakugou bit back a groan at the hot burst and her rapidly gripping walls that were engulfing him greedily.

Fuck. This was it for him too.

Along with the squeezing tightness around him, the overpowering load in his cock forced the rolls of his hip to grow hectic and furious.

Her fleeting moans joined his breathless groans as he chased his own release with a fervor blazing in his red eyes, ramming hot blistering thrusts into her.

His desperate thrusts were accompanied with slippery, frantic squelches loud enough to mingle with harsh claps of their slapping skin as his hip met with her flushed ass heatedly.

One particularly sharp, powerful thrust forward forced a growling moan shredding through his mouth as his hip snapped into her and buckled erratically.

A loud sultry groan dragged through her throat as she felt the bulging tip of his swollen cock nestle into the deepest part of her with a rough prod.

The hot burst of his thick rich seed spluttering fiercely inside her made her eyes roll back.

The back of his muscular thigh clenched as he held his spurting cock snug inside her, expelling a wavering satisfied sigh.

Her dragging groan ended with a delirious whimper as she relished in the warm fullness inside her, her walls stirring their mixed fluid with fluttering clenches.

One thought ran in her hazy head as she crumbled to the floor, amused and amazed.

That she had done it.

Her dreams came true.

That she had actually fucked one of the hottest men alive.

#bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki #bnha smut #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha katsuki x reader #mha smut #mha bakugou #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #anime smut #katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo imagine

2K notes · View notes

rataltouille · 3 years

Text

HOUSE PLANTS, UPDATE 7

[novel intro can be found here]

HEY ACTUALLY I FINISHED THIS BOOK!

i don't want to get too sentimental [watch me proceed to get sentimental] but this book means a lot to me and i really could NOT have done it without the support of the wonderful folks on writeblr. the writing community is kind of the reason i even started this novel so it means a lot to me that i’ve met so many of y’all here. this is my first ever novel and i’m so glad i was able to make it so far! here are the final stats:

TOTAL WORD COUNT: 81,049 words.

STARTED: april 17, 2020

FINISHED: january 28, 2021

AVERAGE CHAPTERWISE WC: 3242

NUMBER OF CHAPTERS: 25

NUMBER OF TIMES LILITH SNAPS: 2

NUMBER OF TIMES LILITH SUFFERS: you know it’s too much to count.

the last month of writing this novel was so mixed. like before i hit the 70k mark i’d just been slogging through the novel, feeling uninspired and bored of the story. and then january hit and i was like. wait a minute. my deadline to finish it was the 31st of january. and so i basically startled myself into drafting again and then hit another wc milestone and that motivated me?? so much??? like i remember that drafting the penultimate chapter took me a pretty long time but it was so enjoyable because i was genuinely liking what i was writing and that hadn't been happening for the past few months. and then i wrote the entirety of the last chapter [it’s a vignette so it’s pretty short] for an hour until 1 am in my bed with the lights off and boom. it was such an experience. what makes it even more fun is that i’d drafted 75% of the book in my bed with the lights off at 1 am so this was such a nice full circle moment.

i’m also a little insane from all that lack of sleep but it’s okay we don't talk about that.

excerpts:

chapter twenty-one

this one’s a mix of the weirdest and most broad emotions. there’s a funeral in town, willow’s acting shadier than usual, lilith and juniper finally kiss, etc. etc. literally a rollercoaster. also it’s important that you guys know they kissed in a graveyard. nothing’s more romantic than that amirite.

Residual— that’s how we all felt. Just shells that wash away right before they touch land. We lingered like sleep at dawn, like medicine rimming the lip of cough syrup bottles, like fingerprints on fresh glass. There wasn't a permanence in the way we persisted, because eventually, one leaves their nest. They untether from the source in pursuit of the world. How would a dead girl do that? She won’t reside on the fringes of life like a bad dream.

god this prose is so depressing. even i’m getting sad over it and i’m literally an emotionless husk of a person. hey but the description slaps so enjoy.

also if you’ve noticed i’ve been sharing excerpts less and less in the updates despite the chapters being longer on length [these chapters average at like. 5k words] and that’s because i’m finding it harder to share stuff that doesn’t need context / isn't spoilery.

chapter twenty-two

ah yes the angstiest chapter, probably. something happens to willow that lilith blames herself for and this kicks off the final cluster of events that lead to the climax. i love this chapter because lilith gets angry [but at the wrong person aka herself] and we get to see this side of her she always tries to hide!! another thing that happens is that her garden withers so that’s a fun trip

My garden could have been a fallen kingdom. The ferns were rotting from under the flap, their spores gone. Gardenia blooms had split with their petals discarded like an evening gown all around the pots. The mint had binary fissioned and lay in shreds, the jasmine wilted and spread. All of them like war dolls, casualties of my ignorance, beyond saving.

poor garden :/

chapter twenty-three

this chapter. exists i guess. ISDNJSDUH i sound so disillusioned but essentially this chapter was supposed to end on a the ✨big reveal✨ that the book has been leading up to but then something. happened. and i had to move that into the next chapter and so nothing actually happens in this one! like it’s all important things and we’re setting up tension but overall it’s the least eventful of the final story arc.

We stepped together into our house; it had been abandoned for a day but was the exact same. Dust hadn't suddenly piled up in the threshold, sticking to our soles. The air hadn't musted over in the house’s grieving for its sole occupants. The bathtub was still filled. The water skimmed the floor, and I’d decided. I’d stay with you for the whole week, the fortnight, the month, the year. I’d stay inside with you, because me leaving the house, me choosing to spend any second of my life without caring for you, was a mistake. I’d always seen you as fragile, quiet like moth wings and just as delicate. Maybe I’d needed to feel I was protector just as much as I thought you needed me.

i really like this excerpt because it’s very simple and light in terms of prose but also the implications and that purposeful telling at the end really stick with me. exposing lilith since 2k20.

As morning rose the next day, like a curtain lifting, the sun picked itself up from the horizon, shattering cloudlines in a bright, orange glow. The skies got clearer by the hour as summer sauntered in again. Already the habits of my grounding were kicking in; my circadian rhythm bounded to my outside, too, as I instinctively scheduled and compartmentalized my daily life. First, wake up, check on you. Finish chores while making sure you’re alright. School, eaten with worry, but you're capable and you’ll call if you need help. Home, count your pulse as you inevitably slumped in plush sleep— at the coffee table, at the bathtub, in Aunt Hailey’s chair (rare), in your bedroom (rarer). You’d wake for dinner and read until the lights begin to dim and your eyesight tripped. You’d doze off for the rest of the night. Your internal clock was more functional, more efficient, than mine.

obligatory rhythmic everyday life excerpt that's reminiscent of 2020.

chapter twenty-four

THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER! THE LONGEST CHAPTER!! THE ONE WHERE SHIT GOES DOWN!!! [can you tell it’s my fave chapter]

this took me two whole weeks to draft [it’s around 7.2k words] but it was so enjoyable the whole time!! there’s something so satisfying about making the quiet character, the one who never express anger, finally snap. so satisfying. lilith is actually pretty feral in this and we all stan. it also has a lot of simpler yet more sharp prose? if you know me you know that repetition is literally my favourite device ever. i overuse repetition it’s actually insane. and this one has a lot of that, but in a way that isn't annoying, and i really enjoyed writing it!!

I’d never been in your bathtub before. You haunted the room and it was always yours; I didn’t consider running the tap for myself. Maybe your going out prompted me this time. The water was so high it sloshed over the lip of the tub. The floor was slick like eels’ skin. My skin was blue with cold; the chill gummed my cheeks and ears and I shivered. My reflection stared at me in hatred, the features warped and pulled like taffy. I half-floated, a ghost in liminal space, and the walls were choked with water lines and flower patterns. With my body invaded by alien frost, with the ceiling low and cruel and ready to crush, I cowered. How did you do this every day? Did the clothes make the difference?

lilith’s going through it again ft. willow’s bathtub.

after this it’s a lot of incredibly spoilery stuff!! like the prose slaps but it’s too many spoilers to share. but have another description of the heaviness of midnight because i’m obsessed with that aesthetic

The lock clicked behind me. Silence descended like birdsong and I was paralysed, stuck at the two half-stairs that led to the outer path, stuck at the threshold of no return. My body shook. All around me was nighttime, gooey and heavy. I was unfurling, like a rose, step after step, pushing past the gate and onto the road. The wind was so cold it frosted my tears.

btw the chapter does not end on lilith crying she kind of has a girlboss moment and snaps massively [i mean after all she’s been through she deserves it] and then the main story aka the fictive past ends.

chapter twenty-five

the final chapter, which also happens to be a vignette chapter and is thus set in the fictive present! it’s very short and is only one tiny scene but it really ends on the perfect tonal quality for the novel. i can't share any excerpts because it really is very short so! have this iconic screenshot i took as soon as i finished the draft instead:

[also if you were wondering yes i did type the entire novel [and basically everything i write] on my ipad because i don't own a laptop]

and that really is it! this was such an incredible journey and i’m so excited to share more of my newer writing and upcoming projects with y’all. it feels so weird that this really is the last time i’ll be making official posts about this novel. truly the end of an era.

house plants taglist: @discreet-writer @mp-golfin @jaydewritesfiction @writer-in-monochrome @magnus-s-writes @firesidefantasy @sugarlessbubblegum @theoldcity @n1ghth4wkz @remi-writes-sometimes @suninks @dreamybellatrixanvm @camusbf @fablemancy @isherwoodj @svpphicwrites @spillme @sunwornpages @bijouxs @asadlitficwriter @bookphobe @sirius-xthem @carlyiswriting @hekat-ie

general taglist: @lovingyou-is @haldimilks @andiwriteunderthemoon @coffeeandcalligraphy @shaelinwrites @tuoyu @charles-joseph-writes @eklavvya @wolf-oak @bitterwitchwrites @laughtracksonata @whatwordsdidnttouch @indeliblewrites @thenataliawrites @illimani-gibberish @sienna-writes @jennawritesstories @chloeswords @aelenko @keira-is-writing @cherylinanika @infinitely-empty-pages @jmtwrites @august-iswriting @sarahkelsiwrites @freedelusionbanana

tumblr is being. really really annoying and wont let me edit on the browser so i’ve got the 50 mentions per post mobile thing to deal with. the rest of the taglist will be tagged in a reblog!

#writeblr #am writing #crabappletracking #wtwcommunity #atlastracking #ofcolourtracking #house plants #house plants update #everybody say “goodbye house plants” as i yeet willow off a good somewhere #just ignore how i’ve actually finished the book and this update is a month late please and thank you <3

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roanniom · 3 years

Note

hi pal can I request the reader showing sackler how to take things a little more slow and sensual in the bedroom (possibly ft some sub!sackler bc yum) dialogue line: 'easy tiger'

Hey buddy, yes – let’s teach our cutie sub!Sackler a lesson. (p.s., sorry to you and everyone else who requested stuff - I’m getting around to all of these, I swear lol)

Sweet

Adam Sackler x Reader

Word Count: 4,291

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, PIV sex, light light light dom/sub, mentions of food, shitty day angst

You love riding Sackler. It’s a fact and you aren’t shy about it. The way he feels beneath you – hard and wound out so tight, just a second from breaking – makes you feel like a goddess. You love messing with him and bossing him around, too. The way his eyes widen and his lip quivers as he thinks up a taunting reply or considers the reward that might come if he is good and acquiesces instead. You love rewarding and punishing him equally.

Sackler takes punishment better than any man you’d ever been with. While most men play along for a while, it’s been your experience that many tire eventually. Not Sackler. Sure, he’s a brat about it, but that’s exactly what you love. How receptive he is. No matter what you do, your Sackler reacts and it makes your heart and pussy clench in equal measure.

But every once in a while, riding Sackler isn’t what you’re in the mood for. Today is one of those days. It’s been a long one, full of meetings and paperwork and all the things that make your teeth set on edge by the time you climb up from the subway, up from the street, and up to your fifth floor walkup. When you reach the knob to open the door, it turns in your hand and moves inward without any effort on your part. The door pulls back to reveal Adam, standing with a huge grin on his face and a steaming mug which is promptly pushed into your free hand.

“Fucking finally! I’ve been waiting for you to get home.” A kiss is pressed hurriedly to your lips and your bags are pulled off of your shoulders. The whirlwind of motion and activity almost make you dizzy and you laugh. Despite your shit day and despite yourself.

“What’s all this?” you ask, gesturing the scene that his wall of a body, now moved aside to stow your bags, has revealed. The table is set for two, with flowers and a fucking lit candle in the center. Two stemmed glasses sit beside a sweating bottle of sparkling grape juice. Adam steps back into view, his grin even wider.

“Ray and I were fucking around at the café and I came across this recipe in a magazine -” he begins, but you cut him off.

“I can’t picture you flipping through a magazine.” He flips you off and continues.

“Well anyway, Ray said it was too delicate and I’d never be able to make it because I’m a fucking ox in a china shop and I was like the saying is ‘bull in a china shop you dickweed’ and then we wrestled a bit and scared his customers away which was pretty fucking hilarious -”

You grab Sackler’s chin to stop his manic rambling.

“The food, Sackler.”

“Well I was getting to that! So I said fuck you, ripped the recipe out, went to the store, and now nine hours and three cut fingers later we have this fucking feast!”

Sackler claps his hands together before gesturing grandly to the table. With the gesticulation you’re able to see the three aforementioned fingers swathed in shoddily placed bandages. You grab his non-damaged hand and lift up on your tiptoes. He gets the message, bending down to press his lips to yours again. He closes his eyes to savor the kiss, but as you back away yours dart over his figure and you let out another laugh.

“Sackler, is that my apron?”

~*~

It turns out bulls in china shops can, indeed, cook delicate dishes. The food is really good. Annoyingly good. Proving again, for the umpteenth time, that your tornado of a boyfriend can be good at things when he focuses all of his boundless energy on one thing.

“You shouldn’t have done this, you know.” You smile at him over the rim of your glass of sparkling juice, the remains of your meal littering the table before you. Sackler watches you, full and self-satisfied, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m never going to accept a shitty takeout meal again now that you’ve fed me this well.”

Sackler sits up straighter and leans over, reaching his hand between your thighs. Your legs open instinctively, without any effort from your brain, but as you lurch forward and metal scrapes against wood, you realize he’s grabbed your chair and is pulling you closer to him.

“It was really that good, wasn’t it.” His smile is ear to ear. You laugh at his smugness.

“Do I need to lick my plate to convince you? Because I will.” You drag a finger through the last bit of sauce on your plate and move to bring it to your mouth. Before you can, however, Adam grabs your wrist and reroutes it to his mouth. His lips close over your finger, tongue lapping up the sauce before it can drip down into your palm. He maintains direct, blazing eye contact the entire time and your stomach swoops. After a moment a sucking, Adam releases your finger with a pop, biting the tip playfully before dropping your hand back to your lap.

“Fuck I’m talented.”

The chuckle you release is a tad too breathless for your liking. It really has been a hard day, and Adam’s attention is getting to you quicker and more than usual. He can see it in your eyes and in the incremental quickening of the rise and fall of your chest.

“Yep. You’re fucking talented,” is all you’re able to muster, biting your lip.

The large hand that had pulled you closer to him has spent this whole time gripping your chair in the space between your legs. Now it slides to smooth over your thigh. His hand is hot enough you can feel the heat radiating beneath your pants. Despite the warmth you shiver.

Adam notices and pulls back his hand so that only his index finger remains in contact with your leg. His index finger which he drags up your inner thigh only to run it up and down the line of the pants seam at the apex of your thighs.

“A little needy tonight, are we babe?”

This is exactly what you need to loosen up so you grab his wrist. He stiffens immediately, assuming he’s done something wrong. But instead you pull him closer to close his whole hand around your clothed cunt, pushing up and down on his hand to provide a wider surface area of warmth and friction.

“A lot needy tonight…babe,” you correct him.

~*~

When you migrate to the bedroom, Sackler is on you like an animal. This is his usual modus operandi – he does everything he possibly can to trigger your reprimands, your slaps, your warnings. It’s partly to see what he can get away with before you tighten the leash (metaphorical but sometimes literal) and partly because seeing you riled up turns him on so much.

Right now he’s got you bent over the bed, cheek smashed to the mattress, legs spread, ass out, as he grips and pinches and squeezes the curves of your body.

“I’ve been thinking of you all fuuuhhking day, baby.” His voice is gruff to go along with the handfuls he grabs of your ass.

“I thought you were thinking about food all day,” you manage to tease, despite the fact that his hands feel like heaven.

“Yeah but like when I went shopping for example.” He flips you over then and you squeal in surprise. Your back hits the bed but your legs remain dangling off. Adam steps between them and drops the weight of his whole upper body on you, effectively smothering you. “I just kept wishing you were there with me.”

Your stomach flips and your heart flutters, not expecting that sweet a statement. You also register your cunt getting wetter.

Oh.

So that’s the mood you’re in.

“You wished I was there?” you ask quietly.

“Of course,” Adam replies, tucking some of your hair gently behind your ear. “I imagined fucking you up against the inside of the freezer section so we could leave obscene handprints on the doors and freak people out.”

You whack him in the head in response, which is exactly what he’s going for. He picks you up and throws you unceremoniously more fully on the bed before climbing on as well and crawling up the length of your body.

“You’re an asshole, Adam.”

“I thought that was your favorite part about me.” He waggles his eyebrows at you. Out of spite – and lust – you reach between you and grab his dick through his jeans.

“No, this is my favorite part about you.”

Adam throws his body to the side, locking his arms around you in a roll that roughly brings you to rest on his chest while his back hits the bed.

“Now you’re talking, baby.” His mouth latches hungrily to your neck and his hands take forceful hold of your breasts. Beneath you Sackler begins rolling his hips, thrusting his hardening cock up into your pelvic area.

The aggression and the friction feel good, you can’t lie. But you can’t ignore the nagging feeling of disappointment lingering right at the corner of your mind.

“Adam,” you prompt. He doesn’t pause in his ministrations. He’s still playing the game. At this point you’re usually just getting started and, being the brat he is, he never actually listens to you this early. It would ruin his fun. No, instead Adam continues to nibble at your collar bone and untuck your shirt.

“Adam – slow down, please.”

The please comes out muffled because it occurs right as he tries to pull your shirt over your head, effectively covering your face.

“Are you trying to say something?” Adam asks with a chuckle, purposefully keeping the shirt tangled up in your arms and swathed over your head. “I can’t hear you.”

You wrestle your way out of his grip and the shirt straight jacket he’d fashioned, irritated but unable to suppress your own laugh.

“That’s not funny, asshole.”

“Again with the asshole.” Adam rises up to a sitting position with you still straddling him, moving to place soft kisses on your now-exposed chest. “Might I point out that you are laughing. I would argue that means it is funny.”

Adam deftly unhooks your bra and continues to drop open mouth kisses on a path that leads him up your throat. His softer actions cause you to roll your hips lightly, your eyes closing with the mounting satisfaction.

“Mmm haven’t I already taught you that you shouldn’t argue with me? You’ll never win,” you reply quietly, tone of voice matching the softness and heat that’s building between your bodies.

In quite a juxtaposition, Sackler growls and bucks roughly up into you, a motion you’re not prepared for and one which throws you off balance.

“We’ll see who wins, baby.” His mouth descends on you and it’s like he’s trying to suck your very soul between his lips. Like he wants to swallow you whole and usually? Usually this kind of thing would rev your engine and make you want to fight for control. But today your body is craving something different.

And you’re not about to deny it what it wants.

You press your palms down on Sackler’s chest, pushing down and pulling back with enough pressure that he finally releases your lips. His chest heaves up and down and he moves to kiss you elsewhere but you grab his jaw.

“Easy tiger. Easy.” Your fingers curl down and around his throat delicately. You’re not squeezing and you’re not gripping, but his eyes are wide and fixed on you. You hold him down with your gaze as much as your hand and, without breaking eye contact, you lower yourself slowly, slowly, slowly, to press a kiss to his flushed lips.

“We’re going to take things slower tonight.”

“Slower? But why!” Sackler moves to sit up again, but you push him back down, this time more firmly.

“Because I say so,” you answer bluntly. Sackler goes to talk back, defiance dancing in his eyes, but you speak up before he can interject.

“Because I need this.”

Your assertive tone comes out less firm and more genuine this time, allowing some of your vulnerability leak through despite your intentions. You watch Adam react, however, and you’re pleased to see his eyes soften.

“What do you want me to do, baby? Tell me.”

You mull this over from your perch above him, straddling his hips and looking down at his still clothed body. Swinging your leg up and over, you dismount him, much to Adam’s displeasure, as expressed with a groan. You, however, stand resolutely at the side of the bed and fold your arms.

“I’d like you to get up and take every piece of clothing off – slowly.”

“You mean like a strip tease?” he asks with a crooked grin, lumbering off the bed. You hop back on and settle down so that your back is now reclining against the pillows comfortably.

“You don’t have to make it sound so crass but sure. Like a strip tease.”

Adam takes a cheesy bow before pulling his shirt of by the back collar.

“Woah woah woah, I said slowly, mister.”

Adam huffs in agitation but does as you ask, dropping the collar and lifting the front hem of his shirt inch by inch, slowly exposing the abdominal muscles which, let’s face it, make you want to drool. You eye him like a piece of meat and without a trace of shame as he finally discards the garment.

“I hope you’re enjoying this,” he grumbles, but you see the amusement in his eyes.

“Oh I am, baby. Trust me.”

The show continues until his boxers ultimately join the pile that has accumulated at his feet. The slow clap you give him as you eye his stiff cock makes him let out a strained laugh.

“Now you,” he says through gritted teeth. You can tell he wants to stroke his cock, but you haven’t told him he can yet. And since you’ve changed the game on him, he feels less comfortable bending the rules.

“Can you come over and take my clothes off for me?” you ask through hooded eyes. He clambers onto the bed and you touch his shoulder as a reminder. “Slowly.”

Adam nods and reaches to unbutton your pants before pulling them slowly down your legs, hooking his fingers beneath your panties to bring them along, too. Having already been divested of your shirt and bra, the job is short and sweet.

You crook your finger in a come hither motion toward him, ushering him to move up to you, which he does. You settle deeper down into the pillows and he hovers above you, uncertain.

“What now?”

You pull him down by the back of the neck into a kiss. Your tongue encourages his to move, which it does. He takes his cues from you and the kiss morphs from sweet to sensual. When a strangled groan bubbles in the back of his throat you push him to sit up in order to bring things back down to the pace you’d worked so hard to establish.

“Now, I’d like you to drag two fingers through my cunt. Get them nice and wet.”

Adam inhales sharply and moves his arm quickly at first before catching himself and bringing his hand calmly between your legs. You let them fall open and sigh happily at the feeling of his fingers running up and down your dripping slit.

“You’re so wet and we’ve barely done anything,” Adam comments, awed.

“That’s how bad I want you like this.”

“Baby…” Adam practically whines. You can see his muscles tensing as his patience wears thinner.

“I know, honey,” you purr. “Now I want you to take your hand and stroke your big, fat cock for me.”

Adam inhales sharply again, but he doesn’t forget this time. This time his hand drags slowly from your cunt, trailing your slick over your thigh and up onto his in a path to his own cock, which he smears with the remaining juice.

“Oh fuck, I can’t take it slow for much longer.”

“Yes. You can.” You tease your own nipple now as you watch Adam’s hand close around the glistening, throbbing head. His muscles ripple beneath the skin of his abdomen and your cunt clenches.

“I saw that.”

Your wrench your eyes away from his cock to meet his eyes.

“Saw what?”

“Saw your little pussy squeeze around nothing.”

“Yes, it did.” You’re not about to deny it. Instead, you move the hand not playing with your nipple so that it comes to rest on your mound, fingers dipping down to feel your own wetness.

“Holy shit.”

His cock twitches in his hand and he comes to lean lower over you, bracing himself with one hand against the mattress next to your body as he picks up the pace on his cock. The shuck shuck shuck sound of his fist passing over his length makes your breath quicken and you push two fingers inside you, placing your thumb on your clit and beginning a rhythm of tight circles.

“Oh god, do you hear that?” Adam moans as your cunt begins making squelching sounds with your efforts. “That’s your little pussy telling me it needs me.”

“Mmm it talks to you?” you ask, trying not to think of how ridiculous this is and lose your concentration too much.

“Yes. It’s saying your fingers are two fucking small. It needs to be stuffed. With my fingers, with my cock -”

“Adam.” You interrupt him abruptly by grabbing the back of his neck and forcing him to look you in the eyes. He zips up and waits for you to say something but you don’t. Instead you maintain the eye contact and continue move your fingers in and out of your cunt. Though you won’t agree with him right now, Adam’s right. Your fingers are too small. But the in and out motion, combined with the pressure you are putting on your clit, combined with the way the bed shakes with the effort Adam is taking to jerk himself slowly but strongly, combined with the way he is now devouring you with his eyes – it all still feels pretty fucking good.

Adam’s breath becomes more ragged and the sound makes you let out an involuntary moan. Fuck you love hearing him react. You decide you might as well let him know. It’s already the tone of the evening.

“I love hearing you.”

“I was just about to say the fucking same about you. You’re the one who just moaned, though,” Adam says, letting out a breathless chuckle.

“Yeah but I like it all. I like when your breathing is all ragged like right now. I love it when you groan and growl. When you moan and it sounds like it’s coming from deep inside of you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, and you laugh.

“I like it when you curse, too. I love that filth spills from your brain and you don’t bother – oh! You don’t bother stopping it from falling out of your mouth.”

“You’re the inspiration for the filth, kid, I can’t take all the credit.”

You feel your heart stutter in your chest then and you drag your finger over your clit slower. Harder.

“I like it when you call me kid. You haven’t called me that in a while.”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry, kid,” Adam’s face scrunches and you’re not sure if it’s out of guilt or because of the way his hand his now wringing his cock, twisting at the end of each stroke in a sad rendition of the technique you use when you jerk him off. “I didn’t know you liked it so much.”

“I do.”

“I’ll call you that more often.”

“Good.”

You both are breathing heavily now, a light layer of sweat covering skin that aches to be touched by the other. Your eyelids flutter and you try to keep your sight focused on Adam’s face. You’re feeling your inhibitions leave you as the pressure inside your core mounts, loosened up by the warmth of his breath on your cheeks and the way you’re speaking so openly to him. You decide you might as well continue.

“I also like it when you’re sweet to me.”

Adam falters at that, his hand coming to an abrupt stop on his cock. He blinks down at you.

“I am sweet to you.”

His voice sounds hurt and you bristle, wanting to take the words back.

“You are sweet to me. You are, Adam,” you reassure, grasping his arm. He remains still, watching you. You feel weird continuing to finger yourself, but your so close you are afraid to lose your momentum. “You’re always everything I want. And most times I want to be thrown around and I want to yell and stuff. It’s just sometimes…”

You trail off, but you don’t need to continue because Adam is kissing you. A slow, deep kiss. Lips moving against lips, tongue moving against tongue. His hands find your face and hold you softly, keeping you against him, leaving his cock to bob freely against your stomach. Your fingers abandon your cunt as well and you wrap around Adam, arms and legs both, pulling him down into you.

When Adam finally pulls back, his face no longer looks hurt.

“I can be whatever you want. Let me be what you want.” He kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then the curve of your jaw.

“I want you inside of me,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

When he slides in, you don’t have to remind him to go slow. You moan about your walls stretching and he moans about the way you squeeze so tightly around his cock. Your sounds spur each other on and you rock against him, urging him to move.

He pulls out so far that only the tip remains nestled just inside your entrance. When he pushes back in, it feels like he’s pushing in for the first time of the night again. Your walls stretch to accommodate him and you clench instinctively around his length. The process repeats itself, over, and over, until you’re pretty much completely unraveled beneath him.

All the while Adam rains soft kisses on your face, neck, and breasts. Without a chaotic rhythm of thrusts to keep up with, he has the attention span to shower you with even more affection. The hoarse whispers in your ear are by far your favorite:

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You feel so good, you take me so well it doesn’t make fucking sense.”

“Fuck, did you feel that? How tight you’re gripping my cock baby?”

“That’s it, yes make those fucking gorgeous sounds for me.”

It’s not exactly textbook “sweet,” but it’s Adam and it’s what you need. It’s Adam giving you what you need.

You reach down at some point to rub your clit, working yourself up to the edge, but Adam pulls your hand away so his can replace it.

“Not on my fucking watch,” he mutters gruffly. A laugh bubbles in your throat but it bursts into a moan as the dam breaks and you fall apart, crying out his name over and over in the process.

“Yes, baby, yes. Ride it out – fuck you’re hot when you cum.”

You fight to catch your breath and you gaze back up at Adam through the stars in your eyes. The resulting effect makes him both blurry and sparkly in your vision and your muscles continue to contract around his massive cock, which he’s been kind enough to keep stuffed inside you for you to lock onto.

As your muscles begin to relax you blink away the stars and allow a smile of the deepest, most well-fucked satisfaction to slide across your face. Adam watches and his smile matches, though there is still some tightness in his features due to the fact that he is still achingly hard.

“Adam, that was…” you try to catch your breath. “That was…thanks. I needed that.”

When Adam meets your lips for a kiss, however, you yank tightly on the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Now I want you to take what you need,” you say louder. “I want you to cum.”

With your permission, Adam doesn’t need more than a second to switch gears. He lifts your legs straight into the air against his shoulders, bending you into a right angle that becomes more and more acute with each passing second. His cock pounds in and out of your dripping pussy, your slick sliding between your thighs and making the fucking smooth and wet and oh so fucking good for him.

“I still like being sweet to you,” he says through gritted teeth, his thrusting becoming more erratic.

“I know you do, baby,” you hiccup out.

“But fuck! Do I love pounding this pussy.”

You laugh and he cums. All over you. He pulls out, dropping your legs down, and it spurts hot over your stomach and tits. It’s messy but he’s satisfied and you’re satisfied and fuck it, that’s what towels are for.

Once he’s gotten you nice and wiped up again, Adam pulls you to him in the bed, wrapping his arms around you tightly and giving you no room to move away. Not that you’d want to move. Why would you when you can lay here in this bed, tangled up in the man that wrung pleasure from your body and laughter from your lips.

~*~

Tagging some lovely people (please let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in future work!): @mariesackler @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @sacklerscumrag @paper-in-ashes-fanfiction @historyandfandoms50 @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely

#anon #request #Adam Sackler x reader #Adam Sackler/reader #Adam Sackler x you #Adam Sackler/you #adam sackler smut #adam sackler fanfiction #adam sackler fan fiction #smut #writing #fanfiction #roanniom #tw: dom/sub #cw: dom/sub

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sachigram · 3 years

Text

((In standard me fashion, I picked a prompt from Shizaya Week, weeks late, and have no intention of doing the others, lmaoooooooooo))

Prompt: I can’t sleep so will you hold me?

Shizuo doesn't think he could ever get used to Izaya and his bat-shit flea antics entirely, but Izaya has proven to be easier to deal with than Shizuo ever would've thought before. There are often hidden truths in Izaya's actions, things ordinary people who don't deal with him often enough would think to look for. Shizuo doesn't consider himself an expert in anything, but he thinks he's become a decent flea-to-human to translator.

Izaya will cook, but not without making snide remarks about Shizuo's inability to cook. Izaya will do laundry, but will refuse to fold it. If Shizuo asks for Izaya to come home early, Izaya will do so, but he'll still arrive later than Shizuo requested. Sometimes it still annoys Shizuo what a brat Izaya is, but he can see Izaya is actually trying, and that's enough to keep Shizuo from flying off the handle.

Izaya's sleeping habits, however, remain a constant source of contention between them both. Shizuo has a regular sleep schedule and always has. Even when he's angry or upset, which is more often than not, he finds sleep easily. It's taken him a long time to wrap his head around Izaya's sleeping habits, which are all over the place. Truly, Shizuo still doesn't get it.

Izaya will be up all night and then wake early in the morning, even without setting an alarm. He'll pass out at his desk and be dead to the world, but wake up a mere hour later and go right back to work. Sometimes he'll be out after Shizuo goes to bed and already be gone in the morning before Shizuo wakes up. It drives Shizuo insane, especially when Izaya will have dark circles and bags under his eyes but still firmly refuse to lie down. Izaya always says he has too much work to do to sleep like a normal person, and then he'll make some scathing remark about Shizuo having a caveman sleep cycle, and they'll end up arguing. It's always the same song and dance, but Shizuo is getting fed up with following Izaya's lead.

Today, Izaya is at his desk, clacking away at his keyboard. He has a humongous coffee cup next to him, which he will occasionally reach for and sip from, and he has a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looks cute, and Shizuo hates him for it, because Shizuo wants to be mad at him.

“Why are you staring at me, Shizu-chan?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo glowers up at him.

“You didn't come to bed last night.”

“What's wrong? Are you worried I was out being unfaithful to you?” Izaya bats his eyelashes playfully, and he grins at the expression on Shizuo's face. “I told you, I have to work.”

“All night? And you're still at it. What are you even doing?” Shizuo grumbles.

“That's top secret! I don't ask you about your work, now do I?” Izaya keeps typing even as he speaks, barely glancing in Shizuo's direction. “I'll sleep when I'm done.”

“You're never done. As soon as you finish that one, you'll think of something else to do.”

“No rest for the wicked,” Izaya sings, still not looking at Shizuo. “It takes a lot to be as efficient as me, you know? I rest for one day and suddenly I'm out of the loop.”

“I'm not asking for an entire day! I'm asking you to sleep when you need it!” Shizuo snaps, and Izaya finally frowns up at him.

“Your nagging is unattractive.”

“You—!” Shizuo stands and stomps over to the desk, looming menacingly over Izaya. “Turn off. The computer,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

“I'm not tired, you idiot! Damn it, just—“ Izaya lifts his hand as if to wave Shizuo away, and Shizuo growls before grabbing Izaya's hand and tugging him. “Stop it! Shizu-chaaaaaaan!” Izaya wails as Shizuo drags Izaya, swivel-chair and all, towards the stairs. “Shizu-chan, you're hurting me!”

Shizuo freezes in his tracks and releases Izaya, who glares up at him, cradling his hand to himself. Shizuo feels guilty, feels like lead is in his stomach. He doesn't want to hurt anyone, but he especially never wants to hurt Izaya, even when the fucker deserves it.

“Sorry,” Shizuo mumbles.

“Oh, relax, I was kidding. You weren't hurting me; I just wanted you to let me go.” Izaya scoots himself back towards the desk, and he lifts his coffee cup, grinning at Shizuo over the rim. “What an expression you're making! I bet you wished you hurt me now, huh?”

Shizuo takes a deep breath, cracks his knuckles by one, and then moves towards Izaya again, who only looks up at him smugly. Shizuo leans onto the desk.

“You wanna work? Fine. But tonight, you're going to bed when I do, and you're not leaving the bed till I do,” Shizuo says.

“That's not happening,” Izaya says, taking another sip of coffee. Shizuo slaps the coffee out of his hands, and Izaya looks from the shattered cup to Shizuo, clearly irritated.

“Yes the fuck it is happening, 'cause if you refuse, I'm gonna throw your computer out the window, and then I'm gonna tie your scrawny ass to the bed for a week.” Shizuo smiles, but there's nothing pleasant about it. “What's it gonna be, I-za-ya?”

“You're going to tie me down? Kinky. I don't see how turning me on is going to get me to sleep.”

“Keep it up and I'll tie you upside-down.”

“Whoever would've guessed how high-maintenance you are?” Izaya sighs loudly and then shrugs. “Sure, what do I care? I'll just watch you sleep and do creepy stuff to you until morning. Will that placate you?”

“Yes,” Shizuo says, not threatened in the least. Izaya scowls, but doesn't argue, and that's a victory in Shizuo's book.

***

Hours later, after they've both eaten dinner, (Izaya at his desk, eating while working) Shizuo stands from the couch and yawns. He looks over at Izaya, who is pointedly ignoring him.

“Bedtime,” Shizuo announces.

“What? Now?” Izaya asks, looking from the monitor to Shizuo. “It's not even ten!”

“I'm tired now,” Shizuo says. “Besides, you look like a zombie. You need it more than me.”

“I'm not tired!” Izaya whines, his legs kicking out a bit. Shizuo withholds a grin at Izaya's antics, finding them cute. Before they got together, he never would have guessed how childish Izaya can be. Izaya doesn't throw tantrums, but he does pout and whine when he's not getting his way, and his surly attitude will persist for a long time afterwards until the opportunity to be a vindictive little shit comes along. “Shizu-chan, I'm still not done!”

“A deal is a deal. Come with me, or I'm tying you down, and you'll miss even more work.” Shizuo crosses his arms and watches Izaya, who rolls his eyes, sinks into his chair, and glares at Shizuo with his bottom lip poking out.

“You're being unreasonable.”

“I'll count to three.”

“Shizu-chan, I just—“

“One.”

“This is really important. My life could be on the line if I—“

“Two.”

“I hate you. I detest you! You're horrible, absolutely the worst!”

“Three.”

Groaning loudly, Izaya pushes himself up, slumps his shoulders, and makes his way up the stairs, grumbling the entire way about Shizuo. Nodding to himself, Shizuo moves to Izaya's computer, shuts it down, and turns off all the lights before joining Izaya upstairs. Izaya is in the bathroom, cat ear headband pulling his bangs off his forehead, and he's brushing his teeth with his narrowed, catlike gaze settled on Shizuo.

“Keep sulking all you want. You not sleeping isn't impressing anyone. You're lucky you haven't passed out in the path of one of your enemies,” Shizuo says, pulling his shirt off. He unbuttons his pants and steps out of them, and when he looks up, Izaya is still glowering at him. Sighing, Shizuo walks into the bathroom, shoving past Izaya to get to his own toothbrush.

When Izaya is done, he moves on to his skincare, an extensive process. Shizuo finishes brushing his teeth and then leans against the counter, simply watching Izaya apply serum after serum to his face.

“You know, you could put less shit on your face if you'd just sleep sometimes,” Shizuo says, amusement clear in his tone.

“You sound like a broken record,” Izaya says.

“You sound like an asshole.”

Clearly fuming but not wanting to show it, Izaya slams the container in his hands onto the counter, not bothering to look at Shizuo. He moves on to the next step of the process, and Shizuo reaches out to tug on the hem of Izaya's shirt, pulling him closer.

“Let go of me. You're lucky I haven't kicked you out,” Izaya huffs, but Shizuo pulls him in anyway.

“I wouldn't have to nag you if you'd bother to take care of yourself,” Shizuo murmurs into Izaya's hair.

“I take care of myself just fine,” Izaya argues.

“You don't. Being clean and having good skin isn't taking care of yourself.”

“Neither is punching people. Neither is being a stupid, simpleminded beast of a man.”

“I think that's enough skincare. Clearly you're getting grumpy from lack of sleep,” Shizuo says, unaffected by Izaya's sharp tongue. Usually he'd be enraged, but the sight of Izaya in the cat ears is too endearing. He'll yell at Izaya later, he decides, and in a swift motion, he throws Izaya over his shoulder and carries him towards the bed. Izaya curses and squirms, his bony elbows digging into Shizuo's back, and Shizuo tosses him down onto the bed, grinning triumphantly down at him.

“At least let me get undressed,” Izaya grumbles. He pulls his shirt off, pulling the headband off along with it. He looks up at Shizuo expectantly.

“Oh, you want one of my shirts?”

“Clearly.”

Snorting, Shizuo tosses a T-shirt at Izaya, who pulls it on with a pleased expression. Izaya is just squirming out of his pants when Shizuo turns out the light, bathing the room in darkness. Izaya sighs again, flops back into the bed, and relents to being held, though he doesn't relent quietly.

Despite all of Izaya's bitching, he falls asleep within the hour. He's soft in Shizuo's arms, his leg wedged between Shizuo's, and he's breathing evenly, dead to the world. Shizuo smiles and runs his hand through Izaya's hair before he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him as well.

***

When Shizuo wakes, it's still dark.

It takes him a minute to figure out what exactly woke him, but then he realizes Izaya is moving around, muttering little things under his breath.

“Flea?” Shizuo asks softly. Izaya doesn't respond, and Shizuo realizes Izaya is dreaming, talking in his sleep.

“Need to...work...” Izaya says something else after it, unintelligible, and he swats at Shizuo, who is beyond amused. “Brute.” Izaya finishes.

“What's that? You dreaming of me?”

“Hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shizuo says. He lifts his hand to wipe some drool off his chin, and Izaya makes an affronted little noise, pawing at Shizuo's chest. “What?”

“Want...want Shizu-chan...”

“I'm right here.”

Izaya whines and burrows closer, still swatting at Shizuo.

“Flea, quit it, I'm right here!” Shizuo huffs, though he's finding it hard to be annoyed when Izaya is being so cute. Izaya makes another anguished sound and presses his face into Shizuo's neck.

“Hold me...” Izaya's words are muffled, barely audible, and Shizuo wonders if he imagined them. Izaya is never this clingy, this open with his desires.

Gently, Shizuo wraps his arm around Izaya, who makes another noise, this one sounding happy. Izaya stops squirming and the room grows quiet once more, save for the pounding of Shizuo's heart. Izaya is a pain in the ass, and he's hard to deal with, and he's stubborn as all hell, and he's the last person in the world who should feel safe with Shizuo, but he does. He's here, sound asleep in Shizuo's arms, asking to be held, and Shizuo feels a lump in his throat.

“Izaya...”

Izaya hums in reply, clearly contented, and Shizuo kisses Izaya's forehead, pulls him closer, and dares to hold him a little tighter.

#shizayaweek2020 #shizaya #Shizuo Heiwajima #Izaya Orihara #fluff #established relationship

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peakyblinderswhore · 3 years

Text

DAY 7 ⇨ WORKING FOR CHRISTMAS

GENRE: Christmas!au, WorkRival!au, the tiniest E2L

PAIRING: Tommy x Reader

SYNOPSIS: Thomas stops you from your work late one evening and tasks you with planning a Christmas due for the office -- which, truth be told, is more or less a family gathering with a few added extras. What you don’t know is he’s got a reason behind what he’s doing and after a drink or two he gets you talking and reveals his reasonings. What could possibly go wrong?

WARNINGS: Alcohol/drunkeness

W/C: 2.5k

A/N: hm. yeah. no thoughts; head empty.

You weren't sure when or how it had happened but somehow you had been forced into planning something for the holidays with the one person you knew that you despise more than anything. Thomas Shelby.

Sometimes you wondered why you were still here, working for the devil himself when you could be somewhere else, the chances of having a significant other were much higher but you had stayed, always driven to earn money to send back to your Dad back home.

Still, he paid well and occasionally he gave you the day off when he wasn’t giving you a million and one things to do around the office. You liked the work, mostly. Today, for example, you had been tasked with filing practically everything -- something that you had been banging on at Tommy to do for months so when he finally tasked you with it, you sat down and got to work, using that as an excuse to avoid talking to anyone for the rest of the day. At the end of the work day, though, he had sprung some news on you that you were less than pleased to hear.

“Here, you’ve to stay late tonight,” he had begun.

You looked up from your pile of files, only about a quarter of a way through them and thoroughly enjoying all the paperwork that you were using to avoid incompetence today, “What?” your eyebrows furrowed to express your disgust, “Why do I need to stay late, I’ve been working all day, like you pay me to.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, “I’ll pay you for this too,” he fiddles with his waistcoat, eventually pulling out his pocket watch to check the time before swinging it closed, the gold catching your eyes under the light.

“Tommy, it’s nine o’clock in the evening -- I’ve already stayed late doing exactly what I’ve been telling you we should be doing for months,” you argue, leaning back on your chair and folding your arms across your chest, most likely creasing your pinafore but it wasn’t important.

“I’ll pay you double.”

“Triple.”

“Done.”

You put your pen down and push your files aside, ready to be attended to tomorrow morning.

“So,” you begin, “what could you possibly want that requires me that much?”

“I need you to plan something for Christmas.”

“Is there an occasion other than Christmas? Like are you retiring and letting me take over… because if you are, this’ll be the goddamned place to be tomorrow night,” you gestured towards his closed office door, “I’ll break into that bottle of whiskey you refuse to open and invite everyone I know over to drink it.”

He chuckles, “Not quite.”

You raise an eyebrow and unfold your arms, leaning them on the desk in front of you, “Enlighten me, Mr Shelby.”

“Office party.”

You scoff and push yourself back on your chair, shaking your head, bemused, “Everyone who works here is related to you or owes you something, myself included. Why are you suddenly in the giving mood?”

His eyes narrow, “Don’t make me change my mind.”

“Alright.”

Silence falls between you two and you fiddle with your hands, not sure what to do. Blowing out a breath, you decide to start, “What do you want me to plan for? Everyone in the office or just family -- I will leave if you make me plan something for your family and have no intentions of inviting me to get pissed.”

Tommy smirks, “You didn’t think I’d let you spend the holidays alone, did you?”

“I wouldn’t have put it past you and your ice-cold heart.”

He raises his eyebrows, “You think that lowly of me?”

You wait a beat, “You haven’t shown me otherwise.”

He shakes his head and leaves, entering his office, which you assume is the end of your discussion. Taking this as a good sign to leave, you begin to pack up your things, accepting that you’ve exhausted yourself for the day and will pick up on it in the morning.

You’re pulling on your coat when Tommy walks back out of his office, bottle of whiskey and tumblers in hand, as he heads straight towards your desk.

You pause, the coat pulled halfway up your arms, “Uh, Thomas, what are you doing?”

“Drinking expensive whiskey with my personal assistant. And yourself?”

“I was… about to leave. I thought you were done with the conversation so I was getting ready to leave,” you reply, eyes wide and feet unmoving.

“Sit.”

“O-okay,” you sit.

Having already pulled up a chair and seated himself opposite you at the desk, he leans across the desk and tips the bottle towards you, “drink?” he offers, already pouring the liquor into your glass.

“Oh, I mean, yeah… I guess,” you allow your coat to fall down on the chair, not bothered with how it falls as you’re more concerned about whatever Tommy is planning.

“Recognise it?” He asks, moving to rummage around in his pockets, eventually pulling out a metal box that he pulls a cigarette from.

You lean across the desk, reaching for the glass and bringing it to your nose, you breathe in the smell. Of course you don’t, you’re not an avid drinker but you’d already grabbed the glass and gotten this far, you might as well play the part that you’d set up all these years at his side.

“No,” you begin, setting the glass back down on the surface, “I don’t recognise it. Should I?” You counter, sniffing your nose at him.

He lifts his lighter to his cigarette, flipping the cap and lighting it, “It’s the bottle you said I ‘refuse’ to open,” he mumbles through his actions.

Your eyes widen, “Mr Shelby, why have you opened it? Surely it can’t be because I just said so…”

He scoffs, pulling his cigarette from his lips and leaning his hand on the desk, “You know, for someone who knows most of my business you sure like to pretend like you don’t have a say in it on a more than daily basis.”

“W-what?”

“Just drink the drink.”

You nod slowly, still wary of Thomas’ intentions after his obscure actions towards you and lift the rim of the glass to your lips before tipping, letting the liquor slide down your throat, bruning on its way down. You put the glass down on the desk, That sure does taste fucking expensive,” you curse, before realising what you’d done. Quickly you slap a hand across your mouth, “Mr Shelby,” you begin, “I’m so --”

He holds a hand up, an amused smile present on his face, “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure there’s worse said around here…” he studies you for a moment, “and you can call me Thomas. There’s no need for formalities over drinks this late in the evening.”

Your hand falls down to rest at the side of the glass, silence once again taking over the two of you, “So..”

Tommy lifts an eyebrow, focusing on you, “So,” he drawls.

You cough awkwardly, making a poor attempt at pretending to clear your throat, “Did you still want me to help with the Christmas Party?”

“It’s a party now, eh?”

“Only if you want it to be.”

He pauses, lips pursed and glass swirling, “Alright. As long as you come and wear something nice.”

“Like Lizzie nice or Grace nice,” you fire, knowing his… tendencies and past.

He ignores your comment, “Y/N nice.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m not sure I did,” you pick up your glass again, taking a swig from it, “Thomas Shelby, the Devil himself, telling me I'm capable of wearing something nice. Well, I never.”

“Look, if you don’t want to come then you don’t have to”.

“No, no, no, I do. I really do. I’m just interested in knowing what you consider nice.”

He looks you dead in the eyes, his own blue ones piercing through you, trying to decipher what you were thinking. Blatantly ignoring his state you mumble to yourself, “How strong is this stuff?” Turning the bottle to see if it had any indication as to how tipsy you were going to be after the one drink.

Finally finding a label, you let out a low whistle, “Damn,” you mutter.

Thomas is still looking at you when you lift your gaze to meet his, “Gonna need another drink if I’m going to let you stare at me without feeling uncomfortable.”

Nonchalantly, he lifts his arm to pour you another, the glass now topped up generously, you look at him, really look at him. You let the glass meet your lips and swirl the liquor around your gums before swallowing it and continuing the conversation.

“Thomas.”

“Y/N.”

“You know why I’m here,” you gesture around the room, “working for you. Life’s shit back home. The pay’s shit wherever you turn and bills are high.”

He nods. You take another drink from the glass.

“You helped me out with my father, for which I am greatly indebted, as we all know as per my presence in this building, so I’ll help you out for the Party. I’ll wear something new; spend my wages on a decent dress and do my hair — hell I’ll even get out some jewels I’ve had hidden for a few years — but you have to tell me why you’ve kept me around for as long as you have.

“I mean, there has to be a reason, right? You used to let Lizzie pick apart every little thing I did without a word said between us. One day I had a go and the next she was quiet, fuming all the time, ears practically letting out steam and I could never figure out why she shut up all of a sudden. Until you came out of your office one day and called on me for something. If looks could kill, Thomas, I would’ve been long dead.”

Your glass has a few drops left, you’ve been drinking to stop yourself from getting anxious and fiddling with something. This way the conversation flows. He nods towards the bottle. You pour yourself a third glass.

He’s studying you, observing before he makes a judgement of any sort, trying to feel his way through the conversation without stepping on any toes — or maybe he was just figuring out which buttons to press and in what order.

“You don’t fear me,” It comes out as more of a statement than a question.

“No. You’re just a pain, occasionally,” you reply.

“Alright,” he drags on his cigarette, “you can be tedious at times too. At least that’s what Lizzie used to complain to me about. That’s all it ever was, complaints and the desire to have your job, which I told her on various occasions was not up for offer since you do it just how I want it… no, need it done.”

You stare, glass lifted to your lips but paused in its motions. “You know,” you begin before laughing ironically, “you know that I need this job more than I want it, right?”

“I do.”

You extend your arm, liquor sloshing in the glass, “If I didn’t need the --” hic “--money to pay for my Dad’s hospital bills--” hic “--then I wouldn’t have to put up with her.”

Never have you spoken about your father with such ease before. Tommy knew this was a sore spot for you and you hated the fact that he had roped you into working for his company under the guise of earning good money and being able to send most of it back to pay for your father’s necessities whilst still having enough left over to live adequately enough here. It was a sore spot between yourself and Tommy let alone when Lizzie butt into everything you did and commented on every piece of work you did.

“I didn’t want you to be thinking about all of that this year,” he mutters, mostly to himself, as he drags a hand down his face, “but I suppose you can’t have it all.”

He watched you for a moment more before deciding that if he let you go on for any longer you would more than likely share more than what you would be comfortable with when you sober up and there was also the risk of you throwing up at any point. Tommy had never seen you drink anything more than a shandy at the Garrison, let alone a glass of whiskey -- an expensive one at that.

“C’mon. I think it’s time we got you home,” he tips his own glass back, finishing it before putting it down with a thud on your desk, leaving it there to be cleaned up in the morning.

“What? No --” you cry between hiccups, “we didn’t even plan the party.”

“We can plan it on the walk back to yours. How’s that sound?” He asks, observing your furrowed eyebrows, pouty face and full cheeks.

You frown, “But you even opened the secret stuff.”

“Not a secret if you know about it,” he countered, tugging on your arm as he attempted to get you to stand up to put your coat on.

You smile, “Lizzie doesn’t know about it, does she, eh?” before muttering to yourself in what you assumed was a quieter voice but in reality Thomas heard every word that fell afterwards, “See, I’ve got something over you, Lizzie Stark… suck--” hic “-- on that.”

He chuckles, “Put your coat on, love.”

“Alright Tommy… whatever you say,” you sway from side to side as he holds your coat open, waiting for you to push your arms through the holes. When you eventually manage to, you throw a hand in the air and point towards the door and exclaim, “Onwards!” before collapsing into Tommy’s side.

“Oh fu- okay, you got this Y/N.”

Why had he let you drink so much?

You drunkenly giggle, “Tommy,” you sing-song, “let’s hire someone to play music for your party. I adore music at parties, right after I adore drinking at parties.”

“I think I saw the drinking part coming,” he waits a beat, wrapping his arms around your torso as he leans you against the wall so he can put his coat on, ready to accompany you home.

“We should decorate the office; it’s almost Christmas and I’ve been staring at grainy paper and beige walls the whole way through December. Where’s the garland? We could’ve at least gotten Johnny--” hic “--Doggs to lend a hand with it. He always was nice to me when he came visiting for you.”

Pushing yourself off of the wall you slump against Tommy, making him frantically grab you, trying to make sure you don’t fall over now that he is ready.

“Johnny is a good man.”

You mumble a response.

For the rest of the way home you ramble, Tommy agreeing and making conversation with the parts that were coherent. He found that maybe you needed to let loose like that a little more often. You found that maybe Tommy wasn’t all business and harsh looks, there was something inside of him that cared -- no matter how small and hidden away it was. Maybe another Grace is what he was afraid of but when you woke up in the morning, still dressed in your pinafore from yesterday but with a clean(ish) face and bare feet covered by the blankets, you knew there was something more to Tommy.

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pretty-bratty · 3 years

Text

Baby Can You See Through The Tears Teasers

I'm finally doing it.

Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who reads, loves, waits this fic and keeps up with my procrastinating ass. It truly means the world to me. Thank you all.

Special huge thank you to @dracula-incarnate who not only hyped me to post these teasers and to write in general, but also hypes and supports me in everything all the way, and also proof read everything as my beta. I wouldn't post them without you, thank you so much.

So, under the cut are the teasers - different bits of future chapters. At the beginning of each one there's a short explanation of the scene. The warnings are the usual for this fic, and it makes sense to read it only reading fic, but just in case: dom/sub stuff and the beginning of the punishment-spanking scene. Uh...I think it's all.

If you like it, it would mean so much if you let me know your thoughts.🌠 I'm nervous and really hope it lives up to your expectations, uhhh.

Baby Can You See Through The Tears Teasers

1. (The boys want to radio Eleven to calm Steve down over the fact that his blood got in the water at the end of the previous chapter):

It takes Billy quite some time to find the walkie-talkie in the mess that Harrington turned his room into. The scolding he wants to give him is dancing on the tip of his tongue. He wonders if he's ever going to have a nice, relaxing, calm day with Harrington. And the most obvious answer leaves him unpleased.

Steve stares at him with those baby deer eyes, full of fear and hope. Fear of the darkness, and hope that Billy is going to save him from all the monsters inhabiting it. And dammit if Billy isn't going to do exactly that.

"You think it's gonna work?" Harrington's whisper is barely audible in the thick silence of his room.

Billy honestly has no idea, but Steve doesn't need to know that.

"Yeah. Of course it is, pretty boy."

He still has no idea when he finally ends up finding the walkie - thrown on a chair in a tangled mess of jeans. Really, Steve? Billy kind of toys with the idea of radioing Max first; and he would, if it was a bit earlier.

But the second he turns the walkie on, it comes to life with a calm and collected voice.

"I am here."

Billy jumps. Steve gasps, almost knocking the nightlight off the drawer.

"How...what are you doing here, kid?" Billy cringes immediately. First, it's kind of a stupid question since he’s the one who originally was going to reach out. Secondly, he sounds exactly like the Chief.

"You needed me." El's voice is clear and somber. Billy pictures her serious, concentrated face. Sometimes he feels like they have a lot in common; something deep down in the girl's eyes speaks to him in a language he feels only he can understand. "You needed me and I am here."

2. (Just some atmospheric bits):

It's still warm, despite the pouring rain. They dragged the loungers under the porch awning and now sit there. Watching the streams of water falling everywhere. Watching it dance on the pool's surface. Playing the fastest drumbeat Billy's ever heard. He can't say he loves the rain. Actually, he really doesn't like it at all; but this, today's rain… it brings some much needed peace to his soul.

Harrington seems to appreciate it as well, considering how he hums contentedly, laying across the loungers, head in Billy's lap. He only stirs a few times, squirming, nose scrunched. Billy supposes it's because of his freshly spanked ass touching the lounger's hard surface. He chuckles under his breath at the thought, scratching the boy's head.

Harrington looks up at him with big brown eyes that are red rimmed and tired, yet warm. Always so warm and comforting. He gives Billy a little content smile and lays back down, cheek pressed to Billy's thigh, skin on skin.

Billy cards his fingers through this wild, absolutely lush mane of brown hair. And it suddenly shoots through him… this boy is his. Not just simply his. Not like he was Wheeler's - okay, Billy, better not think about it. No need to get angry - but in many, many more ways.

Harrington trusts him unconditionally in everything. Absolutely everything. And Billy's has way more power, belonging, and responsibility than he has ever dared to have before.

He cuddles the boy in closer to himself. His hold on him perhaps a bit too tight. His heart chattering wildly. Harrington looks up again; eyes a bit puzzled, questioning, but Billy gives him a calming smile and a gentle tug on his hair.

(...)

The rain is soothing. Heavy streams drumming everywhere in the Harringtons' posh backyard. Making everything wet and fresh and transparent green. Somehow still so full of light. Like you're looking at the world through a green-glass bottle.

"I was kinda afraid of swimming before that, y'know…" Harrington says suddenly, without moving. Billy doesn't see his face. "Before B… before B-Barb."

He shivers when he says the name, and Billy holds him closer, frowning.

"How come? I thought you loved splashing in the pool and all?"

3. (Some Billy, Steve and Max snippet, at Steve's place):

"Let's build a pillow fort!" Harrington throws all these gigantic pillows and blankets on the floor in front of TV. Almost knocking down some vase in the process; Billy's pretty sure it must cost a small fortune. Mrs. Harrington would be really grateful to Billy for catching it at the last moment.

"Jeez," Max breathes out. "Pillow fort, ice cream and movies? Everyone else will lose their shit!"

"We won't tell them." Harrington frowns, apparently not wanting any of his gremlin gang to feel left out. Billy rolls his eyes so hard it hurts.

"Oh no," Max smirks. "We're definitely telling them!"

Billy snorts. Harrington looks between them, a smile playing on his lips.

"You two sure you're not blood related?"

4. (Same part, they're going to watch a movie, Billy told them no scary movies):

Max smirks.

"Let's put on a scary movie. Billy will want to know how it ends so he'll grumble but watch it."

Billy watches them quietly from the kitchen doorway. He's on his way back with their bowls of ice cream, and that's when he hears Max mentioning a horror movie. Now he's too curious about how Harrington’s going to act since he's not directly with him.

Yesterday he'd definitely put it on, just to spite Billy. Let's see if today's lesson taught him anything.

The boy squirms in his spot, wide eyes darting around.

"But he told us not to. He'll be pissed."

Max just rolls her eyes.

"You realize he's not as scary as he thinks he is, right?

Billy gapes at the statement, because true - but excuse her!

Steve's voice is low.

"Mmm- well, yeah. He's not, but..."

'...But his belt on my ass definitely is!' is clearly written across his face. Billy puts a hand over his mouth, juggling the bowls and trying not to snort out loud and blow his cover.

Harrington bites his lower lip.

"But he specifically told us not to. I think it would be nice to listen to him, don't you, Max? And like, a comedy sounds pretty good to me right now."

Billy can just burst with pride for his boy.

Max rolls her eyes once more, but only for the sake of her reputation. Then she gets up and picks a comedy. Secretly, she's actually pretty excited about it. At least from what Billy can see.

5. (Different bits for the spanking scene):

"Now, come here. And bring me that brush," Billy squints at the wooden hairbrush laying on Harrington's desk.

"What?" The boy knits his brows together in confusion. "You gonna… brush my hair?"

"Oh darling," Billy chuckles darkly, shaking his head. He almost feels guilty due to Steve's innocent, obvious confusion. "No. I'm gonna make sure I ingrain the consequences of giving me attitude, like yesterday's little outburst, in your precious head."

(...)

Billy swirls the brush in his hand. It's pretty heavy. Wide too. He feels bad for the boy - well, almost.

"Sit."

He jerks his head in a curt nod, and Harrington sits near him nervously. Billy taps the brush on his palm, making a thud, and hears a quiet sharp inhale.

"I'm going to punish you now," Billy looks at Harrington closely, catching every little detail. How he licks his lips, throat working. How he squirms, big brown eyes watching Billy's every move. "You got my belt a couple of days ago, so it might be too soon for a second round on that lil' ass of yours."

The boy's cheeks and ears were growing darker and darker shades of red.

"You deserve something harder than just my hand though. Acted like a total spoiled brat too; so s' pretty fitting, I guess. Dontcha, Stevie?"

Harrington just whimpers weakly, eyeing the brush in Billy's hands.

"I asked if you think it's fitting, Steve?"

Billy let's some steel slip into his tone, and the boy shudders.

"It's-it's gonna sting..." his voice is small, but he's still whining.

Such a brat. Billy growls.

"Yes, it is." He fixes Harrington with a stern look, slapping the brush on his own palm at the same time. "Your spankings are supposed to sting. It's a punishment. And you deserve a punishment, don't you?"

Billy's setting his jaw, asking for the last time. If the boy decides to keep being a brat, he can take the belt after a brush too. And apparently, Harrington senses it.

"I do." He whispers miserably. Glancing at Billy and correcting himself immediately, licking his lips and flushing more. "I do think I deserve this punishment, Billy."

Billy nods, spreading his legs wider and laying the brush on the bed next to him.

"Get over my lap."

"What??" Harrington flushes red to the roots of his fluffy hair. "I...what...No! I'm not some fucking toddler!"

Billy flares his nostrils, breathing in and out. If Max ever dares to accuse him of lacking patience ever again, so help him...

"Could've fooled me." He speaks in a quiet, terrifying growl. "Acting exactly like one."

Harrington gulps.

"Up. Bend. Over my knee, ass in the air." Billy orders in a low voice, no room for discussion left. "Tell me 'No' one more time during the punishment, and see what happens, pretty boy."

Harrington inhales sharply and almost jumps up, legs wobbly. Then tiptoes around and finally lowers himself across Billy's lap; eyes squeezed shut, cheeks and ears tomato red.

Billy immediately manhandles him into position. Leaving one knee under Steve and hooking the other leg over the boy's thighs, holding him successfully in place. Gonna come in handy when Harrington starts squirming and trying to kick - and Billy already knows it's gonna happen.

Billy looks down, sees Harrington's messy mop of brown hair. His hands nervously fidgeting on the floor. Billy yanks his shorts down rather harshly, and there's a gasp, followed by a little, scared whimper.

"Gonna squirm again, huh?" Billy bounces his knee a bit.

"Uh...y-yeah," a quiet, honest, reply from Steve surprises him.

Billy hums, running his hand up and down Harrington's boxers-clad ass.

"I'll take that as I should hold you during all your punishments from now on, hm, baby?"

There's a sniff and a quiet ‘please’ from Harrington.

"Sure, pretty boy. Setting it as a rule then." Billy puts his hand on the small of the boy's back, holding him in place. He hears almost a relieved sigh.

"No fighting. Sit still. You're not allowed to cover your pretty ass, got it?"

"Yes, Billy."

Billy watches his own hands on the waistband of Harrington's Calvins, snapping it at his skin lightly.

"Tell me why are you getting spanked now, baby?" He smirks, feeling how the boy flushes at the word ‘spanked’; emphasizing it for a bigger effect.

#baby can you see through the tears #harringrove #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fic #harringrove fanfiction #billy x steve #steve x billy #steve harrington #billy hargrove #pretty bratty writing

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yeah-klave · 3 years

Text

Bran Flakes

Summary: Klaus helps Dave get that sweet, sweet relief.

Genre: Smut.

**FURTHER DETAILS AND WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT**

WARNING: Adult content (18+ only please). Klaus gives Dave a blumpkin. So... kinky smut. Although - because it’s still me - I have written this in the most romantic/tasteful way possible. But if this doesn’t sound like your thing, please don’t read on.

A/N: This is set in an unspecified modern AU.

Word length: 1.5k

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

*****************************************************

This, Dave though gloomily, was just downright uncomfortable. He shifted his feet on the tiles, raising up onto the balls of his feet to lift his knees, trying to find a better position. He took a deep breath and then strained again. Nothing.

He let his bare feet slap back down onto the bathroom floor, exhaling with a grimace. This was the third day in a row, Dave thought miserably. Three days of feeling heavy, bloated and frustrated. His sphincter clenched involuntarily and he could feel the stubborn, solid mass just inside the entrance to his rectum.

That’s it, he sighed wearily, next time we go grocery shopping I’m buying some bran flakes or something. I don’t care if Klaus laughs at me and makes old man jokes, I clearly need more fibre in my diet. Besides, this situation is hardly ideal for either of us.

Last night, while the two of them had been fooling around in bed, Klaus had licked the shell of his ear, slid his hand down between Dave’s legs and then asked quietly, in a low voice heavy with lust, “Dave, can I be on top tonight?”

Dave’s face had twisted in discomfort. He was painfully aware of his boated abdomen and his uncomfortable fullness.

“Umm,” he’d said awkwardly “can we do something else instead?” And, of course, Klaus had just agreed straight away, without trying to change Dave’s mind. Like always. Because he was respectful of Dave, in a way that Dave hadn’t thought was possible before he met Klaus. Until then, Dave hadn’t thought he was worthy of such respect.

But Klaus so very rarely asked to top. Not with words, not like that. So, he must have really been in the mood, Dave thought. And Dave had turned him down. Because of this.

Dave screwed up his eyes at the memory. “Dammit,” he grunted in frustration, “come on!” He clenched his face and tried pushing and straining again.

And it was right at that moment that Klaus walked in.

“Klaus!” Dave yelped, his face turning bright red. “Klaus, I’m… I’m just…” he spluttered self-consciously. “The bathroom’s… occupied,” he finished lamely.

Klaus rolled his eyes and then smiled down at Dave, who was valiantly trying to look as composed as possible, while sitting on the toilet with his trousers around his ankles. “I can see that, Dave” he said lightly, “but I want to give you a blowjob.”

Dave spluttered again.

“Umm… okay,” he said after a moment. “Well, that sounds lovely. But can you give me a couple of minutes to… errr…” he gestured his current position “…finish up here first, please?”

“No need,” Klaus said briskly.

He dropped to his knees in front of Dave, gave his firm thigh a reassuring pat, then took hold of Dave’s flaccid penis and started rubbing.

“Klaus…” Dave said uneasily.

“Just relax,” Klaus replied, gently pushing Dave to lean back again the raised lid. Then he nudged Dave’s legs further apart and leaned down and took Dave into his mouth.

Dave blinked, looking down at Klaus incredulously.

“You really are something else, you know that?” He said fondly, running his fingers through Klaus’ dishevelled curls. Klaus just hummed in reply.

Dave leaned back and took a deep breath. Klaus’ mouth felt amazing, as always. But this time, it also felt kind of weird. He was very aware of where they were, the porcelain bowl he was sitting over and what he’d been trying to do only a moment ago.

Klaus worked Dave’s length with a skill borne of much practice, setting a decidedly slow and sweetly gratifying rhythm. Dave sighed again and then slowly started rocking his hips in gentle participation.

Suddenly, Klaus’ head came up and he detached from Dave’s cock with a wet pop.

“No,” he said simply. The tiny frown lines that appeared between his dark eyebrows made him look almost comically disgruntled. “I told you to relax, Dave. Just sit back and take it.”

“Ummm… okay,” Dave said again, more than a little perplexed.

“Just completely relax,” Klaus said earnestly. And with that, he lent forwards and took Dave back into his mouth.

Dave sighed and cleared his mind, letting the sensations overtake him. Okay, he though, I’m not entirely sure where this is all coming from, but he is right, this does feel nice.

Dave sat back and let Klaus pleasure him with his mouth, consciously unclenching all the tightness he held in his muscles – his shoulders, his jaw, his thighs, his stomach. He felt loose… free… weightless.

Suddenly, Dave felt his sphincter relax and the swooping twist in his stomach that always preceded a bowel movement.

“Stop! Stop!” Dave said urgently.

Klaus popped his head up again.

“What?” Klaus said, his chin shinning with saliva, looking up at Dave with his large, dark rimmed eyes.

Dave swallowed uncomfortably, his ears red and his cheeks heating up. “I…” he started awkwardly. “I felt like… like I was going to… you know… go” he finished, mortified.

Klaus rolled his eyes fondly. “Well, yeah, Dave,” he smiled from between Dave’s spread thighs, “that’s kind of the point.”

“What?” Dave said. Rather eloquently – he thought – considering the situation.

Klaus shrugged and looked up at him affectionately.

“You’ve been pretty constipated recently, haven’t you?” he said.

“Umm, yeah, I guess” Dave reluctantly agreed.

“You definitely have,” Klaus confirmed.

“How can you be so sure?” Dave asked, furrowing his brows slightly.

“Oh, please, Dave” Klaus huffed. “We’ve been together so long, by this point I probably know your body better than I know my own.”

“Fair enough” Dave conceded.

“And,” Klaus carried on, “it’s been making you feel crap.” Dave could only nod weakly. “Well,” Klaus said with a smile, “I’m in the business of making Dave feel good and also making sure Dave doesn’t feel crap. So…” he gestured their current position.

“Really?” Dave asked, looking down at him with raised eyebrows. “Isn’t it just a bit… I dunno… icky?”

Klaus actually laughed out loud at that. “After all the stuff we’ve done together, Dave?”

Dave sighed and closed his eyes in defeat.

“Okay,” he said slowly, looking back down at Klaus. “But afterwards, if this ends up being gross, just remember you asked for it.”

“Don’t worry, Dave,” Klaus grinned, giving Dave’s leg another reassuring squeeze. “I promise, from the look on my face afterwards, anyone would swear your shit smelled like roses.” Then he winked and took Dave back into his mouth.

Dave huffed a laugh and let Klaus push him back into a reclined position. He breathed deeply and allowed himself to relax again. Klaus brought his hand up and lightly rested in on Dave’s lower abdomen, gently rubbing in soothing circles. Dave couldn’t help but smile.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of Klaus’ mouth; on the pleasure radiating from the hot, wet slide of his lips. One area at a time, he consciously released the tension he held in his muscles: his face, his jaw, his shoulders, his stomach, his thighs. He breathed deeply. He felt weightless and floaty and calm and aroused and open and relaxed. And finally, there it was. He felt that familiar swooping sensation in his bowels, a build of pressure and then the delicious slide, as the solid mass slowly began moving down his passage and sliding out of his body.

Dave let out a long, loud moan of relief. It felt so good, he wasn’t even ashamed of the embarrassingly loud splash that followed a moment later.

Dave felt Klaus stretch a smile around his cock before picking up the pace and bobbing his head faster. Still riding the high, and feeling gloriously light and empty, Dave absentmindedly threaded his fingers back into Klaus’ hair and played with his curls until, finally, Klaus tipped him over the edge and he came hard, pulsing thickly and releasing down Klaus’ throat.

After a final, affectionate lick, Klaus raised his head and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He was grinning from ear to ear, a smug expression plastered on his face.

Dave rolled his eyes as he looked down at him, but he also couldn’t help the flutter he felt in his heart at the sight of the incredible, wonderful, unbelievable man he was lucky enough to be sharing his life with.

“Okay, fine” Dave sighed in a mock begrudging tone. “You were right, that felt amazing.” Then he added sincerely, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Klaus grinned. “So,” he added after a beat, raising an eyebrow, a twinkle in his eyes. “How do you feel about returning the favor?”

#klave #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #klaus/dave #klaus x dave

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Text

So, this began several months ago like this and because I cope by putting my sweet bby through the ringer, it has risen.

Some of that sweet sweet Steve angst. This takes place post-season 3 but they burned the Mind Flayer outta Billy, established relationship.

Read on Ao3

It was Will Byers that found him.

Steve had begun hosting DnD night after the second run-in with the Upside Down. He said it was to keep the kids out of the hair of the rest of the Party Moms, but Billy knew it was to keep the house filled with noise, light, life.

He knew Steve had been hanging on by the slimmest, teeniest little thread after this summer, so the kids were over more often than not. They would play for a few hours, watch a movie (deciding which movie usually took at least an hour in and of itself) and all the kids would pass out in the sitting room. Billy and Steve would take that opportunity to sneak up to Steve’s room for the night.

It was a typical game night when Will was startled awake. Almost a year later, he was still getting nightmares of his possession, of the Mind Flayer using him to hurt others, lure people to their deaths. He needed a minute to gather himself, so he went to the bathroom to the left of the upstairs landing, the bathroom almost nobody uses.

When he opens the door, the first thing he notices is the clumps of dark brown hair littering the counter and sink.

He met Steve’s eyes in the mirror and found them red-rimmed, filled with tears. His hair was a fucking mess. Random chunks had been cut at odd angles. Nothing was the same length and overall his hair was shorter than Will has ever seen.

He didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

He was wearing green shorts Will recognized from the Hawkins High Basketball Team and a ratty old Mötley Crüe shirt Will would have never pictured Steve wearing, let alone owning.

He put the scissors down when he noticed Will behind him and whipped around. His breathing was fast and ragged, he had a white-knuckle grip on the counter behind him.

“Steve?” Will took a step forward as Steve’s knees seemed to buckle. He lowered himself to the ground

“Get Billy. He’s-he’s in my room. Tell him I-” he closed his eyes and took a few shuddering breaths. “Tell him I need him.”

Will booked it the fuck outta the bathroom, opening doors at random as he sped down the hall. He felt like shit leaving Steve alone in the obvious panic he’s in, but if Billy can help, then Will’s helping too.

He knew Steve’s room from the honey smell. Steve had a very particular scent Will recognized immediately, the fresh wheat of a meadow in late summer. The next thing he noticed was the giant lump of very obviously naked Billy draped across the left side of the bed. Will’s mouth was dry as he approached, but this was important. Focus Will, c’mon. He whispered out Billy’s name.

Billy was a light sleeper. He heard the door open and was awake right away. When it wasn’t Steve who was silhouetted against the hall lighting, he knew something was fucking wrong.

The second Will Byers whispered out his name in the darkness, he was up and out of bed, digging through the piles of his and Steve’s clothes strewn about the floor for something, anything, to put on.

“Where is he?”

Will just turned, motioning for Billy to follow him down the hall to the large bathroom just to the left of the landing.

Billy’s heart shattered the second he saw the devastation that was Steve Harrington in a heap on the floor. He approached like he would a scared animal, slowly lowering himself near Steve’s head, carefully keeping his movements slow and deliberate.

“Baby, it’s me. I’m here, I’m right here for you, Honey. I’m not gonna touch you, okay? You come to me when you’re ready just like always. I’m here, Baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

Will’s brain was going a mile a fucking minute. He felt like he was going to throw up. He was too worried about Steve to actually process what Billy was saying, to actually process the fact that Billy and Steve were obviously, together, in a way Will had dreamed of being with another guy. All he could think about were Steve’s uneven breaths and all the fucking hair covering the bathroom.

He began to clean it up, quietly picking up the clumps of dark hair and placing them in the trash he found under the cabinet while Steve slowly came into himself enough to crawl pathetically into Billy’s lap.

“Can you talk to me, Stevie? What’s going on?” Billy was running his fingers up and down Steve’s back, gently making patterns through the shirt Will now figured wass Billy’s.

“I wanted, I wanted it gone,” was Steve’s mumble. Will had abandoned cleaning, dropping himself down the wall adjacent to the one Billy was propped against.

“Okay, okay. Can you tell me why? Take your time, Baby. We’re right here for you.”

“Had another, ‘nother nightmare,” Steve was still taking shaky breathes, spitting out his words on every exhale. “‘Bout the-the Russians.”

“Okay, I know what happened. I understand, Baby. Just focus on your breathing, okay? Try to match mine. We’re not going anywhere.” Billy looked at Will, flashing him a small smile he sheepishly returned. Steve turned his face into Billy’s chest, closing his eyes and checking out, focusing on the steady rise and fall of Billy’s strong chest.

“Is he, is he gonna be okay?” Will was about to have a breakdown of his own. Watching Steve, someone he always saw as strong, the protector, succumb to the same panic and fear Will had felt his whole life. It was jarring.

“Yeah, kid. This happens sometimes. We just gotta give him a little extra love.” He huffed a breath. “Anyone ever fill you in about the Russians?”

“Kind of? Like Dustin told us all about being trapped in that elevator and the underground base while we were getting the Mind Flayer out of you. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Steve say anything about it though.”

“Well, you know how he is. Threw himself of the sword so Dustin and Erica could get outta there. He ended up getting- I mean he and Robin both got, drugged and, and tortured.”

Will felt the tears he’d been holding back this whole time roll down his cheeks.

“I didn’t know that, he-why didn’t he tell us? We can help him. We all l-love him a lot and we’re a family. We’re his family.”

“He knows that. He does, and it means a whole hell of a lot to him, you guys really are his family, but he’s-he’s got it in his head he’s gotta be the strong one. The one to protect all of us, so he pushes his shit down until, well, until this happens. But, kid, you gotta, you gotta promise both of us not to go tellin’ this to the other nerds, okay? You know he would fuckin’ hate it if they all knew about this, and I’m not-I’m not just talking about the attack, I mean, you know, me and him.”

“I promise! I really promise, I know what it’s like, the-the panic and, you know, the, well the other thing.” Billy’s eyes brightened.

“Yeah? You a social deviant too, Baby Byers?”

“I, well, I think so.”

“Hey, welcome to the club! Nice to know there're more queers in Hawkins. I need to give this hick town more fuckin’ credit. Good for you, figurin’ that shit out quick. It’ll save you a lotta confusion. ‘Lotta heartbreak too.”

“I think I’ve always known. Never thought about girls, not when, not when-well. I always knew.”

“Who was your first crush? That guy that just made you go ‘hot damn’?” Billy was grinning at Will. “Mine was Jim Morrison. Saw a poster of him at a record store once, and just, you know. Knew it.”

Will didn’t really know what to say. He knew exactly who it was that awoke the gay beast inside him, but he didn’t really know how to tell Billy.

“This is kind of, well it’s kind of embarrassing,” That only made Billy’s smile grow.

“You need to tell me right the fuck now, kid. C’mon, I can tell you Steve’s too!”

Will flushed. So he was doing this.

“So, he probably told you this, but um, Steve used to coach little league. And, he was my coach the summer before sixth grade, and, well...” he trailed off, not making eye contact with Billy until he let out a bark of laughter.

“Are you fucking telling me,” He shifted Steve around on his lap who made a disgruntled noise before settling back into Billy’s chest. He was entirely zoned out, focused on the rhythm of Billy’s breaths and the cadence of his voice, not registering any actual words from the other two.

“Are you fucking telling me, that Steve Harrington, this lump right here, caused your sexual awakening?” Billy was laughing.

“I mean, he was always really nice to us, and like, I hated baseball, but he made it, he made it really fun and he would always be so excited for us when we did well-”

“Plus, he’s hot as fuck.” He cut Will of, shooting him a wink, with his tongue between his teeth. Will went bright fucking red. “I’m just fuckin’ with you kid. I know he’s a sweet one.”

“He made me want to play baseball. I hated baseball. Only did it because my dad made me. He probably thought it would straighten me out.” Billy’s teasing smile dropped from his face.

“Sounds like we had the same kinda dad.” He took a breath, looking down at Steve for a moment. “He ever hit you?”

Will’s blood ran cold.

“No, not me. He used to hit Mom and Jonathan. I think they both thought that if they got hit, at least the rest of us weren’t gettin’ any. She definitely caught him slapping Jonathon around once, though. All his stuff was on the lawn within the hour.”

Billy smiled, but it was kind of, sad. “Your mom is a damn spitfire. I adore that woman.”

“I do too. She’s the best mom in the world.” Will could talk about his mom all day and all fucking night.

Steve was shifting around again, moving between Billy’s legs and sitting up more on his own.

“Hey, Baby. Welcome back to us. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He looked at Will. “I’m really sorry. I’m really sorry you had to see all that.”

“It’s okay. I understand. I get anxiety like that too.” Steve smiled at him blearily before turning to Billy. “Okay, be straight up with me. How bad’s the damage?” He swept his fingers over his hair, wincing when he felt the different lengths and random chunks.

“I’m not gonna lie, it’s not good. But I think Robin could fix it. She seems like the type that can cut hair. It’s gonna have to be short though. Real short.”

Steve whined, pushing his bottom lip out at Billy. “You gonna dump me? I’m not pretty enough for you anymore?”

Will’s heart nearly stopped when Billy leaned in to bite at Steve’s pouty bottom lip. He had never seen moments like this between two men, just sweet moments that showed how much they love each other.

“You’ll always be my Pretty Boy, you fuckin’ know that.” They were smiling at one another so softly. “You know Will and I got some nice bonding time in while you were working on your breathing.” Steve leaned sideways against Billy’s chest, slipping one hand into the big front pocket of his sweatshirt.

“Yeah? What’d you all talk about?”

“Oh, you know. Shitty dads, first crushes, normal stuff.”

“Oooh, I already know yours is Jim Morrison, you’re old news around here, Bill. Care to share, Will the Wise?” No, Steve, he does not care to share.

“Oh, umm it was actually uh,” He reached around for a name, absolutely not ready to admit to Steve his first crush. “Marlon Brando?”

Steve’s tired eyes lit up a little. “Brando? Honestly, he was one a’ mine too. And Harrison Ford. I saw Star Wars four times in theatres. Couldn’t tell you a single plot detail. So you’re playin’ for our team?” Billy rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like fucking jock under his breath. Steve elbowed him.

“Um, yeah. Although, I haven’t really, told anyone, so if you guys could, you know.”

“Oh, yeah, discretion is key.” Steve nodded. “We’re not too bad at keeping secrets, you don’t gotta worry about us.”

“So none of your friends know? That’s rough, Byers. I mean, even here I’ve found a few people I can tell, Steve, obviously. But California, all ‘a my friends knew.”

“Well, I mean, I told Mike. Last year. And he was really cool about it, but then this summer we got into a fight, and he kinda, threw it back in my face.”

Billy and Steve both looked shocked and appalled on Will’s behalf.

“What did the little fucker say? I’ll kick his ass if he called you a fa-”

“No! Nothing like that, it’s cool, Billy. He just, well we got into it about how he and Lucas didn’t really have time to play DnD, or hang out with me in general anymore, and he said ‘it’s not my fault you don’t like girls’. We didn’t really talk about it, I mean, he kinda apologized, but it was right when everything was going down. So, I put it aside.” Steve got his Mom Face on.

“But have you talked about it since everything has blown over? Has he apologized? He shouldn’t have said that. He just wanted to hurt you and that was the one thing that probably came into his head, but that isn’t okay, especially if he was the only one you trusted enough to tell.”

“I know. I keep meaning to talk to him, but we’ve been really good lately and I don’t want to, want to, fuck anything up.”

“All the more reason to do it now. If you two are really tight right now, he’ll probably listen to how shitty he made you feel, and feel really bad about it.” Billy was nodding along to what Steve was saying. “And, you know if you ever need to talk about shit, we’re here for you, and you know, probably understand you more.”

“Or if you just want someone to teach the little poser a lesson-”

“I think I’ll just talk to him, but, uh, thanks?” Billy grinned. Steve leaned back into him, pulling Billy’s left arm around his chest to pull him in more. “Um, Steve, do you think I could-I mean, would it be okay to ask you what, um, all this is.” Steve’s face fell immediately, and he shrank back more into Billy. “You don’t have to! I just, it kinda freaked me out to see you like that. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay. I can’t-I can’t talk about it too much right now, I’m still a little” he looked at Billy “fragile, I guess. But, well. What do you want to know?”

“Nothing you don’t want to talk about, or, or feel okay telling me but, I mean, why go for the hair?”

Steve shifted some more. It looked as though he was trying to disappear into Billy.

“You know about the Russians? The ones under Starcourt?”

“Yeah, Billy filled me in a little. Just generally what, what happened to you.”

Steve sighed.

“Well, for some fuckin’ reason, the general that was, in charge of us, he, uh, he really liked pulling at my hair. He would just grab it and move my head around, or-or use it to hold me steadily while they, um, while they hit me and-when I woke up I couldn’t think. I just, I wanted it gone.”

Billy’s face was white as a sheet. He looked like someone had pulled the entire floor out from under him.

“Steve, why the fuck didn’t you tell me? I thought you-you used to love when I played with your hair. I would’ve stopped.” He looked disgusted with himself at the idea of contributing to Steve’s pain in any way.

“I thought that-I don’t know. Maybe it would go away? That I would like it again?”

Billy looked like he could cry. A level of hurt and remorse and apology Will had never seen him exhibit.

“Jesus, Stevie. You need to tell me when you feel shit like that. You know all of my shit and triggers and whatever.”

“I know,” Steve buried his face back into Billy’s chest, curling his body inwards again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, you know me though. You know I don’t like-”

“Having a weakness?” Billy seemed sardonic. Steve’s head shot up to glare at Billy in the eye.

“That is not what I was going to say and you know it. I was going to say that you know I don’t like being vulnerable and I’m sorry and I’m working on it. But this was, I didn’t even realize what I had done until Will walked in.”

A look of pure horror came over Steve’s face.

“How the fuck am I supposed to hide this from the rest of The Party tomorrow? Dustin is gonna ask so many questions I do not have the answers for.” Billy chuckled lightly, all tension that may have been building between them melting away. They snuggled even closer and Will’s heart turned to a big pile of mush.

“Just stay in bed tomorrow. I’ll tell the nerds you’re sick. Plus, you always ass out for about 18 hours after a panic attack anyway.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Will, do you think you could maybe, not tell anyone about this? I’m gonna have to come up with a cover story and everything.”

“I already promised Billy I wouldn’t. But, you know how you said I could always talk to you two? Well, the same goes for you. We all really love you, Steve. And maybe we don’t understand exactly what you’re going through, we just, we want to be here for you. We are here for you.” Steve’s eyes went even bigger and all watery when Will spoke.

“That, that really means a lot to me. I love you shitbirds. I hope you all know that.”

“We do,” Will said quickly. He doesn’t think he could watch Steve cry anymore tonight. Or maybe ever. “We know that.” Steve gave him a watery smile, looking at Billy’s watch.

“I think it’s time for sleep. I need a soft bed and a big man. Now.” Billy rolled his eyes, but picked Steve up as if he weighed nothing.

“Go to bed, Baby Byers.” He knocked Steve’s foot into Will as he went past.

“Thanks, Will.” Steve’s voice was soft as Billy brought them back into the bedroom.

Will went downstairs as quietly as possible, settling back into his little makeshift bed.

“Hey, you okay?”

And of course it was Mike, whispering to him from his own little spot.

“Yeah. I’m good. Let’s talk in the morning.” And Mike smiled at him, and gave him a little wave, and flopped back onto his pillow.

#ummmm #heres some steve angst bc im on breakdown number 3 #this has been in my wips for months so here it is #im sorry if its all over the place my brain isnt really real today #some original content from em for once in my life :)#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

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beetlebitchywitch · 3 years

Text

So hi! I wrote this fic back in December as part of a Secret Santa with the Dante’s Inferno AU crowd, and I got @neitherworld! And since some people are being RUDE and claiming self-shippers are just too cowardly to ship Beetleb@bes, here’s the fic I wrote of her OC Bambi and Movie Beej on a special night at Dante’s to show how fun of a character she is. Enjoy!

WARNING: Mild nudity, some sexy stuff, I’d say rated M but not fully NSFW

Like any normal night at Dante’s, the bass was thumping so heavily Bambi could feel it rattling her posture collar. Her eyes scanned the show floor, catching Madame’s gaze for only a moment before she was off to scold a random ghoul for getting too handsy during his lapdance. Up on the stage, Mal was winding around the pole in a way that enchanted everyone in attendance, though the way Lorelai’s wings glittered under the spotlight as she danced her famous “feather fan” number drew just as much attention. She grumbled good naturedly under her breath as she turned back to face the bar- honestly, those two had such natural moneymakers, and here she was stuck with a stupid jello neck. Whatever, her tits made up for any lack of “exotic” flavor. Speaking of flavor, the bright pink cocktail on the bartop was calling her name, set down gently by Niphera with a soft smile. Bambi squealed, bringing the drink to her lips before pausing for a moment, sending them a sly smile.

“NiNi, what’s in this exactly?” she asked, thrumming her perfectly manicured nails against the bartop. She knew how much her...electric personality could overwhelm them, so she tried her best to keep her energy to herself while holding a conversation with them.

“Nothing that will get you too drunk for your next set,” they chuckled, wiping down a glass absentmindedly. “You know Madame doesn’t like it when you perform after drinking too much.”

“Oh, what does she know?” she huffed, the cocktail sloshing a bit as she crossed her arms. “I happen to think that a little liquid courage makes my performances even better!”

“Perhaps. Or it could be like the time you yakked in a mafioso’s lap and had to use a week’s earnings to pay for his dry cleaning.”

Just the memory made Bambi pout even harder.

“Stupid prick, demon earns 20 times what I do shaking my ass by dealing in some shady shit and he has the nerve to take money outta my paycheck? And now I have to get cut off like some little baby impling.” She sighed deeply. “Whatever, this shit looks tasty anyway. Thanks, bubs.”

“Anytime,” Niphera said softly, getting back to pouring their next order of drinks. “Besides, it’s the least I could do on your birthday.”

Bambi’s eyes widened above the rim of her glass, which she excitedly put down with a beaming grin.

“My birthday? Goodness, how ever did you know about that?”

“Well, let’s see,” Niphera said with a sarcastic, but good natured bite. “Could it have been the notes under all of our pillows reminding us of your birthday? Or perhaps the sash you’re wearing right now that says ‘Birthday Girl’?”

Ok, so maybe Bambi could be a bit over the top. So she wanted a little extra attention on her special day, ain’t nothin’ wrong with that!

“Well, I’m glad my gentle reminders worked! Because today is my day and if I wanna celebrate it by getting wasted on Netherbooze and taking my top off, then that’s how I’m gonna do it!”

“Your top’s already off, Bam.”

She looked down, and then paused.

“...So it is...my bottoms then!”

With a heavy sigh, Niphera moved to the other side of the bar without a word, an unspoken cue for Bambi to leave them alone. Their relationship was odd, but Bambi did her best to make it work and respect their boundaries...most of the time. Sighing, she turned back to her drink, taking a few messy gulps and giggling when she could feel rivulets of booze trickling down her neck and between her tits. If anybody was watching her, they were sure getting a good show.

“Well hey there, little fawn. Ya sure seem to be enjoyin’ yourself.”

Bambi froze, her happy grin immediately turning to a small scowl. Of course he would be the one to show up looking for some tail and interrupting her night.

“What do you want, Juice?” she asked absentmindedly, “Can’t you see I’m a little busy?”

“Oh yeah, sure as hell can, sugar tits. I gotta admit, of all the fine specimens in this place, you sure do have the nicest rack,” he rasped, pulling out a slim cigarette and lighting it by setting the tips of his fingers on fire. He took a deep drag, holding it for a moment before letting out a hard cough, not even hiding his amused smirk when the smoke blew into Bambi’s face, causing her to break into a coughing fit. She glared up at him even as her lungs spasmed, questioning whether a slap to the face or a knee to the nuts would be more fun for her.

“Well,” she interjected, letting out her last few coughs. “You sure know how to treat a lady, don’t you?”

“Come on now, babes, I don’t see no lady here,” he said with a grin, taking another puff of his cig and thankfully blowing it behind him. “But I do see a smokin’ hot broad in need of a good time.”

“Since when do I have a good time with you?” she retorted, sticking her tongue impishly. She was exaggerating, of course- her and Beetlejuice had plenty of fun teasing and playing cat and mouse before retiring upstairs for a quickie, but tonight she was not in the mood. She was tipsy, she looked drop dead gorgeous with her tits out and smothered in body glitter, and she felt like a bad bitch, so she wasn’t about to let some shambling corpse turn her into his pet for the night. She turned back to her drink, fully intent on ignoring him completely until he went off to hump some other unlucky girl’s leg. After a few moments, when she could still feel his presence behind her, she grunted in annoyance, turning back around. “Ain’t anybody ever tell ya it’s impolite to stare, stunad?”

“Ooh, I didn’t know the little deer had claws,” he laughed, only infuriating her more. “Besides, ya ever known me to be polite? Remember who you’re talkin’ too, babes.”

God, she was getting so fed up with this conversation. She was not gonna let some lousy, rancid, good for nothin’ ghost ruin her big night. She turned her stool towards him and shot him with a withering stare, which infuriatingly only seemed to amuse him further. She was about to give her a piece of her mind when- “Well, would ya look at that. Didn’t realize I was talkin’ to the birthday girl.”

Her eyes widened, them flitting down to the sash practically crushed between her tits.

“Yeah…what’s it to ya?” she asked warily. Her and Beetlejuice had clearly never been fond of one another, so she doubted he had anything good up his sleeve for her, and goddammit she just wanted to enjoy her fucking birthday! “I swear to Satan, Juice, if you pull any funny shit I won’t even have to call Ivan, I’ll rip that pencil you call a dick off from between your legs myself.”

While she hoped she sounded even the tiniest bit threatening, she was met with a bellyaching laugh from the ghost with the most, causing her to pout and cross her arms indignantly.

“One helluva performance, dollface, but ya don’t gotta worry. Not even I would pull any tricks on a lady’s birthday. In fact…”

She watched with a difficultly admitted curiosity as he began to rustle around his filthy coat, cringing only slightly when puffs of dirt floated to the floor as he aggressively searched his multiple pockets. Seemingly finding what he was looking for, he rustled around for a few seconds more before pulling out-

Oh.

“Holy smokes,” Bambi murmured in awe, staring at the absolutely stunning diamond ring clutched between Beetlejuice’s fingertips. With a high pitched squeal, she bounced up and down on the stool, reaching out to snatch the ring from him and slide it onto her finger. “A little snug, but damn that’s one helluva rock! Juice, what-”

“Least I could do, since it’s your birthday and all, kid,” he said dismissively, looking...sheepish? Bambi smirked, grabbing onto the lapels of his coat and pulling him in close, noticing how his eyes immediately fell to her exposed tits now that there was only a foot between them, wide with shock that she was actually seemingly coming onto him.

“Is that all you wanted to give me for my birthday, BJ?” she asked sweetly, her words so laden with honey that you’d think they were in a beehive. Immediately, his demeanor flipped from shock back to his typical shtick, growling softly beneath his breath as he wrapped both arms around her waist, reveling in the softness of her skin.

“I can think of a million things I could do to that pretty little body that’d make this birthday one you’d never forget, little fawn,” he growled softly. This close, she could smell the musty dampness of him, though it never perturbed her, letting out a tiny squeal of a giggle as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Just one question, Juice,” she whimpered teasingly, letting her tongue drag lasciviously across her lower lip. She could feel the ache in him as he held her close, but it was always her MO to tease before letting him have her...if she would let him have her.

“Anything, doll,” he assured her, clutching her waist tighter with desperation. “Ya wanna go topside and wreak some havoc? Come home covered in blood and fuck while we’re all messy? Come on, babes, say the word and I’ll have ya back before Madame can notice yer gone.”

“Mm, that does sound nice,” she mused, sliding one hand down his cheek and chest before walking her fingers back up slowly, daintily, feeling his need for her increase with every gentle touch. “But BJ, I gotta know…” She cupped his jaw and pulled him in close, her lips hovering above his ear as she spoke with the softest whisper. “...Is the rock real?”

She had her answer just by the way he stiffened in her arms. Fucking cheapskate.

“Now hold on, babes, ya don’t understa-”

Before he could even finish his sentence, she was out of his arms and grabbing the last half of her drink, splashing it in his face without a care. God did it fill her with power to see him standing there, floundering with booze dripping down his skin and suit and taking a layer of grime with it. She smirked, hopping down off her stool with her typical bounciness.

“Find some other pussy to give herpes to, Juice,” she quipped happily, as if she hadn’t just threw her drink in his face. “If ya wanted a cheap slut, you shouldn’t have come knockin’ on my door...I’m keepin’ the ring though. It may be fake, but hey, so is half of me!”

And with that, she was back off to the floor, sliding up a pole without a care in the world as the crowd cheered around her, and Beetlejuice just continued to stare. She knew he’d get her back for this someday, but for now, she had to say that, either living or dead, this was the best birthday she’d ever had.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfic #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice fanfiction #Beetlejuice x oc #dante’s inferno #Dante’s inferno au #beetleb@bes dni #I mean it #I’ve got more important shit to do than argue about fandom discourse so don’t even try

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countessofbiscuit · 3 years

Text

Suppressive Fire

(Sev/Scorch, E, 3.9k words)

Two bros, chillin' on a top bunk no feet apart 'cause they're vode. . . .

Fleet Support, Ord Mantell, barrack block 7 Alpha, six standard weeks after Geonosis

She’d be built like a tank. That was Requirement the First.

She’d be humanoid, or near enough. Her arms would number ... four. Yes, four arms, each of them doing something clever. Two to open my ass, two to pinch my nipples, her long tongue going to crazy town on my cock, burning off my pubes with her caustic breath—

Sergeant Draka. The near-human-tank was Sergeant Draka, sure as day.

Scorch grabbed this realization with one firm hand and tugged.

Her species was shab-if-I-know: some unhappy hybrid who’d washed up on the far edge of the Outer Rim and been scraped into one of those fringe clans that never removed their helmets. Her folks developed a reputation for ritualized kidnapping that didn’t sit right with Jango. He’d ripped Draka’s helmet off in a duel, apparently, and spending ten years training the spawn of her enemy was the price she’d agreed to pay to regain her honor. All those kids and nowhere to run: a bitter form of torture for both parties. Her trainees were an insular, silent bunch with a tendency to tactically acquire your shit when you weren’t looking, but they got the job done.

Scorch had first seen Draka at a parade for the prime minister when he was three. He’d never forgotten it: she had fangs and yellow eyes and ears that twitched at the tips like they were catching your current of fear. No wonder they’d encouraged her to keep a lid on.

Then Scorch was six and change and he’d stumbled upon her in a hallway. She’d had a cadet upside down, smoking him good for something. “What are you gawping at, Six-Two?” she’d snarled, her generous chest heaving, three spare arms tensing in his direction. “Shift it. Unless you want your balls torn off next.”

Scorch had been a little scared and a lot turned on.

Sergeant Vau didn’t have to use many words to put the fear of Fett under your skin. He was a conservative man. Sergeant Draka regarded a shebs-chewing as the highest form of oratory and her calling in life. Whenever Scorch stood downwind of her in the combat hall, he could feel his eyebrows being singed off a second time.

Sweating a little, Scorch’s core tensed as this fantasy tightened vividly in his holographic mind.

She puts two hands around my cock, one hand on my nipple, one hand clawing under my balls—

Scorch flipped her on her back.

She uses all four arms to spread her trunky legs, hairy as a man’s, wide in invitation—

“Knock it off,” barked Sev.

She was gone. In her place was the knowledge that his brother was clued in to what Scorch was doing on the bottom bunk and determined to make it stop.

But the pressure under Scorch’s balls held firm and his erection stood fast. Sev was an oaf with shit timing. There was a reason they gave Scorch the fiddly wires and det controls. He stretched his fingers and reset his grip. “Not happening, vod.”

“Do you have to be so loud about it?”

“Loud?” Had he said something? Lost control of his breathing?

“Yes. Loud. Like you’re slugging a hamm sandwich.”

Scorch frowned. “Have you ever had a hamm sandwich?”

“I don’t want one now.”

There was some improvement to technique needed there: Scorch was always open to feedback—to the challenge of reducing the marginal noise of a wank. “You embarrassed?” he found himself asking, strokes resuming. Less hamm-fistedly. His orgasm had slumped a little and he'd have to tenderly call it back up.

“I’m embarrassed for you,” Sev said.

Scorch closed his eyes, picturing something ...

Sergeant Draka was back, and now she was holding him and Sev upside down. The arrival of RC-1207 into the sim wasn’t throwing Scorch off. In fact, it was encouraging. Exciting. He even leaked a little at the idea. What was a commando without his squad? Chafed, apparently. He should’ve brought Sev into the game two nights ago, after they’d been rudely pulled from stasis in preparation for some op known only to Boss.

Scorch didn’t remember decant. But Sergeant Vau, who'd wasted no time rocking up to his watery exile when Jango had put out the word, said they’d been ugly, annoyed, and ornery. The nursery techs had given them mock, miniature Deeces to keep their fussy hands and mouths occupied.

Coming out of stasis had to be worse—they were issued Deeces again, but they weren’t left alone to soothe themselves to sleep with weapons. Now their waking moments belonged entirely to some Jedi named Zey. They’d been forced to run a gamut of proprioception and endurance tests, cleaned their spanking new Katarn and cleaned it once more for luck on Boss’s orders, and told to familiarize themselves with their upgraded HUD systems.

Scorch had and he'd found it wanting: no pre-loaded heavy-isotope bangers or high-definition tailhead reference holos. Did he have to do everything himself in this shabla army?

After submitting to all this with only mild complaint—Fixer had sworn in full sentences—the op order was still not forthcoming. Classic hurry up and fekkin' wait. Wait for instructions they didn’t even need. Coordinates, intel support, and a broad objective would have sufficed for a commando tasking: top brass still had a lot to learn. It had left Delta with more downtime than they liked and had left Scorch wanting nothing more than to take care of that perennial need in his groin. And each time, he had to get a little more creative.

“What’re you thinking ‘bout, Sev?” he teased, poking the boundaries of this sim. Longnecks hated that: it’s why they let the commandos have off-world field trips to forsaken places where they couldn’t peel back the corners without dying. “Something profane? Something a little non-regulation?”

“The shab is wrong with you.”

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking ... ” The opportunity for candor—without Fixer on the opposite bunk telling him to pipe down or Boss around to make it happen—was interesting. And as far as Scorch knew, this slap-dash prefab of a support base didn’t have surveillance bugs like their dorms on Kamino. The range and assault course here weren't even specced for lasers; they had to waste live rounds on discs and be honest about getting locked onto. Not likely.

With nothing left to hide, Scorch rolled away from the wall and relaxed onto his back, his cock stiff and spry. He pulled his hood up and over his wet glans and back down again, as far as he could take it, skin smarting nicely at the stretch. He went on, “I’m thinking about Sergeant Draka.”

“Stop,” Sev said.

“Her thick thighs in my face—”

“Stop.”

Scorch spat in his hand and throttled his shaft. “Biting our balls … ” Okay, maybe that was a little weird. But if Fixer’s quick work of the base pyrowall in the anxious hours before chill-down was anything to go by, weird could be good. Better than good.

“Don’t make me come down there,” Sev growled. Not unlike Sergeant Draka, actually.

Scorch couldn’t help himself. “Oh yeah, do come down here ... ” He bucked into his fist, as if to jerk out that ball of bliss from behind his sack. The mass of him tensed rigid under one fixed goal. His fumbled around for something in the sheets with his free hand. “Come down her thick legs ... ”

If anything could singe Draka’s hairs, it’d be Sev’s spunk. Scorch loved a blast, but Sev would sprinkle baradium on his Oaties every morning if he could. Sev would spill like a gutted aiwha, animalistic and uncontrolled, and Draka would hiss and gnash her teeth and—

And suddenly, Scorch was over the line. His base clenched hard, choking his groan of release. He convulsed and came thickly into one of yesterday’s socks.

“Shab,” he croaked, his vision returning, his limbs pooling with pituitary pleasure. “Blew up real good.”

Somewhere above him, Sev huffed. “Three nights in a row. You’re disgusting—you know that, right?”

“Stasis, my shebs. I’ve never had such busy balls in my short life.” Scorch twisted languidly to the edge of the mattress and sat up, squeezing his cock clean. “Cooking blanks like they might get lucky.” The knotted sock got buried in tomorrow’s laundry and Scorch borrowed some of Boss’s wet wipes for the cleanup. Sarge wouldn’t miss them.

“The rest of us are fine,” Sev countered.

Scorch glanced at Sev over his shoulder. His brother looked like a corpse who’d taken up reading in the afterlife. Base bunks weren’t much cosier than a stasis pod, but something else was keeping Sev’s spine stiff. Something that might affect squad performance if it wasn’t addressed: a bad case of self-inflicted blue balls.

Scorch pulled up his pants and ambled over. “You know ... you say that. But this says something else.” He grabbed Sev’s perky junk.

Happily for his brother, Scorch’s grip was light. So when Sev knocked Scorch backwards at the throat, he didn’t take Sev’s sack with him. A scuffle ensued, half-hearted on Scorch’s side, though Sev was obviously in one of his fuck-off moods. He always was crankiest after a nap; it’d take him days to shake off stasis. And he was still pissed about Procurement’s theft of his helmet, with its authentic Gamma blood enshrined in red paint. That di’kutla squad had been shipped to Triple Zero, and until Sev butted heads with them again, he’d be as scratchy as a flea-bitten akk.

Using the shallow bunkrail, Scorch flung himself up and collapsed onto his brother, asking the cantilevered cot to bear the weight of two commandos. He was a trusting soul. The tussle continued until Scorch allowed Sev to secure a headlock, rather than drag them both onto the floor. They’d just gotten out of one unnatural bath and he didn’t fancy a dunk in bacta.

Scorch tapped Sev’s thigh. “Alright, alright,” he said hoarsely. Sev’s hold loosened a fraction and Scorch scooted out from it. Sitting up, he grabbed the holozine that had gotten pinned against the wall: some monthly edition of erudition that called itself Lasers & Blasters. “Didn’t know you could, Oh-Seven.”

Sev snatched the ‘zine to stuff it under his pillow. “It’s above your cadet-grade.”

“I think everyone knows you’re the knuckle-dragger around here, not me.”

“I think everyone knows I’m the hero of Geonosis, Killer of Sun Fac.”

Scorch made a theatrical noise that sounded like a broken, wet bes’bev. “Woo-hoo! You hit the broad side of a bantha!”

Now Sev really tried to catapult him onto the floor. But Scorch’s close-combat situational awareness noticed that his brother’s cockstand was holding strong.

“Sev,” he said, panting a little when they’d reached another stalemate, “the only people who know Sun Fac’s name are us, some spooks, and that random forward air controller.”

“Shove off.” Sev kicked him with his boot. He wore them to bed like an animal.

Scorch shook his head. “Not until you take care of yourself.”

“You have some shabla nerve, vod.”

“Rule 45: there should be no happier union than that between a commando and his weapon. But you’ve neglected yours.” He cast a judgemental eye at Sev’s tented pants. They’d been sleeping, shooting, and shitting cheek-by-jowl for their entire lives: Scorch didn’t know why one more bodily function would be that much worse. In that moment, he had more sympathy for his brother’s dick than his brother’s karked-up dignity. Or his own.

He glanced at the chrono. Boss and Fixer still had half an hour at the range and they’d probably hit the mess on the way back. Time enough for a little more equipment maintenance; Scorch believed he was being supremely generous offering what remained of his. He flopped over into a plank above his brother, who was still lying deathly prone. “If you’re not gonna help yourself ...”

“What?” Sev sneered. “You’ll do the honors?”

“Maybe I will. I am better than you, after all,” Scorch grinned. Suddenly, he sensed a game that he wanted to win. They were all like that. Competitive. Not so much against each other, but with each other. Getting screwy Sev off would be the ultimate victory: no one would lose and everyone would leave happy.

“You can’t.” Sev’s disinterest was as threadbare as his pillowcase.

“Alright, vod. I’ll take that bet.” Scorch dug the heel of his hand into his brother’s persistent erection. Sev’s eyelids fluttered. No greater tell in the book. “I bet I can get you off before Boss and Fixer get back. Just this once.”

Sev circled his hands around Scorch’s throat, hissing through perfect teeth bared tight, “You—can’t—Sergeant—Vau—would—”

Scorch scoffed. “You see Sarge here? He’s fucked off to his castle with his kaminii retirement fund.”

Vau had never promised he’d be there on the other side, but ... did he know they’d done a good job? That they’d been singled out for the assassination of the bugs’ chief lieutenant? That they’d survived—no, that they'd excelled, when hundreds of other squads hadn’t? Did he even care? Scorch had to wonder.

He shoved those thoughts aside with conscious effort; they wouldn’t do him any good. Better that Vau wasn't here anyway: he would sniff mightily at this interpretation of no brother left behind. “Hells, he’s probably rubbing one out to a portrait of the dead missus right now,” Scorch continued.

Sev’s grip tightened for their sergeant’s honor. “He wouldn’t—”

“He would. Stars love the old chakaar, Sev, but he’s only flesh and blood.” Actually, that’s all Vau was: cragged skin and blue blood twisted ‘round a frame that seemed to boast a few more bones than average. There must have been a heart in there, too—see: Mird—but Delta had spent their entire cadethood seeking it out to little good. Especially Sev, though he’d slot you for saying so.

Oh, Sev’ika: flesh and blood, plus a lot of bile and bad humor. He stank out the backend when he’d scarfed down too many ration packs, but what would splatter out the front? Scorch was beyond curious now, as he palmed his brother’s package through his clothes.

Sev’s hands held firm, but it was half-hearted, his thumbs only tickling his brother’s trachea. His nostrils flared. He was afraid. No, even better—he was desperate.

It was all the vindication Scorch needed. “That’s right—breathe. Relax. Six-Two’s got you.” He tugged Sev’s fatigues down, hitching the elasticene band behind his balls. Sev grimaced. Yeah, it might not be comfortable yet, but just wait; a little pressure there goes a long way.

“That hurts,” growled Sev.

“Gonna hand me the game?” If Sev had lost sight of his mission objective, he really was gummed up. “Jerking off through a fly feels like doing it in formation,” Scorch said.

Sev turned his head to the wall. If he’d done it at all, that was clearly how.

Scorch took his theoretically-identical brother in hand and felt the heft and heat of a dick that was still an inch left of familiar, however many times he'd seen it. Sev was throbbing. His hands fell away, as deliberately limp as the rest of him, like he was trying to absent himself from his body.

“So ... Sergeant Draka—” Scorch began, realizing he’d just been staring at his brother’s kad for longer than was right. He mentally constructed the fantasy again, deliberately this time, while he warmed up to the idea of working someone else’s shaft. Sev’s shaft. He imagined what Sev might like to hear, because Scorch sure as shab wasn’t keen on hardening up between his brother’s legs himself. That would just be strange. “She’s got you under two hands and a squawking bug under the other, honkin' great tits ready to smother the both of you ...”

Up until he’d found his brother’s cock in his hand, Scorch had fancied himself an honest commando. He really did. Then he had to close the dissonance between his not-insignificant-interest in Sev’s pink tip and, well, Sev: that awkward grump-a-lump who couldn’t look at a sapient or sentient, droid or organic, without scaring them away.

Scorch did it by telling himself this was just his own his cock in a mirror. A learning experience, if nothing else. And his tongue loosened to remember the bet. He began rubbing with intent. “She snaps its neck. Crunch. And isn’t that just your favoritest sound, Sev, ol’ boy?”

“Not her,” Sev said hoarsely.

Manda, he really was giving this to Scorch in the bag. “Who?”

“—don’t know—I don’t shabla know.”

“Easy, vod. You got a lifetime to find out. Well, half of one.”

“Shut. Up.”

Scorch changed the program and flicked a thumbnail right under Sev’s hood. Scratched out whatever dream Sev had building behind his scrunched eyes. It was irrelevant, whatever cleaned the pipes. If his brother didn’t want to say, who was Scorch to ask? The silky give of his hard-on and his nasally gasps vouched that Sev was having an a-okay time. Scorch wouldn’t have a hand, otherwise.

Sev bubbled from his tip. Scorch felt himself flush, but he was more intrigued than anything. It really was like watching a holo of himself. Obviously, Scorch was more handsome, mostly because he wasn’t a fucking psycho ... but a cock was a cock. He lengthened his movement with the slick aid of precome, fisting all the way down to Sev’s slightly lighter curls.

Suddenly, Sev’s fingers wrapped around his. For an alarming half-second, Scorch feared his wrist was about to be snapped. Goodbye dominant hand and superhuman reaction times.

But Sev just held on, eyes pinched shut, arm as unyielding as a barrel.

The situation became more straightforward. Emboldened by the team effort, Scorch stroked faster. Harder. He read the lines in Sev’s fierce face like a manual for a weapon he’d been handed five years ago. A clone lifetime. A batcher’s intuition. He shucked Sev’s sheath down as hard as he could. Twisted his wrist at the top further than Sev’s delicate skin wanted to go. Scorch figured his brother liked the bite of pain. “You feelin’ the heat? You gonna spill all over my fingers, Sev’ika?” he teased.

Sev heaved like he might throw up, and he coughed out only two words. “Do. Not.”

Yeah, he hates that kind of chummy osik and yakking. It was almost sad how much Sev knew what he didn’t want, but couldn’t voice what he did. Even Fixer grunted in approval when something wriggled across the ‘pad’s screen; at least he had some idea what kind of parts he fancied. It was a very broad pool.

Sev just looked embarrassed to be asked.

“Someone’s gonna love your shit, Sev,” Scorch encouraged, coming at it again from a different vector. If he didn’t show his wacky brother some love, who would?

Vau hadn’t been there to bestow that curt nod. They didn’t want to be spoiled. Scorch and his brothers weren’t Skirata’s pups: they’d survived Geonosis because they weren’t. But ... Delta was here and Theta wasn’t and Vau had no karkin’ clue what a close-run thing it’d been. Didn’t know how the knife-edge of his training had probably made all the difference and how chuffed they all were about it.

Or how Sev had made that one-in-a-million shot to Sun Fac’s fighter with half his visor splattered in bug spray. Scorch would remember that for the rest of his short life: angry tendrils of smoke rising behind Sev as he turned contemptuously away from his kill, his helmet gooey with Geonosian.

There were brothers, and there were your brothers: the ones who’d made you better just by being there beside you. Sev was one of those.

Scorch didn’t have to improv osik, now. The words came as easy as his muscle memory as he pistoned his palm along Sev’s angry cock. “Fuckin’ proud of you, Sev: bane of bugs and sniper extraordinaire. Wish Vau could’ve seen it, I really do. I’ll have CLONINT’s guts for rappelling lines for wiping Boss’s cache.”

Sev’s free hand had bunched into the sheet, his knuckles whitening. He stilled suddenly, tense as the second before the opening salvo. Here it comes.

“Ooh, so that’s how Sev breaks. Result!” Scorch had imagined Sev’s orgasm would be like squeezing blood from a stone. Not at all: it came as surely and naturally as his own. Scorch watched intently. Who knew their balls became one in the moment of triumph like that? As Sev’s practically disappeared into his taut body, Scorch had to think on his feet to save his brother’s freshly-laundered fatigues—or, on his knees and elbows, as the case was.

Thunking his other arm across his face, Sev lost the bet with a violent shudder—and without a sound, probably so he couldn’t say he’d enjoyed it. He squirted fully but cleanly onto the open spread of the ‘zine, thanks to Scorch’s management and direction. A long, messy line of cloudy white right across the cross-sectioned barrel of a Magna-Caster-100. Thank fuck for flimsi.

Shaking off Sev's hand, Scorch dropped the wilting cock. It was not attractive, and he prayed the ladies wouldn't think the same, warring with himself about whether he could succumb to the mortification of going limp in someone’s mouth. Maybe it was better to pull out and stripe them? It merited further research on Fixer’s ‘pad, just in case.

“Target softened. Should make things easier for you. Hope you took notes,” Scorch said, oddly transfixed by the description of the ‘Caster’s invisible quarrels he’d spotted on the page. He was growing itchy for a time-sensitive rummage—Scorch would wager his lower left nut that Delta could now go toe-to-toe with any of Draka’s squads for acquisition. With any luck, this mysterious upcoming op would net them some exotic toys.

He shifted his weight, feeling the need to move before that idea made him stiff again and everyone got the wrong impression.

“‘m not soft, di’kut,” Sev mumbled from underneath his arm.

Scorch patted his thigh. “Sure you’re not.”

“Getting soft will get us popped.”

Scorch was halfway off the bunk, but he stopped to squeeze Sev’s fucked-up head. “Hey, ner vod. Look at me—look at me,” he demanded. Sev let his arm fall behind his curls but he kept his gaze elsewhere. “No need to quote Sarge to me. Or go grey over stupid stuff like him.”

Stuff like distraction—a dirty word in Vau’s lexicon. What did they have to get distracted by, anyhow? Grainy holovids? They had enough room in their over-engineered skulls for a few of those, and if they ever got to touch the real thing, Scorch figured they wouldn’t lose their heads. Right? Civvies were so unexceptional, after all. Probably couldn’t tell a maranium blast from a benign xenon light sculpture. Brothers, especially your fellow commandos, were the only company worth keeping—even Vau said so, and Skirata had said Vau had wined and dined New Mando aristos and had bedded a fekkin’ princess in a past life.

Eventually, Sev’s sour mug puckered in something like thought. “If you fucked up my range scores, I’m going to piss in your pack.”

Scorch laughed, dumping his feet onto the floor and wandering in the direction of Boss’s ration bars. Mess was a whole two hours away and Scorch had a month’s eating to make up for. “Sev’ika, no one could fuck up your range scores. You just pregamed with Lasers & Blasters.”

The ‘zine smacked the back of Scorch’s head, wet side flat.

Yeah, we're still good, Scorch thought, as he finally manhandled his stroppy brother onto the floor. And we always will be.

(also on Ao3)

#republic commando #delta squad #repcomm #sev #scorch #clonecest #biscuit fic

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