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bunnyhugs77 · 3 months

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Mr. Take Your Bitch

Pairing: Idol! Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Content Warning: jk is a little cocky, player! jk, reader gets flustered so easily, jk is such a tease, smooth talker jk, clubbing, ft bts, interviews, reader is small (like 5'1), insults, alcohol consumption, infidelity, readers boyfriend is an asshole, mentions of smoking, impulsive jk, what happens in vegas stays in vegas, messyyy, suggestive themes, sweet gestures.

Other Content: hair pulling, manhandling, oral sex (f! receiving), squirting, missionary, jk splits reader in half, big dick! jk, doggy style, dacryphilia, praise and degradation, cream pies, minor possessive jk, unprotected sex (be better than them), recording.

"How do I look?" Sunny tosses the perfectly sculpted curls in her hair once more, pouting in the dressing room mirror, making sure that not a strand was out of place.

"For the eighth time, you look great, as always." She stands, her red off-the-shoulder top accenting her white pencil skirt and perfect figure, she really did look gorgeous. "Great isn't enough. This is the first time I'm interviewing THE BTS. I need to look perfect."

"You do. I promise." You reassure with a comforting right hand on her shoulder while you center her necklace with your left. "Y/n, we need you out here to help set up." Your manager cracks the door open to call for you briefly before leaving.

"I still cannot believe you dragged me into this coffee girl job just for you to get close to Namjoon." Sunny's full lips stretch from ear to ear showing off her million-dollar smile, "What's so wrong about me wanting you nearby for emotional support? But at least I got you a job out of it, 3 weeks ago you were on the brink of poverty.'' Her arms crossed and you had to admit, she did have a point.

"What was the whole point of this again?" You simply had to ask, remembering the midnight phone call Sunny surprised you with about a month ago when she landed the Hybe interviewer position.

"Remember the story I told you about, in Junior year, me and this boy from math camp snuck out 6 miles away with fake IDs and got shitfaced at the nearest bar then hooked up but I never got his name and he was in the middle of signing my journal we were interrupted and I never saw him again until-"

"You saw Namjoon's face on a billboard in Seoul, and you took this opportunity to get close to see if it was him or not. Yes, I remember now, it's all coming back to me." You finish her story for her.

"Exactly, and-"

"--Y/n, sometime today would be great." Your manager interrupts once again and you leave, apologizing frantically for making them wait, not wanting to lose this job. It actually paid pretty well considering all you did was make drinks.

Walking out of the dressing room, ignoring the buzz in the back pocket of your jeans as you followed your manager to the coffee cart offset. Although from here you had a perfect view of where the interview would take place.

They set it up to be very stylish and modern with BTS albums and concept photos placed strategically around the set within the camera shot. Along with a small coffee table, one chair on one side where Sunny would sit and seven on the other side.

It almost gave you chills to think about. The fact that in a few moments, the most popular boy band in the continent would be sitting right there. All seven of them, including the tempting one.

The one who makes you stumble over your words every time he comes down to the first floor to get a coffee even though there's a gazillion other places to get something to drink in the building.

Every time you see him, he's displaying a new style. Sometimes he comes down stacked with complex layers of clothing and covered in jewelry, or with nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, although the latter was possibly the worst of your few interactions. He's just so handsome, it made you want to squirm.

That day he was saying all the right things, yet saying nothing at all. Asking you simple questions like when you started working here, and if you liked coffee, meanwhile all you could mutter was an embarrassing 'yes'. What exactly you were saying yes to? You may never know.

You turned your back to the set and focused on making the pre-ordered drinks the members had sent down with their manager beforehand. By the time you turned back around Sunny was sitting in her place, anxious but ready.

You've been best friends since the 6th grade. She's incredibly outgoing and sociable, a balancing contrast to your more introverted nature although you could be a little extroverted with some alcohol in your system.

She was born for this job, you're sure she'll kill the interview. She mentioned that she'd bumped into a few of the members since she started working a month ago, but not Namjoon.

She definitely underestimated how hard it would be to 'bump' into a man who is guarded by security constantly and extremely busy, not to mention rarely in the country.

Hoseok was the first one to walk in, looking sharp as ever in casual attire but he he made it look incredible. Next was Jimin, and you noticed the way Sunny's eyes nearly widened when she finally saw Namjoon walk in behind Tae.

Finally, they were all inside and all greeted Sunny with a friendly hug and you can see she enjoyed her hug with Namjoon a little too much. Somehow finding something small to laugh about with him as they pulled away.

With an empty cup in your hand, you watched the most handsome group of men you've ever seen, file into the room and take a seat. "Go set these down before cameras start rolling." You feel a tap on your shoulder from another worker.

Did you zone out?

You placed a firm hand on your chest, taking a deep breath before placing a sturdy grip on the handles of the cart and bringing their beverages over. 'One foot in front of the other' you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the feeling of their gazes turning to you as you got closer.

Unable to look any of them in the eyes as you set down their drinks on the table saying the name of each one so they know which one is theirs.

You could feel his gaze on you whilst Sunny got to witness it first hand from where she sat. The way his jaw slowly clenches with each passing moment, watching you with dark, intense eyes. In that moment, the world around him blurred, and all that remained was the captivating image of you.

It was while you were placing down the final cup that you felt bold enough to finally look up from the table, glancing at Jimin who was talking to Hoseok on his right. Slowly your line of sight inches up and over his head to Jungkook who was sitting on a taller chair behind him.

He was looking right at you.

And that was more than enough for you to return to the cart and retreat to your station. The boys reached for their cups as the countdown to the interview began.

You watched with engaged eyes from the sidelines as the interview began, going through basic introductions and standard questions, you were listening along to the jokes made along the way.

It seemed they were having a great time out there, but you couldn't focus on all of them for too long. You wouldn't be doing your duties as Sunny's best friend if you didn't watch Namjoon's every move; including how he seemed to be the first one to answer almost any of her questions.

The questions were flying by and the discussion was so entertaining to watch but it was over before you even registered it. Sure, cameras had stopped rolling but they were all still talking.

You felt another buzz in your pocket, finally deciding to check.

Daehyun: Are you still mad? It's been 2 days, you're being dramatic. 12:02 pm

Daehyun: Why aren't you answering my texts? 1:12 pm

Daehyun: Fine. Keep ignoring me. Real mature, Y/n. 1:13 pm

You scoff at the messages.

Unbelievable.

Your boyfriend has left you astonished. Again!

You put your phone back on silent, secretly wishing you'd never checked it in the first place. Muttering under your breath about what a jerk he's been to you lately but you stop yourself. Because he's still your boyfriend, and sure, he fucked up a few times, bad. It doesn't change the fact that you're in a relationship with him.

If you could even call it that.

You've slept together twice. Well- 1.5 times if you wanted to get specific. The second time was so bad that you simply had to stop it altogether and make up some excuse so that you didn't hurt his feelings.

Shaking him out of your head and focusing back on your task at hand which was collecting the empty mugs from the table. Repeating the same process as before, avoiding all eye contact, but this time you didn't look up.

You didn't bother because you already knew he was watching you.

You were intimidated but you weren't oblivious.

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!" You hear her from around the corner before you see her running towards you at your coffee station on the first floor. Sunny was practically bursting. You would think that she had captured the sun between her hands but it was something that would take your life for a spin, but you didn't know that yet.

"You're interview went so well!" You slip in your comment first knowing that once she says whatever she has to say, it'll go on for years.

"I know right! After you left to pack up, I was still talking to the guys and they really seemed to like me so they invited me and any +1 I want to invite on their weekend in Vegas trip tomorrow night! All expenses paid for!" Jaw-dropping wasn't the word. Knee buckling may be a better fit as you had quite literally stumbled and dropped a mug, thankfully it didn't break.

"No. No no no." You say, backing up and her entire demeanour deflated like a devastated puppy. "Why not?" You lean in close, whispering, "Because Jungkook is gonna be there--" She interrupts you, practically exploding with emotions. "Oh my god, he wants you so bad. Did you see the way he was looking at you?!" She whisper shouts.

"I know!" you plain shout out, realizing your volume needed adjusting and leaning forward onto the counter. "But he's Jeon Jungkook and I have Daehyun-" The most disgusted look runs across Sunny's face.

"I cannot believe you are even comparing the two right now. You said it yourself, one is Jeon Jungkook, and the other is Daehyun, a man you should've left in the dust months ago." Here we go again, you sigh.

"C'mon Y/n. He's an asshole, he's childish, he's bad in bed and honestly, the list should end there but no, he humiliated you in front of your family and he was caught in your sister's dm's on Christmas!!"

"It's May for god's sake and he's still stressing you out, and seeing you stressed makes me stressed. So why don't you come tomorrow, I'll keep you away from Jungkook if it comes to that, but please, you need to let loose a little and forget about him for just the weekend." She begs.

She could see you were starting to consider it.

"Please?" She pouts, giving you those same puppy eyes that convinced you to work here in the first place. "Please don't look at me like that, stop." You try to avoid her sorrowful gaze but It's like it intensifies to a point where you just can't look away, nor can you deny.

"Fine, fine. Okay, I'll go."

Considering you only just found out you were leaving the country yesterday, you think you did pretty good packing light but efficiently.

That's what you were thinking as you stepped behind Sunny onto the empty private jet. She'd already made arrangements to sit beside Namjoon.

She was crazy but you had to give the girl credit, she worked fast.

You weren't taking in a single thing, part of you was still in disbelief you had even seen the boys up close and personal yesterday.

This would all sink in for you in 5 years and then you'll be hit with a numbing regret of not doing things differently.

Or maybe it'll sink in for you right now, Jimin's full head of brown wavy hair is the first one you see to pop up on the plane and he flashes you a kind smile, taking a seat beside you.

He introduces himself as if you and half the world don't already know him but you engage anyway, giving him your name and the rest is history.

The flight was 11 hours so there was a lot of ground to cover between the two of you for the first 6 hours. Jimin was just such an easy person to open up with, any time you said something crazy you felt like he would have an even crazier story of his own to share.

He'd told you all about his first impressions of the guys to his first scandal that the label somehow managed to cover up because even you were in shock. It would have been over for him.

Then it was your turn, telling him about your exhausting boyfriend since it all started seven months ago.

"On Christmas?!" He shouts, "Why are you with him again?" You groan, "God you sound just like Sunny!"

The two of you were clearly enjoying your conversation while Sunny worked on getting Namjoon to talk a little bit about his past, trying to see if he really was the boy from all those years ago, but he seemed occupied reading his book and she wasn't going to interrupt him any longer. She sighs softly, looking out the window, watching the clouds fly by like art.

Meanwhile, at the front of the jet, Jungkook typed away on his laptop, sometimes blurbing some possible lyrics, but mostly keeping himself busy with a thousand rounds of Tetris. He tuned out the sound of your angelic laughter with his headphones, but it couldn't stop him from glancing to the back of the plane where you sat with Jimin every so often.

Only about an hour left before you landed and you really needed to pee but Jimin was in the way and fast asleep. You looked around, it seemed that everyone was fast asleep, but you really had to go.

Lightly tapping Jimin and asking him to let you through, he moves, half awake, just giving you enough time to pass before going back to his original position.

You exited the bathroom, nearly falling to the ground in horror when you came face to face with the man you'd nearly forgotten was on the jet. He smiles that classic bunny smile that the fans go crazy over.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He says it so sweetly, and in this hushed tone due to the late hour of the night it was making your head think things. Things that you should not be thinking about.

"You okay?" Checking in, seeing that you seemed to have zoned out mid-conversation. Shit. You were doing it again. "Y-yeah." You hated speaking to him it made you feel like you couldn't speak at all. He was just so tall, and his eyes were so big and endearing and-

"Really? Cause it looks like you've got something on your mind." It comes out in such a way that brings heat to your face, suddenly hyper-aware that everyone is asleep, and the two of you are out of sight in the narrow hall of the bathroom.

"Yeah, just excited for tomorrow." You lie, you felt sick to your stomach. He made you sick to your stomach. He gets a little closer, now close enough for you to be able to smell the soft cologne on his clothes. "What's got you so excited?"

It felt like you were watching yourself fall from the sky, it was slow but graceful, but you knew once you hit the bottom, things would get ugly. So you grew wings. "My boyfriend. We're planning on Facetiming tomorrow." It was like a repellant, the way he stepped back.

"Oh, that's nice." He mumbles and you take this opportunity to run back to your seat, hopping over Jimin and strapping yourself back in your seat, shaking your head over and over again.

This was a bad idea. You should not have come on this trip.

"She has a fucking boyfriend." Is the first thing Jungkook says to Yoongi and Jimin while the three sit in the back of the taxi that is en route to the hotel. Yoongi wasn't listening, still half asleep after only waking up 30 minutes ago. He would need a repeat of it all tomorrow.

"Pfft. Barely." Jimin mumbles. Triggering quite possibly the fasted head turn known to mankind, Jungkook looks at him with intrigue, "What do you mean by that."

"He's an asshole. Like a literal piece of shit, but she's still with him for whatever reason. It's gotta be Stockholm syndrome." Jimin shrugs. "But you can't tell her I told you this, I think she's pretty cool, so before you get your dick wet, think with your head first."

Yoongi hums in agreement with that one statement. He may be asleep but he knows a good statement when he hears one.

Jungkook did think. He thought about you all night. From the cab to the hotel, until he fell asleep and again when he woke up. Sure, you had a boyfriend, but it sounds like you shouldn't be with him, or at least deserved someone better.

The morning sun seeps through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the lavish surroundings. You and Sunny share a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the incredible experience that awaits. Or at least that's what Sunny thinks.

Instead, you retreat under the covers of your bed with an unpleasant sound. "How could I let you bring me here." Your voice is muffled and scratchy from it being the morning still. "Because you love me." She runs from her bed and jumps onto yours.

"Should we get room service?" She proposes and you slowly pull the covers down, revealing an interested expression. "Who's paying?" You ask. "Who cares! It's not us." She springs up and bounces for the phone.

By the late afternoon, you'd gotten an invite from Jimin, inviting you guys down to the pool, it was reserved just for them. "We're going, this isn't up for debate, Y/n. You said you would relax on this trip, so it's my job to make sure you do!" She pulls out the violet two-piece you'd packed in your luggage and shoves you into the bathroom, throwing the clothes in there with you after and shutting the door.

"I hate you y'know," you say from the other side of the door.

"You'll thank me one day, Y/n. One day."

There was a roar of cheers from the guys as the two of you walked into sight, the sun was beaming down on you and you were glad you brought your sunscreen.

Jungkook tried to be respectful to the sham of a relationship you were in but what was he supposed to do? You looked so hot in your bathing suit, you were so small but you still had curves in all the right places.

He just wanted to break you in half. Pin you down and-

A splash of water hits him in the face, "Stop eye fucking her and act like you've been neutered for once." Yoongi warns, swimming away before Jungkook could retaliate.

Jin calls Sunny into the water, and she just about jumped in while you were working on unwrapping your new bottle of sunscreen. Jungkook uses this as an opportunity. Looking down at the white shirt that was now soaked through, sticking to his abs he slowly steps out of the water.

Looking you right in the eyes as you shook the bottle. Now you were staring but you didn't care. You were looking at the son of Adonis, or maybe the god himself.

In the warm glow of the poolside sun, Jungkook emerged from the sparkling water, droplets cascading down his glistening skin. The pool's rippling surface bore witness to his athletic grace as he approached the pool chair where you reclined, still shaking the bottle.

His steps were confident, each one leaving a trail of water on the tiles beneath his feet. As he neared, he held your gaze with an intense, playful glint in his eyes. The air between you became charged with a magnetic energy, and a sly smile played on his lips.

With deliberate movements, Jungkook reached down to the hem of his white shirt, clinging to his sculpted physique. The fabric peeled away, revealing the contours of his toned abs. Beads of water followed the curves of his body, accentuating every defined muscle.

As the shirt came off, the sunlight caught on the droplets clinging to his skin, creating an ethereal effect. The sensual eye contact between the two of you intensified, creating a moment suspended in time. The poolside ambiance seemed to hush, allowing the connection between them to take center stage.

Your fist clenched, the sunscreen blurted out of the bottle, some landing on the smooth skin of your thigh but most hit the chair.

Jungkook's expression hinted at a playful confidence, acknowledging the allure of the moment. Your little accident told him all he needed to know. You wanted him.

Even if you didn't know it yet.

Wiping desperately at the sunscreen that had landed on you, a bigger hand comes to help. Gently rubbing the soft flesh of your thigh, Jungkook was crouched to your level with nothing more than a sincere smile as he helped you with your sunscreen.

Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water as you watched him from beside yourself. Unable to believe what was happening. You could feel your heart beating in your ears, and other places but you shook your head.

"Wh-what-" Jungkook looks up to you, moving his hand away. "My bad. I didn't mean to overstep, I just noticed that you'd spilt some of your sunscreen," He inches just a little closer so that you looked down at him from where you sat on your chair. "I'd hate for it to go to waste."

That mischievous tongue of his makes an appearance briefly as it swipes over his bottom lip before retreating; leaving behind glossy plump lips. It's not what he says, but how he says it.

Almost as though he wanted you to break.

You hated how he made you feel without saying anything out of the ordinary.

"You have to be shitting me," Yoongi curses to no one in particular as he watches Jungkook lean up towards you from where he was floating in the pool on the flamingo inflatable.

"You've gotta admit, the boy's determined." Jin adds while Hoseok shakes his head, "He just doesn't know when to give up."

Opening your hotel room door to see Jimin leaning against the wall waiting for you. He looked incredible in his black button-up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His hair swooped to perfection.

"About time." He kicks himself off the wall as you scoff, "Don't blame me, blame the dress." Your freshly manicured nail points to the red, velvet dress that left your chest exposed before it went under the halter neckline.

There was so much skin offered to anyone that looked at you. You looked absolutely stunning. The way the dress clung tightly to your curves was almost ungodly but made you seem even more angelic.

Twirling on your toes slowly to showcase the full rotation of your outfit and Jimin failed to suppress his gasp. The back- Your back was completely exposed safe for where the halter crossed behind your neck.

"You look hot, and I'm not just saying that." You grin, leading the way to the elevator and waiting for it to come up.

While you were watching the elevator screen, Jimin was watching you. Not lustfully or anything since he really did see the two of you becoming close friends in the future but his gaze was full of.. fear?

Jungkook was going to eat you alive tonight, and he was willing to put money on it.

The man has been able to show limited amounts of self-control since the trip began, and his little shirtless stunt at the pool earlier that day was proof.

The elevator dings and the doors open.

You step in, hearing your phone vibrating from within your maroon chain side bag. Digging through your various lipsticks, mini perfumes and hair pins you finally grab your buzzing device.

Daehyun: When did you go to Vegas?? and how did you get there? 4:33 pm

Daehyun: Baby, I'm sorry. I mean it. Stop Ignoring me. (now) 8:12 pm

You sigh, scrolling through your messages sadly. "Am I being too hard on him?" Jimin leans over to look at the messages, his face turning sour at Daehyun's messages. "I bet you he doesn't even know what he's apologizing for."

The elevator doors close, and Jimin presses the star symbol for the nightclub on the first floor where you would meet the others.

Shaking your head repeatedly, "No. That's impossible. He knows, Jimin. Trust me." He doesn't seem convinced in the slightest,

"Okay. Since you're so sure-" He snatched your phone from your grasp, his fingers moving at the speed of light and you panicked, reaching for the device but he held it high. "Jimin No-!"

"I said 'What are you apologizing for'. I won't send it if you don't want me to. But It seems like he's only apologizing because he knows he's in the wrong, but doesn't know what for."

The elevator dings, going down floor by floor, the silence slowly creeping up on you, "Send it." You say, and his thumb hits send.

The doors open.

You and Jimin step out into the club. Before you sprawled a vast expanse of vibrant colours. Neon lights adorned the walls, casting a kaleidoscope of hues that danced in rhythm with the music.

The dance floor, surrounded by elevated platforms and VIP booths, was the epicentre of the vibrant spectacle. Mirrored ceilings multiplied the dazzling display, creating a sense of endless sin.

"Do you know where they are?" You ask while Jimin leads the way into the crowd of hot bodies and blasting music, he glances down to the text from Tae, "Tae said they're in section 9." Maneuvering your way through the swarm of people until you meet up with the others.

Jimin walked up the steps first, the group's cheers blending in with the roars coursing throughout the rest of the club as he joined them with you closely behind, the cheers continuing for you with whistles once you reached the platform.

"Oh shit!" Sunny curses, rushing to your side to shower you with compliments. "I guess being 30 minutes late pays off, you look great." Tae welcomes you with a side hug and an invitation to sit beside him.

"You need to cool it." Jin pulls Jungkook in by the collar so that he could hear him over the music. Jungkook finally pulls his hungry gaze off of you and looks to his elder.

"You're making it way obvious, and obvious is not what you want. She has a boyfriend. There are hundreds of other girls here, find someone else." He lets him go and Jungkook shakes his head.

How Jin even found out that you had a boyfriend didn't phase him. The seven of them were as close as brothers, it was hard for him and Jimin to keep anything to themselves.

Hundreds of girls but they weren't you. He couldn't just switch it on and off. This wasn't as fun and playful as it once was before, he was starting to get addicted to the thought of you.

"You have any pre-rolls on you?" Jungkook leans over to Namjoon who was deep into a conversation with Sunny. Namjoon reaches inside the pocket of his blazer, "Never leave home without them."

"Great. I need a smoke." Jungkook huffs, standing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. God you looked so fucking fine in that dress, it made him crazy, sick to his stomach.

He's Jeon Jungkook for god's sake.

The concept of want is so unfamiliar to him. Any girl he wants could easily be in his bed the same day, but you-- he shakes his head bitterly-- you were giving him a hard time, all over what? some lame-ass boyfriend.

"Namjoon you comin' ?" He looks over his shoulder to see both him and Sunny standing, "Mind if I join?" She asks, "The more the merrier."

You watched as the three of them disappeared into the bustling crowd vanishing out of sight. "Where did they go?"

Tae leans forward looking at where the trio had just walked through. "Probably went to go ball up." Tae shrugs, "Which means it's time to really get this night started. First round on me."

It wasn't until three shots later when Jungkook had finally come back, this was the first time you really got a good look at him. He was wearing nothing but a black jacket that had the most delicate body chains striping across his abdomen, giving you a clear view of his sculpted abs and-

Your phone buzzes.

You: Why are you apologizing? 8:13 pm

Daehyun: Because you're upset. (now) 9:27 pm

God, Jimin might be right. He doesn't have a clue.

You: Do you even know why I'm mad? 9:27 pm

Daehyun: Is it because of the nudes I sent Soo-Min? I was drunk, I promise. It was a mistake. 9:28 pm

You gasp. You had no idea what he was talking about. You were referring to him standing you up when you told all your family that he would be coming. You never knew this had even happened.

You: What the fuck are you talking about? 9:29 pm

You: I cannot believe you right now. 9:29 pm

You: Stop fucking texting me. 9:30 pm

You weren't even sad or disappointed. You were used to him letting you down constantly. "Looks like you need another shot." You look up from the screen in your lap, making eye contact with ringed fingers wrapped around a shot glass with your name on it.

You take the shot in your own grasp, looking Jungkook in the eyes as you down it. Your face wincing a little at the burn in the back of your throat but you were beginning to feel that exciting warmth in your chest.

The strobe lights turn red as Chris Brown's Take You Down begins to play through the loud speakers all around the club. "Wanna dance?" He offered you his hand, your brain was a little hazy and your cheeks were flushed but Jungkook was too hot to resist.

"Love to."

The two of you walk off to the dance floor with the rest of the crowd.

Taehyung looks to Jin who looks to Hoseok who looks to Yoongi.

Yoongi sighs, shaking his head slowly taking another shot. "It's out of my control. Once they step on that floor, their fate is sealed."

It's true, the moment Jungkook's hands were on your hips that swayed to the music you knew you were screwed. You had every right to be apprehensive about going on this stupid trip in the first place, but deep down you knew it was inevitable.

This very moment was destined from the start.

"You look fucking perfect tonight." He whispers in your ear from behind you, subconsciously pushing your hips back on him and Jungkook could swear he's never wanted someone as badly as he wanted you at this very moment.

"Says you," You spin in his hold, now face to face.

His grip on your hips tighten, body unable to maintain its façade for much longer. Your hair was up in a bun tonight, showing off the industrial piercing he never even knew you had.

There were so many things he wanted to know about you, and not just physically. He wanted to be able to sit with you over a cup of coffee and talk about everything and anything.

His tight hold on you prompted a breathless whine to escape your lips but he heard it. "Stop it." He says and your eyebrows scrunch, genuinely confused. "Stop what?"

"Stop tempting me. I'm trying to be respectful." Astonishment wipes over your features. "You're telling me to stop? It's been you all along, making me trip over my words, and being so shirtless and hot all the time, making me forget I have a boyfriend." He chuckles.

"So you admit it. You think about me too?"

You step back.

"Yes, Jungkook. I cannot stop thinking about you and that's my problem. I need to get you out of my head." Your mouth was saying one thing, but with the way he was looking at you, your heart wanted him between your legs.

The almost forgotten feeling of lust finally coursed through your veins. It'd been so long since you'd gotten any action, you needed this.

But you couldn't.

He steps towards you, even closer than before. You could feel his firm body crowding against your own. The way he towered over you made you feel dizzy. He leaned down, ensuring that you could feel his warm breath on the shell of your ear when he spoke "Tell me you don't want me and I'll walk away."

You don't want him. you lie to yourself.

Trying to put these thoughts into words, your mouth opens.

"I need you, Jungkook." Finally admitting it.

There was no going back now, his lips crashed against yours with nothing less than an animalistic desire. It was fast-paced and messy but you loved it.

The dam finally broke.

You kissed with more than your lips, his hands on your waist, squeezing tight as he rolled his hips into you with the rhythm of the music.

This was so so wrong, but it felt so right.

The way his tongue rolled over your bottom lip with such skill made your thighs clench, you could only imagine the things he could do with it--

"Y/n!" Sunny screams your name from behind you, not even processing what you and Jungkook had just been doing while Namjoon was busy enjoying the music behind her.

You turned around, a little breathless and bothered after being disrupted but you were immediately occupied with analyzing Sunny's appearance. For starters her hair was ruffled and looked like it'd been put through the wringer, her lipstick (what was left of it) was fading and a little smudged.

And last that you checked she was wearing lashes when the night began but they were nowhere to be found. "Sunny where did you go-- Oh my god- Did you and Namjoon-" Her non-stop nodding causes you to clasp your hand over your mouth.

"It's him! He remembers me!" The two of you have your moment, squealing before Jungkook whispers in your ear. "Meet me at the elevator in 5." Sunny actually does catch on this time.

"Oh my god!? Are you gonna-"

You think about it, "I don't know!! Should I?! Daehyun just voluntarily admitted to sending nudes to Soo-Min god knows when and-" Sunny groans. "Leave him, for the love of god y/n stand up!" She yells.

"I can't just leave him he's my boyfriend, and it wouldn't make me any better than him." Sunny's eyes roll. "It won't be cheating if you plan on breaking up with his ass tonight. Just hurry up and decide, Jungkook's waiting for you." She winks and it gives you butterflies.

He was waiting for you.

The moment you turned the corner of the hallway, you saw Jungkook waiting outside the elevator as he said he would be, finally pressing the button. "I was afraid you wouldn't come," he laughs internally to himself at the double entendre, knowing Jungkook's track record, this has never been an issue for him.

The two of you step inside the elevator, it would be a long ride up to the 21st floor, the two of you did your best to stay to your respective sides of the elevator until there was a crowd of people that entered as well, pushing you into him.

Completely oblivious to the way your ass was pressed flush against his crotch, he looks up to the ceiling, wondering what he'd done in his past life to deserve this kind of punishment.

A beautiful girl pressed up against him but he couldn't do anything. As the crowd moved, so did you he hisses and your body stills, finally aware of what you were doing.

On the 13th floor the elevator empties completely, leaving just the two of you and you try to move away from him but his grip holds you in place. "Didn't think you'd be running from me so soon." You'd never heard his voice like this. It was deeper, bass full of wants and desires,

He spins you around, he had you cornered.

Looking up to him with that doe gaze of yours. His index finger gently rests under your chin, your gaze was practically begging him to kiss you, but in case he was hesitating you nodded just a little, permitting him to open your lips with his.

This kiss was a lot slower and deeper than the one before. It was soft and sweet, but slowly turned into a full-blown make-out session by the time the elevator made it to the 21st floor.

He leads the way to his room at the end of the hall, beside Hoseok's room.

Jungkook worked on unlocking the door while you chewed on the tip of your acrylic. Were you really about to do this?

"I'm going in my room, and you don't have to follow, but I'm leaving the door unlocked." He says, disappearing behind the door. Looking over your shoulder, your room was 4 doors down.

You could still back out now, it wasn't too late.

All you would need to do is have a long talk with Daehyun.

You scoff, even his name irritated you. Your heart knew things weren't going to work out between the two of you once you got back home, regardless of whether you slept with Jungkook or not.

He's broken your trust far too many times, and besides, Sunny was right, he is an asshole.

You walk into Jungkook's room and make sure to lock the door behind you.

"That's my girl," He purrs as he steps towards you, taking your face in his hands before gracing you with a heated kiss, the kind of kiss that made you stumble as he walked you back to the door.

"Hope you put that phone on dnd." He whispers, kissing down your neck, skillfully managing to take your hair down at the same time. You looked like the epitome of sin, hair falling over your shoulders as if it fell from grace while your neck was littered with hickeys, your plump bottom lip tugged between those perfect teeth of yours.

Your dress was the first thing to go, he loved it on you, but it served its purpose, and it did it well. Soon his jacket was finally off revealing his muscular build that you'd seen in the fan cams but it couldn't compare to the real thing.

You kissed him back desperately as your legs were wrapped around his waist while he made his way to the bed, dropping you down to your back watching the way you bounced.

Your perfect tits are the first victim of his passionate affection. Leaving tender kisses on the soft flesh, "Jungkook-" you gasp feeling him wrap his lips around your nipples, tongue working hard to push you towards that edge that you'd been inching closer to since you got in here.

He groans as he feels your hands roam over his back, anticipating the feeling of your nails scratching his skin. Finally moving down from your breasts once they were covered with his kisses and hickeys.

You could feel yourself practically soaking through your under, not to mention the way it was sticking to you. "Looks like someone's worked up," he teases, slowly peeling you out of your ruined underwear.

"What's got you so hot and bothered, is it your boyfriend?" You sit up so fast almost getting a head rush and he laughs. "Jungkook." You say and he gives you a look of lust. "What? Say it baby, use your words. Tell me who makes you this wet. Is it me or him?"

You press your legs together, unable to believe that this was turning you on more. "He couldn't turn me on." He looks up to you with wide eyes. "Is that so?" Nodding your head slowly, letting Jungkook gently push you back down to the bed.

On his knees he takes a deep breath at your core, a guttural sound rumbling in his chest as he was face to face with your dripping core. "So you're saying it's me?" he asks, letting his tongue run a flat stripe against your soaked folds.

"YES! It's you Jungkook please, stop teasing, please I can't take it. I'm already so close." You beg, body thrashing around enough for him to pin your legs over his shoulder and to keep you still.

You were stroking his ego, telling you you were already so close and he's barely touched you. Your boyfriend must've been shit in bed, and he was determined to make it up to you. He was going to show you what you've been missing.

Finally eating you out to his heart's content, ignoring the way your feet continued to move frantically over his shoulders he lapped up at your core, flicking his tongue over your clit until your body spasmed uncontrollably. "I'm-" Unable to even finish the sentence before you were blinded by an earth-shattering orgasm.

It ripped through you like a storm and came squirting out of you just like one too. "You've got to fucking kidding me," Jungkook murmurs to himself and you froze. Was he mad?

He stands up, "Of course the hottest girl I've ever seen squirts on my tongue. Good fucking hell, Y/n. It's like you want me obsessed with you." Who was he kidding, he was already obsessed.

He picked you up so carelessly, bringing you to the balcony where it overlooked the Las Vegas strip. You could see the hotel's illuminated pool and all the car lights as they zoomed on the highway far in the distance.

"Hope you're not scared of heights."

Your stomach twisted at the thought of being so high up, but it was all forgotten once your leg was propped up and you felt your folds being prodded open by the fat head of Jungkook's cock.

"No- fuck! Wait." you cursed feeling him push in just the tip, the sweet burn of his size nearly causing you to fall but he held you steady against the railing, bulging biceps on either side of your body, caging you in safely.

Jungkook knew better, this should be the last place he should be doing something like this but with your pretty ass right in front of him it was such a beautiful sight, and the scenery was cool too.

"It's too much," you pant, arms bracing yourself on the fence that kept you from falling 200 feet below. "It's only the tip baby, you sure you can take the whole thing?" You pause in thought, you needed him, all of him. "I can take it. keep going." You say and he pushes in slowly, feeling his cock fill up every nook and cranny of your womb.

It felt like he was in your lungs, you were knocked breathless, and he didn't move. Your body went limp in his arms, exactly what he feared would happen. He quite literally split you open, but you were determined to take it.

You clawed at the railing desperately, looking for any kind of relief from what you were feeling. "Deep breaths baby, I'll go slow." You nod, eyes squeezed shut as his hips slowly roll back pulling out about halfway before rocking back in.

"Oo-oh. fuck. Jungkook, keep going." you moan, head falling onto your hands; feeling what was once pain morphs into an addicting, sweet pleasure, over time his pace picks up until he was fucking into you with no remorse.

Even if no one could see you from this high up, they sure as hell could hear you. The way you cried out his name like a prayer over and over while Jungkook's brain was short-circuiting with the sight of you creaming on his dick and the obscene sounds it created.

"Does your boyfriend fuck you like this, huh?" He angles his hips, resuming his brutal pace even though you've already come twice now. Your body jolts with each snap of his hips.

You shake your head, but that isn't enough for him, flipping you around so that you're facing him, he pushes himself back in, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately.

"Use your words Y/n. You're my smart girl, look me in the eyes and tell me that your boyfriend could never fuck you like I do." Your eyes snap open, "He c-could never fuck-!" Jungkook slowed down his thrusts to something so much deeper, your eyes rolled and Jungkook nearly came just at the sight.

"Shit, I'm gonna come." He pants, and with a few more erratic thrusts you feel his warm cum fill you up. He slowly lets you stand but your legs fail you immediately. Scooping you up in his arms effortlessly he brings you to the bed, clearly not done with you.

That's how you found yourself on the brink of your third orgasm while Jungkook plowed into you from behind, obsessed with how his cum seeped out of you and around his cock.

Your arms had given out long ago hence why your cheek was smushed into the sheets of the bed while you whimpered like a whore. "God you should look at yourself," He laughs almost maniacally from behind you.

Feeling himself approach his climax, "Jungkook- please!" you cried out, the friction only adding to the stimulation, "m' gonna-" you try to get back up on your arms but you couldn't move.

"I wonder what your boyfriend would say if he saw you like this,'' A wicked smile spreads across his lips as he reaches for your phone that was forgotten somewhere on the bed, hitting record.

Pulling you up onto your arms, tugging your hair by a makeshift ponytail, the flash highlights the various bruises all over your body left by yours truly. The audio was picking up his soft groans and your pathetic whimpers, and if the room was quiet enough you could probably hear the welt squelch of your cunt sucking in his length with each push.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You cry out, coming once more and your body goes limp, Jungkook ends the recording and tosses the phone to the side while he chases his own high finishing soon after you.

He pulls out slowly, "Y/n, baby? Are you with me?" He taps your cheek gently, and your eyes barely open, "I think you fucked the soul out of me," He dares to flash you a nervous smile as if he hadn't just fucked you dumb.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up."

"That was one hell of a trip." You mumble to Sunny on the phone as you wheel your suitcase down the hall to the door of your apartment where there was a big bouquet of flowers.

"Oh my god," You say, crouching down, wincing a little as you did to read the card. "What?" Sunny asks and you explain what you were seeing.

"Do you think they're from Daehyun?" You scoff, "Fat chance."

You open the envelope to read the card aloud,

'To the hottest girl. We should get donuts sometime, I heard you like them cream-filled ;) Text me sometime xxx-xxx-xxx. -J.K'

Sunny squealed in your ear.

"I'll call you back." You say, dialling Jungkook's number.

"Hello?" He answers.

"You got me flowers?" You couldn't stop the smile from spreading across your face, and he could hear it. He closed his fridge and leaned on the counter, "You like 'em?"

Holding the vase in your hand you take a deep sniff, "I love them."

He shakes his head. "This is so sad. You're too easy to impress. Let me treat you better than that jerk, Y/n." Your mouth falls open-

"How- What?"

"Jimin mentioned the details to me but don't get mad at him; it doesn't change the fact that the guy is an asshole." You sigh.

"I know."

"So?" Jungkook starts, waiting for you to say something.

"I think you mentioned something about cream-filled donuts. When and where?"

He smiles.

#bts #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jungkook fic recs #bts one shot #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #btssmuts #bts scenarios #fluff #bts smut #smut

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luvrxbunny · 6 months

Text

mural

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Marking

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, some grinding, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.3k

A/N: possibly all over the place and the last one! *relieved(?) sobbing* (not proofread)

It’s the first time in a very long time that Miguel is looking in the mirror and doesn’t like what he sees. It’s not about his body really, more about what you left on him… what’s now fading.

You mark him up to your heart's content every time you’re together since he’s never in anything but his suit, all his parts are covered, including your favorite spot; his neck. He tells you they’re a bit of a nuisance. Sure, he never takes off his suit but now he has to worry about it. He’s said this to you more times than he can count but you never listen, and thank god you don’t because he secretly loves them.

Yet for some reason, you seem to have listened to him the last time he told you. You haven’t marked him up in weeks. All his love bites are now fading and he never realized how empty his skin is. He’s in the bathroom and you’re sitting on the bed, he closed the door to inspect his body, secretly admiring the art you leave on his skin but a frown rose to his face, and has stayed there since he realized that almost all of them were gone. His fingertips run over the faint red splotch on his neck and a shiver runs through him.

He needs more. He needs you to mark him up again. He walks out of the bathroom and just watches you on your phone. You don’t look up at him, “You took a while in there! Is it safe for me to go in?” You laugh at your own joke and finally look up when he doesn’t laugh with you. “Are you okay?” You put your phone down and sit up, giving him your full attention and his heart warms at the action.

He weighs his options for a bit. He could come right out and admit that he was lying all those times he told you not to mark him up, that he doesn’t like it… or he could seduce you into giving him more… He chooses the ladder. He takes a deep breath, letting his chest expand and rolling his shoulders back, something that always gets your heart racing. He cracks his neck and lets his eyes roll back with the action before looking back at you with a smile. “I want you, sweetheart.”

He’s laying it on thick, giving you the best ‘fuck me’ eyes he has, and using one of your favorite nicknames. It’s working. He watches your thighs press together for a moment as a wide smile splits your face. “Yeah?” You ask, already crawling to the edge of the bed, where he stands. You let your legs hang over the edge, beside his as you rest your hands on the band of his sweatpants, still smiling up at him. Just the look in your eyes has him hardening in his sweats. Your eyelids flutter once his bulge starts to push the fabric outward, almost touching your face as it grows.

He’s still just watching you, your eyes are on his, giving him an evil look of promise, that you’re going to completely ruin him. Once he’s fully hard his clothed dick is pressing into your cheek and you have to actively avoid rubbing your face into it. You’re not crazy it’s just- you love it so much. Your head tilts into his crotch subconsciously and he takes a sharp breath, it trembles as he exhales. Your eyes are still on his, growing increasingly hazy and your legs start trying to press into each other. He makes a move.

His hands press onto your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, lying in the middle of the mattress. His hands then cup the back of your thighs, lift your spread legs onto the bed, and push you up to the backboard. You’re clawing at him frantically, panting and trying to pull him up so you can connect your lips with his. You’re whining into his mouth in a way that’d have him thinking you’ve been needing him silently for hours. His hands rest beside your head, cradling it as he shoves his lips against yours, a deep groan building in his chest at how soft your life feels against him. His hips drop to yours, earning a soft moan from both of you when his dick presses into your pussy.

One hand leaves your head to hold your hips in place as he grinds against you, angling his bulge so it’s bumping your clit with every thrust. You have to detach from his lips to let out a gut-wrenching moan that he responds to with a low, breathy whine. “Fuck.” He grits out through his teeth, he needed you more than he realized. His hand comes to your underwear, pulling them down with one hand as you wiggle your hips and pull his sweatpants down, over his ass and he takes them the rest of the way with his hand as you wiggle your panties off your legs.

He’s about to climb back up your body but instead sits back on his legs and yanks his shirt over his head. You’re about to do the same but instead, he just grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, instantly letting go once his lips are on yours again. He pulls away for a moment to breathe and mutters “No time. Need you.” against your lips before diving in again. His need for you has only doubled every minute he’s with you, overtaking all his thoughts aside from getting his dick inside your addictive pussy.

His hand is lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in without a second thought. You gasp painfully at the stretch and your hands dig into his biceps. “Miguel—!” Your words cut off with a shaky moan, half in pleasure and half in pain. He whines and ducks into your neck, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, amor. I- wasn’t thinking. I’m-” He’s panting shakily into your neck and his muscles are tense, almost shaking in your hands. You’re able to peek at where his face is resting at the base of your neck and you can see his brows pulled as tight as his shut eyes.

You fight the smile that spreads over your face but it breaks through and he can somehow feel it. “Stop laughing at me.” He grunts into your neck and you giggle, hurting the both of you as your pussy squeezes on his cock. It doesn’t burn as much, growing wetter with how Miguel’s trying to hold back his whimpers against your neck. Your hips tilt up to him, sucking in the last bit of his cock and getting a tortured moan from Miguel. “Please don't.” His words are shaky as they fall from his lips.

You smile and a hand comes to the back of his head, he leans into it like a cat. “I’m ready, baby.” You use the most alluring voice you can muster and feel his body twitch over yours before he starts thrusting into you slowly. It’s incredible, his dick stretching you so wide your entire pussy is a livewire, no matter where he’s touching you it sends a shock through your entire body. You feel like you can feel the veins of his cock sliding against your walls as he thrusts into you at a shockingly slow pace. He’s holding back for you, a bit traumatized by hurting you while lost in his desperation.

You’re soaking him, coating him in your slick, and creating a lewd sound when his cock sinks into you. “M-miguel.” Your whine pulls his head out of your neck and his eyes are frantically searching your face, worried that he hurt you again. You give him a soft knowing look before biting your lip shyly. “You can go f-faster.” You pulse around him uncontrollably as you speak, your entire body desperate for him. His hips stutter against you, like his body is jumping at the opportunity but his mind is still unsure. You can see it in his eyes, he gives you a gentle, ‘Are you sure’ kind of questioning look. You kiss his lips so softly he’s not sure if he imagined your lips touching his or not, before nodding at him as you pull away.

He breathes out something like a sigh of relief before plunging into you, thrusting so hard and deep that his hips create a slapping sound against yours and you can feel his cock bump into your cervix. Your legs raise to his hips, wrapping around him to hold him deep in place. You’re letting shocked moans spill from your lips as he begins to fuck into you, short, strong thrusts that force painful whimpers out of your chest.

Your eyes are shut tight, trying to handle the arousal of his pace before exposing yourself to the arousal of seeing the look on his face. You take the best deep breaths you can in your condition and open your eyes only to be met with his adam’s apple. His head is directly above yours but instead of looking at you, he seems to be focused on the bedframe. You assume it’s a stalling or distraction tactic and say nothing. You’re pretty content with the sight; his neck flexing and adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to hold his moans in.

You’re tempted to suck pretty marks into his skin, leaving him red, purple, and sore. You want to see him pull at his collar the next morning because his neck is too sensitive for the fabric rubbing against his skin. You want to make him so sensitive that you can just run your fingers over his neck and he’s fattening inside his pants. You want it so bad… but he doesn’t so you calm yourself. You whimper as you lean up into his neck. He gasps, shocked when your lips press into the hot skin of his neck, and lets out a broken whimper when all you do is press a slow kiss to it. “Can you— please.” You assume he was going to tell you to stop because he thought you were going to suck. So you keep going.

His whimpers grow more frequent and frustrated the longer you press kisses onto his neck until he finally pulls back. He cups your jaw with one hand, pulls you away from his neck, and looks down at you. “Why aren’t you-” His hips grind into you slower than before, relishing the way he feels when he’s deep inside you before pulling back out. “You’re not—?” He breathes out a shaky and frustrated sigh. “You don’t want to?” He sounds pained, and offended now. Your hips stop flexing into his although his hips keep grinding into yours. His eyes are penetrating deep into yours like he’s searching for an answer but you don't even know the question. You rest a hand on his hips, attempting to slow them but he lets out a soft noise of protest instead.

“What is it, Miggy?” His thrusts stutter and he almost collapses on you. “I like it.” His eyes close and his hips slow further, and this slower pace is somehow worse. He’s dragging against your walls, teasing every nerve he touches. “I like this too, baby? Are you okay?” He groans and blankets you in his weight, dropping his body to yours. You can feel his heart racing in his chest, beating hard into his ribcage and his head is buried in your neck, shaking from side to side. “No.” You don’t like his vagueness, it’s worrying. You push at his shoulder gently. “Flip us over, Miguel.”

He does so without question but regrets it once you pull off his cock. He’s gasping and reaching for you the moment he feels the cold air on his dick but you’re already out of reach. “I’m gonna get back on, don’t worry. I want you to sit up for me, sweetheart.” His heart skips a beat from having your favorite nickname directed to him and complies. He sits up, his cock glistening and bobbing between his legs, red, and painfully hard for you.

You climb into his lap and love the way his entire body leans into you for a kiss as you sink onto him. You comb your fingers through his hair, hoping to soothe him as you kiss him slowly. Your current theory is that he’s a bit too worked up, too desperate to voice what he wants properly so you’re trying to fix it. You pull back and smile at his hooded eyes. “Can you talk to me, handsome?” His hips twitch up into you with a gasp at the petname before a low whine of frustration.

It’s his ego that’s getting in the way, that and a bit of embarrassment. He doesn’t want to outright admit that he’s been bluffing about the kisses, that he actually craves them day in and day out. He wants you to catch on but you’re just not. “I want more.” Upon meeting your blank stare Miguel hesitantly tilts his head to the ceiling, baring his neck for you, showing what he wants. “I want you to- They’ve all faded.” His voice breaks down to a whine, cracking on the last word and it’d break your heart if what he’s saying wasn't so erotic.

He knows you finally understand because you gush and twitch around him. He grunts at the added slick and grips your hips again while he grinds up into you. You watch his adam’s apple drop in a sigh of relief as he slides into the depths of you. Your mouth is on him before you can process how badly you want to bite into his skin. He moans and his hand is behind your head in an instant, holding you in place and gripping into your hair. His fingers tighten their hold once your tongue peaks out from your lips and licks over his skin so gently it almost tickles, then you suck, harshly and as hard as you can.

His eyes roll back and pleasure explodes in his stomach, stemming from your lips throughout his entire body. His hand on your hip tightens with the one in your air as he shakily thrusts upward, trying to fuck you while you mark him up, but you pull away. Your eyes are hazy and fixed on his next with shuddering breaths falling from your lips. “Is that okay? Don't- Don’t wanna cover you.” He can tell that's a lie by the way your eyelids and pussy flutter at the thought. He stays silent, waiting for you to look at him, to see how badly he wants this.

Your eyes meet his and you squeeze on his involuntarily, you’ve seen this look once before, in your own eyes when Miguel fucked you in front of a mirror. “You want more?” You ask, low and timid in case you’re misreading his desperation. Your worries are assuaged by the insistent, and guttural moan he lets out while nodding frantically at you. You don’t question him further, you just dive in.

You grip the back of his neck and pull him to you, latching your lips to his pulse point instantly. You let your soft lips part over his skin and suck. You can feel the vibrations under your lips as he moans out praises to you, his hips grinding into you languidly. His dick is currently an afterthought to the way your lips feel on his neck. You release him with a soft pop and kiss over the area a few times before moving to your next target. You’re hitting all his most sensitive spots, you have them memorized, stored in the back of your head for moments like this.

His mouth is open in a perpetual moan, going silent when you suck especially hard on a certain spot. You’re destroying him. He hasn’t realized how sensitive he’d gotten in all your neglect but every kiss feels like a lightning bolt through his soul. You’re affecting him in a way he never knew was possible. You’re like a madwoman on him, moaning and groaning into each lovebite, kissing over some while licking over others. He can feel that distinct pit of pleasure growing in his stomach but he ignores it, anything to keep you on him, kissing and biting him like this.

He thinks he’ll be able to hold on, to keep his orgasm at bay with the stimulation you’re giving him but you can already feel his muscles pulling in, tensing, and jumping as he tries to avoid the action. You lick a stripe up his marked-up neck before pulling away to bounce on him, giving his cock some stimulation for when he cums but he stops you. “You’re- Is that—?” His eyes are hazy and begging. “Can I have more?” You kiss him a bit roughly, biting and licking at his lips like you’re still giving hickeys. It’s making his head spin, he doesn’t know when the dynamic switched like this. Now he’s the one begging you, pleading with you to touch him in the way he likes. You’ve got him under your thumb, you control him and you never even asked for it. He just gave himself to you.

He’s right on the edge now. You’re bouncing in his lap gently, probably subconsciously, chasing your own pleasure with his body. You collapse onto his chest, your face on his collarbones and you bite. Not a hickey or a lovebite. You just straight up bite into him. And it has him cumming in seconds.

His shut tight, his lids pressed painfully shut as his hands press your body into his as best he can. He plants his feet into the mattress and fucks into you at a brutal pace. It’s out of order and shak, his hips stuttering with his orgasms and his entire body folding in with his heavy, impassioned moans. It’s enough to push you over.

You moan raggedly into his chest, hugging your arms around his neck as you whine against his skin. Your hips grind into him on their own accord, only adding more layers to the pleasure that’s surrounding your body. Miguel moans your name at the way you’re choking his cock and enticing his load to drown your pussy. He’s covering your insides with his seed as you lick over his bite, it’s half an apology but more because you know how it’ll affect him. His thighs tense and begin to shake before his legs give out, collapsing back to the bed and forcing him to succumb to your pace, a slow grind as you come down from your high.

He’s panting beneath and with you, trying to catch his breath from the assault of pleasure you just bombed him with. You’re feeling the same way, a bit bad for how his neck looks and you run a fingertip over a trail you left from the base of his throat to his adams apple. He shivers against you and kisses the top of your head before lifting your hips and letting his cock and cum slide out. He watches you drip into the bedsheets, and how you shiver with goosebumps as you leak.

He kisses you again, on the lips, and softly this time before getting up and heading to the bathroom.

He had planned to get a towel for you, to clean you up all nice a sensually but he catches his reflection in the mirror. You’ve wreaked havoc on his neck, he’s covered in so many bruises he almost looks like he’s got a blackout tattoo. It looks like you’ve painted a mural on his neck, just for him. His heart warms further at your bite mark. His favorite thing about it isn’t that it’ll last longer than the lovebites, no. He loves that he can tell it’s your teeth that we’re stuck into him. He loves that he’s been marked by you.

thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

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ddejavvu · 7 months

Note

Animagus reader and Sirius playing in their animal forms and Sirius accidentally being a little too rough since his form is obviously a lot bigger? He’s super apologetic and while the damage isn’t a big deal at all, reader is like “… I guess this means you owe me a lot of sweater cuddles and to carry me in your bag..” to milk it LOL

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8

Sirius curses the fact that he'd chosen to bound over the grounds with you instead of staying hidden in the shadows of the forest. It means that when his massive form crashes down on top of you after you nip at his front paw, that neither of you can immediately transform to assess the damage. You're in full view of the castle and the accompanying grounds, and he has to fight every urge in his body not to give himself away and shift back at your pained yelp.

He panics, cycles through fight and flight and decides neither will do, then ever-so-gently takes the scruff of your neck between his teeth. He's painstakingly careful, whining apologetically in his throat as he secures you in his maw and bolts for the forest. You haven't made any further outcries, not even when his grip on you had shifted your position, and Sirius takes it to mean that he hasn't maimed you too badly. He still doesn't feel good about it, though, and his paws beat roughly over the earthen forest as he searches for a place to hide.

When he's carried you well within the sprawling confines of the forest he lowers his head to the ground, setting you gently on the mossy dirt.

When you don't immediately transform back, your eyes scanning the trees for potential onlookers, he nudges you with his wet snout, snuffling softly against your fur. It's safe.

You let your transformation seize you, limbs cracking though there's no accompanying pain, and fur retracting and morphing into soft, smooth skin. You wind up splayed over the forest floor and quickly right yourself so that your back is against the tree, and Sirius completes his own transformation only seconds later.

His eyes are round and shining with worry, and you marvel at how he's able to pull such perfect puppy dog eyes even after shedding his canine form. He scans you for visible injuries, lips trembling slightly as he asks, "Darling, are you okay?"

"My wrist hurts," You observe, voice pinched in pain as you raise it. There's a slight ache there, nothing that a day of use won't shake away, but Sirius takes it between his fingers like it's shattered glass that he's afraid might cut him.

"I'm sorry!" He gushes, inspecting the skin there like it might just give up and split in two, "Darling, I'm sorry, I didn't- I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you- is it okay? Do we need to go to the hospital wing?"

You flex it in his grip, once, twice, and already the slight pain eases. You shake your head, but he perceives it as an answer for the wrong question, and his eyes light further with a flaming worry.

"No, I'm- it's okay, Sirius." You assure him, brows still furrowed together at the middle, "I don't need the hospital."

"Are you sure?" He verifies, a nervous glimmer still sullying his handsome features. You nod, twisting your wrist in his grip to take hold of one of his hands, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Yeah, I'm sure," You nod, shifting your legs to plant your heels against the ground, "Help me up?"

He scrambles to fulfil your request, hauling you to your feet and right into his arms. He holds you against his chest, touch excruciatingly gentle against your skin.

"You're sure you're okay?" He asks, and for a third time, you nod.

"Yes, Sirius," You laugh, planting your face into the seam of his button-up, "Yes, I'm okay. It only hurt for a second. I just twisted it or something. It's fine, I'm fine, we're fine."

"Okay." He smooths a hand up your back, nodding along to your repetitive reassurances, "Okay. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," You hum, wishing you were back in your feline form as you press your face into his chest. It's more soothing then, and you can hear the beat of his heart much clearer when you're a cat.

"You gotta make it up to me, though." You muse expectantly, and his arms stiffen around you, "Three whole days of carrying me in your bag without complaining."

"Three?" He asks incredulously, "One! Two, if you're lucky. Three is for hospital wing patients."

"Ah, my wrist," You feign injury, slumping against his chest as he fills the forest with the sound of his deep laughter, "Sirius, hospital wing, stat!"

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one-shot #sirius black one shot #sirius black headcanon #sirius black headcanons #sirius black hc #sirius black hcs #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black dialogue #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader fanfiction

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justaaveragereader · 7 months

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10.08 || SlenderMan!Mingi

Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Dom!Mingi, Sub Reader, Breast Play, Clit Play, Squirting, Tentacle Fucking, Cum Eating, Restraining, Orgasm Denial, Choking, Slight Teasing, If I Missed Anything..Let Me Know🫣.

A/N: There might be some spelling errors, I misplaced my glasses, and each of my eyes have a different prescription😒. So I wrote this with one eye open, aka my eye that is near sighted. So Im sorry for the errors😭!

Kinktober Masterlist

“Mingi..? Mingi…? Are you out here?” You whisper yell. You had seen Mingi take off into the woodys area in a hurry. Walking around in a hurry trying to find any sign of where Mingi went. Agreeing with all the members that you would split up to search for the big man. At least an hour had to have passed by, your feet were starting to get tired. You hear soft like muffles nearby. Despite what your gut is telling you, you walk closer to the noise. Humming nonsense to yourself to ease your nerves. Pulling out your phone to check the time, you look at your signal bars realizing you have absolutely no signal. If you were to get stuck or lose out here you will have to find your way back on your own. As you are getting closer to the noise, you see a big broad back in a crouching position, quickening your pace you whisper yell once more.

“Mingles! Mingles, is that you?” Hesitating to step any closer just in case it in fact wasn’t Mingi. You pick up a small tig, tossing it at the broad back. When they move just an inch, you realize this thing is way bigger than Mingi, way bigger than any human in fact. Backing away slowly, trying your best to not make much noise. You walk backwards, refusing to turn on whatever was sitting in front of you. When the figure suddenly stands up swiftly. The sudden movement causes you to stumble a bit, yet you don’t fall, you freeze. A loud cracking noise comes as it stretches its body out to its full size. Standing at about 7 feet tall, with a thin pale body your stomach feels like it’s churning. You can feel the sweat drop down your spine, damn Song Mingi, damn him for running into this area, damn everyone listening to Wooyoungs advice on splitting up, and damn your dumb crush on Song Mingi.

Suddenly the creature decides to turn towards you, barely making a noise with its huge stature. You feel your stomach fall immediately, its Mingi. Staring at him with huge eyes, you are soaking in his form. His face is stretched into the biggest intimidating grin you’ve ever seen. When suddenly you hear two bursting noises, black tentacles emerging from his back. Feeling your fight or flight kick in, you dash off. Turning around, trying your best to get as far away as your legs can take you. Your mind is screaming ‘get as far as possible’ failing to notice the scenery around you is changing. It looks so gray out, trees flaking like they are ash. Coming to a screeching halt you stand in the middle of the forest. Chest heaving up and down, refusing to scream for any of your other friends, too terrified to alert whatever it was you saw back there. When you feel something slither across your backside. Too stunned to move, you freeze. Your breath is ragged, slowly turning your head you see Mingi in his large form with black tentacles forming around him, with one extended out. His face was covered in a cocky smirk. Biting your lip to hold your nerves. You let out a breath, turning around, you look at him in his huge form. Trying to brave face it the best way you knew how, bluffing.

“I want to go home. Now.” You squint your eyes at him, hoping he doesn’t call your bluff. Letting out a clicking noise, he shakes his head side to side. His dark and blonde hair shifting with the movement. Peeling himself off the tree, tentacles trailing along with him, he steps a foot in front of you. His dark eyes swirling.

“You know I can’t do that.” He whispers out, one of his black tentacles brushes the side of your face, your body recoiling at the slick feel of it. You continue to lock eyes with him, puffing your chest out slightly. You feel another tentacle slither its way up your pants leg, rubbing back and forth on your hip bone. Shuttering lightly you turn your head, refusing to keep eye contact with him any longer. Mingi always had this effect on you, you always thought you him under your spell, little did you know it was the other way around. His naive persona was just an act.

“Why can’t you do that? Where is everyone? Where are we Mingi, if I can even call you that.” You spit fire questions off to him. Wanting to get answers, your nerves still on high alert. Another tentacle runs up your spine, settling at the back of your neck, brushing over the skin slightly, trying to comfort you.

“I’m still Mingi, it’s still me, always has been, always will be.”

Rolling your eyes you let out a huff, your nerves calming slightly, you don’t know if it’s the cool appendage on the back of your neck trying to console you or the fact that this monster is confirmed to be Mingi.

“Everyone is still here, they just can’t see us, we aren’t in their world. We are in mine.” Ending his sentence with a pur that makes your body hot. You have never seen such a dominant side of Mingi. It was the running gag that he had no dominant bone in his body, yet here he was 7ft tall, voice raspier than what it was. Nodding your head to let him know you were hearing him.

“Look at me.” He speaks out in a low tone. Your eyes shoot over to him. Your body shivering at the tentacle that wrapped itself around your neck. You’d be lying if you said this side of Mingi didn’t turn you on, he didn’t fret, he didn’t shy away, he demanded what he wanted, he spoke with authority. The tentacle around your neck gives you a slight squeeze, taking you by surprise you let out a small whimper. Eyes growing big you slap a hand over your mouth, the heat creeps up your spine, clearly embarrassed.

“You wanna fuck me don’t you?” He says matter of factly. Refusing to make eye contact with you, you remain quiet. The tentacle around your neck squeezes once again, while another pushes your chin forward so you look at him.

“Did I say take your eyes off of me?” He grits out.

“N-no.” You whisper out, stuttering over one simple word.

“Keep your eyes on me baby.” He whispers out, stepping closer to you, three of his tentacles still high in the air. While one remains rubbing your back, one around your neck, and the other keeping your chin forward. As he steps closer you swear he grows in size with each step.

“You always were such a pretty thing. Your eyes sparkle everytime you look at me. Even in this form they sparkle.” He whispers out, letting his eyes rake over your form. Bending down, he puts his nose in your neck, catching a whiff of your scent. Chuckling to himself.

“Wanna know a secret?” His cold lips are on your ear.

“I can smell your dripping pussy from here.” He nibbles on your earlobe, chuckling before stepping back.

“Who would’ve known you were such a masochist.” His tentacle around your neck squeezes tighter, the one brushing your back, slides down, slipping under your shirt. Hesitating to touch you, which you can sense.

“You have my permission..” you whisper out, staring up at Mingi. The rest of his tentacles come flying towards your body, one is wiggling under your shirt, one is busy flicking the button to your pants open, while the other is trying to strip you of any clothes. The smooth appendages run across your body, littering you with goosebumps at the coolness of them, they are growing damper within each second that it runs across your skin. With your pants around your ankles, your shirt tossed on the ashing floor. Your bra pulled down below your breast, he wastes no time, one of the thicker tentacles makes its way to your cunt, sliding over it collecting the slick that’s coming from you. Four tentacles hold you in the air, while the other is on your breast, the tip of it flickering over your perked buds.

With each moan you let out the tentacles that are wrapped around your ankles and wrists grow tighter, not too painful, tight to where you know this is Mingi holding himself back as much as he can. The tentacle from your cunt goes to play with your nipples. Aiding the other one in flicking them, your slick from your cunt is now covering your chest, mixing with the wetness coming from each appendage. You let out a breathy moan at each flick of your nipple. Your body jolts in his tight grasp. Biting your lip you cock your head back, clearly getting off at him just playing with your chest.

In a breathless tone you whisper out Mingis name. Signaling to him that you were close, he hadn’t even touched you much but the way he was playing with your chest, you would’ve assumed he practiced this before. Letting out a groan, he slightly shifts his body, one of the tentacles squeezing your nipple hard, letting out a cry, you try to close your legs to try to get some friction on your neglected cunt. His thinner tentacle comes to run slightly upon your clit, he can feel your legs shake already, flicking its thin tip against your puffy clit, he picks up speed, a thick clear slime is smearing all over your folds with each flick. Your toes clench in your shoes, your breathing picking up.

“Mi-Mingi!” You yell out, the tentacle halts its movements on your clit. Making you let out a high pitch whine. Letting out a small chuckle he brings you closer to him, body still suspended mid air. His thin tentacle pushes with slight pressure against your clit. Making you let out a breathless moan.

“Poor baby wants to cum already.” He stated, not even paying attention to your face as your eyes crinkled up, you could feel your clit throbbing. His thinner tentacle covered in the clear slime, slithered down to your hole, inserting itself real slowly, exploring each and every part of your cunt. You let out a gasp as it pushes against your spongy spot. Rubbing against it slowly.

“Mingi please, please, please.” You beg out, dragging your sentence hoping he’d get the jist, spare you some mercy, any and everything you were willing to pull out in order for you to cum. Letting out a mocking chuckle.

“I don’t know, this is fun. But you do sound so pretty when you beg.”

Pulling you even closer his thick tentacle snakes its way between your folds, slicking up with your own arousal, before slipping into you. Causing you to let out a loud gasp at the size difference. This tentacle was wall to wall in your cunt. Bringing your body closer to his face, your breast sitting right in front of him, letting his tongue flicker out, he swipes at your nipple. Causing you to jolt once again in his hold. Bringing his hand up to grip your neck, applying pressure on the sides. At this rate you were convinced if he even looked at you, you’d cum on the spot. Moving your head so it hangs low, he holds your jaw in place with two of his fingers, making you remain in eye contact with him. His mouth latches onto your nipple, suckling it, his plush, cool lips against your skin, has your toes clenching once more. His thick tentacle replaces the thinner one, moving slowly in and out of you, making sure to push against your spongy spot each time. The thinner one wraps itself around your clit. Feeling so many sensations at once has your eyes rolling back.

“Oh my fuckinggg godddd.” You slur out, head trying to cock back but Mingi keeps his hold on your face, this mouth taking a break from one of your nipples before moving onto the other.

“Eyes on me baby, eyes on me.” He grunts out, his hips shifting slightly, you can feel the sweat drip down your back, your skin prickles with need. Blowing on your other nipple to make sure it remains hard. Your cunt is pouring with arousal.

“Mingi please, please move faster.” You say through a whine. Sucking on your nipple a bit harsher, he gently nibbles on it. He starts pistoning his thick tentacle in and out of you, while his thinner one strums your clit. His other hand comes up to pinch your nipple trying to give you the most earth shattering orgasm you can have.

“Eyes on me baby, you going to cum for me?” He purrs out through in his deep, raspy voice. It feels like your whole body is pulsating. You can feel his thick tentacle pulsating inside of you, adding on to the pleasure.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You scream out, your hands are balled into tight fists. Your orgasm crashes over you, Mingis thick tentacle still hammers away at your spot, while the thinner one slows down on your clit, lightly massaging it, your legs shake in the grasp of his tentacles. Suspending you in mid air, he positions your orgasming body right over his head, cocking his head back, opening his mouth he catches the juices that spill out of you while remaining eye contact with you. Seeing this sight pushes you over the edge once more, having two shocking orgasms back to back, if it wasn’t for his tight grip on you, you would’ve wiggled your way out of his hold. Your knees buckle, arching your back you let out a shattering scream, squirting right into his mouth, his long tongue sticks out, catching your juices like a happy dog he holds you up for a couple more minutes. Making sure that he caught any and every drop of your orgasm.

His thick tentacle slowly retracts itself, as it pulls out more of your cum splashes onto his awaiting tongue. The thinner tentacle pulls back, tapping your clit once more before moving away. Your chest is heaving, your forehead is dripping sweat, you are convinced you just saw God flash before your eyes, you are convinced Song Mingi is that God. Slowly putting you on the ground, your legs buckle immediately. Mingi swiftly catches you, letting out a low hum, he rubs your bare waist. Retracting his tentacles back into his body. Cupping the back of your head, he rubs the space below your ear. Your body is exhausted, you feel his brick hard cock against your lower belly. Pulling back slightly you realize you are back in the forest, clothes on, back in reality with a shy timid Mingi looking at you with a blush on his cheeks.

“You found her!” Yunho screeches out, whipping your head around as you look at the members in awe. Clearly dumbstruck.

“I hope she didn’t cause anyone to panic. She had taken a tumble, don’t worry though I helped her up. I think her legs might be injured.” Mingi says, scratching the back of his neck. Blush running down to his covered chest. All the members start arguing amongst themselves about why you had gotten hurt, passing the blame around to each other. Talking about how if they wouldn’t have split you wouldn’t have gotten injured. Wooyoung rants about how you were the one who ran off into the forest, while all the members came looking for you, not Mingi.

“If you need me to carry you baby, that’s all you gotta say. Matter of fact, I still haven’t even gotten the chance to cum in that pretty pussy of yours.” Mingi whispers into your ear, so low that no one can hear him except you. His now warm lips brushing against the shell of your ear. Taken back by his sudden boldness, you lock eyes with him, you can see the darkness that swirls within his eyes.

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#ateez kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #dom! ateez smut #ateez smut #ateez x reader #song mingi smut #song mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi x reader #kinktober masterlist #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #monster!ateez #monsterteez

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crappymixtape · 2 months

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because of you • part three

PART I • PART II • PART IV • PART V // REQUEST -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 3.1k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T H R E E 🎶 thick skull ( re: julien baker ), paramore ft. julien baker

❝ GOOD GIRLS DON’T CRY & GOOD GIRLS DON’T LIE & GOOD GIRLS JUSTIFY BUT I DON’T ❞

“Think she’s okay?”

“Shh!”

“What? No way she can hear us back here.”

“Dustin, ‘back here’ is literally a seat behind her.”

Sat quietly at a table seat in the Winnebago, Eddie looking on worriedly across from you, you were still grappling with the fact that you were alive. That you didn’t die. That you were breathing fresh air and free from the dark and free from Him.

For now.

And as the RV bumped down the road out of Hawkins you said nothing. Felt Steve’s eyes on you constantly as he glanced at you in the rearview. Eddie’s hand still holding tight to yours after he helped you up, afraid to lose you again. Dustin and Lucas and Max all talking in not-so-hushed voices behind you about what it all meant and if El could get back in time and was this all gonna be enough?

Voice thick and choked by the sobs that had felt endless, you’d managed to tell everyone what Vecna had showed you. Told them about Hawkins, about the monsters, about your family, about them. Eddie, Robin, Nancy Steve. And no one had said anything at first. The sounds of your cries filling up the RV. Stark against the silence and heavy with the weight of your words and they knew before you’d even opened your mouth that it was going to be bad.

Of course they knew.

But now that Vecna had revealed his master plan, the efforts you were all making just felt hopeless. The munitions stuffed under the bench seats and closets and cabinets, all puny and worthless against Vecna and his army of nightmares.

A big bump in the road brought you out of your thoughts and when you glanced up your eyes met Steve’s as he snuck another look in the rear view. And instead of glaring, instead of flipping him the bird, you looked right back. Held his gaze for moment longer and he didn’t shy away until he came up on a turn-off.

“Alright, shitheads. We’re here.”

“Here?” Lucas asked, more than confused at the thick forest Steve was now driving you all through.

“Yeah, this is it.”

And as the trees slowly thinned out, thick grass and wildflower blooms took their place. Creeping out ahead of you to reveal a meadow, wide and green and lush. A haven that felt so very far away, felt safe, and as Steve parked and the engine quieted you let out the breath you’d been holding.

❝ MAYBE IF YOU JUST GOT SOME GUTS WE’D KILL ‘EM WITH A THOUSAND CUTS AND SAY WE DID IT OUT OF LOVE ❞

Everyone piled out of the RV and got after their tasks. Pretended like preparing for the end of the world was totally normal and routine. Nancy and Robin sawing off the end of a shotgun. Lucas and Erica attempting to make spears from tactical knives and broom handles. Eddie and Dustin shoving each other around in the grass with their garbage can lids full of nails at their feet and none of it instilled you with confidence, but Dustin screaming No wedgies! did manage to pull a little smile out of you.

And for a split second it felt okay.

Laughter, the sound of birds, the feeling of the wind on your bare skin and all the green around you – so unlike the cracked and bitter feeling in the Upside Down and then your smile fell.

You wished He hadn’t shown you.

Wished Vecna had just left you alone. Wished for just a moment that you hadn’t gone to Max’s trailer and put yourself in the middle of all this, but then Eddie grabbed Dustin in a big bear hug and your chest squeezed.

Your best friend.

The reason why you had gone to Max’s trailer.

The reason why you weren’t going to run.

The reason this was all worth it.

“Ah, shit.”

Sat next to you, Steve sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. The funnel in your hands slipping as you lost focus and liquid trickled down your hands and wrists.

“Hold it still,” Steve quickly tipped back his can of kerosene and set it down to grab a piece of ripped towel.

A string of curses were muttered under your breath, so much for homemade molotov cocktails.

Cheeks burning with embarrassment you went to wipe your hands on your sweater, but when you looked back up at Steve he was looking too. Eyes searching yours, unsure and tentative. Moles dotting along his cheeks and jaw like tiny constellations. Skin gold like it held summer and when you blinked away the haze of him, you realized he was reaching out to you.

“Here, get that off so it doesn’t burn,” he said a little softer. Cloth in one hand, he took yours in the other and wiped at the kerosene.

Oh, fell from your lips. Surprised. Unsure. Your skin buzzing where he touched you and you swallowed thick as you felt your pulse flutter against your neck.

“Uh–here, you can get the rest,” Steve said quickly, like he’d felt it too and hastily passed the cloth off to you, dropping your hand to wipe his on his jeans.

“Thanks,” you mumbled back.

It was quiet for a moment as he cleared his throat and picked up his can of kerosene again. You followed suit and grabbed your empty vodka bottle and funnel. Wordlessly he leaned over to hold your hand in his and once it was steady began pouring again, eyes flicking over to look at you.

“I’m an asshole,” he suddenly admitted, breaking the silence, and you had to focus really hard to not fumble the bottle again.

“I didn’t say it,” you started and he chuckled under his breath. A low, warm thing that made the air around you fizzle and crack like bonfires down at the quarry.

“Didn’t say you did,” he gently pushed back, lips still tugged up into a small, wry smile, but it faded the longer he looked at you. “Listen. I know we aren’t…well, I know I don’t have a great track record,” he said and the change in his tone surprised you. Told you he was serious and you had to look away to try to gather yourself back up again.

"No, really?" you said, all sarcasm, and he huffed another laugh.

“Hah hah,” he joked, weakly at first, and then his expression shifted more serious. “I just wanted to say that…well, that you have every right to be here it’s just–” the boy hummed around his words. Dropped his gaze down to where your hands met on the kerosene filled vodka bottle and put the can on the ground.

Talking to you like this, showing weakness and vulnerability, made him feel so exposed. Uncomfortable. Unable to find the right words and his tongue jammed into his cheek as he tried to decide just how honest he wanted to be.

With you.

“It’s just–everything about the Upside Down wants to kill you and it’s like–” he sighed heavy and carded a hand through his already messy hair. “I dunno. How many more people have to die? You know?” and then he was looking at you again. Really looking, really asking, and for a second it made you doubt everything you felt about him.

Jock. Asshole. King Steve.

No second chances, remember?

“Can I ask you something?” you heard yourself say and you could feel the muddled mixture of nerves and frustration and anticipation buzzing under your skin. Everything you’d been holding onto all this time pent up and pushing against the wall you’d built around it. Waiting waiting waiting for you to set it loose.

“Oh–sure, yeah.”

“Why are you really here?”

Steve’s eyes grew wide and he sat back on his milk crate, hands squeezing at the tops of his thighs.

“Why am I here?”

“Yeah. Do you really care about Eddie?”

Steve’s eyes darted back over to where Eddie and Dustin were hammering more nails into their garbage can lids and maybe you were impatient or maybe Steve was stalling, but you didn’t want to wait.

“Cos you didn’t care about him before.”

“B-before? I don’t–what d'you mean–”

Steve was stumbling over himself now, struggling to own the words you put on him and frustration grew warm in your chest, but you tried hard to swallow it down. Tried hard to let him prove Eddie’s theory of change.

“High school, Harrington,” you started, trying to keep your tone even and calm. “Yelled at us in the quad? Tossed people’s books in the hallway? Threw fries at us in the cafeteria.” You paused, debated whether or not you wanted to tack more on, and then you thought of Tommy and it came out all on its own, “Let your friends say really shitty things to me.”

Steve’s gaze dropped down to his feet and he didn’t say anything at first, not a word, and you kicked yourself for even bothering to think he’d be able to handle it. Of course he couldn’t.

“You know what–nevermind,” you mumbled, capping your bottle and moving to stand, but his hand grabbed yours and pulled you back down onto your milk crate.

“Wait. Please?”

And the way he was looking at you was pained, the pinch between his brows deep, and it made you pause. Was Eddie right? The way Steve cared for these kids, for your best friend, showed clearly something had shifted in him, but was it enough?

“Wait for what, Harrington? So you can show me things are different now?” your voice was softer, but hurt, “Because Eddie swears you’ve changed, but you still sound just like Tommy.”

The mention of his ex-best friend felt like getting the wind knocked out of him. He knew Tommy was wrong now. Hell, he knew it back then too. Knew how fucked up it'd been in the parking lot at the school, but he hadn’t had the guts to say anything. Couldn’t stand up to him or tell him off because he ‘had a reputation to uphold’ and what would everyone else say if he went ‘soft on a freak’?

“I–I know. I fucked up. I get it and I don’t know how I can prove it to you, but–” he started truthfully, hand still holding yours, thumb shifting softly against your palm, “–but I am. Really sorry.”

Really sorry.

Finally. After all those years. After everything he’d said and done, but sorry didn’t fix it. Or take any of it back. Was it too late?

Reluctantly you pulled your hand away from Steve’s, his fingers flexing as they fell away from yours, wanting to hold on just a little bit longer but you weren’t ready.

“You know that doesn’t fix it, right?” you said quietly, glancing up at Steve through the long sweep of your lashes and guilt settled heavy over him.

He knew it didn’t fix it. Knew all too well that words didn’t mean shit, but he would be the first to admit he was a slow learner. Crawl before you walk. Hit your head and maybe something will suddenly make sense and when it came to you? Vecna had been like a sucker punch.

You were strong-willed. Didn’t take shit lying down. Were fiercely loyal to your best friend and just wanted to try to help and it had taken Steve a minute to realize – in your eyes he was still bullshit, but he didn’t want to be. It wasn’t going to be easy, not in the least, but just like you he wanted to try.

“I know it doesn’t fix it.”

His eyes squeezed shut so he didn’t have to look at you. Tried to make it easier on himself as he pushed through the discomfort of taking responsibility for his actions. Tongue running along his bottom lip, just like it always did when his brain was working overtime, he finally looked back up at you.

“I’m not asking you for forgiveness or–or to be my friend or anything. I just want you know I really am sorry. For all of it. Okay?”

Sitting there so close to him, your hands inches away from touching, holding each other’s gaze as you listened to the words falling from his lips in sincerity – it was almost too much. The wall you’d built around yourself cracking and straining against this new feeling that had settled in your chest, but the words wouldn’t come to you as your lips parted and you tried and pull yourself together but–

“Dammit, Eddie, no wedgies!”

Dustin’s voice cut through the silence that had settled and Steve reflexively sat up. Pushed himself away from whatever it was you’d waded into together. Away from sorry and the feeling of your hands pressed together and the look you gave him through the long sweep of your lashes and the way you made his heart race. Turned away from you and played it off.

“Hey! Less dicking around, more putting shit together!” he yelled at Dustin and Eddie flipped him off without looking.

“Like you’re doing anything important, big boy!” Eddie hollered back and the way it made Steve’s cheeks grow pink made your lips twitch with a smile you had to work hard to hold back.

“Shut up,” Steve muttered at Eddie, but mostly to himself, and stood from his milk crate to put your filled vodka bottle into the box with the rest.

You watched quietly as he placed the last bottle in and folded the cardboard shut. Muscles tensing and pulling taut as he worked, moving against the fabric of his shirt and you quickly looked away for fear of being caught.

Then your eye caught his nail covered bat tipped against side of the Winnebago and the threat of the Upside Down and all its nasties wrapped around you tight like a vice.

Oh.

Right.

The end of the world.

Just a few yards away Nancy pulled the trigger on her shotgun, the sound making you flinch, and it hit you like a ton of bricks – you had absolutely no clue how to defend yourself against this. Against Him. Against an army from hell. You knew how to throw a punch and knee someone in the crotch and you’d always had an arm on you from playing volleyball, but none of that had anything to do with monsters. Or guns. Or nail covered bats.

“Uhm–” came out mumbled, more sound than word, and it pulled Steve’s attention up from the box.

“What’s that?”

“Can you–er–would you maybe show me how to swing that?” you asked and it made him turn to face you, giving you his full attention.

“What?”

Your cheeks grew hot.

“That bat,” you said shifting uncomfortably on your crate, “I don’t think–I can't shoot a gun.”

Steve’s expression softened as he remembered what it'd felt like the first time he saw a demogorgon. The first time he swung that very bat into the side of a demodog. The first time this world had been exposed to him and he knew how overwhelming and absolutely crazy it all felt.

Grabbing the bat in his hand he gave you a small smile and took the few steps back over to you.

“Sure. It’s not too hard. You know, just aim and swing.”

“Just aim and swing?” your tone was flat, all skeptics, a defensive move against his kindness and it made him chuckle.

“Well, there’s probably more to it than that, but those stupid bats are thick enough when they swarm it’d be hard for anyone to miss.”

Your eyes grew wide at the thought of swarming bats and it made him laugh again, a half-grimace pulling at his features.

“Shit, sorry. Uh–here,” readjusting his grip he bent his knees a bit and dug his heel into the ground. “Just make sure you get a wide stance, yeah? Like, hip width apart? And don’t be afraid to choke up on your hold. It’ll make your swings hit harder.”

He swung the bat and the sound it made as it cut through the air made your breath catch in your throat.

“Wanna try?” the boy held the crude weapon out to you and you swallowed thick. Stood up from your own milk crate and tentatively took it from him.

It was heavy in your hands, heavier than you thought it’d be, but smooth. You did as he said and slid your hands up a little further on the handle and tried a swing, but threw yourself off balance and stumbled forward.

“Ah, that’s okay. Here, uh–” Steve stepped in behind you and placed his hands over yours on the bat, “–try again, but follow through with your hip. Your grip’s good, just don’t throw your full weight forward.”

The warmth of his chest on your back made your cheeks burn again. Made your heart race. Hammering against your ribcage as he slowly took you through the motion again.

“Then when you get to the end of the swing, follow with your hip," his voice was much quieter over your shoulder, words falling into your ear and making you dizzy as he tried so damn hard to keep his focus. Placed a hand on your waist to guide it and toed your foot forward with his shoe as he took a step. “See?”

“Yeah,” was all you could manage, the feeling of his breath on your neck trailing goosebumps across your skin and you couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the way the closeness of him pulled your gaze and when you looked up he was looking too.

“Does that–uh–did that make sense?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper and you nodded. A small thing that barely registered and he was so close now. Close enough his nose nearly brushed your cheek, getting closer by the second and–

“Harrington! Where are those bottles? I gotta get ‘em loaded up!” Eddie yelled from the other side of the RV and the space between you shattered. Both of you stepping away as though you’d touched a hot stove and you pressed the bat into Steve’s hands.

“Should probably get ready,” you muttered and he nodded, cleared his throat and took two big steps back to set the bat down.

“Coming!” Steve called back as he scooped up the box of molotov cocktails, bottles clinking against each other as he walked away and disappeared around the corner of the RV.

King Steve turned Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington turned something else.

Something more.

Something you thought you’d written off.

Something that held you so tightly now it made you want to run, but at the back of your mind, somewhere soft and warm, you couldn’t help wondering what might happen if you didn’t.

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART THREE OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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undercoverpena · 5 months

Text

vii. take care of me

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. flirting. idiots who are so in love it’s stupid. feelings. smut - p in v. reader has a bad day, soft romantic fucking.

word count: 4.7k

an: the biggest thanks to @thetriumphantpanda who read this before bake off and left me a bunch of comments that made me so excited, you almost had this chapter yesterday.

You had seemed downtrodden before he rocked up and ‘broke a rule’.

His pretence at forgetting all quickly seen through, as though he’s transparent. He had wanted to explain that he had only wanted to cheer you up, but you looked less in the mood for an apology than you did an explanation.

So he swallowed both.

From the middle of the week, he had suspected something was wrong. When he had finally managed to call you, you had sounded so close to tears, that he wondered whether he should drive back sooner.

Especially when you had barely laughed at a joke he made on one of his commutes back to the hotel—barely even answering when he asked it if was his movie choice or yours.

I don’t mind. You always mind. If I remember right, you have a real thing about me always pickin’ the movie, querida. Well, I don’t today, okay? You can pick—I—Frankie, I have to go.

When the end call tone flooded the bed of his truck, he’d strongly suspected that you’d fought your way off the phone with him so you could crumble. Cracking yourself open into a bunch of shards, all pressure-cooked by the weight of everything you take on, only to say you’re fine.

It’s why he had driven past your place the day before he had made plans to see you. Fighting with himself about getting out and going up to your door. Weighing up the options as to whether checking on you tonight or waiting for tomorrow would be best.

Then there was the fact he wasn’t sure if it was as your best friend or as someone who hopes for something more.

The lines blurred, practically erased. A speech is likely needed, but he’s as poor with words as he is with owning how he feels, so it’s easier to stuff them down—to drive away, wait.

It’s why he grabbed it to begin with. Why he’d been grabbing them since you put the darn rule in place anyway. A habit, a part of his routine seeing you—a thing he did to show you that you mattered, were important, cared for.

Which is why he’d wrestled with him again on whether to leave it in the car when he walked up to your front door or not.

“You broke a rule.”

You look glum, defeated. Whatever your working week had done to you, it had stolen more from you than you’d been able to—never mind willing to give.

And it fractured a part of him. Made his shoulders sink, his heart sinks—because nothing hurt him more than the look on your face. The one which should be full of smiles and twinkling eyes.

Kissing your cheek, he closes your front door behind him. “I think you’ll forgive me.”

You just snort. Momentarily smothering the sadness that had been there before he’d showed you the bottle—whatever had upset you buried, all of it being quickly hidden as you placed the wine down and picked up your water bottle.

It forces more confusion to swirl inside of him, more so as you begin to go back and forth with him on food, on what he wants to watch, and whether he wants to share a blanket or have his own.

He replies in his usual tone, even if his attention is split into equal parts—one part focused on the little things you do, the mannerisms you’re not aware to pretend. The other on the IKEA furniture he built, the memories pricking him, needling, making the zipper of his jeans suddenly feel uncomfortable over his cock.

“Work been okay?”

Your mouth falls open, all set to answer, but then something shifts in your eyes. A shadow—possibly—it dancing across the plain, suddenly all but desperate to thump its way out.

Then the words never come. Swallowing instead, discarding whatever you'd been about to say—pushing it back before any lingering parts of it are blinked away as you offer a nod.

“Yeah. Yours?” you answer, but your tone isn’t right.

It’s flat, without its usual infliction. There isn't any edge to your words, nor a tease or taunt, not even a Morales in sight. And, the smile you paint doesn’t quite reach the eyes.

It’s practically humming now, the fact something is wrong. It simmers, hanging around, whistling through the air.

Yet, you don’t break, don’t confess it all to him like you had once done with such ease. Instead, you just smear another smile on your face, nudging him, phone in hand as you mumble about food options and what he wants as you lead him to the sofa.

He knows on the surface, it looks the same—how the night is playing out. But it’s different. In all the ways he doesn’t want to put his finger on, and doesn’t want to acknowledge. Not as you order food, not as you chew the inside of your cheek as you wait for the order to be accepted.

Even less so when you mumble about the film, reaching for your remotes.

It's then he decides what he wants to do is take the remote from your hand as soon as you pick it up. Frankie wants to hold your fingers in his, even place a kiss on your wrist. He wants to place two fingers under your chin, and ask you again to tell him what has happened—wanting to be let him in, be shared with.

He wants you close, and not like friends do. A need to have your head to his chest, his fingers sliding gentle strokes against your cheek and neck, offering comfort, providing it in plenty.

His own head turns the options over, planning it out, trying to guess what the various outcomes are. Which, by the time he reacts, instead of managing to grasp your hand, he knocks the remote from your hand with a clatter.

Ears burning, he feels your glare before he truly appreciates it. It ripples out over him before it’s blinked away—a momentary flood of fire licking at his skin.

In the oddest way, it’s at least reminiscent of the person he knows. The sharpness in your eyes is more a friend to him right now than the gnawing going on in his chest. Especially, while the rest of you is lost to whatever you’re trying to pretend doesn’t exist.

“What?”

It’s simple, one word.

Almost feels normal. It's all sharp and layered, just like it usually is. Followed by your body sinking into the array of cushions you decorate your sofa with as you pull up his pick, rolling your head to him—nail-picking at the battery cover on your remote.

And he wants to ask again—just like he always would have done.

Instead, Frankie places his hand on your knee, thumb and index swirling over the cloth-covered bone as you look at the television briefly, before flicking back to him.

In the silence, it’s louder—the whistling. It's suddenly accompanied by the noticeable noise of your brain whirring, your cogs turning.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, but secretly he's pleading, begging.

He watches as your teeth pick at your lip, snuggling yourself further into the couch—knee abutting his leg as you sigh. “It's... nothing. Can we... can we just watch the movie?”

“Hey, of course we can. Is…”

He can't ask.

Fearful of asking. A lump forms in his throat, sticking, thickening second by second as he flicks his eyes over you.

Before you can blink it away, he spots it again. The shift in your eyes.

This time instead of a shadow, they fill with water. They vanish any part of your truth that wished to escape in its drowning. Before he can poke and push, you blink it away as quickly as it had first arrived.

And it needles him, pricks at his skin and stabs into his chest, twisting and twisting and twisting—

“I just… wanted my best friend,” you mumble.

“That it?”

You seem to fight it, whatever it is inside of you, before you curl against his arm again, tugging your blanket up closer. “I really missed you this week, that's all.”

It’s been on his to-watch list for ages, and yet he’s one hour into it and he has no clue what is happening.

The pizza box is still half-open on the coffee table, your plate still remaining with picked-at food that you never really made any dent in, and he blames that as to why he doesn’t even know who the good guy is and who is bad.

Because all of the parts of his brain that usually begin working on undoing and arranging what he thinks will and is happening, are working in overdrive on you.

It's also stopping his heart from hammering even louder down your ear. Because, even if the two of you have cuddled before—lots of times—it's not been post the whole sleeping together thing.

And, it feels nice having you against him, normal, right.

He likes the way your fingers occasionally clutch him a little closer, head turned in the direction of the television and the movie he should be watching.

Instead, he's piecing together the puzzle you've thrown on the floor. The one without the box lid, so no image to compare it to. Trying to assess where you missing him, lines up with the way your bottom lip almost wobbled as you confessed it, as though it was a sin and not a virtue.

Frankie tries to line it up with the fact he knows whenever he's found a moment to himself, he’s texted you. The sea of other unread messages piling up, collecting.

It adds to the knowledge that all of the normal conversation he has with you, quickly derails, slipping into something foreign yet wonderful. Casual phone calls, divert into him with his hand around his cock, listening to you breathlessly say his name and that you wish he was there.

And that somewhere between collecting the sweet noises you make and those innocent-but-not-innocent moments, are the soft moments he has where you’re resting—where Frankie has realised, decided and accepted, that there is nowhere else he likes being.

Not a single place.

Because he wants this.

Frankie wants the calmer person he is when he's around you, the thoughts which are less intrusive. He likes that the rain barely bothers him when he has you in his arms, that he doesn’t even overthink, if anything he just plans. Considering things, turning them over, thinking of a future that begins to sketch itself out and colour itself in.

Something which has been doing so since the time in the car.

Your words rolling and rolling, stitching themselves to other phrases you’ve let slip, until he’s sewing things together to create a gallery, a museum of moments he loves admiring and replaying when the world goes silent.

That's when he notices the movie, the shit-show of a plan formed involving a helicopter, and the words roll from him without stopping.

"That would never fuckin' happen. Not—can you imagine, if I said to you—" and he rambles. Feels himself doing so. So comfortable and at ease more and more things just flow and fall from his lips.

Even when the scene changes in the movie, more bright light than the softer one from before, forcing him to blink—he is still detailing how inaccurate it is. Only slowing to nothing when he realises you’re looking up at him. Hanging on to every word as though he's a poet reading something beautiful.

He feels the way they tracing him then, lightly glazing over all his features as he slowly holds your stare.

Because it’s the kind of gaze he sees in the movies you make him watch. The lingering ones—a blend of both fiery and craving. It all peppered with yearning, and swirling in so much he suspects you don’t want to say.

“You’re going to miss the movie.”

Blinking, you smile. Feeling you flick your eyes from him to his mouth. “Am I?”

Your smile slides further into your cheek, and he can’t help but brush his thumb over it. A dire need to touch you, brush your soft skin and remind himself how you feel.

He doesn’t expect it, but he likes that you curl into his hand. It allows him to trace his fingers along your jaw, down the side of your neck. Half-expecting you to tell him to stop, that tonight isn’t about that.

You don’t.

Instead, your hand cups his against your cheek, staring at him, lit up by the flickering scenes neither of you are paying attention to.

Faintly, blooming out in the shimmer of your eyes, he thinks he sees it again—what he thinks is adoration. It mixing, blending, swirling with care, love…

“Thought you wanted your best friend?”

“I do,” you say, low, just above a whisper, “So, take care of me.”

A second passes as your words drip into the air.

So take care of me.

His eyes flick over you. Likely needing you to say it again, give permission, tell him you want this.

You do. Fuck you do.

Your heart hammering against your chest like a drum because of it. All unable to speak, fearful, fucking petrified, with how much you want him.

Because all you do is want him, and if you speak, you worry you won’t stop telling him that.

Let it fall, leak. Slip out and stain like oil on a sheet.

Because you know it's only normal to miss him this much for one reason, and one reason alone. It's the same reason why you want him, crave him, and feel so desperate for him that you can’t think or breathe. It is all-encompassing, looming, forever there in between the days you don't see him and the waiting on replies to texts.

It’s so close to your tongue, held back only by your teeth.

It could come out, could escape. So you keep your mouth clamped shut. It is better, easier, and less bothersome than telling him you’ve been counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds until you could have your hands on him. Not for this, not because he makes you feel good and beautiful and wanted, but because you feel better. Happier. More you. You feel safe, like no bad work day could ever touch you.

“Querida…”

“I want y—”

The rest of your words are swallowed, stolen. Frankie seals his mouth over yours, barely needing a sentence, just enough.

And it’s searing, full of ache as his hands pull you close, your body singing, itching to come alive—has been since the scent of just him hit your nose.

The worst of days doesn’t matter when he’s around you, less so when his lips marry to yours, when he licks into your mouth, when he breathes you in, and you breathe him.

No one else has ever made you feel like he does.

Not the way your feet almost kick out when his message arrives, a smile gracing your mouth without control when he calls you.

Because he’s different, but then he always has been.

There's always been something, it thriving and growing, embedding vines you pretend are just because you're good friends. But you know, you do. It's hard not to.

Frankie saves you, oblivious to the silent plea for rescue—he just knows. He gets you. Understands every inch of you now, you're unsure how anyone else can ever read you as well. He's someone you could confidently rely on, knowing he’d never leave you alone, not even in the dark—forever a light, a way home.

You think you’re that for him too. Hope so anyway.

He moans your name. Kissing you like he never wishes to stop. He acts like he wants to drown in you, be overflowed by you, and fuck you want the same.

Mine. That’s what you want to say.

Instead, you bury it in a low moan when his mouth captures yours, tongue sliding past your teeth as his hands come to rest on your cheeks. Each touch softer, gentler—from the way he moves his fingers over your cheek, to the way he slides them over your jaw, landing on your neck.

Then, his mouth comes to your ear, breath dancing, all flooded with the flickering television—let’s go to your bed.

He doesn’t rip, he peels your layers off, leaving a trail leading right to your room. He smothers your body with his, his palm remaining flat to your spine, leading, hooking his fingers around the back of your neck as he steers you.

Careful, hermosa.

The consideration dripping from his lips like syrup, all adorned in affection, a taste you have to capture, spinning in his hold, hooking your arms around his neck as you pull him flush, close.

“Tell me you want me,” he hisses.

There's an edge that isn’t usually there but it’s pounding now, all sparkling and fucking shimmering.

You’re more sure of it when he lies you back on your sheets, his mouth exploring, taking his time, taking you to the edge with his mouth as you plead and plead—one hand sliding up over the softness of your stomach, as your back arches into him.

And you shudder, so close to your high—hips held down by his arm. “I want you, Frankie. Always want you. Want you inside of me.”

He pauses—cool air blowing over you as he flicks his eyes up from between your thighs, his skin flushes, a light beading of sweat at his hairline as he comes up onto his palms.

Watching him crawl up you, eyes enamoured, unable to look anywhere else even if they were commanded to. Because he’s more than a sight for sore eyes, he is the sight. He’s the best-looking thing you’ve ever fucking seen, clutching his face in your hands, feeling him drag the head of his cock through your slick walls, staring at you in waiting, like he couldn’t believe this is happening.

“Again,” he asks.

Taking your hand in his, he slots his fingers between yours, fitting, ever so perfectly, before he places your conjoined hands above your head. Eyes tracing up and down your frame, more so as you arch into him, hearing the breathed-out expletive as you wait for his stare to land.

“I want you.”

And, thankfully, Frankie doesn’t let you linger on it. Doesn’t allow you to hyper-focus on it, slowly sliding in, pushing in by inch until you’re full of just him—no more of him left that you can greedily take.

“Always take me so well, baby—“

“Frankie.”

You’re breathless. The air punched from your lungs—his hand remaining knotted in yours, grounding, your nails digging into his skin as his other hand finds a place on the back of your thigh, eyes dropping, all fixated on where the two of you are joined.

“Y'so good for me. Always so good for me,” he adds when his hips are flush with yours. “Take my cock so well.”

Letting his gaze return to you, you’re suddenly so grateful for the bedside lamp you’d left on hours ago because now you get to see him. Admire him, so much so, it makes your throat dry.

Able to watch his muscles contort when he moves, lips parting as he slowly cants his hips into yours, all deep strokes.

And, you know it’s still fucking, but it’s also not.

It’s a unique blend of need that feels right, and also wrong—lips messily finding yours, burying confessions as you eagerly swallow them.

Hoping your throat, lungs or stomach could begin to decipher them as you feel his hand slide down your wrist, and arm until it's cupping your face. His lips slide over your cheek, resting close to your ear, whispering compliments. Because he has to tell you that you’re gorgeous, he says; that you're always so stunning.

Each word that lands has more than an effect on you, as he stutters when you clench around him.

Mouth wrapped around an exclamation of his name as he slides out and sinks back into you.

Frankie has always felt big, but from this angle, like this—he’s somehow deeper, filling you more. He's in your soul. It all filthy and romantic and obscene, but it feels so good, makes heat bloom through your hips and up into your spine, it twisting, eroding the bad day, the bad week.

In a sense, he’s the perfect antidote. A person you trust, care for, lo—

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

Frankie’s hand slides back to grip yours, pressing it down—lightly against the pillow above you, before placing the other beside it. And he’s enveloped in part shadows and the light from the table, blessed in golden hues, giving just enough to see how wild his eyes are and how deep the brown in them goes, how blown his pupils are.

“Do you know how beautiful you look right now?”

You feel your cheeks warm, your ears—every bit of skin on show suddenly inflamed because of his words. His mouth lapping at your breasts, all arched into him, hips steadily meeting his.

“Always are, really.”

“Well. You’re handsome, Morales.”

It’s intentional, adding his surname. Taking the softness out of it, removing what you can, and adding barriers and throwing up walls.

He still sucks in a breath, eyes lingering on yours, fingers dropping to brush a line up and down your cheek as he continues to slide his cock in and out of you. You moan as the head of him keeps kissing that part deep inside you.

It’s different.

You know it; he likely does too. Thankful he slants his mouth over yours. Slowly rocking with you, thrusting into you as you murmur his name, it falling enriched in moans.

From the way you both kiss, to the way you keep an arm around his neck, desperate to keep as much of him against yours.

“You feel so good, Frankie.” Your fingers scratch at the base of his neck. “Always make me feel so full.”

Stuffed really. Packed in. Clenching around him, all tightening, purposefully wrapping your walls around him until he groans right into your ear. Each drag of his cock in and out feeling exquisite, perfect, amazing.

It’s never been like this with others, never been like this even with him. His fucked out face, the grunts and groans coming from deep within make your thighs unable to stop their twitching as fire floods up your spine and the way he plunges you in lust-filled brown.

And you clutch his face, feverish from him, quivering, shaking. Burying the words, “So close, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m close baby,” against his mouth.

Pressing each letter in, stamping it—ensuring he knows it’s him doing this to you. Making a mess of you. The only person you ever want to make a mess out of you.

It thumping inside of you, hammering—all balled up fists and desperation because you want to tell him. Shout it at him. Paint the walls in it as he paints yours in white.

“Need you, Frankie.”

It’s close to the truth. Barely an inch from it.

“I know, need you too. Need to feel you come around me, hermosa. I need it, please. Please give it to me. Let me feel—fuck—feel you coming around my cock.”

And you hear it, the way he pleads—as well as realise the double meaning. You in the car, whispering words so close to the ones he’s spilling now.

“I will if you stay.”

He doesn’t still, but he does jolt. A hesitation in his pistoning.

Then he drops to his elbows around your face, cradling you, caging you in, as he kisses you—sloppily, messily, sweetly. It’s soft, but also full of heavy moans he wishes to force down your throat. It’s indulgent, a thing you never thought you’d have so now you take as much of it as you can get.

“Course I’ll stay. Never—fuck—anywhere I want to be but here, baby. Nowhere else.”

His eyes fix on you, digging the words in.

And, even if you knew it before, you realise how under your skin he is. How he’s woven in around tendons and ligaments, found a home, left marks against your bones you never want to rid.

You’re sure it’s that and not the words which make everything else mute.

Even if it’s all you can hear. Not the television in the other room, not the headboard clattering against the wall, not the sounds you’re making each time he drags his cock through your walls.

Just his words. Whatever he blesses you in. Your thoughts are all incoherent other than that. All shaky, practically vibrating; all gasping and torturous heavy heat, all unable to breathe and yet never wanting any of this to stop.

His hand slides around your thigh, pulling on your knee, bringing it closer as his grip almost grows bruising on you. He’s deep. Fucking into you so hard, hearing the concoction of his hisses, gasps and moans, before his mouth lands back on yours.

It’s overwhelming. The height you’ve reached, the way your mouth is only able to say his name as you watch him lick his thumb and distinctly feel it slide between the two of you. Finding it. Barely struggling to press the pad of it to your bundle of nerves before you lock up, the knot tightening, almost ripping inside of you.

It fraying from how much you’re fighting it, so close to bursting—

Then he draws quicker circles, all persistent, expertly, and you snap.

It surging, all white-hot, all blistering and mind-melting. You become both light and heavy all at once, your nails finding purpose in his side and your sheets, twisting, knotting to root yourself in this, in him—in how much you fucking love him.

“Fuck, querida—that’s it.”

You can’t respond, can’t even think up a response, but you do yank his mouth to yours. Pressing those three words there, laying them down, as well as thanking him, over and over until you slide your mouth against his cheek.

“Be good for me now, Frankie.”

His eyes flick to you, all ablaze and engulfed in want. And so you nod, knowing he can see it, feel it.

“Look so good, baby,” you add.

The noise is strained that comes from him, all sucked in breath. Then, his hips stammer, convulsing, all strangled, tightly entangled in a mess of your name and fuck.

And you kiss him.

Happily licking into his mouth to taste how delicious his moan is.

You try to fight the way your heart drops when you return from using the bathroom. Biting the inside of your mouth as you see the bed empty, sheets a mess, your throat swallowing back whatever sob wishes to escape.

Because the edges of your happiness crumble, your arm wrapping around the other, bottom lip almost wobbling.

That is, until you feel his hand on your lower back. Your head turns quickly, seeing him there. All hair-wild, and soft smile.

“Water, baby?”

Smiling, you thank him, taking several sips before handing it back to him, watching him do the same. Studying the way his throat bobs as he does, the faint marks of your mouth still lingering there on his skin.

“C’mon,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. “Let’s get in bed.”

“Oh, but the—“

“I’ve sorted it. Turned it off—folded the blanket, put the plates in water.” His hand wraps itself around yours. “So, let’s sleep.”

All you can muster is an okay. It leaves soft, slightly webbed at the edges from the way it catches on the growing lump in your throat.

It isn’t until you’re curled against him,

“Is this okay?” you whisper.

He lets out a laugh, little and breathy. “More than okay, hermosa.”

Guiding your leg to hook over his. Keeping his body flush as the two of you cuddle. His thumb swipes across your cheek, forehead close to yours as his fingers fan out over your hip, and he presses a kiss to the space between your brows.

You’re pretty sure your heart just tripled in size.

And those three words, the ones which have amassed into a chunk in your chest have suddenly begun pulsing all on their own—a beat completely separate, you find, to the one which pumps blood around your body.

CHAPTER EIGHT ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales smut #Frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #jo: iltwy #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #frankie morales x f!reader smut #pedrostories

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fyodorloveclub · 8 months

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i could be the one, or your new addiction

toji x afab reader (no pronouns used) this came from the deepest depths of my soul in abt 30 mins. cw: risky places, somno mentions, just pure unadulterated horniness. minors dni! (divider by @benkeibear)

toji cannot fucking get enough of you. toji cannot get enough of fucking you. it makes him feel like a goddamn nymphomaniac, but he can’t help it. how could anyone? it’s damn near impossible to resist bending you over the closest surface with the way you look at him, the way you sway your hips when you walk, just the way you exist. you’re like a siren, with the curves of your body and the singsong nature of your voice drawing him in at every moment, his pupils so blown his emerald irises are completely obscured.

and he usually can’t resist it. toji typically prides himself on being pretty self-disciplined, but you’ve torn him apart at the seams. at least once a day your legs are spread and your hole is stretched by his girthy cock, throat going sore with the screams you can’t control.

the bed frame hasn’t survived the ordeal - the wooden supportive slats underneath having cracked and split from the regular, violent shaking. there’s multiple spots in the bed where the mattress uncomfortably dips, but it’s the absolute last thing on your mind when your knees are touching your shoulders as he pounds into you relentlessly. it’s not due to a lack of funds that you haven’t replaced it, just that you both know damn well the next one would just be destroyed too.

there’s no position you haven’t tried at this point, either. obviously missionary, doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, mating press, spooning, prone bone, full nelson once or twice - the list goes on. it honestly doesn’t matter though. your lover is so talented with his cock that he could hit your sweet spots even in his sleep. and… he has. sometimes the insatiable, unbearable libido infects you, and you can’t even wait for him to wake up to slide his length into your aching cunt and fuck yourself on it. toji loves opening his tired eyes to you fucking back onto him as he spoons you, or you bouncing on his lap moaning and whining uncontrollably. even grinding against his mouth a few times.

location doesn’t hinder the two of you either. countless public bathrooms and dressing rooms have bore witness to your lewd activities - to him spitting on your pussy before he eats it raw, or driving into you so hard and deep it’s almost certainly audible from the outside. the riskiest so far was when you fell to your knees and sucked toji off in a movie theater, or maybe jerking him off on a plane before fucking in the tiny bathroom. he’s even pushed you against a tree in the middle of a hike on a public trail, tugging your shorts down just enough to give him access to your sopping hole. and fingered you in a crowded elevator.

others have noticed, too. how you’ll wear scarves far too regularly in the heat of the summer to cover the smattering of bruises on your throat, or waddle like a heavily pregnant person - despite not being one - after a particularly rough night, it’s really not hard to put two and two together.

maybe it’s an illness, a debilitating obsession that needs to be rehabbed, but neither you nor toji could give less of a fuck. it feels good, it tastes good, and it keeps you active. what’s the harm in that?

#toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro x reader

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mindofadoll · 2 months

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I love camping soo much. That is to say I have this fantasy; I want to go camping with bunch of classmates I don't know (in this scenario I go to a all girls school) for some kind of school trip. As it is in the middle of the woods I have no cell reception. So I spend my time getting to know the girls staying with me in my cabian Brooke, Quinn, Rowan and Simone.

Brooke is a very athletic and excels at running hiking and swimming. Quinn is your standard environmentalist she knows every plant and what they could do. Rowan is more of a discord mod kind of girl not the type you'd expect to be out here. Apparently the school forced her to go on the trip to make up her pe credit she ignored. And then theirs is Simone another forced to be here camper. Since some of the activities we do out here count as volunteer work something Simone needs to stay in school to make up her multiple suspension. Your typical rough around the edges type.

While I tried to keep the cabin cordial the infighting happened by the second day. As Brooke thought that Simone was too full of herself and Quinn couldn't stand Rowan's complaining. To lighten the mood I suggested a friendly water balloon fight. Something Rowan claimed to be cracked at. We split up into to teams and although it was an odd number Simone and Brooke agreed that their is no way Rowan was good at this so apparently she counted as a 5th of a "solider".

Eventually the teams were decided. Me, Rowan and Simone vs Brooke and Quinn loser makes dinner. Before we began Simone announced something." I think the one who suggested this should have to wear a white T-shirt. "While I was confused at the request the other girls surprisingly agreed. Even Quinn looked away and said it was only fair. So, I went to change. When I got back the games began. And I quickly realized that Simone and Rowan's strategy was to use me as a human shield. Continuing to flank behind me when the other team threw their balloons. In fact it seemed like the other team was aiming specifically at me. By the time our game was done I was soaked down to my panties and the most embarrassing part is you could see everything through the translucent wet shirt.

As I was the most wet my team was declared the losers despite my teammates being only surprisingly damp. Although my team lost Simone and Rowan didn't make a uproar about the declaration. Instead the simple went to begin cooking. I started to change out of my wet clothes until Brooke stopped me "I think it's only fair that the losers have to stay in their wet clothes. " I try to convince her against this stating that the shirt was basically see through at this point and it's getting cold but Brooke wouldn't budge. I looked at Quinn to ask for some relief but she simple said "Y'know it's better for the environment to change less." Though after saying that she looked at me sympathetically. "Maybe, it would be fair to allow her to not wear the shirt so she doesn't freeze. " at this statement Brooke nods in agreement.

I argue that, that isn't fair but Brooke states that "I walk around in my sports bra all the time, so it's fine. " With a huff I decided to take the little leeway and peel the shirt off of me. Then Me, Rowan and Simone make quesadillas. By the time were done everyone quickly eats before heading off to bed. As I'm also tired I do the same and change into my pj's before laying down.

I only get a few minutes of sleep before I wake up hot and tingly everywhere. I look around and then see Simone creeping towards me. I sit up froze until she sits on my bed. She whispers "Sorry to wake you, I was just thinking about how I can't stand the good girl act. " hand creeping up my already sensitive body over the covers. I let out a soft whimper as a response. "Fuck, I knew it. Good girl's like you are so good for one thing. " she says while climbing on top of me and wrapping her callus hands around my throat. "Cumming your stupid little brains out. " she whispers while inching closer and closer before the lights flicker on and Brooke is standing above us. "You delinquent bitch, you knew I wanted her. " At that statement I look up at her with confusion until Quinn pipes up " Both of you need to back off... " at this statement I let out a sigh of relief "I have already claimed her, after all I put arthroscopics in her food. So her wet cunt should belong to me. "

At this point Im staring up at all three of them mouth agaped. Before Rowan chimes in "Why don't we solve this the gamer way? " the three turn to her confused "Why don't we all get to have her in an all-nighter battle royal, whoever taps out lasts wins her for the rest of camp? " she says while practical drooling. For a moment all of the girls pause before nodding. Simone - "You guys are fucked, you know how often I dick bitches like this down on a daily basis." Brooke - "Big talk you know it's all about stamina." Quinn- "Both of you are going to lose. I have more technique. " Rowan- "Pog".

As they all start to put their hands on me, I ask if I get a say in the matter to which they laugh. Brooke and Simone take turns using my neck as a chew toy and while Rowan sits above my head. "Have you sucked pussy?" Rowan ask with a smirk I answer no before she places her cunt to my lips "learn". I hesitate which makes Simone slap me " She said learn bitch! " I begin to lick as Brooke chids her "No need to be so rough. " "Look bitches like these like it rough, they like to be broken in. " "I disagree. " "Then why ya biting so hard? " Simone say gesturing to the bite mark she left.

"I... " "oh does the jock bitch not know how to hold back? This is gonna be fun! " "She's just so pretty! " "And a virgin it seems like. " Quinn pipes in again while pressing a finger inside of me "So tight. " she says watching her fingers sink in. Rowan - "Lol (yes said like lol and not L. O. L) how have you never had you cunt used? " Simone - "How are you not a virgin too? " "Hey, kittens love what I do to their bodies." At this statement Simone gets up and walks off . "Peppo champ , more for us! " Rowan says while grinding into my face harder. "I'm not done! "She yells while walking back " I just wanted to get my strap. " Brooke -"You just carry that thing with you? " "You never know when you'll need it. " "Dude that's way too big. It'll break her. " Quinn - "No it should be fine with all the aphrodisiacs I gave her she should be nice and loose. "

Simone- "Well if you won't fuck her with it more for me. " she says while strapping in. "Fuck kitten, you panicking on my cunt feels so good. " As I shake my head no I feel as Quinn holds me open for her. "Get ready whore! " Simone says as she sinks in little by little. While Quinn slaps my clit everytime I try and struggle away. Which hurts with a extra sting. Brooke- "Rowan let me get a turn. " "Fuck no her mouth is pogchamp go mog about it or suck her tit I'm not getting off. " Brooke seemingly takes the suggestion as I feel her warm mouth wrap around my nipple.

I begin I move a little as it's all so much. "Yeah that's right fuck back into me slut " Simone says as she slaps my ass and grinds the strap into me. As I start to feel on the edge with all the sensations from Brooke playing with my tits, Rowan riding my face like it's the best ride on the planet and Simone fucking me slow and deep. Then I feel as Quinn wraps her mouth around my clit and I'm sent tumbling over the edge along with Rowan and Simone.

"Fuck that mouth is better than cod. " Quinn - "Let me get a turn. " they then switch spots. Simone begins to pull out before unstraping "She's all yours Brooke. " Simone says before taking Brooke's spot . Rowan adds on "Yeah, sloppy seconds. " when Brooke is finally strapped in she goes straight for sinking into my warmth. She seems to hold back from a second before Quinn wraps her legs around Brooke's hips "Let go! " Brooke does immediately as she just begins to slam into me as hard and fast as she can whispering about how good it is while I scream into Quinn and as the others encourage her. Rowan even begins to nibble on my clit as Simone pinches nipples. Sending me over the edge again as Brooke just keeps pounding into my oversimulated and abused cunt.

Brooke - "Can't we all just shared her. " all of them silently agree. As they all use my body all night long taking turns fucking my mouth and cunt and useing my body like a toy. As I begin to pass out I think about how things are going to change around camp.

#wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw #sapphic ns/fw #lesbian ns/fw #lesbian smut #sapphic nsft #lesbian nsft #sapphic cnc #cnc k!nk #cnc wlw #wlw blog #wlw concepts #wlw objectification #wlw camping

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mikkomacko · 3 months

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Only Devils in the Building

Episode One: Elevator from Hell

Nico Hischier x Reader, Platonic Jack Hughes x reader

Warnings: none

99 Hudson was the residential center of Jersey. It’s the epitome of wealth and elegance. Anyone who is anyone in Jersey lives at the 99 Hudson. From rich businessman to local celebrities to Hoboken models, 99 Hudson has got it all.

Including an absurd amount of New Jersey Devils.

Three weeks into living at the 99 I met Jack Hughes. AirPods tucked into my ears, I hit play on the Buff City Boys podcast, the familiar voice of Tony Granzia flooding through. It was probably a bad idea to be listening to the work of my former employer only three weeks after being fired but I couldn’t help it. It was the mosquito bite I had to itch, the acne spot I had to pick at, the chapped lip I couldn’t stop gnawing on.

I needed to hear everything from him.

I didn’t hear the man come up behind me, I didn’t even see him until the elevator had reached the 69th floor and his presence crowded behind me to get in. He was impatient and fidgety, standing directly in front of the closed doors and tapping his foot impatiently.

The Yankees logo on his backwards hat caught my attention first, my lips pursing with distaste at the sight. Then I noticed the way his ears stuck out, elvish and funky with his curls tucked behind them.

The elevator continued its descent and I finished eyeing him up and down just in time for him to turn over his shoulder and look at me. Icy blue eyes locked into mine, and a crooked smile took over his face for a moment before his thin lips opened to speak. Almost instantly, I realized who he was, familiar with the face of the middle Hughes brother that’s caused envy in every New York hockey team. I watched him speak, hiding my amusement when he titled his head, confused with my lack of response.

Cheeks turning pink, his already youthful face looked even younger with his flush of embarrassment and I finally pulled an AirPod out of my ear, halting the podcast.

Jack made a noise of realization, nodding his head as he laughed to himself. “I was just saying that you’d think they’d make the elevator faster for such a big building.”

That was a weird thing to say, I thought. Maybe not to people who like to make conversation with strangers, but I’m not one of them. Blinking a few times, I glimpsed at the number above the door.

5th floor

My gaze fell back to Jack. “That’s probably why there’s six elevators.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. I tucked my AirPod back in, waiting patiently for him to turn and leave. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, unashamed in their quizzical gaze before he stepped out and I followed. We walked a few feet apart from each other to the front door, his footsteps muffled by my AirPods but I could hear him clearly when I held the door open and he let out a cheerful, “Thanks!”

We broke away from each other after that, him heading towards an expensive looking BMW idling in on the valet and me down the sidewalk to the main street. Even as he climbed in the front seat of the car, I felt his eyes on me.

He’s cute, I thought to myself, in a weird way.

~~~~~~~~

A week later I met Nico Hischier.

Again in the elevator, I had just hit the door close button when a hand snuck into the crack of it and the two doors shot open. The same blue eyes and Yankees cap I’d seen the week before greeted me, Jack’s face splitting into a goofy smile when he saw me.

He stepped in, this time standing in the corner opposite of me. Behind him trailed another familiar face, and I assumed he was a teammate of Jack’s based on the similar gait they had, but I couldn’t quite place the name.

If Jack was cute, then this man was beautiful. He was only a few inches taller than Jack, but his large shoulders and presence seemed to take up the whole elevator. He was already watching me when I met his gaze, large brown eyes drinking me in like I was hot tea on a bitter cold rainy day. His full, pink lips were parted like he wanted to say something before they quickly fell shut. He did that for a couple seconds, lips moving like a fish out of water but he never spoke and neither did I.

He didn’t look nervous though or uncomfortable at all, unlike Jack. No, he looked content, at peace in the elevator that suddenly felt too small.

What does one say to someone who looks as good as him? I didn’t know and frankly I never thought I’d figure it out. Outside of sports, my mind has a hard time coming up with words especially words meant for men with pretty eyes.

Jack stole my attention when he started craning his neck around to look at me curiously. Turning to him with narrowed eyes, I wondered what in the world he was looking for. After a moment he stilled, eyes meeting mine and he smirked.

“Had to make sure you’d hear me this time,” he teased and I immediately pulled the white case out of my coat pocket, flicking the top open. I was never going to actually put the AirPods in but it was funny to watch the way his eyes widened in offense when I reached to pull a bud out.

“Wait! I want to talk!” He argued, reaching over to flick the top shut. I couldn’t hide my amusement that time, smiling in victory as he huffed.

“You’ve got until the doors open.” I said, trying my best to ignore the heavy gaze of his teammate on my face. Was he looking at the acne spot on my chin? Or at my mouth? Or maybe he’s noticing the little bump on the bridge of my nose? Not knowing made me want to throw something at him.

I pressed back into the wall instead, my lungs feeling tight. Unsure of what to do with myself, I focused back to Jack.

“You just move in right?”

I shrugged. “Like a month ago, why?”

“I moved in early this summer, never saw you before. And Nico has lived here forever and hadn’t seen you either.”

Where was he going with this? They were looking for me? “Congrats?”

Jack rolled his eyes. The elevator continued to climb but not nearly fast enough. Six elevators and I still get stuck in the one with him.

“Where’d you live before?”

I glanced at the number. 52nd floor.

“Buffalo,” I said, watching the number move up and up.

Jack made a noise of approval. “You know who we are.” He responded, no question about it. I didn’t conform or deny his words, just looked between the two of them. Nico was still eyeing me with that sparkly glint in his eyes.

“You’ve got a very familiar voice,” Jack continued, taking a step towards me like he was a child with a sweet tooth stepping up to an ice cream counter. “Have we met before?”

“No,” I said and the elevator showed the 65th floor.

“What’s your name?”

I waited for the elevator to ding and the doors to open. “Y/n,” I said quickly, moving in front of Nico and his large presence but refusing to look into those stupid eyes if his again. Before Jack could even begin to say another word I stepped out, heading left towards my apartment and hoping to god his was the other way.

~~~

I didn’t learn Nico’s name until two days later.

A baseball game was playing on the tv, two teams I didn't care about but the Mets were coming up next so I had it on in the background. It was good white noise to have while I worked, or at least attempted to. My laptop sat blank in front of me, all editing and writing projects falling flat. I was spending too much time caught up on Tony Granzia and it was keeping me from moving on. I knew that was the truth but that didn't keep from racking up listens for him.

I would have been annoyed by the banging on my door, loud and insistent, if I had actually been doing something worthwhile. But any attempts at trying to get back on the saddle were failing and I couldn't look at my screen anymore. So I got up and went to the door, answering it because I already knew who was going to be on the other side and I wasn't that annoyed by him anymore.

"Good you're home," Jack greeted, Nico standing behind him looking far more sheepish than he had in the elevator. He still looked at me with those glimmering eyes but he seemed to be chewing on the inside of his lip by the way his jaw moved and his dimple sunk into his cheek.

Jack pushed forward and I barely had time to move aside before he would've quite literally mowed me down. Nico stayed in his place for a moment, wide eyed as his friend moved deeper into my entryway and then he smiled, embarrassed and shy.

"Uh, Nico." He introduced, taking his hand out of his sweats pocket to hold out to me. I reached over and shook it, trying not to think about how his palms were warm and a bit sweaty, but he was strong. So strong that my pinky finger popped when he squeezed his finger and I pulled my hand back in embarrassment.

"Sorry," he mumbled, but I blew it off and just moved further into the side of the wall so he could come in. Nico seemed to shrink into himself, shoulders hunching forward and he stuck his hands back in his pockets like he was trying to seem smaller. It didn't work and I couldn't help but smile when I closed the door and turned to find him toeing off his Nikes by my discarded shoes.

"Hischier, right?" I asked when he was done and his head whipped around to look at me, eyes crinkling with the large smile that broke across his face.

"Yeah!" He confirmed, "It's Swiss."

There was no other way to describe the swooping feeling in my stomach other than swoon. I was swooning over Nico Hischier who so obviously was Swiss if the slight lisp in his accent and his sock clad feet were anything to go by. That and the beanie on his head had a tiny Swiss flag embroidered on the fold.

"You don't say," I giggled, leading him into the living room. We found Jack there, standing behind my couch and watching the tv. He waited for me to sit on the couch and Nico in the recliner next to it before hopping over the back, shoes and all falling on my couch.

Nico shot him a warning look, thick eyebrows lowering in a scolding look and Jack immediately dropped his feet to the rug.

"Orioles game? Really?" Jack muttered, nose scrunching in judgement and I resisted the urge to tell him that his team was looking worse off than Baltimore.

"I had it on while I was working." I said instead, reaching forward to close my laptop. Not before he caught sight of the blank document though and an eager grin took over his face.

Jack looked at Nico with wide eyes, tipping his head towards me as if trying to get Nico to speak. He just looked at me though, sinking into the cushions of the recliner and that peaceful glaze washed over his face.

I bit at my bottom lip, trying my best to stop from grinning like a fool at him. Jack, ever impatient, took over the conversation again. "Looks like you're just as unproductive us which is great because I have an idea!"

"That must be really hard for you." I replied, fluttering my eyelashes innocently when he frowned with offense.

"It is," he played along, "anyway, I googled you and found your old podcast, the one you did in Buffalo that was really good and then you disappeared from and now it's bad. Anyway, we have the whole summer and we think you should start another one."

It took a bit for his idea to sink in. Mostly because I couldn't believe he googled me and I wanted to know what else came up besides my work in Buffalo. But also because I never imagined Jack Hughes would be bursting into my apartment to tell me that I need my own show.

"What?"

Groaning loudly, Jack grabbed ahold of my shoulders and made me look him dead in the eye.

"Do not touch me." I mumbled, shaking off his hold.

He released me, holding his hands up in the air in defense but his gaze remained serious and locked on mine. "You need to start your own podcast, with us, specifically but like it would mainly be yours because we don't know what we're doing?"

I couldn't help it. "What?" I said again. Not that I didn't hear him or understand, I just didn't know what to say. I had worked on Buff City Boys for three years and only had two episodes I could really claim as mine. I had other editing and segment ideas but they technically fell under Tony's name. And when I had tried to go beyond, be more than a background voice and editor, I had been fired. How was I supposed to do this on my own let alone from scratch? Buff City Boys at least had a following when I got there, something to build off of. I have nothing...except two NHL players.

"You're good." Nico cut in, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward to be closer to us. "I listened to it with Jack a few times, your football episode was great."

Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I met Nico's gaze. He had such expressive eyes, like every thought and feeling he's ever had has bled out of them. Certain and strong, he didn't waver when I helplessly stared at him for a moment.

"I stole your draft team," he added, dimple sinking into his cheek as he shyly smiled "and for the first time since I moved here I didn't come in last. I made it all the way to the SuperBowl."

I couldn't help but laugh picturing this European hockey player listening to my Fantasy Football breakdown episode and modeling his team after it. I bet Jack was furious, he looked like the type to reveal in his friends embarrassment.

"If you can fix his fantasy team, you can do anything."

The tv screen flashed as the Mets game began, and I sat there for a moment watching the starting lineup pop-up. Nico, pleased with his contributions settled back into the plush chair and propped his feet up on my coffee table. I could feel Jack's eyes on me though and I knew any second he'd be bugging for an answer.

"What do you get out of it?"

It wasn't technically an agreement but they could hear it in my voice because Nico's gaze shined with pride and Jack fist pumped just once before reclining back against the couch.

"Chicks dig guys with podcast." He smirked and I snorted in disbelief.

"Yeah ok, as if hockey player isn't already a bright red flag."

I saw him pout out of the corner of my eye, looking to Nico for backup who was watching us like we were his favorite sitcom. "We get to hang out with you," he said, "which would be fun. And I don't know how radio works either so that'd also be fun."

"Podcast isn't really radio." I replied, biting back a giggle.

"You know what I mean," He scoffed, "besides we need a smart friend, teach us to not be red flags or something."

I looked over at him, found him with big begging doe eyes and before I could second guess myself I said, "Okay, let's do it."

Jack and him high-fived, I returned to watching my favorite team on the TV and Jack tapped the top of my head in thanks. The three of us fell silent, comfortable in this new odd friendship and for the first time since I moved to Jersey I felt like I was home.

Nico broke the silence first. "Can you explain the pitches? Because like what?"

"Oh my god!" Jack huffed, pushing himself up from the couch and moving around the back to go dig around my kitchen most likely. I laughed, patting the cushion next to me and Nico was quick to settle in next to me.

"Don't listen to Jack, he's just mad that we have a better bullpen than the Yankees."

Nico's thigh pressed into the side of mine, warm even though the leggings I was wearing and I didn't stop myself from turning my knee towards him.

"Um hello?! We have Gerrit Cole!" Jack yelled from the kitchen. I rolled my eyes, snickering with Nico.

"Call me when the spider tack runs out and we'll talk about Cole."

Somewhere behind us Jack grumbled and muttered, saying god knows what and Nico just watched and listened.

Six elevators in the whole building and I got stuck with them. How lucky was I?

#nico hischier #new jersey devils #jack hughes #platonic jack hughes x reader #nico hischier x reader #only devils in the building au #nj devils #nico hischier fic #jack hughes fic

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egophiliac · 1 year

Note

like 70% of my knowledge about twst is because I read all the comics about it you do bc they're hilarious, but can I confirm that Rook's character arc was basically just an 'Applejack -> Rarity hypeman (malicious)' pipeline??????

yep, Rook joined NRC as a full-on Rowdy Boy who wore the same ripped-up jeans and sweatshirt 24/7 and was 99% split ends, until one day Vil convinced him to dress up a bit for a concert and he was like, "oh. hmm. actually, I like this." and swung fully into the other extreme of Fanciest Lad. Rook just...does not do middle grounds.

(tangential, but my personal 100% crack actively-contradicts-canon-but-I-don't-care headcanon is that French doesn't exist at all in Twst. Rook personally just made up a collection of fancy-sounding words that, by complete coincidence, happen to sound exactly like earth-prime French.

"but in the City of Flowers --" no, look, his family is VERY rich and VERY weird, it is not out of character that they paid an entire city of people to throw out a few words of their kid's conlang whenever he visits. it makes SENSE --

this is mostly because I think it would be funny if, after Rook gives someone their special little nickname, he has to sit down and explain to them what it means. which I've actually just decided he does anyway, so never mind.)

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland episode 6 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 6 spoilers #there is only one case where i think it is funnier if rook didn't translate #and that is trey #specifically for that one scene where he's like 'why do you keep calling me that. you didn't call me that in first year.'#and rook is like 'you weren't a chevalier until you had a roi :)'#trey being like '...yeah okay whatever' is 100% more hilarious to me if he has no idea what any of those words mean #anyway i'm going to be thinking about 'rarity hypeman (malicious)' for the rest of my life #thank you anon #i did once try to explain the malleus-yuu dynamic as 'what if princess luna had a very oblivious human friend' so i'm into it

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dimepdf · 1 year

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★ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒. + 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. when it comes to your sticky fingers, Joel is pretty tired of being the one to clean up all your messes, so he decides that he finally deserves an award.

─── ☆ author note. pedro pascal brainrot go brrrrr ,, there was no song inspo for this one i literally just wrote the smut first and went "shit maybe i should give it some plot?" so here's that . | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ word count. 2.3k (18 min read) .

Here you were being a bother again, at least that's what Tessa referred to you as every time you would shoulder your way into Joel’s flat with new battle wounds littered the bruising purple and green colors against your brown skin.

Despite looking as if you had your ass handed to you multiple times on a platter you had a thing for walking around and bragging as if your ribs hadn't felt like they were cracked and you weren't struggling to stand on your own two feet.

Joel had known you long enough to understand that you just had a knack for throwing yourself full force into trouble, getting into fights, stealing supplies, and after you would come to his flat parading around and striding through his front door without a simple knock.

spending most of his afternoons with you as his company trying not to roll his eyes out of his sockets as you would just have the tendency to go on and on about your next troubling schemes.

That said plan was currently in the middle of unfolding before you, the exchange was supposed to be simple and smooth. It was what you had promised Joel at least the night before you couldn't keep your mouth shut and gave him the entire run down.

You had mainly blamed your job of stocking for the reason you had such sticky fingers, commonly your name would be the one whispered when secret trades were brought up.

You knew it was risky business, Joel knew it as well betting that you were practically begging to have a bounty on your head anytime soon but it was the effects of the harsh society that you lived in.

you were a bit more angsty than you'd liked to admit, which was why a lot of your deals would fall flat out with you throwing a few punches out of patience with the situation.

In your defense, the guard standing in front of you thought he could blackmail you into giving more than what he had first agreed, in simple terms you saw the way that he looked at you as practically undressing you with his eyes.

The constant uncomfortable wave of compliments after every sentence he spoke had been the nail to the coffin, your fist already clenching making it quite clear that you would rather drop dead than even think about doing anything sexual just to trade off a pack of cigarettes.

Your hands were trained to be quick, reaching for the small knife tucked in the back of your belt loop ready to draw it across the man's throat if you needed to.

the flinching in your reaction had just seemed to tense the deal, the guard finding your rejection stubborn and as if taking a hit on his ego wasn't enough the point of the barrel of his gun aimed square at your chest was enough to have you stop for just a split second to think before your body could move impulse.

Before he could even think about his finger reaching for the trigger you barreled towards him, smashing your entire body weight against him sending you both crashing to the ground in a struggle for the gun.

He had pressed your chest first into the ground, under the sole of his boot digging into your lower spine.

All the air kicked from your lungs all you could do was curl up into yourself in hopes that the leather would cause any broken bones from the way he was stomping down on you.

It was the first time you had been hit with an assault rifle, much to your surprise, and quite honestly, you wanted it to be your last from how harsh the pain had managed to spread from your busted eye, traveling as a pulsing pain throughout your entire face.

You were defeated, there was no doubt about it. The guard’s kicks now just became overkill as he took all his pent-up anger out through his attacks. All you could do was shield yourself until your knight and shining armor arrived. At first, when Joel stumbled upon the exchange, he hadn’t realized that it was you all tucked away, being beaten half to death.

You could blame him, it was an easy sight to come across in the back alleys of the district with how corrupt their shit system was.

You also had not recognized him until he was just about to walk away, excusing himself not wanting to get caught up in some stranger's mess, that was until you had called out his name from under the guard shoe and everything seemed to click.

You were convinced you had a concussion or at least some type of head injury that would explain the sudden blink where before you could realize it the guard had been beaten unconscious spread out on the ground (or at least he looked to be) while you were being hoisted up against Joel’s shoulder for leverage as he helped you stumble back to his place to clean up your pride as well as your new wound.

The first thing Joel had spoken to you after almost a few long minutes of sitting in silence as he held a disapproving expression while dressing all of your wounds. "You and that bad habit of yours is gonna get yourself killed one day." The tone in his gruff voice held so much malice that you winced at the mention of death.

"Oh, please, that guy should be lucky that I hadn’t cut his fucking fingers off. He only got the upper hand because of that damn gun." You bit back with less sass, sliding off of the counter you were propped on.

Joel only rolls his eyes, standing with his arms crossed, you could tell he was frustrated by the way his eyebrow ticked up as he gazed down at you, not budging from his spot standing right in front of you as he caged you against the counter. "You're doing a lot of shittalk for someone that got their ass handed to them."

"Well, maybe I'm into that sort of thing, big guy?" You pressed your hand against the middle of his torso, pushing him back enough for you to wiggle away, feeling his eyes trailing after every step all the way to the open door of his fridge.

Squatting down to your knees and glaring at the half empty bottom shelf, a small exhale parted his lips as the annoyance settled in from your unserious attitude.

Joel knew that he couldn't convince you much with that steel stubborn skull of yours. "You have some business scolding me with all the shit that you get into—"

He had enough decorum to allow you to shut the fridge door before pressing your chest firmly against the front of the fridge and pressing his chest into your back, cramming you against the front of the fridge with the wish of his breath against the nape of your neck.

"And you talk a lot," he threatens in a low hum, goosebumps forming under the grace of his fingers as they sneak under the hem of your shirt, hands finding his favorite place to fondle you.

As he cups your breast in his palms, raking his cold fingertips over them, enticing your nipples to bud under their rough touch.

“Wait, Tess could come back—”

"Well, aren’t you into that sort of thing?" Joel grunts in reply, whimpering under his touch.

Joel's rough calloused hands slide down your pudgy torso, dragging his fingertips lower to undo the buckle of your belt, unzipping your jeans all in two yanks to slide his hand under the elastic of your underwear.

Your breath hitched at the drag of his fingers groping you, paired with the other fondling your breast over your bra. "Maybe I should give you something to finally shut you the fuck up."

You had almost purred under his touch, melting against his caressing hands as Joel made his erection a statement by pressing himself against the back of your thigh. The outline of his situation makes your thighs press together as you press back, saying farewell to the rest of the dignity you had left. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Don’t make me spell it out for you, hon." Feeling the brush of his breath against your skin, his voice gentle as his hands roamed your body as if he owned it, against the tip of your ears, shivering at the wet kisses that found themselves placed against the exposed peak of your neck.

"This doesn't seem like much of a punishment to me." You sucked in a breath at his fingers finding themselves between your legs, toying with you as all they did was rub mindlessly against your front teasingly, just inches away from where you needed them to be the most.

"I’d like to think I’m a fair man," Joel hums as he dips his hand deeper into your pants, fingers pushing into your pussy, biting your lip as you flinch at the feeling that the rough drag of his dry fingers adjusted on the tips of your toes before he could comfortably settle with a wet layer of your arousal wrapping around his digits. "I get a reward for saving your stubborn ass, and you get a punishment for wasting my fucking time."

Pressing your cheek flat against the cool metal of the fridge while arching farther into his hold, the slick sound of them positioning in and out was starting to make your blood run hot as Joel’s fingers started to move at an earnest pace. "Ngh—fine by me, honestly; maybe I should act out more often."

Joel scoffs, feeling the briskness of his smirk pressed against your hot skin; his mouth drags over the shell of your ear, practically counting the hum of his heartbeat as his chest presses against your back. "Oh yeah?" Just as quickly as the pleasure started, it stopped, Joel’s hands yanking away, leaving you feeling discombobulated as you whined out, leaning farther back and chasing after his touch.

"Ah, since you're having so much fun and I’ve been so patient," Joel pulled away with a small noise of rejection, instead using his hand to spin you facing forward, pressing your back against the fridge as the other made quick work undoing the front of his pants, the noise from his zipper making you swallow. "You're gonna get on your fucking knees for me, and give me my reward now."

Your eyes met the dark, lustful look in Joel’s eyes as he shuffled backward until he bumped into the table, making do with his pants enough to pull his dick from his briefs all while holding sly eye contact.

Joel knows that you find him breathtaking; he plays into the feeling you would get between your thighs, never wanting to keep your hands to yourself when he was around.

He also knew every little thing that would make you tick, all the ways to drive you up the wall, and just how to get you aching between your thighs. You didn't have to be told twice, shame being the last thing on your mind as you huffed, shuffled your steps forward, and fell down to your knees in front of the older man.

Hissing at the small crescent dig of his nails cupping your face forward, he tried not to fidget as if his other hand wasn't losing wrap around the base of his dick, touching himself at the sight of you down there. "Open."

Obeying this command, your mouth is coaxed open by the flat front of his thumb dragged along your bottom lip. Your tongue follows quickly after, along with your teeth, as you lean forward enough to give a playful chomp at the finger before soothing the attack with the wet swirl of your tongue. It only entices Joel further, pulling the same hand away and instead replacing it with another thing you could suck on.

Farther down from the tip all the way to the base, you pull your lips over your teeth with the struggle of your throat reminding you of your gag reflex, your brow creasing, and hands planting on top of his thighs to ground you and steady breathing through your nose.

A satisfied exhale rolls from Joel's throat, his hands buried in a tight grasp at your curls, watching himself disappear between your full, smooth lips. "You're fucking perfect." Joel hushedly praises, "If only you could see how fucking gorgeous you look from here, sweet girl."

You melt at the sincerity and gentleness of his tone, the vibration nearly makes Joel topple over as his knees threaten to buckle. You could feel the tense flex of his muscles under your palm as you grasped at his jeans. Joel's thrusts are considered tamed, more gentle, and slow you even thought him out to be timid around your relaxed throat.

Gagging only when he got a bit more handsy, your fingernails digging into his pant leg as he strains himself from giving in too much, even if the thought of fucking your throat was becoming more enticing.

Joel's hips still bent, his hand knotting in your hair, tugging you away with a more rough force as he pants at the overwhelming clarity that struck from his orgasm.

Your eyes glued to the other hand that worked itself around the hilt of his dagger, giving himself a few quick strokes that unfolded so quickly that you barely had time to process that he was coming onto your face until his fingers clenched around the hair of your scalp, tilting your head up towards the ceiling just to get a better look as if he had created a masterpiece of artwork all over your face.

🔖 @adison-smart27 / @m0mmym1lk3r-png / @do-double-g

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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teecupangel · 6 months

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Why not just Desmond being an angel.

And it freaks everybody out and everybody thinks he's holy or something and he's just like "all right okay why not"

It had happened by accident.

It had to be an accident, right?

Altaïr had been thrown out of the room and the Templars had unsheathed their weapons. Malik had been focused on protecting his brother, shouting at him to run as he tried to keep all of the Templars busy.

Robert de Sablé didn’t even look back when he walked away after ordering their death.

Malik didn’t know what happened.

He saw Kadar freeze when he neared the scaffolding that would lead to the treasure and Malik swore his eyes glowed gold for the briefest of moments.

Before one of the Templars charged at him.

Kadar snapped out of it and tried to block, his stance unstable enough that he slipped backwards.

Into the scaffolding…

Taking the Templar with him.

The Templar’s sword struck one of the wooden pillars keeping the scaffolding stable and…

Malik didn’t have any explanation for it.

It shouldn’t have happened.

The scaffolding started to crumble, making Kadar and the Templar run away from it as fast as they could.

And then…

The wall next to the scaffolding began to break apart, golden light coming from the cracks before the entire thing fell down.

Together with the treasure and the ark where it had been resting.

The ark broke in half, splitting in the middle to reveal an egg shaped thing made of stone that was around the height of perhaps Malik when he was sitting on the floor.

The treasure fell on top of it, shattering like it was made of glass.

Where the shards fell on the stone, the stone changed and spread.

Until…

What had been stone had changed to seemingly three pairs of wings with white feathers that seemed to shine gold all curled together.

The wings twitched…

Before slowly opening, stretching to its full size.

Revealing a young man seemingly sleeping, the three pairs of wings attached to his back. His head was resting on his propped up knees.

No one could speak.

No one could move.

Until…

“Altaïr?” Kadar whispered hesitantly and Malik could see why he would call out that fool’s name.

The man looked too much like Altaïr for it to be a coincidence.

Almost as if hearing the name, the man…

No.

The divine being in front of them opened his eyes.

Instead of Altaïr’s golden eyes, his eyes were light brown with specks of gold in them.

And Malik wondered how he could see them from where he was standing, a few meters away from the winged being.

The divine being looked around and blinked.

His eyes met Malik and his lips parted.

“It’s an angel!”

Before he could speak, the Templars all knelt and began to pray.

The Templar who had attacked Kadar took off his helmet and…

It was a woman.

A woman who was praying fervently at the divine being who…

… looked at Malik with wide confused eyes.

Unorganized Notes… I mean… sorta notes?:

Desmond is surprised for a few seconds then he goes “Be not afraid” and tried to sound super impressive “Ye are in the presence of…………… the will of God.” and he’s just bullshiting his way to uuhhh. He has no plans.

He glanced at Malik and Kadar and oh yeah, alright.

“Ye shall not harm these… men of justice for they are… under my protection…?”

At that point, Desmond knows he is ffuuuccckkeedd. Malik is obviously onto him. Kadar is super confused and just keeps staring at his face. Then…

Maria, of all people, agree and even goes as pledge her sword to him which is super weird and Desmond’s just “???”

In the end, Desmond accidentally takes the Templars about to kill Malik and Kadar with him as he leaves the temple with Malik and Kadar. It’s a very awkward journey and Desmond has no idea what else to do other than…

Oh wait… there were other Templars stationed nearby and they all saw him leave with his ‘entourage’.

Before he could try to say anything, Maria speaks for him, calling the messenger of God and that he had been sleeping in the Ark of the Covenant which sounded like a super big deal (and he can’t even whisper to Malik to ask what the hell she was talking about because the Farm was never religious and the only time Desmond even heard of the Ark of the Covenant was from Indiana Jones) and…

… why does it feel like Maria was converting people into becoming his personal army???

Oh god… Was this…

Was he going to take his own army to Masyaf???

#yeah that’s right #i’m back to my maria would totally worship desmond as her god bs #for some reason i’m imagining the battle in masyaf at the start of ac1 to be #assassins versus templars versus desmond’s ‘army’#which is really more or less zealots who believe his word is god’s word #he is not having a good time #oh god #altaïr is going to be seen as the ‘son of an angel’#asjdjfhjakdsfjkfbasjkdf #assassin's creed #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #malik al sayf #kadar al sayf #maria thorpe #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #ask and answer

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mousy-nona · 2 months

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Prompt/Headcanon:

Yes, yes, everyone loves Alastor being addicted to Lucifer’s blood in this fandom (me too tbh)… but what if,,, the opposite was true? Lucifer being addicted to Alastor’s blood? 👀

It started small.

Just one lick.

It had been an accident. He and Alastor had been in the middle of one of their all-out, don’t-stop-til-you-drop brawls. Alastor had started it, because of course he had – he was like the personification of stubbing your toe on the edge of the table, except he was around all the damn time. Lucifer had a vague recollection of yelling at him – “Do you really need to play ragtime jazz at three in the morning? And why are all your speakers facing my side of the hotel?” – and the glimmer of sharp teeth before It Happened.

Alastor shoved him out of the way with his staff, but Lucifer caught it at the last second and tried to pry it out of his grasp a little too enthusiastically. But Alastor – being the prideful, stubborn sore loser that he was – refused to let go, which meant Lucifer suddenly found himself squashed between an irate deer and the hard wall behind them.

“Gerroff–” As soon as he spoke, he felt something soft and pliable split beneath the sharp edge of his tooth.

A second later, something warm and wet touched his tongue. Just a drop.

But sometimes, a drop was all it took.

It was…it was like nothing he had ever tasted before. Like sin and death and the sweetness of apples, all rolled into one. His throat burned, as if he’d chugged an entire barrel of whiskey and stepped up for another round. Everything else he had ever tasted, ever drank, ever smoked, ever kissed faded from his lips entirely. He went in for another lick – but only found empty air.

Alastor had stepped away, rubbing at the side of his neck. The small scratch he’d made was already closed. Lucifer swallowed, his tongue suddenly a size too thick for his mouth. Alastor’s eyes narrowed, his pupils shifting to twin dials, clearly annoyed that someone had tasted him. That was the kind of thing he did to other people.

And from then on, Lucifer was an angel possessed.

—-----------------------------

Every time he caught a glimpse of Alastor, the bittersweet taste of forbidden fruit clouded his mind. He hungered. He needed. And he schemed and plotted away for that next fix.

The only problem was Alastor. He was very, very good at plotting – much better than Lucifer was.

If he crept up behind Alastor while he was chopping ingredients (a devastatingly domestic scene that never failed to make his heart skip a beat), Alastor would put him to work stirring the pot on the opposite side of the kitchen. If he accidentally-on-purpose tried to get close enough to graze him with a sharp claw, Alastor would make very loud insinuations about personal space that would leave Angel Dust snickering and Charlie wide-eyed – Dad, why do you want to get close to Alastor? Ohmigod, are you guys…doing it? What about Mom?

And as he tried to calm his hyperventilating daughter, Alastor would disappear down the hall, spinning his cane and humming West End Blues.

Once, he got so desperate he just leapt off the stairs, aiming straight for that smooth, slender neck of his – and ended up with a face full of carpet. Alastor re-appeared with one foot ground against the back of his head, the shadows behind him laughing so hard he thought they might laugh themselves out of existence.

He was going out of his mind. It had been days, and his whole mouth felt like dust. He smacked his head against the bar so hard glasses rattled in their shelves.

“Why, your Majesty, there’s no need to knock out what little brain cells you have left!” Came a merry, smug, utterly punchable voice to his left. He cracked open his eyes, glaring at Alastor’s wide smile, his gleeful, knowing expression. “If there’s something you want…have you ever tried asking?”

Admittedly, the thought had never crossed his mind.

"Can I...you know..." He gestured towards Alastor's neck, so neatly buttoned and hidden out of sight.

Alastor's eyes flashed green, a ghostly, stitched-up smile hovering just out of sight. "Perhaps. If you're very, very good." He leaned back, satisfaction burning like a brand on every inch of his face. "Only time will tell!"

This time, Lucifer did punch him.

#radioapple #prompt #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #if i didn't end it here it would be another 10000 word monstrosity lmao #duckiedeer #alastor #feed me more prompts!!!

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courtingchaos · 7 months

Text

At the End of the World

Kas!Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A/N: Don’t read too much into this. It struck me late and fast and now we’re here.

Warnings: Blood drinking

18+ NSFW No Minors

Another late night closing with just you and two other employees and all of Hawkins at the doorstep to Melvalds. The deeper fissures in the town still sat open but the government had shown up with all sorts of machines and now things could be delivered again and here you were, at work. At the end of the world.

Your keys jingle against the door and you wave off your coworkers who walk down the sidewalk ahead of you. The lock sticks sometimes and you’re left to struggle until you can yank your key ring free. A curse and a kick at the stack of cardboard you need to toss, you shove your hand into your purse to make sure you didn’t forget your wallet again. The main street stays lit by giant floodlights, the distant sound of road work and construction coming in with the late evening breeze. It’s cold now when the sun sets, October turning the weather and the leaves all the same like the earth hadn’t been split open just 5 months ago. You catch a whiff of a bonfire sprinkled on the back of the wind and for a moment you can pretend that everything is okay, that it’s all normal again.

10 pm and it’s later than anything in town stays open, Melvalds and the grocery store being the exception nowadays. Food and pharmacy to keep everyone afloat and stationary, locked in place by faceless government officials who tell you it’s for your own safety. For everyone’s safety.

You shake your head to clear it though, unwilling to linger on your pessimism any longer tonight. A long day full of half smiles and constant running back and forth to pull apart another pallet of Things Everyone Needs. Your room at your parents house, the one you’d moved back into after everything went to shit, calls to you from the cracked sidewalk and you hustle faster to toss your garbage and get to your car. The water mains have finally been repaired so you know you can actually look forward to a consistent hot shower tonight, can practically feel the beating of the water against your back.

You beeline for the alleyway so you can toss the empty cardboard, no thought given to a darkened path. Hawkins had been under curfew since the feds rolled in and with main street lit up you hadn’t worried about taking out the trash on your own in a while. You have to set the box down to to flip open the lid and that’s when you hear it. A muffled breathing from behind dumpster number two, something wet and ragged, something that makes you still completely. It’s human that’s for sure, heavy and big by the sound of it and you start yelling at yourself silently, cursing your placidity.

You take a single step back when you see a head rock into view near the wheels of the other dumpster. Too dark to make out anything yet, just a mass of hair that hasn’t seen a brush in too long. A rasp of a breath in and weakly, “D-do you work here?”

Frozen in place with your body poised to run, but that voice holds no malice. They stutter on their deep breaths, breaths that sound pained. “Y-yeah.” You don’t relax but you aren’t set to sprint anymore. “Are you okay?”

Neither of you move closer but the figure pulls themselves into view more, a frankly too thin hand wraps around the corner of the dumpster to pull themselves forward and you finally can make out a face covered in grime. Eyes shine in the light that bleeds into the alleyway and he, you can finally tell, looks close to tears. Face pulled into a grimace when he scoots out to sit on questionable concrete.

“I just…I need help.” His other arm hugs his middle where his shirt is torn and your mind goes fast, trying to remember the first aid you’d learned in Girl Scouts a thousand years ago.

“Are you hurt? I can go get someone.” You glance over your shoulder knowing there’s at least a cop or an agent doing rounds at this time. “There’s a patrol-“

That’s your mistake, you’ll own it, turning around for too long. For trusting a stuttering mess. You turn back to face him and are stunned at how quickly he’s standing in front of you, those bright wet eyes boring holes into your head. You’d thought it was the shadows maybe but they really are black, from corner to corner, deep abyss that tracks your jump backwards.

You hadn’t heard him stand or shift or breathe and he’s so god damn close.

“I don’t need a patrol.” His voice sounds like white noise. A tuning to your hearing that makes your ears flex backwards at the sudden foreign noise. You swear you can feel it vibrating against your eardrums and coiling deep inside, words made corporeal to slither into your skull. There’s two voices bouncing between you, a double speak that seems to run cold around your neck. “I just need one of you.”

You couldn’t move if you wanted to. It isn’t fear holding your feet to the stained ground but an invisible grip, ironclad and cold, just like his words. You can move your eyes though and you rake over his appearance and try to keep it in your memory.

Long hair, dark eyes, no shoes, ratty jeans, torn raglan with a devil-

“Eddie?” Barely breathed out, silently uttered. He was dead. Well, at least presumed. You’d seen the flyers his uncle had put up and you’d seen how the town had treated them; crude drawings and torn off of the bulletin boards. “Eddie Munson?” You ask again to the pale face in front of you. Four years of high school seated next to him in drivers ed and home ec and art class. Not friends but acquaintances. You know that face. Even when it splits into a formidable grin you can see the ghost of his warm smile under cracked lips.

“Sort of.” His hands come up slowly to hold your neck, thumbs resting under your chin to tilt your head back. “It’s complicated.”

You expect his hands to tighten around your neck but they remain gentle in their movement, too cold against your skin. Unnaturally cold under your jaw where he starts to turn your head to the side.

“I thought I smelled something familiar around here.” His breath moves over your neck like the cold autumn breeze, carrying the promise of dead things at its end. Your heart beats tirelessly against your ribs and you still can’t move except for when he manipulates you around, his head dipping into the crook of your neck.

Fear should be at the forefront of your mind. You should be screaming and shaking, yelling for the police you know are just outside of the mouth of alley. You should be fighting back at him, fist wailing into his chest to push him back so you can fly out of his grip. However there’s a creeping calm of sorts that weaves through your thoughts. It feels fuzzy almost against your brain and you don’t even flinch when his dry tongue scratches over your skin.

“I do need help.” He keeps a hand pressed to your neck while the other pulls at your work polo, baring your flesh to his mouth. “Thank you.”

You can hear him in that moment, Eddie, not whatever this thing is that’s sinking its teeth into you. It hurts only for a moment, like a prick of a needle, and you can feel your mind going blank. Thoughts slip quick like water over rocks and you catch yourself on his shoulder to stay standing. That invisible force that bound you to the spot has faded as soon he begins to suck and again you should be running but you cling. There’s a peacefulness that comes with absence of thought and worry, enough so that you barely notice him drinking your blood. You barely notice the gore in his hair or the deep scars along his cheek. Your hearing begins to fade to only the single sound of his lips attached to you.

A fade to black for all your senses.

And then you feel it. Black tendrils that sneak into your awareness. They swirl and thrash in their form, long fingers of doom that grow around you. It’s a rushing feeling like a thousand wings brushing by you, pushing air across your face and ruffling your hair.

“Do you hear it?” Eddie whispers against your ear, lips warm and tongue wet where it drags along your lobe. “Monsters in the sky, right under us.” You’ve been lowered at some point, his back resting against the dumpster and you clung to the front of him. “So many they’d blot out the sun.” His hands still hold you but they’re warm now too against your cooling skin. “They’re looking for me.” A drop of something on your nose, something thick that drips onto his filthy shirt. “For us.”

Everything is muffled except for his clear voice. Those black tendrils move steadily along your awareness still, vines creeping in to drag you under into oblivion. Your throat sticks when you swallow and you try to form words before you pass out or die. Eddie’s head tilts in close to your mouth and you can smell the dirt and viscera on him.

“Something’s…around…”

“What is it?” He makes a show of looking around the shadows of the alleyway before letting his eyes drop to your barely open ones. The deep black is gone, replaced again by the familiar brown you know.

“Not here.” You need him to understand. The fingers crawl into your vision now, the few specks of light left that you can see, great red eyes in the middle distance of your mind. “Inside.” A weak motion to your head and you see it dawn on his face.

“You can see him too?” He asks you but doesn’t wait for a response before he digs his teeth into his own wrist. Blood rushes from the corners of his mouth and he shoves the mangled skin at you, your wince doing nothing to get it away from you. He cradles your head now, knees drawn up to help hold you while he feeds you something of himself. The blood pushes past your slack lips, bitter tannin where you expected salt and copper. No fight left in you while the wind rushes in your ears and the dark fist closes over your minds eye.

“I need help.” He intones again when you latch on to his wrist finally. “Will you help me?” No double speak this time, no white noise to warp your thoughts. Eddie asks you for help while you lay in a cold alley on cold concrete and drink from his self inflicted wound. You’ve never been friends, just acquaintances, but the blood is heavy on your tongue. He holds you close and keeps you both hidden in the dark. He sees the same monstrous form you do and there’s fear in those brown eyes, still shining, still wet with tears.

Your senses stop whining like a flicked switch, your hands coming up to grasp more fully at his offered arm. You nod and keep drinking and there’s that smile again, the real one, the warm one. “Thank you.”

It’s silent now except for the sounds of your eating and the rush of leathery wings beating underneath your feet.

#Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson Angst #Eddie Munson x Reader #Kas Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson #My Work #My Fic

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