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jamespotterismydaddy · 4 months

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When Nobody's Around

luke castellan x reader

capture the flag pt 2!

A/N: not me keeping my promises and posting three days in a row

TW: so much smut omg, throat-fucking, pussy slapping, cockwarming, overstim

word count: 1,225 words

After what happened with Luke the other day, you need to do something to cool off, to get your mind off of it. Training is the perfect thing. You make your way down to the grounds with Clarisse. Your half-sister is the perfect person to train with because she fights so hard that it gives you no chance to think.

“Fuck.” You murmur. You’re already there when you realize you forgot something. “I have to go back for my sneakers.”

“Don’t take too long, dumbass.” She smirks and you roll your eyes before jogging back to your cabin. It’s so weird because you could’ve sworn on your life that you had brought them.

You shake off the feeling and open the cabin door. There shouldn’t be anyone inside, all your siblings are training and whatnot. There shouldn’t be anyone in there, especially not Luke Castellan who is sitting on your bed, holding your sneakers.

What. The. Fuck.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He states, giving you an easygoing grin.

“Get out of my cabin.”

“No.”

“Not only are you not meant to be in here, I also don’t want you here.” Your voice is angry as you walk towards him.

“I think you do.”

You scoff. “Stop acting like you know me.”

He gives you a sly smile. “But I do know you… very intimately.”

“If you’re here for another hookup, it’s not going to happen.” You say adamantly.

He stands up, walking towards you. You hate the way he towers over your smaller body. “I’m actually here to apologize.”

“Apologize?” You ask doubtingly, not really thinking he was the type.

“Yeah.” His hands fall to your waist. You don’t shove him off right away, waiting to see where this all goes. “I was very rough with you before.” His hand slides up to hold your chin, thumbing your lip. “Maybe I wanted to be more gentle this time? Get down on my knees and eat you nice and slow.”

“I can’t stand you.” You breathe out as his hand ghosts down, rubbing over your breast.

“You’re such a damn brat.” He gives you a squeeze. “I thought I fucked that out of you last time but apparently not.”

You want to come up with some clever retort but all you can do is whimper in response.

“Now, how about you get on your knees and if you suck me well enough maybe, just maybe, i’ll get you off.”

You drop to your knees. You hate to admit it but you like the way he talks to you. No other guy has enough confidence to try and put you in your place.

“What a submissive little slut.” He coos as he grips your hair with one hand.

“I’ll bite your cock off.” You say as you unzip his jeans, tugging them down.

“We both know that would be more of a loss for you than me.” He chuckles at how your eyes widen when he pulls his dick out. He may have been inside of you but you never actually saw how big he is. “Suck it.”

You glare but take him in your mouth as far back as you can. You gag when the tip of him touches the back of your throat.

“That’s right, baby. Choke on my cock.” He murmurs as he begins to thrust into your mouth languidly. Your eyes water as you try to suck him off but it’s more like being throat-fucked instead with the way he grips your hair to pull your head back and forth. He gives a little slap to your cheek. “No teeth.” He warns as he continues to use your mouth like he pleases.

You’re surprised when he pulls out before finishing. “You can swallow my cum another time. I plan on keeping my promises.”

When you’re on your feet, Luke pulls you into a kiss. He taps your ass once so you jump, letting him hold you as he walks you back to your bed. He parts his lips from yours, placing you down so you sit on the edge of your bed.

“It’s your turn to get on your knees.” You say cheekily.

“Don’t go acting like you’re in charge.” He says but kneels anyhow. “I’m not opposed to giving that ass a few more smacks.” You shift a bit at the comment as he pulls off your pants. “Oh, maybe you’d like that.”

“I wouldn’t.” You lie as he yanks down your panties, revealing how wet you are.

“No?” He asks, amused before laying a harsh smack to your cunt. You drip out more arousal. “Liar.” He murmurs before digging in.

His hands hold tight to your thighs as he buries his face in your cunt. It’s stimulating too much and just the right amount all at once. You begin to whine and try to squirm away but he keeps you firmly in place with his strong hands as he laps up your arousal.

“Better than fucking ambrosia.” He looks up, grinning like a devil before nipping at your clit. Your hand is in his hair now, pulling tightly as you’re so close… so close and then… he stops.

“Luuuke…” You whine in frustration.

“Sorry, baby but you’re gonna cum around my cock.”

He picks you up like you weigh nothing and throws you back further on the bed before shifting his body between your legs. He uses his dick to tease your clit and you whimper.

“Please, Luke.” You beg, looking at him with doe eyes.

“Look at you, so pretty as you beg to be fucked. I’ll give you what you want.” His words are so lewd but his voice is so gentle.

He slips himself inside of you in one go, once again not caring about you adjusting. Though, he exercises a bit more restraint this time, not moving quite yet. He at least wants you to be able to walk somewhat well after this. He leans down to kiss your neck, leaving love bites that you'll have to explain later before he actually starts to give you what you need. He begins to thrust, trying to avoid acting like a rabid dog even if he knows you like it.

“You’re so fucking tight. Never had such a tiny little pussy before.” The way you squeeze around him has him throwing all decorum out the window. He begins to fuck into you like this is the last chance he’ll get.

“Mmm Luke, harder.” You beg.

“Fucking slut.” He says with a grin before slinging your leg over his shoulder so he can piston into you deeper.

“Want you… to cum… inside.” The words have him going feral. He uses his thumb to rub your clit, making you spasm under him.

“Is that all it takes? Barely even had to touch your sweet pearl.” You cream around his cock and he fucks you through it. The overstimulation has you seeing stars but after a few moments, his thrusts finally begin to slow. He stills and you feel his hot cum spurt into you, filling you to the brim until it spills out.

He slumps down on you, pressing tired kisses to your collarbone as he lets you cockwarm him.

“Want me to go?” He asks.

It should be an easy answer. You should say yes.

“No… stay.”

And he smiles.

taglists (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

Luke Castellan: @amortencjja @urmomsbananabread

#luke castellan #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson fic

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transvampireboyfriend · 8 months

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thinking of Eddie going completely incoherent whenever Steve casually changes his shirt in front of him.

they're hanging out in the Harrington house and they realize they need stuff to cook dinner so Eddie trails after Steve just talking his ear off as Steve gets ready and he's mid-sentence when Steve changes his shirt and he just sort of short-circuits from where he's sitting on Steve's bed. it's like one second there's no chest hair and the next there's so much of it and Eddie just-

"yeah we need the burger buns for sure. also remind me to get a- this um, the where uh, not um want, no, and he uh, he didn't tell me what it was"

Steve gives him a puzzled look "wh- who? what?"

Eddie blinks, looking lost "I uh- I think I forgot what i was saying"

and Steve just goes "oh. ok :)" and starts discussing other stuff about their shopping list, completely oblivious. no matter how many times it has happened already.

later, after they get together, Eddie will just straight up stop talking and if possible he'll lean his chin on his hand and just happily watch Steve be shirtless for a bit.

he'll say stuff like "you have great tits. you should be allowed to do whatever you want"

and Steve will preen a little and say "I agree." before giving Eddie a small kiss that Eddie accepts like it's the most precious gift <3

#steddie headcanon #steddie #steveddie #themm <3 #me having ideas about them reinassance? god i hope so #.#stranger things #blease talk to me about them

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cheriiyaya · 4 months

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𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 uh oh, what do the BSD boys do when they're a little too jealous of the attention you're getting?

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 Contents: Fyodor, dazai, and chuuya x Fem!reader (separately), sfw but suggestive (except in fedya's bc he's a "good christian"),they all wanna kill the guy "flirting" w you (fyodor actually kills him lmfao), uh not proofread so excuse any spelling errors, kinda a test run for me writing for fyodor, reader knows Russian in fedya's part, fyodor being kiiinda manipulative, religious themes in fedyas

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 A/N: was this an excuse for me to write them a lil possessive?...yeah it was. anyways this is my first time writing something suggestive so i hope it's good (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Dazai Osamu

Dazai is indeed, a rather selfish man. While he's not so selfish as to be extremely possessive of you, he does get jealous. Most of the time it's petty; small pouts and whines that are easily remedied when you pepper kisses onto his face and spoil him with your attention that he loves so much.

this was not one of those times. Right now, he can't believe what he's seeing:

A client of the detective agency, flirting with you.

Dazai watches in cold silence as the man laughs at something you said The man leans over a little too close for dazai's liking and whispered something in your ear, causing you to clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh.

If he was his teen self, dazai would've stuck bullet after bullet in the man's head.

He clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes in your direction, trying to pull you attention away from that man and towards him with some unknown pull. But you were too engrossed in conversation to notice, fluttering pretty lashes with every blink of your eyes and tilting your head in that endearing way as the man was telling you something..

There was a sensible part in dazai's mind that told him that you weren't reciprocating the man's advances, saying that it wasn't that big of a deal, but he couldn't ignore the curl and twist in is stomach and heart watching you and this man.

Then after a minute or two he just couldn't take it.

He gets up from his desk abruptly, ignoring the few pens and papers that fell off his desk as he strides behind you. He plants his chin on the crown of your head, cocking a lopsided smile that read more like a hidden threat towards the man.

"Bella'! Ah, socializing I see, aren't we?" He runs his bandaged hands down your arms, squeezing the squishy flesh on your upper forearm. His eyes were trained on the client, who was now blinking, looking at you then at dazai for a few time before realizing his error. The man scrambles up, chuckling awkwardly before walking away, and from the look on his blood-drained face you can tell he'll probably ask another one of the detectives in the agency to help with his case.

Once the man leaves you look up at dazai, a crease forming in between your furrowed eyebrows." Osam-" You were cut off by a sharp kiss, dazai hooking a finger under your chin and drawing you closer to him. Letting out a muffled cry of surprise, you try to pull away, which succeeded doing absolutely nothing. With a breathy shudder dazai digs his nails into your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest and teeth nipping your bottom lip which elicits a soft whine from the back of your throat. He presses his lips onto yours roughly, sucking away the breath in your lungs and only pulling away when he's red in the cheeks and breathless. He pulls away slowly and you draw in a shaky breath through swelling and parted lips, the world around you spinning and your limbs trembling furiously. He runs a thumb over your bottom lip, rubbing it and pressing down onto its soft plush. Dazai draws you close and whispers against your ear, breath brushing against your neck and causing your hair to stand up on end as he speaks;

"My, my bella', seems like you've forgot who's girl you are, hm? Don't worry, I'll make you remember soon enough, juuust wait."

Nakahara Chuuya

Oh god he was so going to kill mori after this.

The two of you were sent on a mission to collect information from a man, which landed the you two in an expensive bar in the heart of Yokohama.

He's repeating the same few words over and over again in his head like a mantra: "it's only a mission, it's only a mission" as he watches you sit flush besides the target, a young man in his late twenties.

But he felt seething envy curl up like flames in his stomach and sear his thrumming heart.

"No, it's just the alcohol." He mumbles, taking a sip of the expensive wine he had ordered, his thoughts drowning out the noisy chatter of people and music and the bright lights of the bar to an incessant buzz. He wasn't...envious or anything. That's quite stupid you don't even like that man! Yet he just can't help but look at the two of you, the way your pretty lips curled into that sweet smile chuuya loves so much as you placed a hand on the man's arm and giggled bashfully at whatever joke the man had told you.

Probably wasn't even that funny. Chuuya bites down on his tongue, resisting the urge to pull you away from that man as he took a sip of the wine that burned down his throat and settled a warmth in the pit of his stomach.

That warmth that brought drowsiness did not help the flare of envy chuuya felt as the man tugs you onto his lap. The man had one hand just under your ribcage and one in between your shoulder blades, tugging you close to him and whispering against your ear.

Bad idea. A very bad idea indeed.

In a flash chuuya weaved his way through the crowd of patrons-or rather shoved his way through with no regards to anyone-over beside you and glared at the man, eyes piercing holes into the man as he pulled you off his lap.

"Don't ya think you're a little to drunk doll?" He chuckles, but he did a terrible job at hiding the bitterness in his voice. This was so stupid, it would jeopardize the whole mission but chuuya didn't care;

Right now, the only thing on his mind was you and jealousy.

You look up at him, blinking and opening your mouth to protest against your alleged intoxicated state when chuuya pulled your through the crowd of people by the arm and out into the cool night street. Once out, you looked at chuuya with wide eyes and mouth agape from shock.

"Chuuya! What are you doing, you could've ruined the mission!" You scoff, blinking a few times before realizing something from his silence and the stare he's giving you.

"You're jealo-" Your chuckle of disbelief was cut off by his lips meeting yours, chuuya pulling closer to him. He mumbles in between kisses, ranging from short and sweet to hungry and harsh. A gloved thumb dragged from the corner of your mouth to your cheekbone as chuuya pulls away from your lips to leave desperate kisses over your face and jaw. Somehow in the midst your fingers found their place tangled in messy ginger strands and you only realized this fact once he pulls away, leaving you breathless with redden cheeks.

"Ha, can't believe some guy would try to take this sight from me, huh pretty girl? Better keep you by me all times now, can't let some guy think he has a chance with my sweet girl."

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor is no jealous man. Envy was one of the seven cardinal sins, and Fyodor was a man of God. Besides, what is there to be jealous of for a man like him?

Until, he feels an unfamiliar feeling stir inside him as he sees you with another man as you waited for Fyodor.

The way your face lights up in that way when you flash a mirthful smile to that man as the two of you chat about some mundane things. The way delicate fingers tuck stray strands of hair from your face and hold them there as you talk to this stranger causes fyodor to feel something that he hadn't felt in a while (or perhaps just blocked out).

You hadn't realized fyodor coming up behind you until you felt him tap you your shoulder.

"Ah, who is this, milaya?" He smiles in that unnerving way, not the soft smile he'd give you after you beg him to take so rest from his work. This smile read more as a threat.

To you or to the man you were speaking to, you couldn't tell.

Fyodor tugs you to his side, quickly telling the man you were waiting for him before he pulls you along with him.

"Who was that? What were you telling him myshka?" He spoke in Russian, the sharp pronunciation vibrating off the walls of your ears.

"mh, just a man, Fedya. Why?" You tilt your head, furrowing your eyebrows. He sighs and smooths his thumb over the crease, offering a smile to ease your troubled expression

"Ah, just worried. Don't talk to strangers, who knows what kind of intentions they may have." Intentions such as distancing you from him. He brings your hand up to his mouth,, gently kissing your knuckles and rubbing soothing circles onto your palm.

No matter, there would be no way anyone would take you away from him. You were his little doll.

The next day, Fyodor offers to stay inside all day saying that he wished to spend time with you.

How naive for you to believe that, instead he kept you in to keep you unaware of the news of the man dead on the banks of a river.

Wrath, another cardinal sin yet there was no sin great enough that Fyodor wouldn't commit to keep you.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!!

©Cheriiyaya 2024

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french-goodbye · 8 months

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please never fall in love again

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: dating steve harrington is hard, especially when girls keep hitting on him.

notes: i wrote this a while ago but eventually forgot about it in the midst of all my wips lol. title from the song please never fall in love again by ollie mn.

you stare at the back of your boyfriend's head with narrowed eyes and your chin resting on your hands, an anger you know you shouldn't be feeling boiling beneath the surface of your skin. he, of course is none the wiser, as he is to most things, just chatting with eddie completely carefree by the bar.

you love steve harrigton, you really do. you think you fell in love with him on your first date and never really fell out of it. you've already planned your whole life with him, from getting married and having kids to growing old with him and sitting side by side on a wrap around porch. he's sweet, kind, he's great with kids and it doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes and great in bed.

his biggest flaw, however, is not exactly his fault. the worst thing about dating steve harrigton is the amount of women who hit on him on a daily basis. whether it's old ladies at the grocery store telling him he looks like their dead husbands or bored soccer moms looking for a little thrill or, the worst of all, the girls your age who slip him their phone number in old receipts over the counter at family video. these women are always there, like blood sniffing sharks, somehow finding a way to make a suggestive comment or a flirty joke.

most of the time, it doesn't really bother you even when it does happen in front of you. steve's the kind of guy who'd never cheat on you, simply because of who he is and how obsessed with you he is. sometimes, however, they can get a little too close and personal and you can't help but wish steve was a little less attractive. just a little.

and it's not that you don't trust him either, he's always quick and firm to shut them down when it happens. it's that they're the ones you don't trust, the girls with big permed blonde hair and fake tans and bright pink lipstick who look at you disdainfully when they realize you're together because they can barely take their eyes off of him for long enough to notice you're standing right next to him.

you're out at a bar celebrating jonathan's birthday when it happens this time, steve and eddie having offered to get everyone another round, the two of them leaning against the bar talking while they wait when a girl from the booth in the corner approaches them. she's clearly a little bit more than tipsy and obviously focused on steve as she talks to them, avidly taking him in and resting her hand on his forearm. he doesn't even blink, just smoothly leans away from her and tells her something that makes her leave as fast as she arrived.

you can barely hear nancy as she complains about her male coworkers on her summer job, as you heatedly stare at his stupidly nice hair and broad shoulders as your boyfriend laughs at something eddie said, hand scratching his neck. you're still watching him with scrunched eyebrows and a sour expression when you feel robin poking your cheek, making you look at her and gently slap her hand away.

"why are you poking me?"

"why are you staring at steve like he kicked your puppy?" she asks, frowning, looking back and forth between the two of you like a tennis match.

"i'm not" she gives you a flat look with raised brows. "fine," you huff. "why do women always hit on him? we can't take him anywhere"

"no idea, you tell me"

"urgh" you groan, throwing your arms around her and resting your head on her shoulder. "god, i hate men"

"amen sister" you hang onto her for a second as she takes a noisy sip of her empty drink through her straw and taps your back sympathetically a few times before gently pushing you away as steve and eddie walk back to your table, drinks in hands and still chatting distractedly.

she softly claps her hands, enthusiastically and telling you a quiet "yay" as she turns back to nancy and jonathan, as the two argue wether or not their coworkers are sexist (they totally are).

you're still laughing at robin's drunken antics when steve comes to your side again and sets your new drink on the table in front of you, resting his hand on your lower back. you let him but when he leans over you to press a kiss to your hair, you promptly dodge away from him and out of his reach. from the corner of your eye, you can see how he frowns at that and silently watches you for a second as you pretend to listen to what nancy says.

his hand on your lower back climbs all the way up to the back of your neck so he turn your head his away, forcing you to look at his big brown eyes staring at you like you just kicked his puppy and you almost feel guilty. almost.

"what's wrong?" he asks.

you shrug, "nothing's wrong."

"are you mad at me or something?"

"no" you slowly shake your head in negative, shrugging.

"gimme a kiss then" he rests one of his hands on your face tilting your head his way while the other on your neck guides your face to his. you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek and look away, accidentally making eye contact with the girl who just hit on him. she's watching the two of you, quickly looking away when she notices she was caught staring.

"you saw that, huh" he tells you, hands settling on your waist instead so he can look at you.

"hard not to" you huff, picking invisible lint from your pants.

"then you know nothing happened"

"of course i know that, i trust you" you complain as you roll your eyes and gesticulate to show your frustration "but i-it just makes so insanely angry when they touch you like that, like they have any right to-" you stop your ranting mid sentence when you realize the look on his face. "what? why are you looking at me like that?"

"nothing" he clears his throat and looks down to uselessly smooth non existing wrinkles on your top. you watch him though narrowed eyes and gasp when it hits you, making him look at you again. "what?"

"you like it when i'm jealous" you accuse, lightly poking his chest.

"no, i don't"

"yes, you do. i can't believe i never noticed it before" you huff an incredulous laugh, remembering all the times girls hit on him in front of you and he said nothing but affirmations of how much he's in love with you and how he could never want somebody else, acting more attentive and affectionate than usual later, pressing you against his body and kissing kissing kissing you until he was the only thing on your mind.

"okay, it's not what you're thinking" he replies running a hand through his hair nervously.

"what am i thinking, harrington?" you ask, lifting one eyebrow as a smirk makes it's way to your lips.

"it's not an ego thing" you laugh softly at him, letting your fingers run soothingly through the hair at the nape of his neck, finally giving into the temptation to get your hands on him. "it's just- i like knowing how much you want me just for yourself, how much you care about me."

you stare at him for a moment, taking in his sincere brown eyes and his fluffy hair, feeling impossibly endeared by the boy in front of you. he fidgets under your stare, so you smooth your hands down his shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath his shirt.

"well, i do care... a lot" you tell him, pretending to be coy and batting your eyelashes at him. "but it's not like i blame her"

"what?" he looks at you blankly, confused.

"i mean, look at you" you pull him closer and then closer still, still smirking. "those nice brown eyes, the pretty hair, those shoulders... nevermind how much of a charmer you are. damn harrington, no wonder women keep throwing themselves at you."

"babe" he groans embarrassedly, "they're not throwing themselves-" he dramatically drops his forehead on your shoulder making you laugh at his discomfort, letting brown strands of hair slip through your fingers as you comfortingly pet his hair and he squeezes your waist in reprimand.

"it's true!"

he pulls you closer by the grip he has on your waist and burrows his face in the crook of your neck in lieu of an answer. you let him have it even though you would like to see his face and the way his blush is probably spreading from his cheek to his neck and rest your chin into his shoulder as you hug him.

"but one of these days i'll have to step in and defend your honor"

"please don't" he pulls away and cups your neck, thumbs brushing your cheek and staring at you disapprovingly, his eyelashes touching at the corners, the hint of a smile still on his face.

"i don't know, maybe i'll have to challenge them to a duel to the death" you disagree and look at him from under your eyelashes. he gives you an affectionate look that'd make you nauseous were it not directed at you and presses a long lingering kiss to your lips.

"shut up" he whispers against your lips. you gladly do, at least until eddie and robin start throwing balled up paper napkins at your head. it's worth it though.

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #mine

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popamolly · 2 months

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‘INTERNAL REDEMPTION’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. (y/n) continues to spy on Lucifer, preying on the little vulnerability that allows he allows (y/n) to see. Unbeknownst to both of them there is something blossoming with each conversation and shared stolen glance.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR

warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, eventual smut, mention of death, slow burn, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder, slow burn, 18+ minors dni

author’s note. italics is for a flashback, just wanted to let everyone know if that isn’t made clear in the text, i finished this up at like 2am. enjoy sinners <3

Lucifer held you captive with his words for hours. Explaining everything you wanted to know about him and his army of ducks. That wall was slowly crumbling as was his resolve. Though that seemed to be in the back of your mind as you found yourself intrigued by him and his story— ultimately finding out that the King of Hell was actually quite charming in his way.

“So these ducks are a manifestation of sinners,” You look toward him as if to confirm his words and when Lucifer nodded you continued, “Every sinner in Hell? No wonder you have so many.”

“And this isn’t even half of it,” Lucifer smiles proudly as he hops up from his chair, gesturing toward the rubber duck piles that almost reached the ceiling, “There are more at my amusement park.”

“I see, I guess I am just trying to understand why ducks of all things?”

“Spiritual progression? Rebirth? New beginnings?” Lucifer taps his chin in thought before shrugging, “A mere duck can mean a lot of different things that’s why, plus they are cuuuuteee!”

You laugh, a real genuine laugh, which was a sound you haven’t made in a long while. The King wasn’t so bad once you got know him. If anything he was an ideal king that you would read stories about. You wanted nothing more than to listen to him talk for hours more.

“What?” Lucifer got a bit self conscious, realizing that his excitement might have came off a bit nerdy or childish, “It’s silly isn’t it?”

You shake your head to ease his insecurities with a lopsided smile, “No, I just had this version of you in my head and seeing you now, in person..it's completely changed now that I have met you.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.” Lucifer chuckles. He fiddling with the top of his cane as if he was scared to meet your gaze.

“It is.” And for a moment you forgot why you were here. If you had to chose between the V’s and Lucifer when it came to deciding Hell’s fate, Lucifer would win by a landslide— but Lucifer wasn’t the one who owned your soul, “Tell me more about Charlie. Your face lights up whenever you speak of her.”

“She is my pride and joy!” Lucifer boasts proudly, “She has this whole Hotel thing going on apparently. I’ve been poppin’ in here and there to help her ya know, being an awesome dad and whatnot.”

“And what of this hotel?” You ask, leaning a bit closer to Lucifer as if he would tell you a secret, “Does she really believe that she can redeem sinners?”

“Yes, she…she does,” Lucifer sighs after a moment, turning away from you to run his fingers through his golden hair. A heavy weight clearly on his shoulders as he thought of his daughter and her fairytale like dreams for Hell. It hurt his heart to know that he couldn’t do more for her. He knew he could make whatever dream of hers come true except for the one she wanted most. This was a whole other thing entirely. This was something between Hell and Earth and the lines have always been blurred— he would never be able to cross it even he wanted to.

“You don’t sound too sure..” You chose your words carefully. There was a tiny crack in his wall of vulnerability and you wanted to crack it some more, “Do you doubt Charlie?”

“No no no! Pfffft, Of course not!” Lucifer quickly says before sighing in defeat, raking his fingers through his blonde hair, “I don’t doubt her..I just— I don’t think she understands the weight of what she is trying to do. I just l don’t want her to end up hurt over this.”

“If all else fails then she will know that you were there for her,” You say, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly, “All you have to do is believe in her, even if you don’t believe in her dreams.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Lucifer turned to look at you. A split moment in time where the world seemed to stop and it was just you and him. Your words might have came from your own selfish need to stay on Valentino’s good side but your kindness remained true. It became clear to you that the King was nothing more than a prideful man that was trying his best. Not only for his daughter but himself and for Hell. In the short time that you knew him it was something that you quickly learned to admire, “Yes, well,” Lucifer clears his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly under your intense gaze, “Thank you for the company. It was nice to…open up a bit.”

“Of course, your majesty,” You nod, taking that as your cue to leave the King to his Kingly duties as the time you two spent together had made day turn to night in an instant, “I will leave you to your duties.”

“Right! My duties! I am a very very busy man! So many souls to collect, tons of sinners to kill, people to torture, the list just goes on…haha!” Lucifer wanted to jump out of his own skin and slap himself silly. Curse him for his rambling, why did he even feel the need to impress you? A lowly sinner that meant absolutely nothing to him.

“if you ever need a friend or,” Your fingertips grazes the doorknob to his bedchambers with the tray of empty plates in the other arm, “…A listening ear, you always call upon me.” Offering one last smile in the King's direction, you slip out into the hall, closing the door behind you softly.

Lucifer couldn’t help but feel how his room suddenly felt cold now that your warm presence was gone. There was a certain emptiness in the air that reminded him he was truly lonely. \

“So the King of Hell’s daughter wasn’t joking about the redemption of sinners,” Vox sneers over the tiny screen of the voxtech watch he gave you, “And whatever the reason for the Radio Demon to be by Charlie’s side, it surely only benefits him.” The watch screen slightly glitches from Vox laughing, “Redemption of sinners?! How stupid is that?”

“It could be possible,” You say, making the watch on your wrist glitch some more.

“If I wanted your opinion bitch, I would ask for it!” The static noise was starting to ring in your ears, its material overheating in the palm of your hand, “Whatever the case is, I need you sucking Lucifer’s dick by next week if we are going to get any valuable information out of him, do you understand me?”

You bit down on your bottom lip, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes from feeling guilty about getting close to Lucifer under such circumstances. Your paths should have never even crossed. You both might be in hell but you were in entirely different worlds. There was this unspoken connection you two shared the moment your eyes met and it was just enough to get the guilt eating away at you.

“Or do I have to tell Valentino that his favorite obedient girl is being defiant?”

“No, I—”

“Good, I’m so glad we have an understanding. Now go get me some actually good information I can fucking use!” With that Vox hung up the call, making you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding in. You toss the watch to the floor angrily, dropping your head into your hands. This was all just a stupid pointless mission. One that had no satisfying end or results because there was nothing to say. There was nothing to report back. The King, Charlie, and those around him was plotting to do more good than harm.

You leaned over to turn the faucet off, stopping the hot water from filling the porcelain tub completely after nearly overflowing it from being too lost in your thoughts.

Slowly, you began to slip out of your clothes, neatly folding them and putting them aside before stepping into the hot water, the stinging pain hardly anything you would flinch from. That stinging pain felt good, it reminded you that you were present in the moment even when you wanted nothing more than to just to disappear.

Closing your eyes to relax, you sink deeper and deeper into the water until you felt your mind slowly drift elsewhere.

With a melodic hum, you turned the page to your book, intrigued by the ancient text and words of God. Surrounding you were scrolls and other relics that you stole from the council’s library, eager to learn more about God and his mysterious ways. It was all you could do in Heaven after all, live blissfully but you were bored of that. Instead of thriving off the golden city’s pleasures you always found your head in a book, a simply pleasure that you’ve grown to love.

“Boo!” Lucifer suddenly pops down in front of you. Startled, you toss your book up, which he catches with ease, “What ya reading?”

“God’s texts Lulu, what else?” You try to grab your book from him but he holds it above your head, slowly inching upward with the help of his wings to show that he was taller than you. He wasn’t but you’d like to humor him every now and again, “Lucifer! Give it back!”

“Wouldn’t you much rather see the gift I brought you instead of reading a boring book?” Lucifer wiggled his eyebrows in jest, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“A Gift?” You stopped jumping for your book then, your wings tucked back into you with a curious glint in your eyes. Lucifer gave dramatic pause before presenting you a green apple. He tossed it to you and you caught it in your delicate hands, smiling at the kind gesture. “An apple, how romantic.”

“Is it not to your liking?” Lucifer played along with your teasing remark, circling around you as he playfully grabs and twist your hair around his fingers in such a loving way that it had your heartbeat quickening and you breath falling short, "I thought I'd give you something a little bit more nontraditional."

It took everything in your power not to swoon over a damn apple because it wasn't just an apple to you. Lucifer would go out of his way to bring you things whenever you two would meet up at your secret spot under a new sprouting tree. There was something sparking between you two and you weren't sure how long you would be able to avoid it as you were a hopeless romantic. Lucifer had such a way with words that whenever he spoke it was if he was building palaces- cathedrals even. Between that and that charming warm smile, you knew you wouldn't be able to deny your feelings for much longer but until he admitted it first you weren't going to say anything. Call it stubbornness but you simply didn't want to be mistaken and absolutely sure that your feelings for him were one hundred percent reciprocated.

"Next time get a red apple," You said, finding that hidden resolve within you once again as you smirked at him, "They're sweeter."

"Are they now?" Lucifer stopped circling you to stand only inches apart from your face. He was so close that you could feel his breath against your lips. A ball of anticipation formed at the base of your stomach, making you feel as though you have swallowed butterflies, "(Y/N).." The angel in front of you swallowed a lump in his throat, his own body betraying him as he backs you up against the tree, lips only barely touching one another, "Can I kiss you?"

You were breathless. Lucifer had officially sucked out all the air from your lungs- or so it felt like, "Yes." And with your consent, Lucifer crashed his lips to yours passionately. He invaded your mouth and all of your senses. You melted into him, relaxing against his body as you brought your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. It was as if fireworks went off in your head. Even the sound of distant ringing of the bells had you questioning if it was truly meant to be.

You suddenly pulled away from Lucifer, "Bells.."

Lucifer blinks at you dreamily, "You hear them too? It's perfect."

"No, Lucifer, the bells! I'm late for afternoon prayer!" You shove him out the way and continue collecting your things. You have been late to afternoon prayer for the past two weeks and were already walking on a thin line with the Seraphims, you couldn't afford to be late again, "I have to go."

Lucifer pulls you back to him with a slight frown, "So soon? But this might be our last time together for awhile. I have that council meeting today."

"For what? Don't tell me this about your dreams and aspirations?" By the way Lucifer looked away from you you knew it was exactly that, "You can't bring that to the council members, they will see it as a threat to everything they have built."

"And have you ever asked yourself why that is? They should embrace change, not run away from it." Lucifer says, his facial expression serious, "I can prove to them that change is positive, something good!"

You shake your head, "Don't be a fool Lucifer."

"Why can't you just support this? Support me? Is change so bad?!"

"If it's going to cost you your life Lucifer, then I can't support it." You place your free hand on his check. The pad of your thumb grazing his soft skin comfortingly, "I won't support you in this."

Silence falls over you two and for a moment you thought that your friend had finally seen through to reason but it was the exact opposite. Your heart broke and you knew that your support was the one thing he ever wanted from you and you denied him that. There was this quiet heartbreak you felt in your chest, realizing that you had lost not only your lover but your friend as well.

Lucifer's hand comes up to grip your wrist, gently pulling you away from him, "With or without you, I will do this. I will show them. Show everyone." You could only watch as he turns from you and flies away, leaving you to be covered by his shadow and retreating back.

"That pride of yours," You whispered, hands clenched tightly into fist at your sides as you felt tears leave your eyes, "Will be your downfall, Lucifer."

You sat up in the water suddenly, gasping for air as you felt someone violently shake you. You sputtered and coughed up what felt like a lung, water trickled down and into your eyes making your vision blurry for a few seconds before you could blink them away to focus on the person who was kneeled next to the tub, concerned clearly etched across their face as they looked at you. You blinked away the water, the blurry figure now forming into none other than Lysandra.

"Goodness, dear! Do you know how dangerous it is to fall asleep in the bath?" Rushing to grab a towel that was hanging on a rack, Lysandra lets you put all of your weight on her as she helps you out the tub, wrapping the fuzzy warm towel around your nude body, "You're lucky I saw the water coming from under the door! What on earth were you thinking?" "I had the strangest dream.." You start to say, breathless and panting but Lysandra shushes you, helping you dry off and get warm as she leads you out the bathroom, fully intending on not leaving your side for the rest of the night.

"Hush, your mind must be in shambles poor thing," The elderly woman leads you back into your bedroom, "A nice cup of calming tea should do the trick. Now stay here and don't move."

You were still in shock to even register your current reality anymore. That dream you had felt too real, almost as if it had just happened. Why was Lucifer in it? Why were you an Angel? Why were you in heaven? You dismissed it as nothing more than your mind playing tricks on you. This only happened because of your growing connection to Lucifer. It was nothing of importance right? Dreams come from imagination- but there was a part of your mind that knew that dreams could also stem from memories.

@pyromaniac-on-caffeine @froggybich @punching-pentagrams @elleofdragons @futureittomainn @cryptidghostgirl @yelinmarceline @sunnydays-funnydays @theperfectmangovoid @ag-cookiebat800 @lil-bexie @haunt3ddo0ll @hamthepan @delightedtosee @astarionsjuiceboxgirl @fanfictionfans-stuff @hannahrose130

Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo

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brodieland · 2 months

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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 Sneaking out for my boyy !!´ˎ˗

Percy Jackson x fem!iris!reader Synopsis: A daughter of Iris sneaks to he boyfriends cabin at 1am. Word Count: 899

You hated the night. They were so dark, you can see barely see anything and it was too quiet. The only good thing about them was that you could just go to sleep and skip through them. Except for tonight. You spent hours and hours tossing and turning, but no luck. You couldn't sleep, and it was like a lightbulb flashed over your head. Make a visit to your favorite camper, or boyfriend, Percy Jackson.

With that, you got up and slipped on a hoodie and snuck out your cabin. The night breeze sent chills down your spine as you did your best not to alert the harpies. Finally after a chilling little adventure in the dark, you finally see the famous trident banner residing in front of the Poseidon cabin. When you walked up and knocked on the door, you heard a thump from the inside inside. "What the hades" you thought. And after a quick moment, the door opened revealing your shaggy haired boyfriend.

"Oh my gods, its 1am I don't know why it didn't click that you'd be asleep" you mentally face palmed at your sudden realization.

"Hey it's fine, I'm glad you're here, cabin gets kinda lonely you know" he smiled and looked at you sheepishly.

"Yeah I get that" you said as he moved aside and let you in. Both of you walked to bed and laid down beside each other, engulfing one another in each others arms. This was the best way to get you to sleep. Percy had his chin resting above your head just enjoying your presence while looking out the window. While observing the outside that's when he noticed something outside.

Now before you knew it, Percy was shaking you awake. "Y/N, Y/N, wake up" as he rumbled you awake you looked up at him. You see him looking out the window with a look of 'oh my gods' on his face. Confused you got up to see what he was looking at and you couldn't believe it.

"A rainbow" you gasped from absolute delight "in the night sky!" You were grinning from ear to ear. You were a daughter of Iris, the goddess of not only messaging, but also rainbows. So seeing rainbows always made you feel ecstatic, it was like feeling closer to your mother. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah it is" Percy said as he turned over to you and stared with a sleepy, closed eyed grin. After about two minutes you turned to Percy, who was still staring at you like you yourself put the rainbow in sky, not your goddess mother.

You were both staring into each others eyes when you both grabbed each others faces and pulled one another in and kissed each other. As you guys continued to make out, you kept leaning into your boyfriend until you both fell over. Him on his back with you straddled on top.

It was a long night.

After sneaking into Percy's cabin you forgot to leave and ended falling asleep. Additionally, you also forgot about an arts and crafts lesson you were supposed to have with some of the younger campers at 10am.

It was now 10:30am and Chiron was doing his rounds around camp, making sure everyone was at their respective duties. That's when he noticed all the younger campers still waiting by their crafts tables for instructions. "My my, why aren't we doing some crafting young ones" Chiron inquired.

"Well we're still waiting for Y/N to show up" said one of the little Aphrodite campers.

"Interesting, I'll go look for her now" and with that, Chiron went on his why to the Iris cabin. And to his surprise, the cabin was outrageous empty. You were no where in sight. When he began to leave the cabin, he noticed a close friend of yours. Silena Beaurengard.

"Hello Ms. Silena, do you happen to know of Ms. Y/N's where abouts" Chiron questioned the head Aphrodite counselor.

"Um, no actually. I was wondering where she was, but try asking Percy, he normally knows where she is. I think he's still at his cabin" said Silena, before continuing what she was previously doing.

Skeptical, Chiron walked toward the Poseidon cabin. As he looked around, making his eyes towards his clearly filled bed. He let out a sign when he saw Y/N's hair peeking from the covers and the cabin a mess. They were a rambunctious pair Chiron liked to say, this isn't what he meant though. That's when Chiron knocked harshly on the doorway, startling the both awake.

That's when they both realized the situation they were in, though they didn't say anything. The silence was awkward to say the absolute least. "Y/N, campers are waiting for you at arts and crafts, we will deal with the both of your punishments later" and with that, Chiron slammed the door leaving the room with a thick tension. It was quickly cut as Percy started laughing next to you, causing you to slap his arm. Of course you were unable to hide your smile, causing the both of you to laugh together.

"We're screwed" you said, and Percy gave you that stupid grin that oh so adore. "Stop looking at me like that." And with that you both went to get dressed, but you knew that this was going to be a long day.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #percy series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson fluff

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imninahchan · 3 months

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⌜ 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮: strangers to lovers, my poor spanish skills, casual and unprotected sex [you can't do that, c'mon!], readerʼs a brazilian woman, some portuguese words, dirty talk, age difference, finger sucking, male oral, manhandling, light pussy spanking, ʽpapiʼ, dumbification, dacryphilia. ˚ ☽ ˚.⋆ ⌝

꒰ 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹ʼ𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 ꒱ sooo never thought about posting something in eng but @femmechaotic (thx baby) showed me her translation and i gave it a second chance. This was originally written by me in portuguese, thatʼs why the reader is brazilian. Eng is not our first language, sorry for any mistakes, just posting for the fun of it♡

𓍢ִ໋🀦 HE'S THE KIND OF MAN YOU'LL ONLY MEET ONCE IN A LIFETIME ─────

You realized this from the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time. Sitting a couple of tables away from his, on the balcony of the hotel lobby.

You simply couldn't help but notice it: the thick strands of dark hair, how his hands run through it, as the gentle morning wind blowed. The basic white tank top, a coat hanging over the chair next to him at the table. His big and pointed nose, his eyes hidden mysteriously behind the lenses of the fancy sunglasses.

He's definitely not Brazilian. You could tell just by the food he chose from the buffet on his plate. Youʼre just so genuinely intrigued by the whole set of ongoings, obsessed with watching him, that you forgot about your own — boring — breakfast. The buns were cooling next to the black coffee in the porcelain cup.

You wanted to open the messaging app on your phone and send a sassy comment to your best friend, saying something like: “omg u won't believe how cute is the guy i just saw”, but you didn't even have time for that. The man raises his chin, with his attention shifting from the phone device in his hands to noticing your presence ahead.

You look down immediately, feeling as if you had committed a crime and you've just been caught in the act. You bite your lip, trying to hold down a childish smile, like a vicious little girl. Your palms starts sweating; suddenly cold. The intention was to keep yourself busy with the porcelain cup in the short meantime, trying to deal with the awkward sensation of being caught.

Itʼs not working, of course. You didn't know whether to drink or not, sometimes you try to sip the hot liquid, but you give up halfway through, lost like a robot in a breakdown. And when he raises his eyes once more, in the same direction as you looked for so long, the man's gaze meet yours again.

It feels, apparently, like youʼre going to faint, to actually die, Jesus! You've never felt so embarrassed in your entire life and you insist on thinking about how you're never gonna be able to eat, think or breathe while being in this crime scene — also known as the balcony of the hotel lobby.

“Get up, then!”, you think to yourself. You pick up on a couple of the cold buns from the plate, taking a sip of the — now cold — coffee, and walking towards the lobby. Like, damn, youʼre not even dressed up, maybe the clothes are not so bad but you donʼt even have any makeup on or hair done the way you liked it so much (and did it religiously every day).

But there is an actual explanation for you not being ready. The plan, initially, was just having breakfast and enjoying the view for a short period of time, so you could visit the downtown in Madrid afterwards. Now, you are running away like a criminal, with your mouth full of bread heading towards the elevator.

When you finally thought that the closing of the gray automatic doors would mean freedom, your heart has one more reason to flutter, as soon as the man steps into the cubicle before he could lose the sight of you.

You decide to chew more quickly, hiding the other roll of bun between your hands. Standing next to you, he takes off his pair of glasses, holding his coat and a crossbody bag.

He looks at you.

— Enzo — he says, and from the way he announced his name, you can tell by his accent that he speak Spanish. You swipe the back of your hand over your mouth, wiping away any remaining crumbs.

— Oi... hmm — You stammer the response in Portuguese, automatically panicking again for a few seconds when realizing that your brain couldn't think of a greeting, even in your first language. After some quick struggles, you tell him your name.

— ¿Eres de aquí? ¿de Madrid? (Are you from here? From Madrid?)

— Ahm... — You stutter, again (unfortunately). — Brasil!

He smiles.

— Ah, sí. Brasil... ¡Es un lugar magnífico! (Oh, yes. Brasil... It's a wonderful place!) — and praises. But his gaze turns sharp, he needs to know: “Entiendes lo que digo, ¿no?” (Do you understand what I say, right?)

— Sí, sí! (Yeah, yes!) — you return with a wide smile back at him, almost hyperventilating.

Your desperation is pathetically noticeable, itʼs cute actually. He watched you, smiles softly, almost like a chuckle. The curiosity gets into your nerves, you wanted to ask more questions, extend the conversation, but the elevator reaches your floor, and you leave, too withdrawn to say anything.

“Shit”, you curse at yourself, it wasn't so difficult to have a decent small talk, you should've said something, anything. You brood all day long, thinking you're such a dummy for missing the opportunity. Why did you have to act like a stupid teenager, huh? Then, after what happened, not even the museums — that you were so excited to visit — were fun anymore, no place in this goddamn city could take away that little thread of regret from you.

In the next day, however, you go down for some coffee at the same time as you did the other day, with the foolish intention of trying to see him again, and thatʼs it, it worked; like a freaking miracle. The man was sitting in an armchair in the lobby, it seemed like he was waiting for you too, what were the odds?

You can even feel your legs wobble.

— ¡Buenos días! (Good morning!) — he greets you. — ¿Cómo se dice ‘Buenos días’ en Brasil? (How do you say ‘Good morning’ in Portuguese?)

It takes a few seconds for you to think and say it back, ‘Bom dia’ (Good morning), you respond. He smiles.

— Es muy parecido (It's pretty similar) — he comments, awkwardly. Then, looks at the buffet, “¿Vamos?” (Shall we?)

Although he sometimes used terms that you completely donʼt know the meaning of and have to ask him to explain again, the conversation is, apparently, going very well. You discover that he is older, Uruguayan, and not Spanish as you immediately thought he was. You tell him a little about the country you come from, and he gets enchanted by the way your accent pronounces his name. Enzo. Paying attention to the ʽzʼ sound, unlike the pronunciation in Spanish.

it was with his company that you explored the city. The both of you went to a small square together, had some ice cream, met tourists hotspots, then chatted while exploring a little shop nearby. You hated to admit it but the situation was indeed romantic. Later in the afternoon, you were taken by him to a bar.

There, the conversation extended even further, including the beer you guys shared. When you didn't understand anything he said, (what was quite often in the conversation) you just laughed, your cheeks getting really hot and red from smiling that much. Honestly, you could leave him talking to himself for hours, just because you loved the husky sound of his deep voice and his pair of brown sparkling eyes.

It didn't mean that you were in love or anything, right? Besides, there was no way you could fall in love in such a short period of time.

But the heat you felt emanating from your own body definitely meant something. It could be because of the dark blue button-down shirt — these pieces never fail to be attractive, right? —, or the silver ring that caught your eyes every time he articulated with his hands in the air. Even his perfume... ah, the perfume! A fragrance that filled your lungs, woody but with a slight sweet note. Projecting all day long, torturing, practically inviting you to bury your face in the curve of the moreno's neck.

At nighttime, he takes you back to the hotel: his excuse was that he wanted to help you with the shopping bags, as if you had bought all of Madrid. And it was supposed to end there, at your hotel room door, simple as that. He hands you your things, and the most he does is lean over, slowly, as if he is silently asking for permission, and so, he places a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, millimeters away from touching your lipstick-painted lips. But you hold his hand, before the man walks away down the hall, you donʼt let him escape.

He approaches you again, his other hand touches the corner of your face. Warm, affectionate. ¿Qué te pasa, nena? (What's wrong with you, baby?) The focus of his brown eyes are on your mouth now, the question is whispered, seductive. The touch of his fingers bypass your jaw until it gets on your chin. ¿Quieres algo más que un beso? (Do you want something more than a kiss?)

Youʼre not sure which words to use, which command to prefer. In fact, you donʼt even want to be thinking. You want to shut your brain, to be so dissociated so that only your body can enjoy the moment. You wrapp your arms around him, your face can finally hid in the curve of his neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his. You hear the sound of his chuckle, feeling his big hands being placed on your waist. ¿Qué quieres? Dímelo. (What do you want? tell me)

You look up to him, shy. The tip of your nose rubs against his, creating a friction that, just because of the absurd proximity, makes everything even more tense, burning erotic.

— No Brasil — you say, trying to hide it by biting your lip —, se diz ‘foder.’

Enzo's smile grows, almost in slow motion. “Foder” (fuck), he repeats the word in a whisper. Again, you donʼt even have to think much to understand. Everything sounded similar, and it seemed that your mind was connected to his by a chaotic carnal desire.

The Uruguayan's lips meets yours; his hot tongue brushes against yours. Your bodies take on a life of their own. Little by little, the main setting stopped being the hotel hallway and became your room. The door gets closed with a gentle push from his feet, while the chosen path is towards your bed.

His hands moves up from your waist to grab your blouse and take it off from your warm body. When you lay on the mattress, supporting on your elbows, itʼs the cue the man needeed to messily pull down your shorts.

— ¿Quieres ponerte de rodillas? (Do you want to be on your knees?) — he asks, as he unbuttons his own blouse. The sharp look he gives you, bathed in desire, delirious. On his lips, you notice the smudged red of your lipstick. — Correrme en tu boca... (Cum in your mouth...)

Maybe itʼs your mind lost in urgency, because you donʼt process what was said to you. You keep your eyes still, your mouth half-open, taking in air, panting. So pathetic that all he does is laugh at your face, running his hands through his hair instead of going straight to the belt of his shorts.

— ¿Qué? ¿No lo comprendes, no? (What? you don't understand it, do you?) — the tone used with you bordered mockery. And contrary to what you would normally feel like, it gives room to a sick feeling, butterflies in your stomach, you feel even more horny, stimulated. He leans in close. — Mira. (Look)

And as if you were learning something for the first time, you imitate him when he parts his lips. You let the man's thumb drag over your lower lip, and then his middle and index fingers together slide over your tongue, until they occupy your mouth. “Así” (like that), he pushes and retreats with his hand, in a slow, sensual movement, “Metértelo en la boca.” (Put it in your mouth)

Ah, now you understand him well. Your face burns, the wet way the fingers come out of your mouth, a little strand of saliva kept resisting in the distance, itʼs wanton. You nod, kneeling on the wooden floor, eyes glued to him unbuckling his belt until you could have his erection in full view.

You part your lips once again, as you were ‘taught’. He fills your mouth, up to a point where your nose touches his crotch, and comes back, completely wet. It allows the Uruguayan to control the pace, to catch the corner of your face. You raise your gaze to his, surrendered not only by the lasciviousness of what you were doing, but also by the beautiful view you had of his face from that angle.

Enzo uses the index finger of his free hand to run down the curve of your nose, affectionately.

— Qué ojitos más bonitos... (You have such beautiful little eyes) — he praises you, with a smile. At that moment, you could swear your heart felt like it exploded. — Eres tan bella, nena. Preciosa. (You are so beautiful, baby. Precious) — he sighs, his head falls back, then to a slide side angle. He looks at you in such a mischievous way that you avoid returning the look. — Me encantaría correrme en tu boca... pero prefiero guardarlo todo para dentro de ti. (I would love to cum into your mouth... but I prefer to keep it all inside you)

You get taken back to bed, easily manhandled by him when you silently gave up control of the situation. He comes over, dangerously close, unlocked the front fitting of your bra, getting lost between your breasts as soon as he releases them from the tightness of the piece. You hold onto his hair, restless under the delicious sucking of his tongue, the wild bite of his teeth. You gasp, having to move away from the black threads of his hair while his mouth travels down your belly.

He releases you from the last piece of underwear too, the wet kisses were loud and pornographic, crackling on your skin. The tip of his big nose rubs lightly over the area where he knew your sensitive clit was. His palm run through your wetness, the chill of the his silver ring sliding across your boiling skin.

He clicks two, three slaps in a row that makes you shudder, whimpering softly. Enzo smiles, he didn't need to, but he returned to that mocking tone from before, of someone who had to calmly spell out the commands so you could understand.

He brings his hand to your lips, gave a little tap on the top, de aquí, and then went all the way down again, leaving a wet trail until he gave your pussy another tap, a aquí. And itʼs these little details that makes everything even better. It makes you feel so dumb, foolish, but itʼs so strangely good...

When he puts himself inside you, you lock your legs around his waist, wrapping your arms around him, feeling him dominate everything in you. He, however, insists on eye contact, lifting his torso, resting his forearm against the mattress, to look you in the eye. He smiles, panting like you; moaning low, hoarse. At first, slow, but soon he surrendered to the speed, to the sharp sound of your moans with each stronger thrust.

And there where so many thrilling impulses, fuck it... You want to cover your mouth, close your eyes to try to contain yourself. Itʼs the nasty noise of your bodies in shock, his deep voice, the scent of his hot skin. Youʼre so sensitive that your eyes get wet, a little tear runs down your cheek.

— Oh, no... Perdón, perdóname, cariño. (Oh, no... I'm so sorry, honey) — he stops, his thumb wipes the tear from your face.

'En—', you even started to want to call his name, but the frustration of no longer receiving the same thrilling sensations and to the same extent was such that you only knew how whine; your mind melting, finally murmuring “Dale, dale, papi.” (Give it to me, please, daddy)

Enzo smiles again. He leaves a few kisses on your lips, repeating your words between the kisses, as if he was making fun of your desperation and also the term you used to refer to him.

— ¿Más rápido, hm? Más duro? (Faster, hm? Harder?) — he turns you over on the bed, putting you on all fours. The dirty talk makes you smile, dumb with lust already, clinging to one of the pillows. The Uruguayan's body lead over yours, bringing his mouth close to your ear. — Tranquila, nena. Te daré todo lo que quieras. ( Calm down, baby. I will give you everything you want.)

#imninahchan #enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic fanfic #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic smut #la sociedad de la nieve #the society of the snow #a sociedade da neve

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lovebugism · 4 months

Note

SAYING UGLY THINGS ON CHRISTMAS EVE WITH STEBE PLEASEEEEEEE

let's just pretend it's still christmas ok? hope you like it angel! — steve gets cruel when he's anxious, and with his parents coming to town, he's practically a timebomb (ditzy!fem!reader, angst, hurt/comfort tw for toxic parents, 2.1k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You were only trying to help.

Really, you were.

Steve’s been stressing himself sick about his parents coming over, and you’ve been following him around with your heart in your throat, trying to help him before he totally implodes.

He’s always a ticking time bomb when his parents are in town. He doesn’t know how to be anything else when it comes to them. He doesn’t know how to be anything other than perfect because he’s terrified of his mom’s backhanded compliments and his dad’s sneering replies.

He always turns into his teenage self when he’s scared — and there’s nothing more terrifying than being a teenager again.

You know all this, so you try your best to be supportive when he gets in moods like these. When he’s on edge and fussing over every little thing. You help him dust the top of the fridge and organize the spice cabinet and wipe down all the windows — even though you know his parents won’t notice, or otherwise care, about any of it.

And then, when you finally get the buzzing ball of anxiety to cuddle up with you on the couch, you manage to screw everything up all over again.

His head is on your chest, wild hair still drying from his shower. You hear him sniff once, then twice. “What’s that smell?” he wonders, not entirely apprehensive ‘cause the TV’s got most of his attention.

“What smell?” you ask, more distracted than he is.

His weight on you is a comforting one. You pet him like a cat accordingly — one palm rubbing up and down the length of his back and the other curling in his hair. With your nose among the chestnut strands, you don’t smell anything other than his floral shampoo.

“It smells like something’s burning.”

You pull back from him and sniff hard once. It smells a bit smoky, like cooking something over a campfire. Because something is burning. Your heart plummets to your stomach at the realization.

“Oh…” you hum under your breath, blood running ice-cold.

Steve only tenses up because you do. Your warm hands on his body go suddenly rigid. His scruffy chin rubs against the chest of your sweater when he turns to look at you. His honey eyes twinkle with confusion and concern. “Oh, what?”

“I think that might be the turkey…” you answer in a tiny voice because you know what’s coming.

“The what?”

“I put it in while you were in the shower, ‘cause you were so worried it wouldn’t get done in time—”

“Shit, babe!” he blurts and pushes himself off the couch. He rushes towards the kitchen without another look your way. You follow behind him like a puppy and hopelessly try to explain yourself.

“—And then you wanted to cuddle after, so I laid down and totally forgot about it!”

“So you’re saying it’s my fault?” he scoffs and swings the door of the stove down. He flinches at the billowing gray smoke. He rises again and rummages through an adjacent drawer, in search of oven mitts.

Your face swirls with confusion. “No!”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I forgot!”

“That’s not an excuse, babe!” He grimaces as he reaches into the hot oven. The tray clatters to the stove with a smoking turkey on top. It’s not totally burnt, but it’s hard as a rock and charred all over. Neither of you are chefs, but you could probably guess it’s less than edible.

“Shit…” Steve huffs under his breath. His hands fall to his waist and he cocks a hip to the side, blinking at the molten turkey before him because he’s at a loss for what to do now.

You stand just behind him, cowering as you wring your hands together. You feel small, like a child moments away from getting scolded. “I’m sorry, Steve,” you murmur, voice wavering. “I just wanted to help—”

He laughs loud. A bitter scoff, at most. “Well, you did a great job of that, didn’t you?” he says with a sour smile on his plush pink lips.

Tears burn the backs of your eyes. You decide to blame it on the lingering smoke.

“I said I was sorry,” you insist in a tiny voice, trying your best to stand up for yourself. You fucked up. Both of you know it. Rubbing salt in the wound doesn’t help anything.

“That doesn’t fix it, baby!” he argues, hands gesticulating wildly when he turns to you. His chiseled features are sharp with anger, but you decide to count your blessings ‘cause he’s still calling you baby. He only uses your real name when he’s really upset.

“I’m gonna have to go all the way to the store and make it all over again!”

“I’ll pay for it, Stevie, it’s okay—”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

“My parents are coming over tonight! And if everything’s not perfect, I will never hear the end of it,” he agonizes, voice fragile and close to breaking. His honey eyes go glassy when the red emotion slowly turns blue. “About how I can’t make it on my own, how I moved out too early— how I never should’ve moved in with you.”

His words sting a little bit, in the most literal sense. The very center of your chest starts to ache, like he’s shoved a red-hot knife into your sternum.

You try to shrug it off as best you can. “Well, who cares what your parents say?”

“I do! I have to, ‘cause I’m the one that’ll have to hear about it every goddamn day!”

His misplaced anger begins to build, like the looming shadow of a boogeyman. The weight of it starts to suffocate you. At a loss of how to make any of it better (because you’ve got a record of doing the exact opposite) you try to bring your high-strung boy down again.

“It’s just a turkey, Steve. We can make another.”

You prepare yourself for an argument, but Steve only huffs — so deep it makes his chest rise and fall. His head tips back as he rubs two wide palms over his face, down to his chin and back up again. He swipes his fingers through the still-drying strands of his unstyled hair and doesn’t say a single word.

His teeth are clenched tight. You can tell by the sudden sharpness of his jaw and the way his temples are slightly shifted. His eyes are still shut as he breathes in deep, rhythmic patterns. You can almost hear him counting to ten inside his head in attempts to calm back down again.

Steve is painfully self-aware of how hotheaded he gets when he’s anxious. Every little thing feels like the end of the world when he’s cranked up to one hundred. Problem is, he only realizes how cruel he’s being after he’s hurt someone with it.

That someone in question is you now. The sweeter-than-sugar you, the brighter-than-sunshine you, the well-meaning-but-sometimes-totally-careless you.

And Steve, on the other hand, is utterly troubled. He’s harsh, and he’s hopeless, and he loves you so much he’s not totally sure what to do with it all. Sometimes it scratches him like barbs. Maybe that’s why he confuses love and anger so often.

He thinks of his parents — how they were supposed to love him, how maybe they do, how they have a terrible way of showing it, and how he isn’t at all deserving of the way they treat him — and something inside him seethes. It burns somewhere deep within his ribcage and squirms like a feral animal trying to break free.

He feels trapped and he turns violent, like some kind of hurt dog. ‘Cause if he can’t be loved, then he might as well be feared. And sometimes he bites you, the warmhearted stranger willing to love something that doesn’t know how to love itself. And maybe that’s why he snaps at you when he’s so high-strung.

You love him the most, out of everybody in the whole entire world, and no one could understand all this quite like you do.

“You’re right,” he sighs when he comes down to earth again, arms falling to his sides when his shoulders are no longer tense.

The shades of red give way to something more golden when he looks at you. It makes his heart twist because you’re still looking at him the same way you were ten minutes ago — like you’re looking at the rest of your life in the flesh.

One more breath, and the worry slips away.

“Yeah, you’re right— it’s just a turkey— everything’s fine.”

You want to comfort him. Your wringing hands ache with the longing to hold him like you were before all this, with his cheek to your chest so your heartbeat can keep him grounded. You’re just not sure if he wants that yet.

So you linger in place and try not to implode with your yearning.

“I can get a storebought one before they come over if you want,” you offer meekly, peering at him beneath your lashes. “I don’t think they’ll know the difference if we just lie and say we made it.”

He laughs again. One snorted breath, but much more genuine this time. A grin blossoms like a pretty flower on his rose-petaled mouth. It’s impossible not to smile back at him.

“Or we can just, like, not say anything, and watch my parents pretend to like it,” he jokes.

“That’s evil,” you say, hiding your giggle behind your palm. “But then we’d probably have to eat it, too— to make it believable and everything, you know? And I don’t think I can put that in my mouth without gagging.” You snort a laugh at yourself, then grow strangely serious as you mumble, “That’s what she said.”

Steve laughs, loud and boyish. It paints the kitchen golden and makes your chest feel all sparkly. “C’mere,” he hums with a grin, throwing his arms out for you.

You gravitate towards him instantly, like he’s the sun and you’ve just suffered a terribly long winter. You hug him tight accordingly — suffocating, warm, and tender. He holds you back the same.

His arms curl around your back, wide palms spreading along the length of it. He noses at your hair and presses a gentle kiss there. “Sorry for yelling,” he apologizes, mostly muffled from where he’s holding you so intently. “You forgot. It’s okay. I overreacted.”

It’s still hard for him to apologize sometimes. Even when he’s in the wrong. Especially when he’s in the wrong. He grew up with parents who fought and then acted like nothing happened the next day. There was never any closure. Just bottled up feelings.

It feels good to be wrong — to acknowledge it and to still be loved after.

“I really was trying to help,” you mutter, burying the words into his chest.

Steve nods against you. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to make it worse—”

“You didn’t make it worse, don’t say that,” Steve interjects before the words can properly leave your mouth. He squeezes you tighter, in hopes it’ll make his words stick more. “You know I’d stress myself to death if you weren’t here.”

“Yeah. And if your parents came home to a corpse, that’d be really morbid,” you murmur gently.

Steve chuckles when he pulls away from you. He unwraps his arms from around you, just to hold your face in his hands. His palms are warm and softly calloused against your cheeks. He swipes his thumbs over the warm apple of them.

“It would be,” he concurs with a nod and a big, dumb grin. His honey eyes sparkle as they melt for you. “I’ll tell them that when they come over— that you singlehandedly saved their son. They’ll have to love you, then.”

He says it like it’s a joke, but it isn’t really. It’s true in a lot of ways. Way more than you know.

“Think they’ll still like me even if you don’t say all that?” you wonder meekly and with your nose scruched, peering up at him with a hopeful gaze.

“Oh. Yeah. Totally,” Steve scoffs without thinking twice. He shrugs like it’s obvious with his face twisted like he’s confused why you’d even ask. “They’ll fall in love with you the second they see you.”

“Well, that’s just dramatic,” you mumble, laughing under your breath.

You’re not nearly as confident as he is because you have no idea you’re made of flower petals, sunsets, and winter skies — all things delicate, tender, and impossibly loveable.

“I’m pretty sure it’s impossible not to be in love with you,” Steve insists, still cradling your face in his palms. It’s easier than saying that he loves you so much that he’d follow you anywhere — or that the rest of the world could fall apart, and he wouldn’t care as long as you were standing with him.

“I think you’re biased,” you tease with a quiet smile.

“I know from firsthand experience, babe,” he argues with a rosy smile. “I’m pretty sure I’m an expert on the matter, actually.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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tongue-like-a-razor · 11 months

Text

Brother's Best Friend - Part 5

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Thanks for all the ideas you guys have been sending in! They're all so wonderful it's hard to choose what to write next haha Hope you guys like this chapter, inspired by some of the ideas sent in

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: Excessive drinking, swearing, slow burn, fluff

WC: 2000+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Masterlist

“What are you wearing?”

You look up from your spot on the couch to see Jake standing at the entrance to the living room with a slightly bewildered expression. You grimace at him and then look down at your shirt. “Oh,” you respond with a laugh, remembering that you’d changed a few hours ago after spilling tomato sauce on your tank top. “It’s one of Bradley’s band tees.”

“No,” Jake corrects you, taking a single step forward. “It’s one of my band tees.”

You watch him steadily. “Okay,” you say slowly, not really sure what his problem is. “Do you want it back?” You rise from the couch and start pulling the shirt upward when you realize that you aren’t wearing bra. “Oh shit!” You clap a hand to your mouth. “You almost got a show,” you say with a laugh.

Jake’s eyes, which had drifted down to your bare abdomen as you were lifting the shirt, slide back up to your face. He doesn’t appear nearly as amused as you. On the contrary, he looks like he might pass out. “You – you’re wearing just my shirt?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically brittle.

“Look, what was it doing crumpled up on one of our kitchen chairs, anyway?” you say defensively.

Jake licks his lips uncomfortably. He’s still holding your gaze but he isn’t responding.

You roll your eyes. “Oh god, don’t tell me there was another encounter in my house.”

Jake releases an unsteady sigh. “Would you call strip poker an encounter?”

“Jake!” you exclaim. “You have your own place!”

“It was a double date,” Jake responds sheepishly.

You shake your head. “Well, I hope you enjoyed seeing my brother’s ass.”

“Actually, your brother is surprisingly good at Texas hold’em.”

“Regardless!” You groan in frustration. “How do you walk out without wearing a shirt, Jake?”

Jake purses his lips. “I’m a little hazy on that part, to be honest.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say.

“Well, you look ridiculous,” he counters.

You scoff. “I do not. I can totally pull off” – you drop your chin to examine the front of the shirt – “Pantera,” you finish with a slight cringe.

“Don’t make that face,” Jake says, pointing a cautioning finger at you.

You shrug. “You’re the one who said I look ridiculous.”

“Only because you’re drowning in in.”

“It’s not my fault you’re twice my size,” you retort, noticing that the hem of the t-shirt hangs so low that it hides the shorts you’re wearing underneath.

Jake takes another few steps forward, chuckling. “It’s actually pretty fucking cute that it goes all the way down to your knees,” he says, placing his hand over your head to ruffle your hair. “Keep it,” adds, and then drops onto your couch with a tired sigh.

“I can’t keep it,” you say. “People are going to ask me if I know any of their music –”

Jake waves a hand. “I’ll show you,” he says. “You’re gonna love it, trust me.”

You plop down onto the couch beside him and cross your legs. “Seems a little backwards.”

Jake looks over at you with a grin. “Suits your vibe.”

You smack him on the shoulder and he laughs. Then, there’s a knock on the door and you gasp. “Oh my god, I completely forgot to change for my date!”

Jake’s smile falters instantly. “You have a date?”

You give him a flat look. “Like you don’t.”

He shakes his head.

“Well, give it a minute, I guess,” you respond sarcastically, getting up.

Jake smirks and rises after you. “Maybe he’ll like your new look.”

You let out a nervous whimper and head for the door with Jake right on your heels. You pull open the door and nearly hit Jake with it because he’s so close behind you. You shake your head at him and then greet your boyfriend.

“Hey,” he responds hesitantly, his eyes darting between yours and Jake’s faces. “What’s going on?”

“Not much, come on in,” you say.

Jake remains silent, waiting to be introduced.

“Wow,” your boyfriend says. “What are you wearing?” He tilts his head to examine the shirt. “Pantera? Is that Spanish for panther? That's a lot of skulls.”

You notice Jake making a face at the back of his head and you give him a warning look. “I was just about to change,” you say with a tight smile.

Your boyfriend nods. “Good.”

Jake narrows his eyes and steps around your date to face him. “Hey there,” he says in a loud, exaggerated baritone. He holds out his hand in a gesture that seems more aggressive than polite.

You roll your eyes and rub your forehead irritably. “I’ll be right back,” you promise, eyeing your boyfriend apologetically as Jake throws you a massive grin.

You run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, as Jake begins grilling your boyfriend about the last time his vehicle was serviced.

You pull Jake’s t-shirt off and toss it in the hamper, and then you find a cute, backless top that looks great with your jean shorts. You glance at yourself in the full-length mirror before heading back down and smile. You’re a catch. Even if Jake Seresin will never see it that way.

You rush down the stairs just as Jake finishes instructing your boyfriend on how to check the pressure in his tires. The latter is watching him with a dubious expression.

“Alright, let’s roll!” you say, bouncing off the final step and charging the space between them.

Jake steps back as you crash into him, forcefully shoving him aside. “What time will you kids be back?” he asks as you hook your arm through your boyfriend’s and lead him out onto the porch.

You glance over your shoulder crossly. “No clue,” you say curtly, in response to which Jake gives you a once-over, as if he’s just noticed your attire.

When his eyes meet yours again, he’s wearing a more genuine expression. “Be careful,” he calls.

You wave a dismissive hand in his direction and turn to face your date, who is repeatedly checking to see if Jake has retreated into the house. “Is that your brother?” he asks.

…

Several hours and seven tequila shots later, you’re suddenly feeling extremely unwell. You stagger down the hallway, zigzagging between the walls toward the bathroom and, once you’re inside, you lock the door behind you and slide down the wall onto the floor.

You pull your phone out of your pocket, and it flies right out of your hand. With a groan, you crawl forward to pick it back up. You blink to focus your eyes on the screen, your thumb hovering over your brother’s name. You would call him, except that Bradley has been at the Hard Deck every night this past week, trying to woo the bartender. So, he probably isn’t in any condition to come and pick you up.

You sigh, squinting at Jake’s name in your contacts list. If you call him, he will never let you live this down. But the longer you wait, the faster the room spins around you and, by the time you tap on his number, you feel like you are on death’s doorstep, laying your back down on the cold, tiled floor.

“Hello?” Jake answers. “Y/N?” You can hear the edge in his tone despite the sounds of the bar in the background.

“Jake,” you say weakly.

“What’s going on?” he asks urgently as the background noises fade away. You hear the ring of the door as he steps outside. “Are you okay?”

“Mm-hm,” you lie. “I’m just very, very drunk. And I think I’m dying. The two are probably related.”

“Where are you?” he asks sternly and you hear the beep of his car as he unlocks the door.

“I’m at a house party,” you croak. “On the first floor. In the bathroom down the hall.”

You hear Jake sigh and then his car door slam when he pulls it shut. Next, you hear the engine. “The address, genius.”

“Oh,” you say. “Fuck if I know.”

“Drop a pin.”

“’Kay, hang on.” You lift the phone away from your ear and hold it up to send Jake your location. Only, your grip falters and your phone comes crashing down onto your face. “Ow!” you moan.

“Y/N?” Jake’s distressed voice is muffled by the fluffy bathroom mat on which your phone has landed.

You whimper and pick it back up. “Can you hurry?” you say, bringing the phone to your ear again.

“Y/N, I need you to concentrate, okay?” he says, steadily. “I still don’t know where you are.”

You let out a soft sob. “I’m in the bathroom!”

“For fuck’s sake, Bradshaw! Pay attention!” he yells and you flinch, nearly dropping your phone all over again. “I need the address!”

“Oh, right!” you exclaim. “Hang on.” You sit up and try again. “Did you get it?”

There’s a pause on the other end while Jake checks his phone. “Yeah, I got it. I’m ten minutes out.”

“Okay,” you respond with a slight whine. “That’s a very long time.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll be there in five.”

“’Kay, don’t speed,” you mutter, closing your eyes as you lay back down onto the floor.

You hear Jake chuckle. “Did you forget who you’re talkin’ to?”

You sigh softly, too tired to actually laugh. “Jake,” you say. “I feel like I’m on a carousel in the middle of the ocean.”

“Hang in there, shorty,” he says. “Where’s your boyfriend, anyway?”

“No idea. Last time I saw him was when he lost at beer pong. Such a sore loser.”

“Classy,” Jake remarks. Then, after a few moments of silence, he says. “Keep talkin’, darlin’, I’m almost there.”

“I’m just going to take a little nap,” you say sleepily.

“I’d rather you keep talkin’, so I know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you reply. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“What’s your favorite color?” he asks.

“You know what my favorite color is,” you say with amusement.

Jake chuckles. “Fine. Tell me about your plans for the weekend.”

“A nice, quiet funeral,” you say, willing the ceiling to stop rotating above you. “You’re invited.”

Jake snorts. “You any good at poker?”

“I’m not playing strip poker with my brother, Jake.”

“We can keep it PG for you, kiddo. Besides, Bradley might be too busy for us, anyhow.”

“Aww, did he get a date with the barmaid?”

“He got a date with the barmaid.” You can hear the smile in Jake's voice.

“But he’ll miss my funeral.”

Jake laughs. “Sorry to burst your bubble, cupcake, but I’m here. So, we’ll have to postpone that funeral, if you don't mind.”

The knowledge that he’s close by is a such relief that you let the phone slip out from your hand. In less than a minute, he’s knocking on the bathroom door.

“Y/N?” he says cautiously.

“Yeah,” you respond, rising unsteadily to your feet and unlocking it for him.

He bursts in and you stagger backward, so he grabs your hand and pulls you forward, and you sway right into his arms. Jake holds you tightly as you try to regain your footing. He lowers his face to get a good look at you. “Having a good night?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

You strike his chest with your palm half-heartedly. “Don’t be mean,” you murmur, resting your head on his solid pecs.

He smells fresh and warm and you detect a trace of cologne still infused into the cotton of his shirt; smooth and velvety with a hint of citrus and a hefty dose of ‘I’m about to rip your clothes off’ sandalwood.

“I think I’m going to vomit,” you say, bringing a hand over your mouth.

“It’ll probably make you feel better,” he says, gesturing to the toilet in the corner of the bathroom.

You shake your head, refusing to throw up in Jake Seresin’s presence. “Let’s just get out of here,” you whimper.

Jake leads you carefully through the house, making sure you aren’t bumping into any people or walls. Your boyfriend, of course, is nowhere to be found. Jake brings you outside and steers you toward his car. Without letting go of you, he opens the passenger door and helps you into the seat slowly. You drop your head back and close your eyes as he brings the seatbelt over your chest and buckles you in.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Wow, you smell like a distillery,” he notes with a laugh.

You smile and open your eyes. “I thought you were going to be mad.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Why would I be mad?” he asks, still leaning into the passenger side of the car.

You shrug. “Because I’m irresponsible,” you try to say, however the words come out very slurred.

Jake chuckles. “You’re probably the most responsible person I know,” he says. He reaches up to tuck back a strand of your hair, his fingers drifting down the side of your face and lingering for a moment at your cheek. “You deserve a night off.”

You stare into his eyes, all the feelings you’ve been trying to suppress bubbling up in your gut, together with your nausea. What’s worse, your head is spinning even harder, if that’s possible. If only Jake knew how much you longed for him. If only he know how much you wanted him to kiss you.

“Cheer up, buttercup,” he says with a wink, pinching your chin affectionately. “You’re going to feel so much worse tomorrow. In fact, we should probably save your introduction to heavy metal until after your hangover.”

Read Part 6

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samodivaa · 6 months

Text

Soul-debasing Interrogation

Winter Soldier x Agent!Reader

Both his mentality and body can withstand anything—to err is...human—you are the human in this situation.

Warnings - smut, rough sex, choking

Words - 2900

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His face is a reflection of the past, of what is left of his life before, but his humanity has long forgotten where it belongs. You are now looking at something resembling a semi-death state, you can’t even comprehend the present condition of his soul, the mental pain or unbearably oppressive suffering he has been put through—a living creature, somewhat both broken and whole at the same time.

His eyelids slowly open, dark orbs focusing on the floor as he lets out a loud groan. He has the violent urge to move, but behind his back, both hands are bound with rope designed to eat away at the skin when he moves, even slightly. His ankles are as well bound to the legs of the chair—he makes an internal scoff at his current state.

“Here we go” you are already standing in between of his wide spread legs, grabbing his chin in a painful hold, waiting to speak when his glossy eyes are fully focused on yours “Try not to let this room scare you.”

A slumbering rage is stirring, rippling just beneath the surface. You are on the borderline, caught between the tides of fear and fury—him looking at you without blinking dismembers you mentally, but at the same time convinces him of the necessity to fight your fear.

It’s been days and nothing works, he seems unbreakable.

“Talk”

his jaw between your fingertips, grip still painfully tight, fingers turning white.

You are so sweet with your business-like tone—just imagine ripping out the tongue, so you could never speak again.

You study his features for a moment longer before letting go of his chin to slap his face hard, frowning in a sign of dissatisfaction.

“I said talk!“

„Ты так красива, что я забыл что хотел сказать тебе“ (You are so beautiful that I forgot what I wanted to tell you)

He finally says after a dramatic pause, his voice carrying its mocking undertones.

„You sick son of a bitch!“

You slap him again, he doesn’t show any reaction.

„White clothes, белый как снег?” (white as snow)

You put your hands on his knees and bent down, to whisper in his ear.

„I will fucking kill you”

A thin line closes around his throat and goes through, slowly cutting into his skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. After this, his head flies back, manicured fingers whirling around his hair, the little hairs on the back of his neck prickling. A groan escapes his dry lips, one that he doesn’t realize he’d been holding.

You drop the thin plastic line and place one nail under his chin, moving slowly, fascinated, nova-flare blue eyes blazing into your own.

„Will you talk now?“

he just sighs, shifting uncomfortably.

„Fuck…“

you whisper, a hint of exasperation and affront in your tone. You almost laugh, guilt twines with another failed attempt of getting any information out of him—you looks down at his trousers, then your eyes widen

„You are enjoying this”

In a full-fledged case of desire, Soldat is able to form both mental and physical representation of the thing he wants now and you don’t plan on initiating action to diminish his state.

Winter snorts at your words and looks at you with a smirk. He is obsessed with the situation, fascinated by you, infatuated with you. He hungers for your taste, your smell, the feel of your skin touching his. He is burning with desire, but keeps quiet about it—that’s his punishment he brings on himself, but there is no way he is begging his enemy—even in this state.

“Yes, I am” he says, with a venomous sneer “My eyes are up here, darling” he breathes.

That uncomfortable feeling is spreading over you as your eyes lift up to his lips, watching them part, taking deep breaths, the longing for him grows especially strong. You stand as though hesitating, suddenly the blood rushes to your head and sends a glow to your cheeks.

You are unable to endure his persistent stare, but you raise your downcast eyes and you finally smirk triumphantly at him as you struggle to breathe, suddenly straddling his thighs, loosening all of the ropes.

Winter watches with growing interest as you lean down, tucking a strand of his dark hair behind his ear.

Soldat’s eyes are the interpreter of the animal lust beneath, there is an unhealthy sallowness in the color of his orbits, he doesn’t even blink—his body is tense, a steel trap just waiting to be sprung open, but you don’t know that.

Your greedy lips are on his skin, devouring everything you can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back your throaty moans. You drag your lips up his throat, along his jaw, back toward his mouth.

Eyes meet again.

The smirk on his face has disappeared and leaves an intensity behind in his eyes, narrowing into a glare. He is a silent fury who no torment could tame—but the finest fury is the most controlled, there is a murderous look in his eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

you cry, face white and distorted, with a wan smile.

He laughs spitefully “It's either kiss you or kill you, that's how I see it”

His soul is overflowing but with mingled feelings, no single sensation stands out distinctly, but there is a need in his heart and his body. He grabs you by the hips and gets up with an unexpected growl. Sexual perversions mix with lust and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity, dropping you slowly on the cold floor.

The moment your feet touch the ground, you want to scream, but you are cut off with a rough kiss on your lips. He grinds his pelvis into you, so you can feel his hard length against your lower belly, and grips your ass through the flimsy pants.

“I will fuck you” he croons his plans into your ear, and then places a cold palm around your neck “But you need to beg me”

Dominance. Control.

Winter has lost control over everything, even the places in his head… it's paralyzing…of course he has an obsession about female obedience—his human fingers start teasing the crotch of your panties.

You gasp into his mouth, and the opening of your lips let his tongue slide through.

Your arms come up around his neck and he pulls you against him, hands flatten against your back…and you are up on the tips of your toes, kissing him as fiercely as he is kissing you.

He pulls away from you briefly to say gruffly “Come on, I want to hear it” his soul, overflowing with rapture, yearns for your pleas, skin, touch “I know you want me” he whispers with implicit faith in his words.

A whirl of the most fantastic notions takes possession of his brain when your eyes meet again—he clings to you more tightly, knotting his hands in your hair, wordlessy begging, hands sliding down to your waist.

He raises the metal hand to his mouth, sucking on his fingers before the slightly damp digits are sliding into your panties and teasing your aroused folds and you exhale sharply, turning into a whining mewl as he circles your clit with ease.

“Say it”

he chuckles ruthlessly as the other hand bruises the skin on your waist, while his thumb circles down under your clit, closer to your entrance, fluids start to leak out. Your eyes meet again and something dangerous sparks, you suddenly feel your legs growing weak under you.

“Please-” you whisper, trembling with need and delight.

Winter almost stops when he hears you, his own breathing hitches a bit. He is watching you with an icy expression, voice falls to a whisper, as though he’s talking to himself

“Keep begging” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

“Please, don’t stop”

You shamelessly lift your leg up, placing it across his lower back and he swipes his thumb over your now throbbing clit before using two fingers to spread your lips apart. You never felt such stretching. It is cold and uncomfortable, but he forces his fingers inside as far as he can. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, your skin breaks out into a pale sweat as he eases into a slow rhythm, curling his fingers inside, fracking, until your body twitches and walls clench around his fingers.

“Need me more” He pistons in and out of you as you clench around his fingers “Beg me more”

Every synapse in your brain short out—the gut-wrenching terror you feel, with a balance of sweet pleasure slide into mindlessness—

“Please, I need more, I need you-” you are cut off with an involuntary moan of rapturous pleasure, you are so close.

Those who constantly hunger for control outside of self are undoubtedly starved for peace inside of self—it doesn’t fucking matter, does it?

You’re powerless, weightless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his gaze as he is staring at you, time stops. Those eyes are piercing yours, this is what makes you cum, he looks at you like he owns you.

The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, he rasps something in your ear as he mouths against the skin of your neck, but you are too lost to hear it.

You are pushed against the wall, he tilts his head back and lowers his lips to yours and they get bitten to the point of bleeding. Winter feels a metallic taste on his tongue as he pulls back to admire his work, licking his lips, smiling disgustingly.

The sharp taste of blood only whetting his appetite. Winter wraps long slender fingers, around your throat, squeezing slightly and the feeling is too cold for it to be a human hand. His mouth is so close to your ear it makes your hair stand on end as he presses his hips against you, licking along the shell of your ear.

It is arousing, but dangerous—very dangerous.

Your other hand trails down his abdomen to his belt, and a finger dips in before you retrieve it—teasing him, the other hand still rubbing small circles on the tip. He shifts closer so his hardness presses against your hand unwillingly to your plans.

His right hand digs fingers into the flesh of your waist, the grip turning bruising and hard as before—the metal one now resting on the wall close to your head—as a warning, a reminder of the power he holds.

„Don’t you dare stop“ he whispers, the bite of his threat lost somewhere in his need for you to touch.

You need moments to unbuckle his pants, and Winter continues to trail your skin with kisses and whines when a hand slides into his boxers, the other holding closely to take the large cock in your small hands, covering it as much as you can.

You look down at his slick cock and nearly gag at the idea of just having it in your mouth, you want to be on his knees for him.

Drops of pre-cum drop to the floor.

Winter clenches his metal fist, trying to resist the urge to moan loudly, closing his lips he inhales through his nose, face contorting with openly weeping pleasure. He groans in reply, unable to fight your gentle touch, trying to fuck himself against the grip of your hands, too small to cover his whole length, throbbing with delight of that thought, orgasm begins to creep up on him.

You can’t help, but hang your jaw in bewilderment at the sight before—he is falling apart from the need to come, all he can do is tighten the grip against your waist—to urge you to please him.

He lets a choked moan escape his lips as you start to move your hands up and down, languidly stroking at his cock—his metal fingers whirling naturally around your neck, squeezing, not enough to break it, whines and whimpers escaping him as if he has no control over them any longer.

You observe every reaction and sound with wide lips and sultry eyes—heavy breathing from both of you as the pleasure hadn’t stopped yet—mesmerized yet almost confused as you’d never seen a killer be so needy for an orgasm, but you don’t dare comment.

“Don’t slow down”

He breaths out, eyebrows furrowing, his eyes shut, only grunts fill the cold air.

He opens his eyes, glossy and unfocused, and his face is deeply flushed—he is faced with your eyes stained with tears as you struggle to breathe—you nearly lose consciousness, how fragile your body is and how strong his is.

He chuckles at the sight—lust twisting his features, the grip around your neck finally loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by erratic breathing.

He uses the moment to prise his tongue into your open mouth, forcing himself into you. You try to push and trash, but he holds you firm against the wall, his tongue sweeping over your lips, against your teeth, claiming you—leaking your tears.

Tasting the life he can easily take away from you.

You wiggles slightly, when he rips off your pants off, those piercing blue eyes trying to get a glimpse of your nakedness as his cock is still out, his fist tightening around the base, stroking slowly as his eyes drift south—dragging his metal finger slowly through your slit, the other hand once again moves on the waist in the same place—it hurts, bruises already forming from his tight hold.

It is obvious that Winter is not human, his body, his dick is too big to be human. You shiver at the sight of his length, hard and needy. His eyes are completely blue, with no pupil or white, two seas full of desire—he will drown you in them.

Soldat lifts your leg to gain a better angle to your hole. Your lips are slick and swollen, but the opening is stretching tight around his cock, trying to enter you completely, you cry out, your back arching at the pain. You freeze, blood running cold as he slaps you hard across the face.

The dark-haired man stares back with ill-concealed suspicion.

He is big, wide and fills you deliciously—every time you assume that he's fully sheathed, he pushes in a bit more and makes you moan loudly.

You buckle your hips as best you can despite his rough movements, meeting him thrust for thrust, desperate to feel him buried inside of you.

He is rough with you, not taking his time, not easing you into it.

“Please, slow down, it is too much-”

“Shut up and take it”

he trembles at the way you say beg, because of him, his mind was a blank canvas accosted by nothing—now, it is all about you, about pleasure.

And you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as if you are his prey. He thrust with force, you don’t even have time to adjust, he is too eager.

You moan both from pleasure and pain—It's so tight, squeezing the life out of his cock and he loves the idea of hurting you, it is too erotic not to think about it. He fucks you with lazy, slow thrusts, just enjoying the sensations of sex.

“You are taking me so good” he pants against your throat

he enjoys the suction feeling onto his cock, pummeling your cunt ruthlessly, hitting over the tender spot and you groan, loudly. Your throat feels raw from all the moans.

You exist there, whimpering, taking a fortifying breath, feeling the approach of your own orgasm, compressed by him as he ravages you, marks you.

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You immediately bite your lip, panting, stopping yourself from moaning more, but your spine bends back and your body stretches taut, insides clenching and spamming around his cock—the sound that escapes your lips is so unearthly that it drives him to the edge.

He slams into you as his cock explodes in an endless amount of cum, overflowing out of you, dripping on the floor. He groans as he continues to slam into you, even as you feel overly sensitive as your own orgasm reaches its peak.

He leans down, far enough that the dark ends of his hair brushes feather-light against your face, his metal hand is around your throat, squeezing tightly—you lose consciousness, thinking that he is killing you, but you just pass out.

Sex is another practiced art to him. Each move is calculated. His brain is programmed to perform, his body seducing his prey with ease, noting each response of his target.

Fear and seduction, repulsion and attraction—that's how corruption is spread, turning squalor and nastiness into thrill, seduces the target into his own web—and leaves with the corpse on his hands.

What a devilish creature, master of the art of Death and Seduction, all its nuance, all its depth and complexity—but he spared your life?

#okay but hear me out #winter soldier smut #winter soldier fic #winter soldier x female reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier fanfiction

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writingforstraykids · 1 month

Text

I owe you a kiss - Pt.5

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 3431

Summary: Chan and Minho enjoy their evening together before realizing how much they truly missed each other over the past six months. After their shared lazy night, they get an important call...

Warnings/Tags: fluff, domestic shit, cuddles, smut, touch starved!chan, soft!min, soft!chan, they're cheesy af sorry, amnesia, angst

A/N: This is mainly sweet and fluffy...I swear🥺🖤

PART FOUR | PART SIX

Minho smiles softly to himself as he watches Chan making them dinner. He sneaks up on him and wraps his arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder. “You're doing well,” he compliments him.

“Yeah?” Chan chuckles.

“Mhm,” Minho hums, and Chan gently blows on a spoon with some of the sauce before holding it up for him to taste. Minho does, and it's quiet for a moment. “Channie.”

“That bad?” he asks nervously.

Minho reaches into the cupboard above them and grabs the salt. “You forgot the salt again?”

“Shit, you're right,” Chan groans, and Minho giggles at him.

He plants a soft kiss on his cheek and squeezes him. “It's not bad, love. Just needs a little salt. It happens.”

“What would I do without you, huh? All that spice missing in my life,” Chan jokes, and Minho snorts.

“Mhm, sure, salt is the only spice you'd be missing,” he comments, making Chan laugh.

“Dummy,” he giggles and adds some salt. “Okay, almost done.” Chan turns in his hold and looks at him with a soft smile. His heart melts at the sight of Minho in a shirt of his, a pair of comfortable sweatpants and his glasses. He soothingly fondles up his arms and plants a kiss on his forehead. “You're so pretty, you know?” he asks softly, and Minho giggles. Chan gently brushes his hair back, which has gotten longer, and caresses his cheek.

“That's because of you,” he fondly rolls his eyes.

“Oh, really? Didn't know I was part of the process of creating you,” he snorts, and Minho gently shoves his chest.

“You know the saying about how one gets prettier when they're happy,” he says and searches his eyes. “You're the one making me happy.”

“Who's being cheesy now, huh?” he smirks.

“Yeah, yeah, your sauce’s gonna burn if you don't stop staring into my soul soon,” Minho points out, and Chan's eyes widen before he spins around quickly.

“Oh, baby,” he curses as he realizes Minho tricked him, now giggling behind him. “You can't shock me like that.”

“My bad, didn't know you were so-Chan!” Minho protests with a squeak as Chan tickles his side and tries to squirm away. “No, no, don't you even start that,” he says and jokingly raises his fists, ready to fight him.

Chan grins and gets back to finishing dinner.

After dinner, they're cuddled up on the sofa and Chan's feeding him with small brownie bites from time to time. A movie is playing in the background, and he doesn't pay much attention to it. He feels truly happy here with Chan for the first time in a while. Chan's hand is soothingly running through his hair, mindlessly rubbing down his back in between. It's peaceful and comfortable, and Minho can't help but wish you were here as well. His thoughts start wandering, and suddenly, Chan pulls him into his lap, gently kissing his cheek, and lets him cuddle up against him. Minho inhales his so familiar scent and buries his nose in his shirt for a moment, feeling a sense of home wash over him. He doesn't know why, but the urge to be as close as possible to Chan clouds his senses with sheer force, and his grip on his shirt subconsciously tightens.

Chan picks up on it and doesn't say anything, simply letting his hand travel down his back and then rest on his thigh to test the waters.

Minho tenses up in his lap and bites his lower lip, unsure if he should tell him to move his hand away or continue whatever the hell he's doing. Chan makes the decision for him, mindlessly rubbing his thigh, and Minho sits up straight, looking at him with blown eyes. “Channie?”

“Yeah?” he asks, breath hitching as their eyes meet. The pure love and vulnerability in his husband's eyes make his stomach all fuzzy.

“I…uh,” he stops himself, unsure if he should tell Chan. It's been so long, and he isn't sure if Chan finds him attractive in this sense at the moment.

Chan searches his eyes before connecting their lips to a soft kiss. Minho's hand shoots up and cups his face, humming into the feeling. “You were saying kitten?” Chan asks quietly as he pulls back again.

“I miss you,” he says, not knowing how else to express his feelings. Chan blinks at him in confusion for a moment before realizing what he means. “You're right; those six months have been very long.”

Chan hums softly and searches his eyes. “You're sure?” he checks in gently, and Minho nods almost timidly. “You uh..you still want that?” he asks.

Minho frowns at him softly. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” he nods quickly. “Just…I didn't think you'd still want me after all those months of keeping my distance and-.”

Minho shuts him up with a long, fierce kiss. “I'll never stop loving you even if there are times when you don't know how to give anything back,” he tells him, and Chan knows he's telling the truth. Those four months before the accident prove every word. “And I'll always want you, Chan. We got married because I want every piece of you, every sweet smile, every rough edge, every bit you may be insecure about. I chose you, and I'll choose you again and again...Okay?” he asks sweetly.

Chan blinks at him, stunned, eyes shimmering suspiciously. “Okay,” he whispers.

Minho presses their foreheads together and gently fondles up his chest. “Nothing crazy. Just you and me. Lazy and soft as you love it.”

Chan's grip on him involuntarily tightens. “Now?” he breathes out.

“We can make an appointment in two weeks if that's what you'd like. I'm free at-,” he breaks off giggling as Chan gets up with him in his arms.

“Idiot,” he mutters softly and carries him upstairs to their bedroom, lowering him into the mattress. “I'll be back in a moment,” he promises and kisses him longingly.

Minho smiles and watches him gather everything they'd need. Chan climbs back into bed and takes off his glasses for him with a soft smile. Minho's hand makes its way into his curls and pulls him into a slow, sweet kiss. Chan gets onto his knees and pulls him up, straddling his lap. He helps him out of his shirt and kisses him again. Minho's hands slip beneath his shirt, gently pulling it up, and Chan mewls into the kiss as his fingers trace his skin. “M-Min,” he stammers, and Minho blinks at him before teasingly brushing his fingertip over Chan's nipple. His husband tenses up with a soft moan, and Minho's eyes widen.

“I completely forgot you haven't been touched at all in half a year,” he admits and gently pushes him back down into the mattress before climbing in his lap. He experimentally grinds down against him, and Chan's head falls back with a beautiful moan. “I think I know what you need now,” Minho smirks and falls back into the pillows, grabbing the bottle of lube close to him. Chan watches him, stunned, as Minho shoves down his sweatpants and boxers with a swift move and covers his fingers in lube. “Enjoying the show?” he asks teasingly and Chan nods, laughing softly. Minho relaxes before gently working his first finger inside his hole, lips parting with a gasp.

Chan had seen him do so a thousand times whenever Minho got too impatient for long foreplay, but he'd never get tired of the sight. The way his face slowly contorts with pleasure as he works in another finger in no time, the way his body tenses when he hits a good spot, the soft pants, and the low moans he tries to hold back in the beginning. Minho squints at him. “Well, get undressed, pretty,” he tells him and bites his lower lip hard as he slowly stretches himself with his fingers.

“You're insane,” Chan giggles softly but does as he says and throws his clothes onto the floor next to Min's discarded shirt. By the time he's done, Minho is ready and instructs him to get comfortable next to him. Chan does and watches him curiously as Minho climbs into his lap. A few soft kisses down his neck and a few soft strokes are enough to make him whimper already. Min giggles before slowly sinking down on him. Chan's hands grip his hips, bracing him as he does, and he can't hold back a moan at Minho's relieved expression, finally feeling him again.

Minho moans sweetly as Chan's fully buried inside of him and takes a moment to get used to the feeling again. “Fuck, I missed you,” he chuckles breathlessly after a moment, and Chan giggles, squirming a little beneath him.

“I don't think I'll last long,” he tells him, blushing a little.

Minho smirks and gently pats his chest. “That's okay, love. We have all the time we need tonight, yeah?”

Chan nods and is about to answer, but his jaw drops with a weak groan as Minho lifts his hips. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers, and Minho takes it as encouragement to keep moving. None of them expects it, but after a few slow rolls of Minho's hips Chan starts struggling already. “Min-fuck, wait, please-” He tenses up with a loud whine of his name and paints his walls with thick ropes of cum. Minho watches him, stunned, as Chan beneath him weakly thrusts back, riding out his orgasm. Their eyes meet, and Chan turns crimson red, covering his face with his arm. “Oh God, no,” he whines softly.

Minho giggles and leans down, gently easing his arm from his face. “Hey, no hiding,” he says softly.

“This is embarrassing,” he protests softly.

“I told you, darling, we have time,” he assures him. “I'll take it as a compliment,” he smirks and Chan's jaw drops a little before he laughs.

Chan takes a deep breath and gently fondles Minho's thighs, sinking deep into his eyes. “Okay, you can move,” he tells him after a bit.

Minho kisses him lovingly and moves on top of him, moaning softly as he rolls his hips. “Chan, please,” he breathes out.

Chan gets the message and lifts him off his dick, flipping them over so Minho's on his back now. He braces himself on his arms next to his head and captures his lips in a long, sweet kiss, hand fondling down his side. Minho beneath him moans beautifully and buries his hand in his hair. “I nearly forgot how pretty you truly are,” Chan tells him, and Minho doesn't protest, blushing at his words. “But you're still as beautiful as ever no matter what you do,” he goes on and kisses Minho's neck, making the younger one whine softly. “It's ridiculous sometimes how much I long to be close to you in every way possible.”

“Channie,” Minho whispers with a shy smile, wrapping his legs around his waist. “My sweet Channie.”

Slowly, Chan pushes his dick back inside, making them both moan out shamelessly loud in pure relief. He pushes deeper with every slow drag of his hips until he's fully buried inside him, and Minho sighs contently. Chan's hand digs deep into his golden skin as he grabs his thigh and Minho clenches around him. Chan kisses down his jaw, starting a slow, gentle pace for now. “I missed you so much, baby,” he admits. “Not just back in Australia.”

“I know, love,” he assures him and soothingly fondles his head. “I missed you too, so much.”

He moans sweetly as he pushes in deeper and buries his face in his chest. “Shit, baby, you feel so good. So tight and warm for me, kitten.” Minho whimpers in response, so high and desperate it ignites a fire deep inside Chan he hadn't felt in a while. Thrusting forward, Minho's head falls back with a soft, breathy moan. “Taking me so well, kitten, fuck,” Chan tells him, the room slowly filling with the sound of their skin slapping over and over again.

“K-Keep talking,” he barely gets out, his insides burning in need already. His grip on his hair tightens and he can't stop the whimpers and tiny moans leaving him.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Chan tells him and adjusts the angle of his hips a little. “So-ohh- fucking pretty.”

His next thrust has Minho arching off the bed, mouth falling open with a loud whine and eyes fluttering close. “Ch-Channie,” is all he can say before Chan repeats the motion, making his thighs tremble. Minho turns his head, burying it in the pillow a little, and moans obscenely loud at another drag against his prostate.

“Shit, Min, I'm so close,” Chan curses, and Minho beneath him babbles some nonsense back, completely overwhelmed. “Want my kitten to come all over me.”

Minho mewls brokenly, and his eyes roll back before he tenses up with a silent scream, coating Chan's chest with his hot release. His hands twist the sheets and Chan's hair, body spasming beneath him as Chan picks up the pace, chasing his own high. Minho's high-pitched whines fill the room, mixing with Chan's desperate grunts, but he doesn't ask him to stop. “Channie,” he whines weakly. “Fill-fill me up, please.”

That's all he needs, and his body stills, shuddering heavily before painting his walls for the second time tonight. Chan's world explodes in hot pleasure before his eyes, and when he opens his eyes again, he's cuddled up safely in Minho's arms. He buries his face in his neck and plants a lazy kiss there, making Minho sigh happily.

“Shit, I missed this,” Minho whispers, and Chan hums agreeingly in response. Minho softly kisses his head and runs his hand through his hair. “We gotta clean up.”

“Just a minute,” Chan mumbles drowsily and Minho can't deny him. The way he buries himself in his body makes his heart beat faster, knowing how long it had been for Chan.

After another five minutes, he gently urges Chan to get up. Chan pushes himself up with a soft groan but picks him up and carries him to the bathroom. They clean each other up in the shower, washing their hair and spent bodies with soothing touches. Minho smiles happily at him as Chan rinses out the shampoo for him, hand running through his hair.

Chan meets his eyes, and his world stops for a moment. Small water droplets rest on his lashes, his lips wet, and his skin glistening beneath the water. His eyes are so soft and vulnerable that they stir something deep inside of him, and Chan can't fight the urge to hug him close and bury his face in his shoulder.

“You're okay?” Minho asks gently, soothingly rubbing his back and playing with the edge of his wet hair.

“Yeah,” Chan answers quietly, tears burning in his eyes.

Minho can tell by the way his voice quivers, unrecognizable to everyone who doesn't know Chan as well. He gently pulls him back and cups his face, worriedly searching his eyes. “Channie love?”

“I just…I know I haven't been easy those past few months, and I've been an asshole to you not only once,” he sniffles softly, and Minho's smile falters a little. “Sometimes it's just hard to believe you love me that much you can forget about all of it.”

“Channie,” he whispers, eyes brimming with tears. “I haven't been exactly easy to be around those past months either, have I?”

“I…thank you for giving me a home all those years ago and never leaving,” Chan tells him, lips quivering.

Minho giggles sweetly, a tear dropping down his face. “I love you so much, Channie love. So so much,” he tells him and pulls him into a loving kiss.

Chan kisses back fiercely and smiles at him. “I love you too, Minho baby.”

After getting dressed and changing the sheets, they're back in bed, facing each other. Their legs are entangled beneath the blanket, and they're as close as they can be, the tips of their noses touching. “Thank you for today,” Minho smiles shyly.

“I'm glad you liked it,” Chan smiles back just as shyly and giggles.

“How are you holding up with everything?” Minho asks gently. “You've been so focused on me lately.”

Chan soothingly squeezes his hip. “I'm glad to be back home,” he tells him kindly. “I wish she were here, but I'm okay, knowing she's getting better.”

“Mhm, I hope it won't take too long anymore,” Minho agrees and gently runs his fingers through Chan's damp curls. “But I think, given the circumstances of the past six months, we're doing well.”

Chan hums agreeingly and gives him a small, soft kiss. “Can you hold me tonight? Just hold me and don't let go?”

Minho's face softens, and he plants a tiny kiss on his forehead. “Of course.”

Two days later

Minho paces the bathroom once again, taking deep, controlled breaths. He tries to fight it all back down, all the guilt, all his worries, and fears. He just wants to be there for you, hold your hand, and comfort you like Chan is doing right now. Cursing quietly at himself he runs his hand through his hair shakily and takes another deep breath. “Man the fuck up,” he tells himself and shakily washes his hands. He rubs his face with the cold water, washing away all the tears, and dries it off with a few paper towels.

Half an hour ago, they got the call that you were awake. Chan picked him up from work and drove them here, but so far, Minho hasn't dared face you. He's been crying for you to come back to them for months, and now that it's time, he is terrified.

He stops in front of your room, hand lingering above the door handle, and hesitates. Surely, you'd hate him, right? You'd hate him for driving, for getting you into an accident. He subconsciously takes a step back, and it takes him every tiniest bit of his willpower to open the door and step inside.

Minho meets Chan's eyes as he slowly walks into the room, and Chan's face softens. He must look horrible. Inhaling softly, he turns to look at you and swallows hard, meeting your eyes. You reach out for him with tears in your eyes, and his body moves on its own. Before he knows it, he's sitting at the edge of your bed and pulls you into his arms as you start crying. He soothingly rubs your back as you allow yourself to cry for the first time since they're here. “Oh, honey,” he whispers and swallows down his tears. “I'm so sorry, my love.”

You only hold onto him tighter, shattering his heart a little. Only hours ago, he wasn't sure if you'd ever hug him again. If you'd ever really wake up even. Minho buries his face in your shoulder and soothes his mind with your scent. You're here. You'd be okay. He'd make sure of that.

Minho kisses your head and sniffles softly. “God, you're okay,” he says, and suddenly Chan's hand finds his lower back. He looks up and sees the pain in Chan's eyes, making his heart drop to his stomach. “What's wrong?” he whispers with wide eyes.

“She's okay so far,” he promises and swallows hard. “But she can't remember the last two years.” Minho looks down at you, almost a little panicked. “Which is okay because that means she remembers the first three years of our marriage and the four of us dating before. Min, that's not all bad, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods timidly as your hold on him tightens, and a sob shakes your body.

“The doctor said there's a chance it'll all come back in a few months, we can make this work,” he says, and Minho presses his lips together, eyes filling with tears rapidly. “It's okay, it's okay,” Chan says softly, and Minho whimpers his name, holding onto you tightly. Chan quickly gets up and hugs you both close, kissing Minho's head. “I promise you, it's okay, Min,” he whispers, and Minho nods, trying to calm his racing heart. “It's just the last two years, we'll make this work.”

Minho holds you tight and nods again, hiding in Chan's chest. His husband is right. They went through a lot to get here; they'd manage this. You still know who they are, you still know they love you, you just don't know what happened over the past two years. It would be okay.

PART FOUR | PART SIX

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @kailee08 @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @ontito0icongirls @furiousheartpoetry @bluesiebirdie @scarlet789 @ziipzeepzop-eez @harshaaaaa @lost-in-avoidance @dprkbyn

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meowzfordayz · 3 months

Text

this morning

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~700

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content

You hate being woken up early, sitting up in alarm thinking it’s past noon, then checking your phone and realizing it’s only 8am. Usually, the blinds are closed. But this morning is different. This morning is steeped in pale rose and lavender, hints of peach clinging to the underside of clouds as the sun slowly rises, light shining softly into the bedroom. Winter mornings may be colder, but they’re also more tender — a gentle, drowsy caress of circadian rhythm, so unlike the bright and eager mornings of summer or spring.

“Sanemi?” you rasp, eyes still closed as you rouse your limbs, body gradually registering the lack of heat beside you.

You aren’t concerned. It’s Monday anyway, and while you work later in the day, your husband does not.

Groggy, you force yourself to sit upright, back supported by a plethora of pillows as your gaze drifts to the bedside table. He usually leaves a note, or a silly doodle (he’s the greatest artist you’ll ever know), or sometimes just a glass of water. Nothing today. You shrug off the odd sensation of his absence, stretching with a mangled yawn as you resist the urge to pick up your phone. Maybe he texted? But you aren’t panicked. Nope. You’re sleepy and calm. Everything is fine. Perhaps he shaved this morning and left in a hurry, or got distracted cleaning the kitchen after cooking himself breakfast. Sometimes he forgets you remind yourself It’s not like he has to say goodbye.

You do vaguely recall him murmuring Good morning to your mostly unconscious figure, a careful kiss pressed to your forehead as the sheets were tucked neatly under your chin. Shh he’d whispered, tapping your cheek with an adoring look You don’t need to get up yet. So you hadn’t. You’d snuggled deeper into the mattress, a slurred Morning-love-you barely audible as he’d left the room, the door not quite closed behind him.

“You’re awake.”

You shriek.

“Well fuck,” Sanemi snorts, gleaming with amusement, doorway framing his shower tousled hair and plain white shirt, grey sweatpants slung lazy around his hips, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re at work!” you exclaim accusingly, heartbeat spiking at his presence.

He grins easily, making his way toward the edge of the bed.

“It’s Monday!” your arms would be flapping if you weren’t so confused, “Are you sick? Why aren’t you resting?!”

“You forgot,” he remarks wryly, reaching a familiar palm to your knee, squeezing you through the blankets.

“No,” you snap, “You forgot!”

Brow furrowing, he hesitates, “What exactly did I forget?”

And then your face warms, suddenly petulant as you grab for his hand, bringing his knuckles to your mouth. You blow gently, nuzzling your lips against the faint moisture before pouting.

“Tosaygoodbye.”

Unfortunately, he is your husband, and he understands your mumble-speech like no other.

“Seriously?” he’s grinning again, like he knows a secret that you aren’t yet privy to.

“Yes,” you huff, shooting him a glare, “Not to be clingy, but to be totally clingy, I really appreciate when you write me little notes and stuff.”

“You’re so dumb,” he sighs, ignoring your indignant squawk as he continues to say, “It’s literally your birthday you idiot. I took today off.”

Oh. Oh! Oh!!

Your shock evident by your silence, Sanemi leans over to peck your cheek, winking as he dips lower to nip at your jaw.

“Reservations for breakfast are in two hours. You can stay here or join me on the couch until then.”

“And what about my job?” you finally blurt, “I didn’t request time off.”

He shrugs, “That’s fine,” brimming with smugness as he drawls, “What I dropped off should be enough to convince your boss to let you go home early. And dinner’s on me,” grazing your earlobe with his teeth as he smiles, “Dessert too. Definitely dessert.”

—

Despite his thinly veiled warning, you are not prepared for the mass of flowers awaiting you at your job, a handwritten card accompanying the arrangement as you search frantically for your phone, already determined to call Sanemi and sob demand to know when he became so romantic (happily, of course).

#sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #shinazugawa x reader #wind hashira #drabble #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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straykids-97 · 6 months

Text

Drip

Day Two of Spooky Week!

A human being is only breath and shadow.

Warnings: Vampire! Lee Know, spanking, choking, biting, dumbification (if feel like a good Lee Know fic and this go hand and hand heh), unprotected sex, blood play(if you squint), lmk if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 2.5k

Minho had always taken a liking to you. His light brown eyes always seemed to find you, even as you stood working behind the counter of his favorite coffee place. He was intrigued, yet he wasn’t sure why.

You were just a halfbreed, you weren’t special. But, you made his cold, dead heart flutter whenever you smiled at him. Perhaps that is what made you so different; you made him feel human. After all these years of being undead, following the orders of his coven, and doing whatever he generally wanted when he wasn’t on a task, he found himself stuck in the booth of the small cafe. Pretending as hard as he could to appear busy.

Even though you were a halfbreed, you could still tell that the older vampire was watching you. Hell, he didn’t even stay if you weren’t working. The girls had told you themselves a few weeks ago that he had come in, realized you weren’t there, and then left with his coffee. Which, they later found out he gave it to the homeless man on the corner.

Your coworker recognized her handwriting on the cup, along with his name, ‘Minho’, complete with a heart over the ‘I’. He preferred you to make his coffee, that much you knew. He complimented you frequently over it. “You just seem to make it just right…”

Today, the cafe was empty, apart from your frequent visitor. So, you felt emboldened to go out and clean the tables by where he was sitting. You grabbed the cleaning solution and a hand towel before going out onto the floor and beginning your cleaning tasks a little earlier than normal.

You were a few tables away from him, when he spoke up, “Getting off early?” He inquired, causing you to look in his direction. Today, Minho was wearing a black turtleneck, his hair covered by a black beanie and his dark eyes mostly concealed by his wire-framed glasses. He had a laptop in front of him, but you hadn’t seen him do much on it either.

“Uh… No. I just wanted to get this out of the way.” You admit, cheeks going red. He smiles at you softly, “Well… You don’t have plans then, tonight?” You gawk at him, unsure of where this is going. “Uh, no.” You admitted, putting your rag on top of the spray bottle. “Nope…”

“Then, is it alright if I take you somewhere?” Your mouth falls open slightly, but you manage to catch yourself. Though, you knew he had to have seen. “Um… Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother-”

“Of course.” He interrupts, “What time do you get off?” He asks. Though, you knew had to know by now. You smile, tucking your chin and shaking your head, “4.” He bobs his head, “I’ll pick you up here then?” You shrug, “Well, I’d like to go home and change first.”

“5 work?” You nod softly, “Yeah… Do you want to pick me up there or-”

“If you’re more comfortable with me picking you up here then I can come by and pick you up here.” There was a brief pause before you looked back up at him, “No. You can pick me up at home.” He offers you a dazzling smile before standing up, “Perfect. Here’s my number. I’ll be by your home to pick you up at 5.” With that, he gathered his things and left the cafe. Leaving his table spotless and you in a daze.

“What the hell?” You grumble, watching him walk to his car on the other side of the street and climbing in.

You finished your shift and hurried home. You texted the number Minho had left for you and quickly readied for the date. You put on a simple floral dress with small red and pink flowers and a dark jean jacket to cover your arms. As soon as you were putting your shoes on, there was a knock at the door, causing you to nearly fall.

Being a halfbreed meant that you were still prone to bouts of clumsiness, your supernatural side not always there in your time of need.

“Shit- coming!” You call, leaving your shoes behind and going to the door. You pull it open without looking and see that Minho has also changed. He was now wearing a white button-up and dark slacks. His light brown dress shoes differed from his meticulous outfit. You could see that he had done something with his hair, the straight locks different from the wavy ones from earlier. You can’t help but smile at his appearance. “You can come in, I just need to put my shoes on.” You wave your hand and allow him to follow you into your home.

Minho comes in enough to close the door and watch you put your chucks on. You spin, dress fluttering around your thighs, “Alright. I’m ready.” You beam, causing him to smile softly in your direction, “Good. Let’s get going.”

Minho took you to a nice steakhouse for a wonderful meal. And now the two of you were driving around in his car, looking at the city during the nighttime. All manner of creatures milled about the sidewalk, vampires to humans alike made their way to wherever it was they were going.

You smile, mostly to yourself as he pulls up to a stop light, turning to look at you. “I hope you’re enjoying the night.” He looked over your body before his eye returned to your face, causing your cheeks to burn pink as he turned to face the people walking in front of you. You could see the soft smile teasing his lips as he moved forward, turning and heading toward the edge of town. “Where are you taking me?” You finally asked, making him grin. “A special place I like to go to think.” He turned, eyes ghosting over your features once again. “You’ll love it.”

And love it you did. You had no idea how Minho managed to find the place, but you were happy he had. He was grateful that you had worn more appropriate shoes, though he wasn’t opposed to carrying you. The small trek to the edge of the cliff took about 10 minutes to get to, but as he said, it was worth it.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, staring out at the city twinkling below. “This place is special to me… Maybe one day, I’ll tell you why.... But for tonight, let’s just enjoy the view.” You nod at his words and come to sit beside him on the small blanket. The blanket was a little small, meaning you had to sit pretty much leg and leg with him.

At first, you were a little embarrassed, but after Minho broke the ice, you all but forgot about it. Until he put his hand behind you, leaning back, laughing about what you were talking about. You turn and look at him, face blushing slightly.

“I like that you can still blush…” He admits, playing with the ends of your hair. “The others… They can’t.” You knew he was referring to the other women, most likely in his coven. He was silent for a few moments before finally saying, “Maybe that’s why you intrigue me so much.” Your eyes snap up to his face, his eyes glowing slightly in the darkness. “I can hear your heartbeat still… You smell human… Yet, you’re not… There’s that faint iciness that is like an afternote. Like a warning.” He smirks, scoffing to himself.

“You don’t have any bites on your pulse points… So you don’t mingle with vampires…” Your face blushes harder at the mention of that. “I don’t like being bitten by strangers…” You trail off, making him take a deep breath. Almost as if he was annoyed, “So, you don’t allow men to bite you while having sex? Or do not have sex with vampires?” Your cheeks warm at his bold question, but you shrug, “I just don’t think I should let them… A lot of male vampires… They like to bite us halfbreeds because our blood taste human but is sweet like a vampires.” Minho takes a sharp breath, his fingers wrapping around the ends of your hair.

“So… You’ve never been bitten?” You slowly shake your head, causing him to lean forward, his face inches from yours. “Never?” You shake your head again, “Never.” You parrot his words. You watch as Minho closes his eyes, emitting a low groan. “Fuck.” He leans forward, wrapping a hand around your jaw, his lips inches from yours. “No wonder you smell so different.” You clutch his elbow as warmth spreads across your groan, listening as he inhales again, “Up.” He demands, all but jumping to his feet.

The warmth in your tummy never went away as he helped you to your feet. You watch as he snatches up the blanket, wrapping his hand around yours and quickly leaving the cliff behind. You take one last look at the skyline before it disappears.

You both quickly descended the hillside to where Minho’s car sat below at the hiking trail parking. Before you knew it, he was tossing the blanket into the back seat and pulling you in with him. You gasp as he tugs you into the seat, pulling you onto his lap as he closes the door. You look at him as his dark red eyes pore into yours, a shudder running down your spine as he puts his hands on your hips. He doesn’t speak as he wraps his lips around yours, and you feel your small fangs rip through your gums, but you are used to it. Minho’s were much larger, so they were cutting into your bottom lip as he kissed you.

He pulls away, staring up at you with amusement before touching his lip. You realized that you had also knicked him, making him groan, rolling his hips up to meet yours. You gasp, hands flying to the headrest behind him.

Minho wraps his hand around the back of your neck again, pulling you tightly against him as his free hand goes behind you ripping your panties at the seams. You gasped, pulling away slightly to watch as he tossed the now ruined fabric on top of the blanket. Minho attached his lips to your throat, making you groan as hot pleasure ripped through your body again. This time, more intense than before.

You hadn’t experienced the feeling before, ever. You wanted to rip Minho’s clothes from his body and ride him until there was no tomorrow- no until he had nothing left to offer until he was shoving you away-

Minho grinned, wrapping his hand around your hair in a fist. One of your hands wrapped around his wrist, a soft hiss coming out of your throat as he pressed a soft kiss against it. “I’m the one you gets to use you until you have nothing to offer.” Your eyes go wide.

Could Minho hear your thoughts?

Minho chuckled, pulling you into his chest, “Naughty, little depravity.” he growled in your ears as he unbuttoned his slacks. You could feel his cock spring free, making you mewl as he lined himself up with your dripping sex. You shudder, letting go of his wrist and wrapping your arm around the back of his neck.

Minho let go of your hair, placing his hand around the back of your neck, digging his sharpened nails into your skin enough to keep you in place. If you moved, they could pierce your skin.

He thrust once up into you, the both of you moaning. Your mind instantly went blank, all thoughts of trying to claim Minho long gone as he thrust up into you once again. You let out a sharp cry of pleasure as he set a slow, deep pace. You both moan in sync as he sensually runs his hands up your body, causing you to throw your head back.

You feel Minho’s hand wrap around your throat, pressing you into the seat behind you, scooting his hips forward slightly. There was a sharp sensation as he thrusts up into you, making you hold on to his wrist for support. He lets out a guttural groan and begins to pick up the pace, skin slapping skin. He moans as your body shakes, an orgasm ripping through you violently.

He lets go of your throat and you sag against him, babbling into his shoulder as he puts his hands on your hips, pulling your dress up to expose your ass. Minho rubs his hands against the skin of your as before slapping it. You shudder, the sensation causing another tight knot to form in your groin. “Fuck.” He hisses, slapping your ass again. You whimper, holding onto his shoulders as he buries his face into your neck.

You panic slightly when you feel his sharp teeth graze your skin, but you don’t make a move to stop him as he presses his teeth against your skin. You think for a moment, he might not bite you, but when his hips pick up pace, his teeth sink into your flesh.

The sharp sting was quickly replaced by a warmth that cascaded straight down your spine to your pussy, making you moan loudly. As he releases you, he slaps your ass again. “Fuck!” He growls, holding your throat as he fucks into you faster. Your moans become choppy as he fucks into you, “So dumb for my cock? Can’t even speak?” He scoffs, pressing his thumb into your mouth. You manage to nod as you put your hands on his chest, making him grin up at you wickedly.

“Good. I want you to be stupid for my cock.” He grunts, slapping your ass again. You let out a shrill squeal as he dug his sharp nails into the skin of your ass, holding you in place. Your head falls between your shoulders and he curses loudly one last time before slamming his hips into yours a final time.

For a few moments, you both stay there, panting and dazed before he gently shifts you off of his lap. “Fucking hell.” He grumbles, running his hand through his sweaty locks. He turns to you before leaning over, and you flinch slightly, making him draw back. “I’m offended.” He snorts, before waving you toward him, “Here. Let me fix that.” He gestures to your neck. You slowly lean up, your mind becoming less fuddled as he presses his tongue to your throat.

You hiss, gripping his forearm. “Relax.” He purred, pulling away. You realized now that Minho had blood on his chin and some had dripped onto his dress shirt. You reach up and touch your neck, pulling your fingers away to look.

No blood.

You look at him as he pulls the blanket up and wipes the inside of your thighs, “Can’t have you making a mess of my car, now can I?”

Tag list: @artisticbirb @kaitchan @queenmea604 @bangchans-angel

#skz drabbles #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids hard thoughts #skz hard hours #lee know smut

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wrrrenff · 5 months

Text

Restless Nights In the Devildom

Obey Me: Shall We Date Mammon x F! Reader Synopsis: After a long day in the devildom you can't seem to get any sleep! So of course the only thing to do is go annoy your best friend Mammon. Thing don't turn out as expected when you get to his room...

Warnings: 18+, smut, restraints, bondage, p in v sex, kissing, marking, domination

Gif credits to the creator!

Today had really taken its toll. Three exams, breaking up a fight between Satan and Lucifer, and in the middle of cooking dinner for everyone Beel kept trying to eat my ingredients! All of it was adding up and you were dead tired. So why couldn’t you fall asleep? It’s been two and a half hours and nothing. You could cry at how frustrated you were.

You decided that if you can’t sleep you might as well go annoy your favorite demon. You don’t even bother to knock on Mammon’s door. At this point you are both so used to each other just barging in. When you opened the door you noticed a lump on the bed. As you got closer you saw the white hair you’re so familiar with. He was asleep. Perfect opportunity to fuck with him. His face does look really peaceful… Do you really want to ruin that? Hehe fuck yeah i do.

You slowly reach towards his shoulder, ready to shake the ever-living hell out of him. As soon as you make contact Mammon grabs your hand and quickly fling you onto his bed and straddles you and holds your wrists tightly against the mattress. *What the fuck just happened* you thought.

His furious eyes take a moment before realizing who is underneath him. He smirked. “Well well well. Look who we have here. Does the little human think she can sneak up on me that easily?”

You were breathing hard. This is not how you expected this to go at all. But you weren’t mad at this situation. Or the position.

“You okay princess? You’re breathing real heavy.” Mammon said with slight concern, slightly lifting his weight off your legs but still holding your wrists tight.

You liked this. You didn’t want it to stop. Instead of responding you decided to try something. Slowly but carefully, you lift your knee and press it between his legs, rubbing it back and forth slightly. Mammon moaned. Hard. So devilishly sweet.

“Oh, you want to play like that huh?” Mammon flew off of you and started digging through his dresser drawer. Did he not like it? You worried that you upset him and went too far. That is, until he turned around and you saw the rope and cuffs.

Before you even had a second to think you were being tied up to the demon’s bed frame. You pull at the restraints with no luck at getting out.

“Too tight?”

“They’re fine but…”

The demon raised a brow. He gently grabbed your chin and slowly lifted your face until you were forced to look at him. “What is it darling? Use your words.”

Damn demon. You didn’t want to admit how badly you wanted him but you conceded. “I want to touch you. Make you feel good.”

He chuckled, low and rumbly. It made you squirm. “You came to me. I make the rules. You’re lucky I didn’t use my gag.”

“Well there’s already one flaw in your plan, genius. You forgot to take my clothes off before tying me up.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem sweetheart.” Suddenly he uses his strength to rip your clothes off. It was so easy for him. Like taking a tissue out of the box.

“So wet for me already and we’ve barely even started.”

He was staring at your figure, eyes full of lust. They were hungry eyes, intimidating. You couldn’t help but shift under him, suddenly feeling self conscious. Before you had too much more time to think about it, Mammon dove in and kissed you hard. You didn’t reciprocate at first, taking a moment to register what was happening, but quickly enough you came to your senses and kissed back. Mammon place one hand on the back of your head, slightly pulling at your hair, his other hand at your breast, lightly teasing your nipple.

He started moving his lips lower. Down your neck biting and sucking hard, almost like he was trying to leave the most obvious marks he could so everyone would know you belonged to him, even if just for this one time. He is the demon of greed after all.

You were a moaning mess. You wanted to touch him. Feel the closeness between you too. It was so FRUSTRATING. It didn’t take long for your moans to turn to impatient whines.

“What’s the matter, princess?”

“I- I want to feel you” you were a panting mess.

“Not yet, baby.”

“Can’t you at least strip too? I want to see you. All of you.”

He seemed to contemplate this for a moment, stroking his chin in the most dramatic way like the idiot he is. He was drawing this out. After a minute he got close to your face and whispered “I’ll see what I can do”

He straddled you and started taking his shirt off. You’ve seen him shirtless before but this time was different. You’ve never wanted to feel up to someone more than you did right now. You try to reach for him but don’t get very far due to the cuffs.

“You’re cute” He continues stripping, your eyes watching hungrily. As he takes off his underwear you can’t help but wonder how the fuck that thing is going to fit inside of you. But you didn’t care. You want him and you want him now.

“Fuck me please! I need it now!” You were practically begging at this point. You could see Mammon wanted to tease you some more but even he was getting to his breaking point. He lines up with your entrance and slowly starts pushing in.

“F-fuuuuucking hell!”

He stops half way through. “Need a sec?”

You nod, struggling a bit to get any words out. After a moment you tell him to continue. He eventually bottoms out inside of you and you have never felt so full in you life. You Loved it, but you needed more.

“Move please!”

“As you wish my princess.”

He starts thrusting and immediately hitting all the right spots. Mammon leaned down and started lapping and sucking one breast while teasing the other with his hand. Feeling the heat between your bodies and all of the sensations he was making you feel, it was pure bliss.

“Mammon faster! Break me!”

Without any hesitation he started going faster and harder, your hips meeting his as best they could considering the restraints. The bed was creaking like crazy. Any other day you’d be worried that this much noise would get you in trouble with Lucifer but you could deal with the consequences later. Mammon moved off your breast and up to your neck, creating more love bites. You were getting close and he could tell. Mammon reached down between you and started rubbing your clit in circles, turning you into a blubbering mess. You couldn’t even form words and more. The only sounds filling the room at this point was just the sound of skin and both of your grunts and moans.

Feeling himself getting closer to the edge, Mammon angled himself a bit differently and was hitting your g-spot perfectly. Only a few more thrusts and you were cumming hard. You went to grab Mammon as you came but were stopped by your cuffs so you were just squirming as you came.

You lay there, still bound by the handcuffs and ropes as Mammon kept pounding into you. You were so sensitive. It felt great. Each thrust into you had you whimpering. He just kept hitting your g-spot. After a minute, it was like you had gained a second wind and you could feel yourself getting close again. Mammon, realizing this, started thrusting even harder into you. You could swear the bed was going to break. Soon you both came, screaming each other's names. You were in such a trance after that you didn’t even know your own name. Mammon collapsed on top of you, panting like crazy. After catching his breath and regaining some strength, Mammon released you from your restraints. You immediately grabbed onto him like a koala to a tree. He chuckled and held you close.

After a few minutes of cuddling, you finally broke the silence. “You know, I just came in here to annoy you but if the thanks I get for barging in here, I think I need to do it more often”

The demon smirked “From here on out you can expect a lot more, princess.” You both cuddled up as close as you could to each other and eventually drifted off into the deepest most refreshing sleep you’ve ever had.

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pablitogavii · 8 months

Note

Can you do innocent reader who has a habit of biting daily dominant Pablo and sucking his thumb, he founds it cute ?

Mi adorable

You have been in a relationship for a few months and it was quickly obvious that Pablo was a dominant type while you enjoyed submitting to him.

It wasn't until about a month into the relationship that you reveled one of your favorite little habits with your boyfriend. Whenever you "wanted him" you would bite his arm or one of his long fingers.

The first time he whined about it being shocked with your actions.

"You look so good Pablito.." you said during one of your usual movie night and he blushed a little at your compliment. You were completely distracted from the movie now so you moved closer and he smirked pausing the screen.

"Mm what do you want from me princesa? HUh?" he was teasing you but you were not gonna let him do it that easily saying you wanted some popcorn.

Instead of grabbing it yourself, you just opened your mouth and he smirked placing a popcorn inside but before he could pull away you big his finger.

"Ow! I'm the one who eats you princesa!" he smirked when you let go with blushed cheeks thinking about his little comment. He knew just how to drive you insane when he wanted to.

Pablo at first though it was your way of asking for "sexy times" because you were too shy to use your words but soon realized that it brings you comfort as well.

"Bad day princesa?" he asked after a particularly long day at school and you nodded giving him a weak smile as he opened his arms asking you to come to him and you did obediently.

"Sit right here mi preciosa" he said pulling you onto his lap and you smiled laying your head on his chest while his hands touched your face until his thumb started to trace your lips softly.

You instinctively opened your mouth letting him stick it inside before sucking and finally completely relaxing in his arms. You expected Pablo to be grossed out or angry but instead he just let you suck peacefully on his finger while playing with your hair.

While the two of you were cooking together for one of your date nights, Pablo was standing by the stove mixing the eggs making his arms flex and become so damn distracting.

You washed your hands after finishing the salad before going behind him, snaking your arms around his waist and biting onto his flexed bicep which made him smirk immediately.

"Hello to you too mi adorable" he said looking at you with a cheeky smile and you blush kissing the place you bit a few seconds ago. Pablo quickly grabbed your body carrying you to the other side of the kitchen and raising you to sit on the counter.

"You really like biting me, don't you princesa?" Pablo asked making you all flustered and shy not knowing how to answer that question.

"I'm sorry.." you say thinking he doesn't enjoy it but that could as far away from truth as possible. Pablo was quite fond of your little habits.

"Did I ever say I don't like it amor??" he asked raising up your chin and you blushed while shaking your head no as a response. It's been months and Pablo not once asked you to stop with your little habit.

"I think you should let me return the favor preciosa.." he said coming closer and standing between your legs while your blushed.

"Um..o..okay" you say shyly and he smirks at your adorable face before leaning it and leaving bite barks all over your neck so much so that you completely forgot about the breakfast as you moaned his name repeatedly while he marked you up.

"Now I understand why you like this so much..it's so addicting princesa...and you taste so sweet" he groaned after pulling away observing his little "artwork" on your neck he was very pleased with.

"You better don't cover it up...I want everyone to see it" Pablo growled and you felt your panties damped as you nodded your head obediently.

"Estas tan preciosa amor.." he said kissing your nose and then your lips lovingly about to keep making out when a smoke alarm made you both jump and realize that your breakfast was indeed burnt.

"Mierda! What are we going to eat now!?" you say while Pablo threw the burnt pan to the trash and turned off the stove.

"Mm I have a few ideas..I already had the first bite" he smirked walking towards you before raising you up in his arms and carrying you to bed while you giggled.

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