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#watch they put a black person in it just so they have an excuse for more scandals đŸ˜«
mggsv · 1 day
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I DONT SMOKE
playboy! j. jungkook x f!black reader || (18+) || reblogs would be appreciated!
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warnings : college party, mentions of smoking, smoking, smut, slight spanking, smoking during sex
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You hated partying. Not entirely..you’d have fun but it dies down quickly when you had no one to talk to. Boring.
You could stay inside and watch the smoke in the air, drinks ultimately being spilled, and sweaty bodies dancing and getting it on in the corner, or you could stay out outside of the large house.
Being in college was truly an experience for you. You just hated that it wasn’t as exciting for you as the movies made it out to be. “Fuck..” You scratch your head, groaning while pulling out your phone to get an uber. Campus wasn’t too far away.
“Ahshit- damnit.” You hear a faint curse, followed by failed attempts of a lighter being struck. Eyes followed the sound, and you couldn’t have regretted it more. Jeon Jungkook. It’s his party after all. Another reason why you didn’t want to be there.
You didn’t know him personally- only having met a few times. He couldn’t even remember your name if you offered $50. He was a lot of things your disliked. A playboy, a smoker, a hardcore party thrower. Not only that- he does it often, and the girls who brag about how good he is in bed
disgusting.
Now, it wasn’t you trying to put yourself up. You weren’t exactly an innocent person. You enjoyed drinking when in the mood, and you’ve slept with a few people. It’s just him. Bumping into each other became so tiresome for you that you changed route’s to your classes. Him generally just not giving a fuck is what pissed you off.
But now? Now he looks up from his cigarette. Now he slowly starts walking towards you, and you started to wish you had ordered that uber instead of being curious.
“Hey- do you have a light?”
“I don’t.” you hum, looking away from those eyes. Everything about the man was just..stunning, that you could admit. Down to the piercings on his lips to the ones in his ears, and onward to his tattoos and hair that curled past his ears. Truly a beauty. You clear your throat as you tapped your foot impatiently, phone somehow slipping into your pocket.
“Why not?” He asks, getting closer. Jungkook was..a curious one. He could snuff you out in an instant, from his view he knew you didn’t have a lighter.
“Why don’t you have a spare? Coming out here knowing your lighter didn’t work. Honestly, seems to me like you came outside and found an excuse to talk to me.” You found yourself grinning, but looking off to the side. Jungkook almost laughed, covered by a chuckle. Rocking on his heels, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Was it that obvious?”
I don’t like you. You wanted to say. Everyone knew you didn’t smoke, including him. You could be a party girl if you kept to it. It’s only on nights like this where you reject every pass made at you.
“I don’t smoke.” You sigh, defeated by your will to stay. “Then let’s get a drink.” he counters, smiling. Cheeky bastard.
“Not in the mood.” It was a game at this point. He wanted you, but you didn’t want to be his girl for the night. You didn’t do hookups. No one night stands. Anyone you’ve ever given your body to has stayed for at least a while. Knowing Jungkook he’d never commit.
“Let me drive you home then.” His hand snaked around your waist. “I have an uber coming-“
“Then i’ll wait out here with you.”
“Christ Jeon.” He starts laughing, and you couldn’t help but do the same. He does however, lean into your shoulder. You shiver at the coldness of the metal on his lip. “Let me take you back inside.”
No. you would day no. You didn’t like him, he’s a whore, and you have morals. You’re a woman of society! A man of his..whatever- would not influence you.
~
“Right..r-right there..” You did not say no. Face tucked into Jungkook’s pillow as his cock slipped into your folds once more, tip touching that spot inside of you that sent you over the edge. It’s been so long
 “Oh!” You gasp, shuddering at the feeling of his slipping past your rings, and out..and in.
“Fuck..you feels so good. So good f’me hm?” He hums, pulling your hips back onto his cock, fully bottoming out inside of you while everything rested there..deep inside. “hm?” he asks once more, in a hum. He goes to give a slight smack to your ass, watching how it recoiled back. He was enchanted to say the least. From the very first time his eyes landed on your brown ones. Infatuated with every little thing you’ve done. And finally, he go you.
“Yes! y-yes..” You felt your eyes flutter as they rolled back, tips of his fingers stroking at your sensitive clit. Pussy swallowing around his thick cock. “Taking me in so well.” You’re his favorite girl. You weren’t aware, but mentally he was already thinking of the next time he’d get you like this. Ass up while he fucked you until the party’s over.
The thought of the party still going on while he plowed into you turned Jungkook on so much. “S-shit.” Pussy drunk was an amazing feeling, he didn’t get that feeling often.
Jungkook found himself reaching for the lonely cigarette and spare lighter from his headboard. Giving another smack to your ass- making you yelp- he strikes the lighter. You lift your head at the sound, looking back at him. Your face flushed, eyes watery, still, you fucked yourself on his length. He light the cigarette, the smoke seeping from his lips while he tipped his head back.
“Wanna hit?” he smirks, taking it from his mouth and trying to put it between your lips. You could kill him.
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karmaphone · 1 year
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Sometimes I can’t let people stay at the shelter because they are violent or pose a threat to children not because they are not well liked or unpleasant. As a public servant I do not deny help to those who are unpleasant i deny help to people who are actively putting me or others at risk.
Then the post wasn't about you, One Of The Good Ones. stay in ur lane
#my mom worked at a womens shelter for a long time I've witnessed a lot of fucked up shit#hurrah for you being a good one but I do have to say when the power rests with people able to make those calls they're going to make calls#that kill people. maybe you dont happen to live in a deadly climate but denying someone shelter in a place like alaska is essentially#a death sentence#obviously someone posing a threat to others means you can't just lump them in with someone else but guess what there needs to be an option#peoples opinion of you should not determine wether you live or die#especially when that opinion can be filtered through lenses like 'this is a black man and therefore dangerous' so like#I watched one of my moms coworkers turn native women away because 'oh we're full tonight' and then gladly accept white women. the problem is#also a racial one. don't even get me started on vets being turned away for ptsd symptoms that ppl didn't understand and weren't dangerous#it's almost like the marginalized are marginalized further when a marginality is comorbid with others or something wow#this isn't meant to be aggressive at the anon btw I'm glad we have A Good One Put There I'm just tired of people using that as an excuse to#*out not put#dismiss systemic issues that I've witnessed personally#I mean yeah my memory's fucked up because of the system thing so sometimes my memories of being at that shelter are super fuzzy but other#times they're crystal clear so don't come for me lmfao
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wife-of-all-dilfs · 5 months
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bad idea, right? | f. odair
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summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?
pairing: finnick odair x reader
warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,
notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so
 enjoy :)
word count: 4.6k
Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.
Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.
You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.
Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.
“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”
To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.
“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.
The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.
She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”
“Did you get a name?!”
After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.
With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”
Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.
“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.
Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.
No. It couldn’t be—
“Finnick.”
********
Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.
Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.
A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.
Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.
Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”
“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”
“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”
You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.
“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”
“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”
“Thanks, mum!”
You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.
Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.
District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.
Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.
Oh, fuck me.
He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.
“Finnick,” you greeted.
“Y/N.”
He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.
Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.
Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.
“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.
“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”
You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.
“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.
“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”
“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”
Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”
He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”
“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”
Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.
You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?
Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.
But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.
Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.
So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.
In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”
He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”
And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”
Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”
You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”
Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.
“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”
Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.
This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.
You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”
Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.
“I want you,” he whispered.
You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”
He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.
Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.
A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.
Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.
“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.
You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”
His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.
“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.
You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.
“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”
Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”
Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.
“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.
He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.
You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.
“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”
Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.
Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”
The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.
“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”
“That’s right.”
Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.
Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.
And, well, you did.
“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.
“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”
With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.
Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.
With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.
The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.
Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.
“Turn around,” he said, and you did.
You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.
Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.
The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.
You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.
Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.
Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.
“Oh god,” you gasped.
The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.
It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.
You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.
Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.
“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.
His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.
“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”
In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.
He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.
“Harder!” you cried.
Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.
His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.
“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”
You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.
He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—
“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”
A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.
You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.
Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.
*********
“Don’t leave again.”
Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.
“Finnick
” you sighed.
“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”
The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was
 dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.
“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.
After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.
Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.
You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 
tags: @tayrae515
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tarjapearce · 6 months
Text
El Diablo Wears Prada
Mafia Boss! Miguel O'Hara x Reader
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WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Cucking, Forced Voyeurism, A bit of Dark Miguel, Dom! Miguel, P in V, Oral (F receiving) Face sitting, manhandling, mild knife play, criminal undertones, Implied mild exhibitionism, emotional distress, mentions of cheating, Dubious morals, implicit non-con oral at the end (M receiving). No proofread.
Summary: Tired of warnings and dialogues with your stubborn and corrupt husband, The Devil shows up at your home.
A/N: Had to get it out of me. jsksj. Finally. Enjoy (?) ❀✚.
Pt. 2
From the many times people tried to persuade you from marrying your current husband, none of them were successful.
Massimo Bianchi. An important lawyer that had swooped you off your feet with his smile and Italian charisma.
People often told you that he wasn't good. None had to be a genius to know the man was in shady business as his main job was to defend the top dogs of  corporate world. He didn't have to mingle with underworld criminals to know how they worked cause he was one.
Corrupt lawyer that always came out successful in his cases. But you remained on the shadows, blissfully ignorant of your husband's doings to the world. All you knew was that he was the head of his firm and that alone earned him a good chunk of money.
You thought him good, though your marriage had been cold for the last few years. Even though he spoiled you with things, you didn't want materialistic rewards. You wanted him.
A true fool. Your friends called you. Sometimes you truly wondered if it
was love or just that attachment that had grown over time? The kind that makes one so used to a person that their absence feels odd yet expected? You didn't know nor cared. As long as he kept coming home at night, things would be right. Everything would be fine and the fake illusion of a perfect marriage would keep playing in the background.
And it was. Until death threats kept coming into your mail. All of them saying the same.
Stay away.
Confrontations weren't really your thing, but the tension had turned so dense that arguments were the main course of everyday. Massimo refused to spill the beans as dread only kept growing inside your already rattled mind. Just like the death threats. All of them signed by El Diablo.
"Amore, he is none. Just a petty criminal that is pissed I'm locking up his associates."
Lies, lies and more lies.
A petty criminal wouldn't put you on edge, wouldn't make you feel watched. Cause in truth, wherever you went the feeling of being observed remained etched in every step you took.
"That's exactly what they want you to believe, cara mĂ­a. That's a tactic for scum like them to scare decent people like us."
You didn't pressed any further, rather save your breath. He was as closed as an hermetic safe box.
-----
To relax your nerves you decided to go shopping, and returned home with an idea that you were certain would rekindle the cold flame in your marriage. Massimo seemed way too busy in his work to make an approach, and when you wanted to initiate things, he'd just push you away with the excuse that he was exhausted.
And you were tired of toys and your hand. So, you took a bath, lathered your body in rich and delicious smelling oils, and slipped into an emerald green silk and velvet lingerie set you just bought.
You hid it all underneath a skin tight black dress that enhanced your body shape. Hair done in a messy yet sultry look, a subtle fem fatale makeup with a gorgeous shade of burgundy lips.
The sound of your husband's car breaking violently snapped your attention at the front door. Massimo bursted out through the door and you smiled.
"Hey, darling!"
"Pack your shit. We're leaving."
You frowned in confusion at his sudden panicky and antsy state. But most importantly his tone. Urgent, demanding and scared.
"W-What? Where are-"
"There is no time for questions! Just do as I tell you! Now!"
He grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to the bedroom.
"Massimo, you're scarying me. What's going on?!"
Bianchi groaned as he threw you on the bed, nose flaring in anger at your reluctance.
"Non hai sentito, stupida stronza? Fai quello che ti dico, cazzo!" (Didn't you hear, dumb bitch? Do as I fucking tell you!)
Your teary eyes widened at him, frantic and fumbling with the suitcases. Filling them with papers and valuable objects. Not even clothes, just things you were sure he treasured more than your marriage.
"MOVE IT!" He roared and you blinked away your tears, scrambling out of his sight. He muttered things you didn't understand much as he shoved more papers inside. You grabbed the first suitcase you found and filled in with the necessary.
The sound of cars breaking and revving into the pebbled porch of your luxurious  home made Massimo to pull out a gun, you gasped and he ushered you to come closer. You kneeled next to him as he spoke in hushed whispers.
"No matter what happens, you remain silent okay?"
Your trembling hands clung to him as fear begun numbing your judgment. There was a collective round of car's doors slapping shut and footsteps that approached almost in scary synchronization.
"Go through the pool entrance, take this with you and leave. I'll see you in the other apartment"
"N-No, Massi-"
He kissed you, as he pushed a stack of documents further in your hands.
"No matter what, don't let them get this, ok?" His hushed whispers didn't help soothing your already fried nerves
"Massimo!"
"Go!"
He dispatched you with an angry growl, shaking legs scrambled once more ducking down the windows. You removed the heels as you crossed the manor, tears momentarily blurring your sight as you reached the pool. A shot in the air made you still, before you ran back inside.
A few shots and screaming voices followed you. The pained screams of your husband along some grunts made you whimper in fear. You hid behind the kitchen's large breakfast island as steps echoed ominously close. No matter in what direction you tried to go, the men, clad in black and red were there. Awaiting for their prey. Anything that moved.
The paper crumpled under your tight grip, and you covered your mouth, to remain as quiet as possible. Heavy steps retired from your area, and you exhaled in mild relief. Heart pumped hard with every passing beat, you snuck past the island to go back to the main entrance.
And just as you were about to taste freedom, the largest man you had ever seen, clad in a rich black suit and polished shoes, blocked your entrance with a stoic gaze that shifted into a shameless smirk upon seeing you.
Big, strong and long limbs trapped you against him as you cried and thrashed in a meek attempt to free yourself.
"Shh, shhh shh"
His nose nuzzled your neck and you stilled, tears rolled down your cheeks as he pointed a gun to your head. The cold metal against your temple made your breathings erratic.
"Tranquila, corazón. I'm not gonna hurt you." (Relax, sweetheart)
He dragged you to one of the many spare rooms in the house. A tall black woman with a frondous afro was finishing tying Massimo on the ground to then wipe away the blood caked in her brassed knuckles. 
His handsome face littered in bruises, a blooming dark eye on his left, a busted lip and his broken nose was all that remained after the bravado he often boasted up. Your heart couldn't help but sink in further at the sight.
You tried to go to his side, but the man only tightened his grip on you.
"Mr. Bianchi."
The man holding you spoke, to then aim his gun to him.
"S-Stop! Please!"
He kissed you deeply as his hands handcuffed your hands back. The kiss was so fast you barely had time to digest it, just like everything that was happening around you.
"You really need to shut your pretty mouth for a bit, cariño."
"Hei! Lasciala!" (Hey! Leave her)
A blonde man kneed him in the stomach, knocking all the air out of Massimo as he doubled in pain.
"Stop!" You squealed in between hiccups. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. The papers you were given were long gone from your hands.
The woman with the afro smirked upon reading them.
"We got it, Miguel."
Massimo gulped at the name. Miguel O'Hara, one of the major criminal Don's in the underworld, El Diablo himself had came to his home to collect his reaps.
"I tried to be a reasonable man with you, Mr. Bianchi, but given your stubborn nature to cooperate and pay what's rightfully mine, I must take drastic measures for you to understand that I don't like being lied to."
Miguel made a sign for everyone to leave.
"M-Massi? What... What is he talking about?"
"You lie to your lovely wife?" His face turned one of disgust and his large feet pushed Massimo's head on the ground, his swollen cheek flattening against the expensive Prada shoes adorning Miguel's feet.
You only looked away as your husband groaned in pain despite Miguel holding back from hurting him seriously.
" You see, cariño. Your doting husband right here, has been fucking around with my associates."
He removed the outer layer of his suit and carefully laid it on a nearby chair.
"People that have worked hard for what they have and have come to me in dire need of protection against this... greedy coward."
Your eyes snapped back to Massimo as he kept folded in pain, his eyes adverted from you.
"Bribing the judges, increasing taxes, charging extra fees to those who need him? And not enough, this cabrĂłn tiene los huevos para pedir dinero en mi nombre." (This fucker has the guts to collect money in my name.)
His meaty mouth clicked in disapproval. 
"Is that true?"
He remained quiet, blood caking on his lips and chin.
"Massimo, look at me. Is that true?!"
"I'm really sorry you have to find out this way, preciosa. But don't you worry. I know he will pay."
Dread sunk in further at his words. If there was something you were so sure of, that if your life depended on it you wouldn't fear in risking it, is the little fact that your husband never really had the intention of paying debts.
A habit that stuck with him in your dating stage, something he never grew out of. And now the fatal consequences were only added in his karma balance.
"The hell I am!" Bianchi spat at his shoes, and Miguel, unbuttoned his shirt to then pull out a cigarette. He took a long drag. Cherry scent filled in your lungs as he blew the smoke in his direction.
"I'll put you behind bars, O'Hara!"
Miguel chuckled, showing his canines. One of the reasons of his nickname.
He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and crushed the ablaze end on your husband's forehead. A new groan of pain along a few Italian curses filled in the room.
You looked away, too scared and stunned to actually do something. What help could you possibly be? You were handcuffed, barefooted and emotionally all over the place. The many warnings about him finally weighing on your shoulders.
Your name was called between breathless and pained yelps, but you refused to acknowledge him.
"Let her go, please." You heard him, speak, but no words or pleas seemed to move Miguel. He just stared at Massimo with a bored expression as he crouched to meet his eyes.
"Hope you have told her that you cheated her with one of my favorite colleagues."
His words were the last stab you could handle, you broke in tears.
"I should kill you for that alone, but that would be too merciful of me."
Miguel stood up and prowled over you, his hands reached for your face and wiped away your tears carefully.
"I am a firm believer of 'An eye for an eye', Mr. Bianchi."
He removed the shirt, leaving his torso bare before you, eyes couldn't help but wander before retreating away, Miguel smirked.
"Are you?"
Massimo glared at him, heaving through the pain as he pulled a pocket knife and approached you.
"I'll have to make you a believer, then."
The sharp of the blade slid down your dress, enough to tear through the fabric covering your breasts. His lips pursed to give an appreciating whistle upon seeing your mounds clad in the velvety and silky texture of your lingerie.
" Con permiso, cariño." (Excuse me, darling)
Big hands took each a piece of fabric to tear the dress in half as you gasped and tried to scurry away from him. A hand grope your nape and you stilled.
One of his hands was big enough to pull you before your husband as the other one rested on the dip of your waist.
"Look at that. Por Dios... Was this a surprise for him?"
Upon your silence he squeezed your nape a bit tighter and you yelped.
"Y-Yes!"
"Too fucking bad he doesn't deserves it, right preciosa?"
"Don't you dare to touch her!"
Miguel nearly cackled at his measly threats. He took a couch and placed it before him. The coolness in the room made your skin crawl, but when he kissed your neck, an involuntary gasp left your lips.
"How long has been since this man touched you?"
His hands roamed your body, fingertips grazed your silky covered nipples as his other hand ghosted over your velvet clad pussy.
Another tiny whimper as he sat down on the couch, you were placed ontop of him, your thighs stretched, making to meet the width of his well sculpted ones, clad in fine wool. Hot and moist tongue caressed the upper part of your earlobe.
"M-Months"
You gulped and his touches stopped.
"You steal, you cheat and are a con man, yet you refuse to touch your wife? And me thinking I was the monster here."
He sat you in one of his thighs and pinched the bridge of his nose, an annoyed and incredulous look on his face.
"Lucky for you I'm in a good mood right now. Vamos a arreglar eso." (Let's fix that)
His hand cupped your chin and pulled you in for a kiss. Upon feeling his tongue invading your mouth, you recoiled but this only enticed him to snake his tongue around yours, sucking it and savoring you. The oils in your skin tickled his nose, a sweet and delicious scent that he'd often gift to his most prominent conquers.
But the way you had so dotingly prepared yourself for the cheating of a man you had for a husband, stirred something within him. You groaned as you demanded for air.
A thin dribble of his saliva connecting your mouths as hot pants fanned on eachother's lips.
He kneeled behind you and rolled your silk and velvet panties down your hips and knees. He tossed them away and bent you over, earning a yelp from you as your face was inches away from your alarmed husband.
"Don't" He shook his head and whispered. It came out like a silent plea that you ignored as Miguel sunk his face between your thighs from behind with a groan. Tongue teasing your mound, caressing softly at your clit.
You trembled and clenched your jaw to avoid moaning too loud. Shame spurted over your face in the shape of a bright red flush and a heavy feeling on your stomach. Big tanned thumbs spreaded your cheeks, to push himself deeper. His tongue lapped and teased; learning your skin's taste and texture that felt wonderful on his tongue and taste buds.
Wet and sloshing slurps made you pant and choke a moan as his hands grabbed your hips, exhorting them to use his handsome face as a seat. His tongue dribbled up and down your shivering and soaked flesh.
You groaned.
"Oh my god!" You mewled as you rode his face softly, "I-I'm so sorry!"
You spoke in between breathless pants as Miguel just moved your hips faster. Your mouth went slack and your needy breath fanned over your husband.
"Cara mĂ­a?" He'd whisper with pleading eyes but you were too enraptured in your brewing bliss. By instinct your hips seeked the movements of his tongue, chasing that relief only his mouth seemed to provide.
Legs quivered as they stood in their tip toes that curled in everytime he toyed with your clit. The smoothenes of his ministrations and the unceasing wet slurps he gave in your flesh, inched you closer and closer to the dangerous precipice of corruption and pleasure.
Another man was devouring you with such hunger you didn't think possible, as your lawful husband was forced to watch as you came right before him. It made your knees weak.
Eyes drooped before they clamped shut and your mouth hissed through panting and erratic breaths a needy Yes!
The guards outside the closed door were unfazed at Miguel’s antics. But the smirk on their faces were full of pride. El Diablo, their boss was someone people often had the misfortune of underestimate, until they were no longer laughing and rather plea for mercy or death, whichever came first.
Your hands behind your back slowly tingled as numbness spreaded upwards your arms.
Miguel separated himself and wiped his chin off your delicious slick and pulled the couch closer, he unzipped his pants and spreaded your thighs above his once more. Your chest heaved as you nested against his torso, fire licking your skin at the contact. The pocket knife was brought to your skin as he locked eyes with a disturbed yet aroused Massimo.
The tip of the sharp blades ran down up your torso, leaving a faint pink trail on it's wake, your breath hitching at the sensation until it reached the elastic lower band of your bra that held the cups together.
You didn't expected the quality elastic to give in so easily under the sharpness of a frail looking knife. Your breast spilled from the velvety green confinements and Miguel groaned while he hissed in delight at the sight.
He slapped your husband's face with a serious scowl
"Watch and learn how to treat a woman, cabrĂłn."
Miguel fumbled with his pants and cotton briefs before releasing his aching and hard cock free. Bianchi adverted his eyes, embarrassed as defeat washed over him.
Miguel slapped the tip against your drenched folds, a cue for you to move your hips and smear more of your slick all over him before sinking in balls deep.
The intrusion felt delightful and painfully tight. Inner muscles clamped around him, making his head be thrown back, relishing not only at how hot and delicious you felt, but also at the feeling of your tightness trembling around him.
"Maldita sea preciosa, me estĂĄs matando". (Goddammit beautiful . You're killing me)
His hands hooked underneath the back of your knees, making you lean against him completely. Firm and cinnamon skin toned pecs supported your arching back.
Massimo couldn't help but peek under his disheveled hair and he nearly gasped at the sight. You were completely full and stretched at the size of his hefty cock. He could see your lower belly bulging a bit as his shaft rested within you. Bianchi was unable to look away, as emasculated as he felt.
A firm slap of his hips and it sent you curling your toes. Hips accommodated further in the single couch as his lips kissed your neck, canines grazing at your sensitive skin.
"So fucking tight f'me" He plunged you deeper, finally letting your walls meld to his size to then begin his slow thrusting. As much as he was dying to raw you silly, he had enough self control to be careful and not ruin you. That would come later.
It had been a long long time since he actually enjoyed having this kind of revenge. His eyes gave a quick glance to his beaten enemy and smirked in satisfaction when he noticed the bulge in between his imitation pants. Your hands fisted behind you, letting him to stretch you completely.
Your hips gave a soft rut, snapping his attention back to you, surprised you'd seek more of him.
His hands pushed your hips down onto him and your breast bounced. His eyes stalked yours, to assert his control, but you gave in so easily. Months of being untouched had made you a needy and sodden mess.
You were tired of your toys, and now that you had the real deal, it felt too good to let it slip. Things with your husband were surely done for anyways as fucked up as the situation was.
He'd probably be killed either way.
"Eyes on me, cariño" And just then, a sinful symphony of wet and merciless thrust fell upon you. Everytime he slid in made your pussy drool at his punishment. You cooed and stared at him with such a lovely and needy expression Miguel engraved in his mind.
Tears bit at the corner of your eyes as they drooped, taking your mind in this continuous trance of being torn between getting absolutely fucked out and coherent enough to give him a vocal reply like a moan or a praise and apologies to your voyeur.
"Cara mĂ­a, Don't do this to me" Bianchi shook his head in denial, but that only enticed Miguel to make it rougher.
Shy moans turned into shameless mewls and implorings that enticed him to ruin you at his contempt. The con man wished to cover his ears, but it was too delicious and forbidden to not indulge. Unavoidable too. Your pleas turned into lewd wailings and howlings. The tears and mascara long caked and dried on your cheeks.
Despite three years deep in marriage your husband would never care enough to leave you satisfied. It was everything about him, not really minding if you finished yourself by whatever means you found or thought right.
But this, this was pure torture. Sure, he didn't do anything to please you, but the thought of you being with another man always made him kick enough with the right amount of jealousy that would keep you satisfied for at least a couple of months while he kept ruining lives.
The slaps and Miguel's grunts turned desperate.
"Just like that! Yes!" You sobbed as his sac slapped against your clit, serving a good amount of punishment to your sensitive nub of nerves.
Your skin shook, breast bounced as you squirmed and twitched in absolute enjoyment.
"Like that, princesa?"
You nodded in between blown breaths, the pressure coiled tightly in the pit of your stomach. Menacing to snap at any second.
The sex and his Oud Wood by Tom Ford undertoned sweat made a puddle of your mind. Mouth gaped and shallow breaths came clenching through gritted teeth but he stopped just when you were about to greet God to release your hands from the back.
He pushed you on the floor on all your trembling fours, wool pants discarded completely, just as his CK briefs. Everything of him exuded with luxury. Even his rutting felt like an exotic meal you've tasted for the first time and you'd never go back to settle for anything less delicious and mind blowing than this.
But poor Massimo Bianchi was a reminder of your golden band that was wrapped around your ring finger.
Miguel's hand held tightly around the base of your neck, both hands melded at the size of your frail joint. both his feet planted on each side of you, caging you between his hips, and he sheathed once more in your already puffed and beaten pussy, making you yelp at the fullness and depth.
"Miguel!" You cried as your hands held on your husband's crossed legs. Your body lurched forward, meeting his cock in a merciless pace it had you bubbling like a total fool.
"I'm... Im sorry" A choked whimper, "Oh god, I'm so sorry Massi" Your mouth mumbled before Miguel squeezed your neck to keep you from apologizing to him, choking words in your gaping mouth.
He didn't deserve your regret, he deserved nothing. He wouldn't give him that much satisfaction.
"But it feels so good!"
You rasped and Miguel smiled darkly.
"Why don't you give him a farewell kiss, cariño?"
You shook your head and he frowned.
"No? Should I stop then?"
A whimper. Eyes twinkled in amusement as you reached for your husband and forced a kiss on him while El Diablo plowed remorselessly into you.
Bianchi could only whimper in pain as you bit his busted lip and kissed him, with a rough motion Miguel pulled you away from him. Your head far too gone into a place only he could reach. His panting and mumblings had turned borderline animalistic. He had praised you through it all and you were more than willing to comply.
Your body went taut, spent walls milked and creamed him as he cradled you against his torso. Body convulsed in bliss as he spilled his hot, sticky and big load inside your spasming walls. He laughed at your husband and at your dumb-bitch gone look.
He gave you a deep smooch before laying you on the couch. He slicked his hair back and caught his breath for a couple of minutes to then put on back his boxers. His eyes darted to an expectant Massimo.
Eyes wide. Still deciding between feeling horrified and happy for having such a twisted fantasy come true. A sick fuck through and through.
"I expect my payment within a month. More than enough time for you to collect what you owe me, Max."
Miguel purposely butchered his name as he threw his thousand dollars shirt you way.
"Put that on. We're taking a ride."
----
His men had escorted you back to his car. An armored black Bulletproof Lincoln Navigator SUV. House slippers was the only thing he had allowed you to get on your feet. The cold seemed to not affect his naked torso as he waltzed out your now wrecked home.
The cologne in his shirt stronger, as it covered your naked body from prying eyes.
"Get inside"
"N-No"
Miguel's nostrils flared in anger, despite the dazing and scrumptious raw fucking he put you through some moments ago, you knew he was a dangerous man.
"Why wouldn't you just-"
"-Ta madre, que entres al puto carro, mujer!" (Fucking shit, get into the fucking car, woman!)
His booming voice made you still with a frown. His temper switching surely made you confused. Tears welled up in your eyes, and seeing the sluggishness you took to get in, made him drag you inside himself, and sat beside you and sighed.
His sour mood was thanks to one of his men, Peter. He had the most awful timing to deliver news. One of his younger recruits had been shot. Not fatally shot, but surely would cost him a great chunk of money. Bribing judges to prevent him from sending him to prison, and medics through thirds would take some resources he was planning to use in another mission.
Miles G. Morales.
The name made his patience even shorter, and it didn't helped you were sniffling as your hands rubbed your ring despite the sore wrists.
After all he did to you you still thought about that cheating cuck?
No. He wouldn't allow it. Not when he has already found a perfect use for you.
As the ride begun he pulled up the middle window, blocking his sight from Ben as he drove. He made a couple of calls, you were recoiling away from him at every chance he tried to wipe your tears. Reject was something he was used to, that didn't mean it set right in his heart. And it showed as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock once more.
The calls ended and he tossed the phone back to the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out his gun to rest it on your temple.
Your eyes widened as he spoke.
"Clean it."
Fear clung to you as a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks. But your mouth beat you to voice your true desires.
"No."
His brow quirked and smiled darkly once more. He grabbed your hair and pulled you down on your knees before him. Legs still recovered from the previous cucking session, not that he cared anyways. The SUV cabin was spacious enough for him to pull the stunt.
"Funny you think you have a saying, cariño. Now be a good girl and clean my fucking cock. You made a mess out it."
The gun was pressed further, the click of his safety removal made you gulp.
Was this the life that you'd get from now on? It couldn't be. Part of your brain refused to acknowledge him as your owner, but the other part was terrified and intrigued to see how all of this would unfold for you. You won't make things easy for him as he was already making it a living hell for you.
You mouth begun to work him as he pulled another cigarette and blew the smoke in your direction.
The Devil seemed pleased. For now.
4K notes · View notes
confused-wanderer · 1 year
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As much as I love Dick and Damian’s relation, no way in HELL would Dick actually be that soft on him- like excusing his actions or favouring him over the rest of his siblings.
You wanna tell me Dick’ll immediately accept him and start showing him love. PLEASE. The man would take one look at the angry child craving revenge and immediately get flashbacks to his original days as Robin. He earns newfound respect for Bruce as he realises just how much of a chaotic gremlin he was.
But he can’t use empathy. Because while Dick was mad and wanted revenge for his parents, Damian doesn’t know any better and quite frankly even kills just to be petty. You can’t tell me Dick doesn’t pull out the logic stops and parallels Bruce training him.
The way he grills Damian harder, trains him to be faster and makes him spar knowing Damian would always lose. Because sure, it may not have always worked for Dick but it was perfect for humbling Damian.
When Dick finds out Damian tried killing Tim, you can’t tell me he won’t see red. He won’t allow another brother to die or get hurt, not on his watch. He’d give Damian a final line, a line he won’t hesitate to fire back with all he’s got if Damian crosses it. Dick would try to be empathetic, but not this far.
He’d divide his time, trying to figure out Damian and how to encourage him to choose his own path, while maintaining a strict code Damian has to follow to prevent him doing down the wrong one.
If Damian commits murder that is justified, or crimes that serve a greater good, he’ll dump Damian in Jason’s care to help him understand how grey areas work, but sometimes black and white does exist.
If Damian demands logical reasoning, Dick’ll escort him to Tim so the two can have an intellectual battle (if Tim agrees that is, but the chance to put the brat in his place is always too good for Tim to pass up)
Maybe Damian sees the warmth Dick has for his brothers, how they care for him in their own way and it helps him recognise how he can change too, in his own way.
All I’m saying- They may be close, but Dick wouldn’t have blatant favouritism, nor would he try and exclude his brothers or brush them off in favour of Damian. Dick knows how to be a team player, and utilise his team to complete missions too. Damian needed balance in all areas, and Dick knows he can’t do it alone.
Dick would help Damian, pay more attention to listen to his arguments to the others as Damian doesn’t have much of a reliable data to cross reference or emotional triggers or morals that Dick knows about, so he can’t “know” the person- therefore all his advice will be taken with a grain of salt.
But it does not make him excuse Damian actions, instead he’d be strict Batman style parent who won’t hesitate to take his brothers’ side over Damian if he’s wrong, and will strike back if he crosses certain lines.
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agirlsguidetolove · 7 months
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OBSESSED
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pairings: draco malfoy x fem!gryffindor!reader, platonic!golden trio x reader.
word count: .9k
summary: Draco Malfoy was your least favorite person in the world, and you thought the feeling was mutual. What happens when you realize he’s actually obsessed with you?
part 1
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Hogsmeade was your all time favorite place, especially in winter. Dressed in your favorite patterned scarf, big black jacket, long tights, and black boots, you felt warm and cozy. You and Hermione have your arms draped around each other’s shoulders as the two of you exit the Three Broomsticks, the taste of Butterbeer still on your tongue.
The two of you giggle at who knows what, stumbling from how hard you’re laughing. The slight falling of snowflakes doesn’t effect your mood, you watch as one lands on your nose as you and Hermione come down from your fit of giggles, choosing to focus on what you guys came here for; Christmas shopping for the boys.
Harry and Ron were a pain in your arse, but that didn’t mean they two weren’t simple. They wanted quidditch gear for when the season starts up again in spring. Easy as pie for you and your seemingly infinite money.
You and Hermione’s feet leave footprints in the snow, it crunching beneath your boots as you walk to Spintwitches Quidditch Supplies. Your smile seems untouchable as you walk with a pep in your step, staring down at your shoes. When you look up your smile falters, a frown threatening your lips at the sight of him.
White blond hair, a tight hoodie and a jacket thrown over that. Malfoy stands with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott on either of his sides. He leans against the wall of Honeydukes that leads you down into an alley. He nods along to whatever Nott was saying, clearly not paying attention. His eyes drift from his friends to yours.
Draco Malfoy is, simply put, your least favorite person in the entire world. There are no words to describe the absolutely anger the boy causes you. His arrogance and disrespect towards you and your friends is a mood sourer, and he was ruining your amazing day with just one look at you. His effect on you was irritating, and you could feel your own heart race and hear your breathe hitch when his blue eyes met yours. Fuck.
Your warm eyes turn cold in an instant as you watch Malfoy smirk. He reaches a hand up to ruffle his already messy hair as he starts to walk over to you and Hermione.
Too busy glaring at Malfoy as he saunters over, you miss the knowing look Nott and Zabini share with Hermione.
“Just ignore him,” Hermione urges. You give her a look, a pout plastered on your lips. She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.
Easier said then done.
“Well, well,” Malfoy taunts. He’s grinning over at you, hands tucked into his pockets as he tilts his head at you, not even bothering to glance at Hermione. “Look who escaped the clutches of her boyfriend,” he spit, the words directed toward Harry, even though he wasn’t your boyfriend. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
Your eye roll is immediate. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Malfoy?” you sneer, before sarcastically saying, “Surely a man like yourself has much better matters to attend to then bothering some Gryffindors.”
Malfoy’s smirk deepens as his eyes flicker down your body for a moment. “Don’t cut yourself short. I prefer it here.”
“Can’t we go, Y/N. Please.” Hermione tugs on your arm, already dragging you up the hill, away from the boy who seemed to never be capable of staying away from you.
“Yes, please,” you groaned, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes as you linked yours and Hermione’s arm together.
You can hear Malfoy’s footsteps behind you as he hurries to catch up to you, desperate for whatever he gains from annoying you. “Running away so soon? I knew you were a coward,” he exclaims.
That makes you pause, turning around, eyebrows scrunched in aggravation. “Excuse me?” you scoff, releasing Hermione’s hand and rushing to where the boy stood. “I’ll punch you in the face just like I did third year, don’t doubt that.”
His eyes sparkle as he looks down at you, your threat bouncing off of him. “Believe me, I don’t doubt you. Never have.”
What in the bloody hell was he on about?
”Mate,” Nott called from behind him, deep voiced annoyed with his friend. He raises his brows at Malfoy. “Let’s go.”
He shrugs at his friends, sticking his hands into his pocket. He smirks at you, tongue coming to press into his cheeks. His cheeks are red from the cold (or, maybe, from his raging crush on you).
“I’ll see you around, L/N.”
“Screw you, Malfoy,” you sneer, hair whipping as you trudge up the hill to meet Hermione where she stands, looking at the pair of you with an unimpressed expression.
When you make it to her, you link your arms together again. You smile at her. “Shall we?”
Hermione rolls her eyes, but nods.
When the two of you begin to walking, you stick your tongue out over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Malfoy still standing where he last stood, watching you.
Draco doesn’t bother trying to hide his smile.
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not proofread đŸ„°
xx, loveyđŸ«€
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elizabethemerald · 10 months
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Don't Sneak up on People with Swords
@im-totally-not-an-alien-2 made a prompt about Danny sneaking up on Jason Todd and @sky00asara made a comment in the tags about what would happen if Danny did that to Talia. So here is my version of that! Enjoy.
Talia al Ghul watched her beloved from afar. He was out, again patrolling his city for those he considered wrong doers. Her son was by his side. She scowled at how Damian’s fighting style had changed, softened in the company of her beloved. Despite her love for the man under the cowl, he had a tremendous ability to take even the most ruthless of killers and change them to spare the undeserving. He had even tried it with her. 
She was hidden on the roof of an abandoned tower nearby. The tower had succumbed to fire and was now condemned until the city got around to destroying it properly. For now it made the perfect place for her to observe her beloved and her son work undisturbed. 
“Excuse me?” 
Talia whirled, drawing her blade as she spun. Her blade moved fast enough to almost cut the air itself yet the small shape ducked under her stroke and back-pedaled quickly to move out her range. 
“Jeez! Why is everyone in this city so jumpy!” 
The voice more than anything made her realize that the person who had somehow snuck close enough was an actual child. Their black hair and blue eyes made her wonder if this was another of her beloved’s adoptees. Except surely this boy was too young to catch Bruce’s eye? 
“Well maybe you should not sneak up on people?” Talia hissed, her voice soft yet stern. To say nothing of how a child who couldn’t be older than five had snuck up on her at all. 
“Well maybe you shouldn’t brood on the roof of my home!” The child snarked back, just like one of the Bat’s brood would, completely unafraid of the blade still in her hand. Talia raised an eyebrow at him then looked around at the burnt skeleton of the building they were standing on. 
“This building is not fit for human occupation.”
“Neither was the last place I lived.” He said dismissively. “This place hasn’t even killed me yet, so it’s practically a paradise.” 
She was tempted to take the child’s words as sarcasm, yet something in the way he spoke made her think he meant it more truthfully. 
“You’ve died before?” Talia asked. She relaxed her hold on her blade, allowing it to rest at her side. 
“Oh yeah, I die all the time.” He said, then he looked at her curiously tilting his head first one way, then another. “You’ve died too, huh?” 
She nodded, now examining him closely, looking for the signs she would recognize. She could see the hint of a scar on the boy’s palm that might have caused a death. 
“What is it with this town that so many people have died and come back?” The boy asked, apparently rhetorically as he didn’t let her answer. “First the stabby Robin, then the stabby Batgirl, then Batman, and even Red Hood. It’s like everyone I run into is contaminated.” 
Talia’s eyes widened. 
“You can sense those who have utilized the Lazarus Pits?” She would have to inform her father about this child. He could put the entire League of Assassins at risk. The child before her just shrugged. 
“I have no idea what that is. Red Hood mentioned some kind of pit as well, but I’ve never seen anything like that. I just know y’all are contaminated with ectoplasm, though not enough to make a core.” 
“What is this
 ectoplasm?” Another name for the Lazarus Waters? Had there perhaps been a Pit outside of League control? In the midwest somewhere based on the boy’s accent. 
“Oh it’s this stuff.” He held his hand out and Talia couldn’t help keep her expression of shock withdrawn despite all her training as his hand filled with the glowing green light of the Pits. He held the Pit Water in his hand then tossed the glowing orb to his other hand in a half juggle as if he weren’t carrying the League's greatest secret and weapon. 
Nevermind telling her father about this child, he could never learn of him. If Ras had the power this child had under his control the world would never survive. There was only one option. She needed to train this child to wield this strength. With the stealth he displayed in sneaking up on her and his power over the Pits themselves he could make an assassin like the world had never seen. He could be the next Head of the Demon under her guidance. She knelt down to the boy’s level, slipping her sword back away as she did so. 
“Tell me, young one. Are you living in this death trap of a building all by yourself?” 
“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ve got it taken care of. I know I’m little, but that just means people are less likely to notice me. I’m able to steal all the food I need from that big box store down the street.” 
“Oh of that I have no doubt. My name is Talia al Ghul. What’s yours?” 
“Hmm. I’m Danny.” The boy seemed hesitant to trust her, which to be perfectly honest was probably a very smart thing to do, but at least she had a name for this gift of Lazarus. 
“Danny, how would you like to come live with me? You won’t have to steal any more, or worry about food ever again, and I could train you how to fight even better than the Bats.” 
He narrowed his eyes at her, looking her over closely. 
“Would I get a sword?” 
“If a sword is what you want, then once you were trained in its use I would acquire one for you.”
Danny looked like he was about to nod, but then he froze, his head tilting to the side as if he was listening to something. His eyes widened and Talia tensed. 
“Uh-oh. Fruit Loop incoming. I gotta go.” 
Talia half turned as she heard the sound of one of her beloved’s grappling lines catching on the building’s edge. By the time she had turned back to face him, Danny had completely vanished. She hadn’t even heard him leave. She stood and scowled as her beloved landed on the rooftop next to her. 
“Talia.” He grunted at her, glaring all the while. 
“Beloved. Must you ruin every nice thing in my life?” Talia snarled back. The boy, Danny, had the gift of Lazarus at his beck and call and Batman had scared him off. 
Bruce looked momentarily stunned at her fury, but quickly hid it behind his mask. However Talia couldn’t care less about her beloved right now. She just needed to lose him so she could return to find the boy. The boy who would change the world with his power. 
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hearts4chris · 26 days
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REQUESTTT
right so fluff beginning, y/n and matt are getting ready for a party or smth, matt is ready before her so he sits admiring his gf while she does her makeup, she smudges lipstick on her bottom lip and he comes and wipes it off and yeh.. they go to the party long story short matt is turned on while she’s dancing takes her upstairs and SMUT
look so pretty
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MATT STURNIOLO x F!READER
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
a/n: the things I’d do for these fics to be real
. 😗 someone please feed my delusions
summary: Matt and Y/n have quite the time in some randoms bed đŸ«ą
warnings: SMUT!!! p in v, no protection, slight breeding kink(ofc the best), praise as always, fluffy beginning, not proofread, some swearing, mentions of drinking and stuff, party
word count: 1,696
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You had just put on a new tight black dress you had just bought, that showed your curves perfectly. And showed off your plump ass. You knew it would lead to a very funn night with your boyfriend, and that’s exactly what you wanted.
“You almost ready?” you heard and snapped your head to the door beside you as you felt a new presence, your boyfriend Matt leaning against it. A smile corrupted your face, “mhm, just a minute babe” you said as you were finishing up your makeup.
Matt admired the way you looked. The way your eyelashes were perfectly curled and tinted with the black mascara you had been applying, the way your eyeliner was perfectly symmetrical and added pretty details to your eyes. The fact you didn’t even have to do much to look so perfect. You were stunning in his eyes, absolutely gorgeous. And you didn’t even need makeup to prove that.
He watched as you applied some of your favorite lipstick on, accidentally smudging it. He moved closer to you, salivating his thumb the slightest, and wiping off the smudged lipstick. Grinning like a fool once he did. You chuckled at his state, cleaning up any excess makeup.
“Okay, I’m ready” you smiled as you grabbed your small pouch. “Finally, took you long enough.” He said as he began to make his way to the kitchen, letting both Chris and nick know you could all make your exit now.
.
You all entered the party and were immediately met with familiar faces greeting you, being that this was an influencer party. You looked around for your friend, knowing she’d be here, wanting to dance with her since you hadn’t seen her in so long. Matt stayed behind, still keeping an eye on you as he talked with his own friends and brothers.
You saw your friend from the corner of your eye and quickly made your way towards her. “Hey girl” you said as you pulled her into a side hug as she was still in a conversation with someone else. Her attention quickly turnt to you as you gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Heyyy” she smiled “haven’t seen you in forever” continuing, “I know it’s been so long, life’s been hectic.” “Mhm, we need to make plans soon.” Your conversation went on as the other person excused themselves, something about ‘needing another drink.’
“Let’s dance, yeah?” You asked “Omg yesss” she replied as your guys favorite song came on. She quickly pulled you towards the dance floor and you followed.
The beat of the song was casual, so you two were dancing but still keeping conversation as the night went on.
Matt saw that you were now with her so he focused on his conversation but still here and there found his eyes back on you.
Matt eyed you as you started to grind back on your friend in a slow and sensual way as the song switched to something much more sexual. He gripped his cup firmly and brought it back up to his lips, “Matt did you hear what I just said?” Nick asked. “Huh, what happened?” “Me and Chris are gonna go catch up with more friends. You coming?” Nick continued as Matt nodded his head no. “Okay, text us or come get us when you’re ready or if anything.”
He leaned back with his legs manspread on the couch. He felt himself get turned on from the way your hips swayed and the black dress riding up your legs ever so slightly. He couldn’t help but have the most sexual thoughts on what he could do to you right now, causing him to get harder than he anticipated.
Your friend quickly ditched you for a guy who was clearly looking for a hookup, you weren’t bothered by it since you knew she needed it. But you still didn’t wanna be left alone. Huffing, you went on with your dancing.
Matt decided enough was enough. He couldn’t let himself suffer from this any longer, growing harder by the minute and the pain from it only increasing.
“come with me” he stated as he dragged your arm, leading you up the stairs into some random room.
“what a tease, hm?” he said, pushing you back against the door. your brows furrowed in confusion, “what do you mean” you whispered lowly, almost seductively. you might’ve not noticed the effect on him but you surely wanted the exact same as him.
staring into his lust filled gaze, being only a few inches apart you felt his breath as he whispered into your ear the things he’d do to you. his words going straight to your panties, you were sure you were soaked by now.
you grabbed his hair and pulled him into a kiss with one of your hands, the other sliding back and locking the door.
he pulled you towards the bed, sitting at the end and placing your legs on each side of him, straddling him. slowly moving his hands up your legs, he started to pull up your dress. a little startled at his action, you pulled back.
“little needy aren’t you?” you chuckled. “how could I not be with you in this tiny little dress” he replied and smacked your ass. you jolted forwards, causing your tits to bounce.
you steadied yourself on his shoulders and started to suck on his soft skin, causing small whimpers to echo the room.
“such a fucking tease” he whispered into your ear, his words traveling straight to your core. he quickly took the rest of your dress off, leaving you in a matching black lacy set.
peeling your bra off, he slowly but surely got to work on your sensitive nipples, sucking one and caressing the other, sure to not leave one out. the pleasure he was causing you from just that was embarrassing to say the least.
deciding enough was enough, he peeled off your panties.
“wow princess, you’re soaked. I don’t even have to prep you” he whispered into your chest as he dipped his fingers into your pooling cunt. your back arched as he did so, your core aching for more.
pulling back slightly, he started to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans while you sat with your elbows propped, waiting for him.
sitting up a little bit more, you helped him pick up the pace to get his clothes off.
“desperate, are we?”
you rolled your eyes and carried on, pulling his jeans off and quickly pulling him on top of you.
laughing at your neediness, he started to move his length over your bud, lubing himself with your wetness.
aligning himself, he started to push inside of you slowly. no matter how many times you’ve had sex with this man, the stretch was always jaw dropping.
you pulled him closer, already attacking his back with your nails.
he entered all the way, balls deep. even with no movements this man was causing immense pleasure. but he would cause even more with the pace he was about to enter.
pulling out, he slammed back in. making your tits jump. Mesmerized by the sight, he returned his work on them.
the pace he was going at barely even gave you a second to breathe, the moans leaving your mouth only milliseconds apart.
he wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you closer, making you guys chest to chest as he pounded into you.
“so fucking pretty when you’re wrapping around my cock like this” he rasps. all you could do was scream his name incoherently. if there wasn’t blasting music, you were sure the whole neighborhood would be able to hear you. his words in itself were enough to have you over the edge.
as he plunged himself deeper into you, you felt yourself grow close. the constant slaps of your skin against skin echoing the room along with the loud groans, moans, whimpers, and screams leaving your mouth as Matt continues to whisper dirty things into your ear.
“gonna let go for me? can feel you clenching on me like crazy.”
all you did was moan
“look so pretty baby” matt breathed. your current state right now was beautiful. the sweat trickling your forehead, as your tits jiggled each and every time he thrusted back up into you. your eyes squeezed shut tightly as your mouth held agape, the moans escaping each time he hit your g spot. your makeup that was once intact now smudged from all this action.
“I’m getting close sweetheart, gonna let me cum in you?” you immediately nodded rapidly, causing a chuckle to escape his throat. “want me to breed you? to fill you with my children? plant my seed right in here baby” he finished his sentence, reaching down to touch his bulge in your stomach as you watched him do so.
“fuck Matt, please. please breed me.” you said, barely even forming the words.
with those words he went at a faster rate, if even possible. the pace was inhuman, absolutely jaw dropping. toe curling.
your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you finally snapped in half, your orgasm rushing over you as you squeezed tightly onto his shaft.
all your clenching only fueled Matt more, causing him to drill into you even harder, slamming into your cervix. the sounds of his balls slapping against you and the sounds leaving your mouth from the overstimulation only being music to his ears.
his pace faltered, and he sloppily rammed into you, feeling his own orgasm overcome him.
.
you both fell back on the bed, filled with pure bliss. your liquids soaking the sheets.
trying to regain your breathing patterns, you say in silence. until you heard banging on the door
“HEY, WHO THE FUCK IS IN HERE!? YOU GUYS BETTER NOT HAVE HAD SEX IN MY BED.”
you and matt both looked at each other in shock, bursting into a fit of laughter.
even though you two had basically been caught, no escape, this night was one to remember.
suffice to say, you will be wearing that black dress more often.
- - -
a/n: kind of rushed this, so I’m sorry if it’s bad guys 😔
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emchant3d · 8 months
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part 2 of the steddie fight steve whump - now with as-promised eddie whump 💕 part 1 here
Eddie isn’t a good man.
Steve thinks he is, Eddie knows. He says it all the time. Eddie thinks that good men don’t need to be announced as good men, that their goodness is obvious enough without anyone pointing it out, but he doesn’t want to argue about it with Steve. He hates when Eddie doesn’t see himself like Steve sees him, so he just does his best to be the person Steve thinks he is.
He did a spectacularly shitty job of that today.
He took it too far. Cut too deep. Knew it the second the words came out of his mouth, didn’t even need to see the color drain from Steve’s face as the blow landed, but he was treated to the sight anyway. He watched the angry flush fade into a sickly pale pallor as those long pretty lashes fluttered and that plush mouth parted in surprise, in shock, before Steve’s jaw had snapped shut so hard his teeth clacked.
And then it was gone. As quickly as the hurt had been written all over Steve’s face, it disappeared in the blink of an eye, and Eddie hates when he does that, when he hides how he feels and refuses to share his hurt and sadness with Eddie, but can he blame him for concealing it? Can he demand to be shown it when he’s the one who put that expression on Steve’s face in the first place?
And the worst of it is - he’d felt a sick kind of satisfaction at the sight. And he hates himself for it now, with hindsight and self-awareness, feels disgusting for the way he’d reveled in the sense of victory he’d felt. He’d won. He’d hurt Steve and he’d won the argument by doing so, at least that round of it, had stopped their back and forth with one sentence, and he’d seen him fold in on himself and go ice-cold in a way Steve hasn’t been with him in a long, long time, maybe ever, not since they started this whole thing between them.
He’d taken the win while he had it, heard Steve say something about the guest room and rolled his eyes, Steve can be so dramatic when they fight. He’d turned tail and done the worst thing he could have fucking done, can’t even claim hindsight for this one because he’d known even as he was doing it that leaving then, when he’d been asked what he’d been asked and answered like he’d answered - he’d known it was cruel. Known it was salt in the wound, and he’d ground it in with a perverse satisfaction, slammed the door behind him and everything.
He took a couple walks around the block, chain-smoked half a pack of cigarettes, debated going to Gareth’s to rant and ramble and try to get somebody on his side even though he knows Gareth likes Steve more than he likes Eddie some days - his boy is too charismatic for his own good, won over all of Eddie’s friends with the slightest bit of effort.
He sat on the fucking curb and lost track of time quick, watched the darkening sky deepen until it was black and the streets were barren and his hands were frozen, until he’d thought himself into and out of every scenario possible, until all that was left to do was admit to himself how badly he fucked up.
Anger kept the guilt from setting in immediately, because he’d been so angry, so furious with Steve for - for–
He can’t even pick out what in particular pissed him off so much, and isn’t that rich? Because deep down, he wasn’t angry. Not really.
He was terrified.
Eddie’s been distant lately, he knows. He’s been taking more gigs and staying out later after them, he’s been working more shifts, he’s been hanging out with the band and saying he has ‘practice’ when really they’re just sitting around getting high and wasting time. Sometimes he doesn’t even give an excuse, just turns up late and acts like he can’t see the mix of worry-anger-hurt painted all over Steve’s face, he just wraps him up in his arms and covers his face with kisses and acts like they’re fine, like there’s not a tightness squeezing his heart so hard he’s afraid it’ll stop beating altogether.
He’s been pushing it too much. Disappearing too often. But he just doesn’t know how to explain it - the fear that settles bone-deep in him when he thinks about how happy he is for too long. If there’s one thing Eddie’s life has taught him, it’s that happiness and safety - all that shit is temporary. He’ll lose it eventually. It’ll get damaged somehow, he’ll piss someone off or do something wrong, he’ll break the delicate balance that’s afforded him a safety net and that net will disappear, and he’ll be left in a free-fall and forced to pick up his own shattered pieces when he lands, alone and hurt and starting all over yet again.
He’s so, so tired of starting over. 
So he’s been trying to
delay the inevitable, maybe. If he’s not around, Steve can’t be tired of him, right? And that’s not fair to Steve either, but Eddie’s selfish at the best and worst of times and he’s been prioritizing getting himself through this, has switched to survival mode so thoroughly that he’s not been able to recognize the only threat he’s trying to protect himself from is him.
Self-sabotage is a habit that’s deeply ingrained in Eddie. It’s the only thing he knows sometimes, the defense mechanism that feels like coming home, but when you grew up in a home like he did, sometimes familiarity isn’t safe, not like it should be.
It blinds him to everything and everyone, makes it so he doesn’t recognize he’s even doing it until it’s too late. Until he’s pushing everyone away and hurting the people he loves, until the person he loves most in the world is standing in front of him and yelling in their living room asking if Eddie wants to be here with him.
And that’s another thing, isn’t it? Of course Eddie wants to be with Steve. Of course he wants the comfort that comes with loving someone and being loved, but he can’t deny that that’s terrifying in its own right - that the idea of being tethered to something freaks him the fuck out. And he knows, he knows that’s part of the whole avoidance thing too - his heart searching for freedom where it can find it, loving Steve but being terrified of Steve at the same time, of what he means, of that string that keeps them together always, no matter what.
Usually the thought of that is wonderful and welcome and fantastic. Sometimes it’s something he absolutely cannot think about. And that leads him right back here, not fucking thinking and leaving Steve alone and acting like he’s done nothing wrong when he knows damn well he’s the fucking problem here.
Steve was yelling because Eddie hadn’t considered him. Eddie hadn’t thought of Steve, or his life with Steve, and Steve was angry about it. And he had every right to be. But all Eddie could see, could feel, had been a noose around his neck, a tie to something - to someone that felt like it was taking control.
Eddie had panicked, and he did what he does best - he ran.
Scorched earth, feet to the ground, bolted away from the issue the best he knew how, let himself sit in that self-appointed righteousness of finding an escape except he’d run from the one thing, the one person, he’d promised never to run from.
This is the downside of loving someone you know inside and out. This is the result of baring his soul to Steve and having Steve bare his back - he’s seen the delicate, vulnerable bits of that man and knows exactly where to strike.
Regret eats at him. How could he say that to Steve? How could he do this to Steve? Eddie knows his temper is mercurial at the best of times, knows his moods can change with the weather, but there’s no excuse for allowing them and his fear to take over like they had. It’s something he has to work on, he’s known it for a while, but this is the final nail in the coffin.
He’d thought he was past the worst of this, of his anxiety eating him alive and taking things from him, thought interdimensional monsters and almost dying and falling in love in the aftermath of it all meant that the mundane normal life shit would be easy, but the universe does so love to prove Eddie Munson wrong.
There’s nothing in the world worth losing Steve over. And sure, Eddie can be a coward, has cowardice in his goddamn blood some days, but if there’s anything worth being brave over, it’s the man waiting for him at home right now.
This is fixable, he tells himself. He’ll apologize. He’ll grovel and make it up to Steve and he’ll be glued to his goddamn side for the rest of their fucking lives if that’s what it takes. Anything to show him that Eddie didn’t mean it.
He wanders his way home with his metaphorical tail between his legs, hoping that he’s right - because Steve would be well within his rights to be tired of his shit by now. Steve would be more than justified in calling it quits over this - because it isn’t just one fight. This one fight was a culmination of issues and he sealed the deal with a fucking calculated attack and he has no idea what he’s about to come home to, not really, he’s just hoping that home still feels like home when he walks in the door, and he only needs Steve for that.
He doesn’t know what time it is when he makes it in. Just knows that the apartment is dark and shadowy and the only light in the place is in the hall, so he doesn’t call out to Steve. 
For a moment he’s terrified that maybe Steve isn’t here, maybe he left, but he knows that’s his modus operandi, not Steve’s, and besides, the guest room door is closed. He remembers what Steve had said, stone-faced and monotone, ‘I’m staying in the guest room tonight,’ and Eddie hates that Steve isn’t in their bed, but at least he’s here. Hopefully he’s asleep - and he feels like a piece of shit for hoping for it because he knows he just wants to avoid this conversation, even if Steve getting some rest would be a good thing. His baby doesn’t sleep too well. Neither of them do.
He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up by the door, forgets to take his shoes off like always and desperately, desperately hopes that Steve will still be willing to bitch at him for it in the morning.
His heart is a stone that’s sunk down to his stomach. He doesn’t have words, had tried to craft something pretty to say on the walk home, but his theatrics won’t help him now and his sincerity is drowning in his guilt and he doesn’t know how to fix this. How does he apologize for this? Not just the fight today, but all of it? He’s got nothing but he knows he can’t let this sit like this, can’t stand it, can’t leave the two of them in this limbo and abandon Steve to whatever awful thoughts are swimming around in that pretty head.
He knows Steve. He knows his fears, his insecurities. He knows he hit them all like a fucking bullseye with a single sentence and the rest of his actions would have taken him down the rest of the way.
He left. He’s spent so long promising Steve that’s the one thing he would never do, that he’s a runner but never from Steve, and yet he’s slinking his way through their apartment after doing exactly that, hesitant and quiet as he can be but he’s terrible at being quiet, and he winces at the volume of the thunk that sounds when he pauses in front of the guest room and leans on the closed door.
He can’t hear Steve through it, but that doesn’t mean much - he could be lying awake, hoping Eddie just continues his path down the hall, hoping to be left alone and spared the groveling that Eddie knows he has to do. Could be that Steve doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want to deal with him, just wants some peace after all the shouting they’d done earlier. Eddie wouldn’t begrudge him that.
But a bigger part of him, a worried part of him, knows that it’s unlikely.
No, the bigger part of him, the bit of him that’s tied to Steve Harrington’s heart, knows with almost certainty that Steve is lying on that unfamiliar bed wide awake. He knows he’s hurting, knows he’s upset, knows he wishes that Eddie would just come in and fix things. 
He presses his forehead to the door like he can transfer his thoughts through osmosis - he thinks it’s osmosis, he isn’t sure, science was the least strong of his not-strong suits, okay - and have Steve just know everything he wants to tell him, and then he shuffles the rest of the way down the hall to buy himself some time.
He changes into pajamas as he goes over everything he wants to say, trying to work it into something coherent and level-headed, but at this point he’s debating just falling to his knees and begging Steve to not leave him, which, well - he’s had worse ideas.
He doesn’t want to lose Steve. But he knows he might. Has to accept that as a possibility. Has to face that and resist the urge to deny it, to own that he’s royally fucked up and might lose the most important person in the world to him, even if the very idea makes him want to rip his heart out of his goddamn chest.
Call him dramatic. It doesn’t make it less true.
He pads his way back down the hall, the familiar orange glow from the dimmed light less a comfort and more like he’s walking down to a fucking gate to hell, and comes to a stop outside the guest room. He takes a breath, braces himself, and then raises a hand, knocking gently.
“Baby? You in there Stevie?” he asks, and he doesn’t get an answer, but when he quietly opens the door he catches the motion of Steve ducking his head down. He’s awake, then. Pretending not to be, but that’s okay - Eddie can work around that. 
He can’t make out anything but the rough shape of Steve in the bed - his own body in the doorway is blocking most of the light trying to illuminate the dark room. He knows the shape of that lump on a mattress, and he walks closer, almost reaching out - but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if he touched Steve and he flinched, or if he pulled away from his reach. So he pulls his hand back, and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, and takes a deep breath, letting the silence sit between them.
And Eddie’s a goddamn coward, can’t even look at his baby, keeps his back to him in the dimness of the room so he doesn’t have to see the anger and the hurt as he tries to apologize for a hurt that he never should have caused. And he can’t see him, but he can hear him - he can hear the little hitches in his breath, the stutters of it, the soft trembles that Steve is trying to keep steady, and each one is like a stab to the fucking heart, and he really cannot fucking take this anymore, so–
“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve goes silent behind him. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” He wishes Steve would yell. He wishes his baby would get all his anger and his frustration out and they could move on, he wishes Steve would get so fucking mad and lash out because Eddie deserves it– and he tries to stop that train of thought before it gets too off track because that’s mean, Steve isn’t like that to him and it’s not fair to expect it from him. Even if it would make things easier if he could just hope for an easy way out.
He takes a breath, and starts where he thinks is best, the only starting point he can really think of.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” Steve says, sharp voice a little rough, but it’s strong and it’s steady and something in Eddie relaxes a bit. Steve’s still mad. Eddie can work with mad.
“So you are awake,” he tries to joke, and it lands about as well as he thought it would.
“Yeah,” is what he gets back, and he lifts his head, tries to pick out the vague pattern of the popcorn ceiling above them in the dark. He can feel eyes on him, knows Steve’s staring him down.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and Steve makes a soft, gutted sound from behind him. “What I said - what I did–” he shakes his head. “It wasn’t right. I should have never–”
“If you’re going to break up with me will you just get it over with?” Steve interrupts, snappy and frosty but his voice cracks something fierce, and hold on, what.
“Hold on, what?” he says aloud, like a dumbass, but sue him, he doesn’t know how else to express the utter confusion taking him over right now.
Steve scoffs at him, and there’s a shuffle behind him but Eddie’s moving too, finally turning and - oh.
Oh, no. Steve pushes himself to sit up and Eddie takes him in, his reddened puffy eyes and the tense set of his jaw, clenched so it doesn’t shake.
“I don’t need you to apologize for breaking up with me,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest, defensive, shoulders up to his ears, weight shifted back like he’s two seconds from lurching away from Eddie to wedge himself in the corner like that’ll keep him safe. And it’s so odd - it’s so wrong - to see Steve, the fighter, the one who punches first, so defensive, but he supposes it makes sense when the enemy is Eddie, and god, doesn’t that just feel like a kick in the fucking teeth. “If you don’t wanna fucking be with me anymore I get it, okay, I don’t need the spiel, I don’t need the whole it’s not you it’s me thing, just - just do it and get it over with and I can - I can move out, I’ll get out of the way and I’ll leave you alone and–”
“Shut up,” Eddie says sharply, and then cringes at himself because come on Munson, a little gentleness would be good right now, but he’s off-kilter in a way he didn’t expect. Steve flinches a little, but he stands his ground, eyes wide as he keeps them on Eddie. “Shut up, I am not - you thought I was breaking up with you?” 
Steve flails his arms a little, tossing them up. “Well - you - I mean–” he stutters, “why the fuck else are you here!”
“To apologize!” Steve freezes and stares at him like he didn’t know that option was even on the table. “Baby,” Eddie says, achingly soft, and he doesn’t stop himself from reaching this time, catching hold of Steve’s arm and pulling him close as he closes the distance between them both.
They’re on their knees on the mattress, crowded into each other’s space, and Steve won’t look him in the eye. “Steve,” he tries, but he just gets a minute shake of his head for his efforts. Steve isn’t touching him, fingers curling into tight fists in the space between them like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching out, but he isn’t pulling away from Eddie’s touch either so he keeps going. He skates his fingertips in a soft touch down Steve’s bicep, over his elbow, brushing along his forearm and feeling goosebumps pop up. 
He takes hold of Steve’s hand, rubs the back of it with his thumb, watches Steve’s gaze dart to where they’re touching as Eddie maps out the familiar pattern of Steve’s moles. Freckled even here, on these warm hands Eddie loves so much, these hands that are shaking faintly in Eddie’s gentle grip.
“You don’t gotta look at me,” he says softly, and he squeezes Steve’s hand tighter, “but please - please, angel, just listen to me, okay?” Steve’s breath hitches again, but he nods, and Eddie will take what he can get as he clasps Steve’s trembling hand between both of his own.
“Steve, I’m sorry,” he says, watching what he can see of Steve’s face, orange light slicing over his features from the doorway. Those eyes he loves are fixed on their hands and he can’t tell if he’s watching in fear or hope or both. “What I said
I didn’t mean it, okay?” And it sounds hollow to his own ears, so he tries again. “I just - I wanted to hurt you, and
” 
Steve gives a bitchy little eye roll and Eddie’s heart skips a beat, staring at his pretty, tear-stained face and clinging to that small glimpse of normalcy. “Well mission accomplished, I guess,” Steve says, bitter and sad, and Eddie groans softly.
“I know. I know, I’m sorry. Baby, I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t
I tried the whole time I was out to think of the right words to say but I just - I dunno how to explain it,” he says, frustrated with himself, and he feels the smallest little squeeze to his hand.
“Try,” Steve says, quiet, “...please,” and his voice cracks again and it feels like a fucking knife in Eddie’s stomach.
“I was scared,” he blurts out, and finally, finally Steve looks at him.
“...What?” His brows furrow, his mouth turns down, “scared of what?” “Of you,” he says, and that’s not quite right, and Steve’s face falls even more, looking nauseous.
“I’m sorry,” Steve croaks, and he tries to pull his hand away but Eddie just grips it tighter, “I’m sorry, Eddie, I shouldn’t have yelled like that or gotten mad and - and I would never hurt you, Eds–”
“Nonono, baby,” Eddie scrambles to interrupt, shaking his head so hard his hair flies around a little, “no, that’s not - I wasn’t scared of you like that.” He raises a hand, grabbing hold of Steve’s face, keeping their eyes on one another while he has the chance, “I meant - I was–” he makes a little frustrated sound, “...I was scared that I’d lose you,” he says, and God, fuck, thank God Steve is who he is and he knows Eddie how he knows him, because understanding starts to bloom in those bloodshot eyes.
“...And so you lashed out,” he whispers, and Eddie nods again.
“And so I lashed out.” Guilt paints his words. “And I’ve been avoiding you. Avoiding home. Staying away because - because if I’m not around then you can’t get annoyed, or tired of me, right? And that’s so fucking stupid, okay, I know it is, I’m a fucking idiot, really, biggest moron in the world, and a goddamn coward–”
“Hey,” Steve says sharply, and Eddie’s words die with a little whine in his throat. “You are not a coward. You’re the bravest person I know.”
“Dustin would like a word,” he shoots back, and Steve huffs, narrowing his eyes at him. Eddie gives him a small, self-deprecating smile.
“I just mean,” he soldiers on, “I’ve been doing wrong by you.” Steve looks away again. “And I’m sorry. I know I’ve been hurting you and I want to do better, Stevie, I do.” He squeezes Steve’s hand.
He watches as Steve rolls his lips in, biting them hard, his brows tight and his shoulders going tense again. Eddie wants to fill the space with his own chatter, pour out even more apologies, but he lets the silence sit - he lets Steve have the space to collect his thoughts, to think of what he wants to say.
Finally, he speaks. “It felt like you didn’t love me anymore,” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help the heartbroken little sound he makes.
“No,” he says fiercely, and he crowds into Steve’s personal space, takes his face in his hands and cradles his cheeks in his palms. “Absolutely fucking not, baby,” he insists, and Steve reaches up, covering Eddie’s hands with his like he’s trying to pull all the warmth from Eddie and into himself.
“What else was I supposed to think?” Steve asks, “you were just - you were gone all the time, and you never wanted to talk about it, and you were always busy with stuff that didn’t involve me and it was like you didn’t want to be around me anymore. And when we fought tonight I thought - I.” He cuts himself off, squeezes his eyes closed tight. “...I really thought that you might not come back,” he confesses, and Eddie pulls him even closer.
“You listen to me,” he says, soft but fierce, “and I know my word probably means shit to you right now, because I’ve been the biggest dumbass in the world and broken it, but I need you to hear me when I say this.” Steve opens his eyes, and Eddie stares into them. “I will always come home to you. Even if I’m being a fucking idiot. Even if I’m pulling a runner, if I lose my mind and bolt out of here again, I will come home.” Steve’s eyes go all watery, and Eddie gently catches the tears with his thumbs, brushing them from Steve’s cheeks.
“Swear,” Steve says, and there’s a desperation in his tone that Eddie wishes he could smooth away, but he knows that will take time. That will take dedication and patience and perseverance and goddammit, Eddie will use every ounce of all that he possesses if that’s what it takes. But for now he holds Steve’s gaze and he nods slowly, their faces just inches apart.
“I swear,” he tells him. “I swear to you, Steve Harrington, I will come home. And I will always, always fucking love you.” 
Steve gives a little sob. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Eddie shushes him.
“No, angel,” he tells him, shaking his head. “You got nothing you need to apologize for, okay?” Steve looks like he’s going to protest, but Eddie just shifts, pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead and lingering there as his baby works to catch his breath.
“Can we go to bed?” Steve asks, and he sounds exhausted down to his bones. Eddie nods.
“Of course, baby,” he says, and he pulls Steve from the guest bed - fucking terrible thing that it is, taking Steve from their room, from their space, the safe little corner of the universe that they’ve carved out together between their sheets. He guides Steve down the hall, tired and stumbling a little, his pretty hair in disarray - his baby didn’t even change first, seems like he just curled right up after Eddie left, he’s still in his jeans and everything. 
Eddie watches as Steve changes, stripping his clothes off with slow, lethargic movements, and for once they land in a heap on the floor - on top of his sneakers, and that makes Eddie’s heart do a funny little flip as he catches Steve’s hand to keep him from tripping over the damn things. A fond smile is teasing at Steve’s lips, and Eddie returns it.
They curl up together, close as they can get, unsure where one starts and another begins. Relief washes through Eddie as he gets Steve settled into the right bed this time. He buries his hand in Steve’s hair and Steve noses at Eddie’s throat, turns his head side to side in a slow rhythm that drags his lips over the same little sensitive spot on the underside of Eddie’s jaw. It’s not a kiss, not quite - just a touch. A reminder that Eddie’s still here. He’ll allow Steve to take as many reminders as he needs for as long as he wants.
“I’m sorry I yelled,” Steve whispers, and Eddie wants to tell him once again that he doesn’t have to apologize, but he knows this is important to Steve. So he just nods a little, careful not to dislodge him from the warm space he’s settled into at the curve of Eddie’s neck. 
“I forgive you,” he tells him, and a bit of tension leaves Steve’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I left,” he whispers, and he feels Steve’s lips part– “don’t say you forgive me yet,” he says before Steve can speak. “I got a lot more groveling to do, babylove, don’t you dare let me off the hook that easily. I was a fucking jackass. And I’m gonna make it right, and that’s gonna take time, and I know that, and that’s okay, because I’m in this for the long haul, alright?” 
Steve is silent for a few moments, weighing Eddie’s words. Eddie can feel the brush of eyelashes against his skin as his baby blinks slowly a few times. Then, gradually, the last of the tightness in Steve’s frame melts away.
“Actually I was gonna say I’m going to get one of those toddler leashes,” he says. “That way if you try to bolt I can just yank you back.” Eddie snorts out an ugly laugh, and Steve’s chuckle echoes his own, and he rolls them both until he’s got Steve under him. He just stares at him in the darkness for a few moments, watching his smile fade into something small and private.
“I love you so much,” Eddie says, and Steve’s hands come up, slipping beneath Eddie’s shirt to rest on the bare skin of his back, fingertips tracing up and down the dip of his spine. “There’s nowhere in the world I wanna be than right here with you.” Steve hums softly and closes his eyes, and Eddie knows it’s going to take more than just a few pretty words to prove this to Steve. That’s okay. Eddie’s stubborn. He can stick with it as long as it takes.
“I love you too,” Steve says back, and Eddie leans down, nudging his nose gently into his baby’s. Steve’s scrunches up, and Eddie presses a quick kiss to it just to hear him laugh, then shifts, brushing his lips against Steve’s. 
Steve sighs soft and warm into it, lips parting, and Eddie kisses him slow, devotion pouring out of him and into Steve. And he takes it all - gasps and moans quietly against Eddie’s mouth, lax beneath him, letting Eddie nip and bite and suck and soothe at his lips, his tongue, hand slipping to Steve’s side - not to start anything. Just to touch. Just to feel. To prove to himself that he’s still able to touch this beautiful man, that he’s still allowed this wonderful, dizzying love that he’s stumbled into.
They fade like that, both tired, Eddie’s weight slowly sinking down until he’s resting atop Steve. Steve’s arms come around him fully until he’s hugging him around the waist, and their mouths slip from each other’s to land in the spaces of their shoulders and throats instead, nosing into the warmth and familiarity of the person they love.
And things aren’t fixed - they aren’t perfect. But they’re working on it, and that’s enough.
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josephquinnswhore · 7 months
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Her Sanctuary
Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.
Summary: you start pulling away from Joel, he’s scared he’s going to lose you.
Word Count: 1.7k
Content Warning: mentions of anxiety, bad mental health. Joel talking about Sarah!!! 😭 soft Joel!!!!! Hurt/comfort.
Note: kinda just wrote this on a whim after rewatching the last of us. I miss joel. @cool-iguana ily.
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You were an outspoken person. About everything. There wasn’t a single topic you didn’t have an opinion on. Always a snarky reply, a joke, or following pun. That’s just who you were.
Joel spent months wishing you weren’t like that. That you’d just shut up so he could have a few moments of silence between you. His limited replies included a scowl, raised eyebrow or an annoyed grunt. He spent months travelling across the country with you, refusing to open up and reluctantly teaching you how to shoot his rifle.
He didn’t like how you made him feel. How he had started looking at you romantically. The sound of your laugh stirred something in him. Your bright eyes lightened the darkness in his own.
He never allowed himself to let you in; as much as a fight he put up. You wormed yourself into the cracks in the walls around his heart and started to mend him. He doesn’t know when it happened exactly, all he can remember is wanting to hear more of her laugh, he even found her a joke book in an old RV he scouted one evening at the trailer park they posted in overnight.
He had learned how to accept your brightness, for all its worth. Your dorky comments, crooked grin and boisterous laugh. Even those small touches to his back and arm when you would pass by, excusing yourself. Always followed by a mumbled, “sorry.”
But this.. this he didn’t know what to do. He was tearing himself up inside for not knowing what to do. You were quiet today, something bubbling inside of you that radiated off and in between them in a depressing aura that had Joel feeling breathless.
He even found himself staring at you, from the corner of his eyes, turning his head to watch you, making sure you kept up as you lingered a few steps behind him, completely silent. Not laughing, not crying. Silent.
It was heart wrenching and he couldn’t figure out how to put the pieces together to finish the puzzle. Nothing extreme had happened that they hadn’t faced before. They’d fought off some infected yesterday but—it couldn’t have possibly been that. They were fine. They survived.
Maybe you just wasn’t coping as well as he thought you were.
He tried to think of things to cheer you up, and the guilt consumed him when he realised he didn’t really know much about you. He had never asked. It was always you asking about him, pestering to know more about him. He cursed himself for being so selfish.
The harsh reality of their one sided dynamic hit Joel hard, he had always protected her, with his physical strength and ability to kill. That primal instinct that kept them both alive and for what? He couldn’t help her when she actually needed.
He felt utterly useless.
Until. He had an idea. That stupid fucking joke book that she treasured, had to cheer her up right? It had to draw out one of those loud laughs that made his insides flip, the smile that made your eyes squint that his heart craved to see.
He reached into his pack, pulling it out. She’d stashed it in there, insisting that her pack had no more room. He didn’t argue, he knew she struggled carrying the weight. He decided that day that he could carry the extra burden for things that she decided she couldn’t bare.
This baggage however, was tricker. He would take it if he could. He hoped this would work.
He turns around to look at you and what he saw made him feel like there was a metal vice around his heart, your slumped shoulders and black eye bags complimented a vacant look in your eyes, you were unrecognisable in comparison to your default sunshine personality.
“Hey, I was thinkin’ about that algae-bra joke you told me the other day.” He tried to make his voice as soft as he could when he spoke to you, trying to nudge a reaction.
Nothing, she barely looks at him. “Hm?”
“Anyways, I was thinkin’ we could pass the time with this.” He held the joke book in his hand, swinging his pack back over his shoulder, adjusting his rifle strap as he shuffles on his feet.
You felt a spark of something, something that was quickly put out by the fear and darkness that felt so consuming.
“Maybe later?” You offer quietly, walking past him. “It’ll be dark soon.”
Joel felt defeated. How had he failed so badly. How did he let this fester inside of her like a fucking disease that he didn’t know how to get rid of.
This was an infection in your mind; that he figured on his own. This kind of infection he didn’t know how to cure. He had always pushed his own anxiety and panic attacks down burying them, until he learnt to live with it.
But you; the one fucking good thing in his life that brought him life, hope. He wouldn’t allow you to ignore it, to let it consume you.
He wasn’t going to let you fall victim. He would do whatever it took.
He set up camp in silence, stuck in his head about how the fuck he was going to help you, a feeling of shame overwhelmed him as he sits by the fire, rubbing his hands together as you sit in your sleeping bag, across from him.
Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, legs pulled to your chest. It made you look smaller, the way you held yourself protectively. A reflection of the flames flicking in her eyes only made the mood more somber.
He can’t say something came over him, possessed him to say what he felt bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want to lose her. To him, you were too important, you disarmed him and weaselled your way into his heart. He wasn’t going to let you leave, not ever.
“When my little girl used to get upset, she always shut me out like this, like what you’re doin’, I always told myself she’ll come around.” He nods to himself, as if reminiscing the memory.
You stay silent, watching him. Watching his expression soften.
“An’ now she’s gone it’s all I regret. Not doin’ more. Not making more of an effort with shit like that. Fuckin’ haunts me.”
Not once in the months they’ve travelled he had mentioned having children, a daughter, let alone a decreased one. He had mumbled a few times in his sleep, incoherently a name. Serine, Sari, Sarah? You could never figure it out, and never pried.
But here he was, sitting across from her looking on with longing eyes and his features the most relaxed she’d ever seen.
“I ain’t makin’ that same mistake again, seein’ you like this, pullin’ away. Feels like I’m failin’ all over again.” His admission shocks you, enough to stun a quiet confession from your own lips before you could think.
“I thought you were going to die.” He seems surprised to hear you talking, but stays silent, wanting you to talk more, wanting to hear more.
“I know we’ve dealt with plenty of infected.. we’ve had some close calls even, sure.” Your heart clenched as you recall.
Joel lying on the ground with that infected on top of him, Joel’s gun inches away as he fumbles, fingertips desperately grasping the hairs of grass as he searched for his weapon.
Holding the infected away with one arm, grunting in a struggle that he was bound to lose. It’s rotten teeth and fleshy stench was so close to grazing Joel’s neck. Inches away from sealing his fate.
You had somehow mustered some courage inside of you to tackle the infected, throwing it off Joel and giving him a split second to reach for his gun and put a bullet in the back of the infected’s head.
Your jeans still stunk, of gunpowder and blood. A stench so vile you couldn’t help but relive the moment, it was on your mind every second, unable to process it all.
You almost lost Joel. Joel almost fucking died. It was a breath away.
“I thought if I just—shut down maybe you’d get tired and ditch me.. worse yet I’d stop caring about you so damn much.” Joel’s ears perked at her soft admission.
“And I know you think I’m just—some annoying fucking girl that you have to protect and feed and I’m sorry..“ Joel wouldn’t allow another word.
“Hey. Look at me, now.” His tone was soft, but held a firmness, there was no doubt he wasn’t asking you. He needed you to look at him.
His face looked so soft beyond the flames of the fire, his expression was tender and kind; as no one had ever seen before. He looked beautiful, fuck, he was handsome. You’d always thought so.
“I know it was a close call, we’ve learnt from it, yeah? We won’t make the same mistake.” You nod, Joel continues.
“Don’t pull away from me sweetheart. Please.”
You open your mouth to say something, but Joel interrupts by patting the space beside him.
“C’mere sweetheart. C’mon.” You don’t waste a moment to plop beside him. He wraps his sleeping bag around you and his big hands grip around your torso to pull you into his.
“Tell me you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
For the first time since you’ve known Joel. He was the one asking for comfort, reassurance.
“Promise I’m not going anywhere Joel.” You nuzzle into him, his natural musk strung a desire out of her that all she could do was lean into him.
“You get some rest now. I’ll keep ya safe.” He murmurs into her ear, a promise.
All you could do was obey him. Closing your eyes as your body and mind revelled in the intimacy and vulnerability of this moment.
His head rested on top of yours, your hair gets stuck in the rugged coarse hairs of his beard. He finds himself nuzzling into you, allowing himself to get lost in you. After months of fighting you; he lets go. He lets you in.
You were his. And he wasn’t going to let anything fucking hurt you. Not even yourself. He would be your sanctuary. No matter what it took.
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codiemarin · 20 days
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Tour Guide - Mapi LeĂłn x Reader
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Summary: Stuck with a dead phone and no money in a completely new city, what's the worst that could happen?
T/W: Untranslated Spanish (Basic though, donÂŽt worry).
A/N: Thank you to @sporadicbeans82 for the idea, we haven't gotten to your main point yet but we will sometime soon.
You really shouldŽve known better. Years of experience with your parents and various school trips in primary school made sure that you were a seasoned traveller, so really, you had no excuse for the predicament you found yourself in. You landed in the Zaragoza Airport at one in the morning with a dead phone and no charger. On top of that, you left your jacket in the previous terminal where you did your layover. Generally this wouldn't be a problem, clothes can be bought again and you didn't care much for that specific one, except you put your wallet in the inside pocket and now you pretty much had no credit card or cash to get by. 
You weren't an anxious person by nature, thank god, otherwise youŽd be sitting in a corner crying over your carelessness. Instead, you were walking over to the luggage belt so you could collect your things and plan your next course of action. You watched your fellow passengers come and go with their luggages in tow, but two hours later you still saw no signs of your luggage exiting the plane. Starting to get worried, you tried to look for an attendant to assist you, but because of the early hours, the airport was practically empty. 
When you did finally find someone, they spoke absolutely no English and you couldn't get by with what little Spanish you picked up from your Duolingo crash course. The attendant got frustrated and scanned your passport and tickets, took some papers from her desk to hand to you, and sent you on your way with a dismissive shake of her hand. Looking at the documents, you did realise that you had to fill them out but for the life of you, you couldn't read what anything meant so you just put them in your backpack. ThatÂŽll be a problem for when you have your phone charged.
You took the time to double check what you had left in your backpack, secretly hoping that maybe you mightŽve slipped an extra charger in one of the pockets, but that was too wishful of a thought. You did, however, find twenty euros in one of them so at least you could manage to get out of the airport, maybe go to the centre and find a nice café to ask for help to charge your phone. 
As you exited the bus, you realised that maybe you should've tried harder to read the signs or at least ask for help in your non-existent Spanish, because you found yourself in what seems like the industrial zone of the city. It was four in the morning now, and the streets were dark and deserted. While you were tired, you decided that the best course of action was to walk around the area and hopefully try to figure out a way to get to the centre by reading the signs you ignored the previous times. Thirty minutes into your aimless walking, you felt a shiver run down your spine and looked around to see if there were other people nearby. Chalking it up to your tiredness, you brushed off the feeling and continued your explorations. You were walking through a darker area than normal when you felt something grasp your wrist and you let out a high pitched scream.
“Shhh. shhh. Tranquila.” You heard a voice whisper from behind you as you kept screaming and pulling your hand away. 
“Don't kill me please. I®m too young to die and I just got here!” You beg as you turn around, you knew that you probably won't be able to outrun a person, so you decided the best course of action was just to follow what they said and hope for the best. Your gaze landed on a person wearing all black, pants, a hoodie and a cap over their head. They haven't made a move to pull out a knife or anything, so that was good. As you continued to silently look at each other, you realised that she had a neck tattoo, “looks can be deceiving”. Well, that might be a good thing, maybe they weren't a thug wanting to steal your things or kill you.
“Te puedes tranquilizar, por favor?” She tried again, putting her hands up this time to show that she meant no harm. Seeing that you weren't ready to start speaking, she continued on. 
“Soy Mapi, de aquí. Estás perdida?” She said, and you continued to stare at her blankly, with no idea what she said. She kept looking at you before trying again but slower this time, and waited for your response. 
“I.. I don®t.. Understando.. The Spanish...” You tried and felt yourself cringing at your attempt. She barked out a short laugh before speaking again.
“Yo tampoco hablo inglĂ©s pero podemos intentarlo juntas.” She pointed to herself, “Mapi” then at you, “y tu?” 
“Ahhh, yes yes, Y/N!” You said with a smile and she gave you a thumbs up and a grin. 
“You, lost?” You nodded at her. “Te ayudo? Help?” and you nodded again while doing the please action with your hands.
“Vivo en el centro, te traigo?” She continues and you stare at her blankly again, she pauses for a moment. 
“Phone?? Where??” You take your phone out of your pocket and show her, and she shakes her head with a sigh. 
“Vamos” she says and makes the gesture for you to follow her. After a few minutes of walking in silence, you reach an auto shop and you continue following her until she stops in front of a motorcycle. She goes to pick up two helmets and passes one over to you, and you shake your head. 
“No, I®m scared of motorcycles..” You intone slowly, hoping she understands.
“No, no scare. I take care.” She confirms with a nod and gestures for you to get on top of the motorcycle. Realising you had no choice but to follow this random woman, you decided to take the chance and hope that you don't regret it later. 
Fifteen minutes later, you arrive at your destination, which is a half-open café. Mapi takes your backpack from you and grabs your hand, leading you inside to one of the tables where she tells you to sit and wait. 
“Mami! He encontrado esta guiri, estĂĄ perdida y no tiene baterĂ­a en el mĂłvil. Voy a ayudarla, vale?” She shouts as she enters the backroom. You take this time to survey the cafĂ©, it's very small and homely, with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked bread in the air. Mapi comes back a few moments later with a tray that she sets in front of you. She also asks for your phone and you give it to her without any further words,  she takes it to the back to be able to charge it, you presume. 
When she returns, she's holding her phone, a notebook and pen and she sits next to you. You realise that she has taken her cap and hoodie off and is left with a tank top, showing off her tattooed muscular arms. You continue admiring her absentmindedly, only being broken out of your reverie the moment you look up and lock eyes with her. She gives you a half-smile and raises her eyebrows questioningly and you shake your head at her, eliciting a soft laugh as she points to the table. 
“Voy a enseñarte español. Vale? I teach you.” She picks up the pen and writes some sentences on the notebook as you continue to watch her quietly and wait for her next move. She turns to you again with a questioning look. 
“No eat?” She points to the various foods spread on the table, some croissants, muffins, a small baguette with fillings, freshly squeezed orange juice and coffee, and waits for you to pick something up. 
You decide to go with the baguette. “Me gusto the baguettes.” You shake it in her direction with a small grin, and see her face change. 
“Baguette? No, no! Es un bocadillo, estamos en España.” She exclaims, pointing at it. “Bocadillo, vale??” You nod your head and repeat the word. 
In the next hour or so, youÂŽve come up with a learning system where Mapi writes down words and sentences on the notebook and gives you her phone to use the translator application and write down the English version. You both read the words in your own language, repeating it slowly a few times to each other until you were both confident in the sentences and their meaning. Once you both got tired, you decided to use the voice option of the translator to try and talk to each other.
This was how you found out that Mapi was the same age as you and goes to the exact university that you were enrolled in, albeit with a different course. Mechanical engineering with a specialisation in automotives, she mentioned. That also explained why you met her in the early hours of the morning, because she works in her dadŽs mechanic shop, experimenting during her free time. You realised that the more you spoke to the Zaragozan, the more you wanted to know about the person who saved you from your plight. She was very kind and spoke passionately, and you wished that you could understand her properly and get to know her better without the language barrier. It seemed that she did enjoy your company as well, as she had started patting you on the back and giving you light slaps when you said something particularly funny. 
You felt your heart beat faster when she wrapped her arm around you in an effort to get closer when you were showing her something on the phone screen. After a good hour, she pats you on the thigh with an “Espera, voy a coger tu movil.” and comes back with it fully charged. She gives you a moment to check your phone and update the people who need to be aware of your whereabouts. During your catch-up, you see that the accommodation you booked has contacted you multiple times, with increasing signs of distress as you were supposed to arrive hours ago. You look over to Mapi who was back to writing things on the notebook, deep in thought.
“Mapi, ayuda por favor.” You tap her shoulder lightly and give her your phone to see. After reading the messages between you and the accommodation contact, she types out messages and responds to them. She pauses for a moment in thought, and decides to call the number that she had just been given to facilitate the interaction.
“Hola, soy la amiga de Y/N.” She starts, and proceeds to speed in rapid Spanish that you couldn®t understand, minutes later you see an older woman come out from the back room, also on the phone speaking and Mapi looks up with a surprised look. 
“Mami, eres tĂș?” She asks, and they both continue talking for a few more moments before she hangs up on the call from your phone. By then both women were laughing and continuing to speak to each other between gasps. They both turn to you with a smile and MapiÂŽs mum introduces herself to you in Spanish, all you could do was say hola and encantada, two of the new words you learnt today. The older woman gives you a kind smile and a wave goodbye  as she makes her way into the backroom once more. 
“Vives aquí, conmigo. This your house.” Mapi explains quickly with a small smile. 
“Very coincidence, no?” She laughs at your confused look and takes out her wallet, pulling her identification card to show you the address listed on it. The exact same address as the one you had on the email. Understanding dawns on you and you flash her a small grin, giving her a thumbs up to show that you know what she means. 
“Very big tired, yes?” She asks and you give her a sheepish nod, prompting another smile to grace her lips. 
“Pues vamos, voy a enseñarte tu habitaciĂłn.” She picks up your bag and intertwines her hand with yours, you could feel how warm she was to your touch and the calluses of her hand, prompting your cheeks to redden just slightly. Surely it couldn't have been that long since you felt the touch of another person, and liking a random stranger? Maybe it was just the jetlag, but you couldn't deny that the Zaragozan wasn't too hard on the eyes either.
As Mapi brings you deeper inside the backroom, she opens one of the doors that leads to a staircase. You both continue walking up the flights until she stops in front of one of the doors and pulls out a key to open it, gesturing for you to enter first before following you and closing it behind her. You walk around to have a look at the room, it's fully furnished with a very comfortable looking double bed, an ensuite bathroom and a small balcony. You nodded approvingly to yourself and looked over to Mapi who was watching you. 
“Te gusta? Happy?” She asks, and you give her a nod in response. 
“Me gusto, yes. Very mucho!” And she gives you another pleased look. 
“Pues, ya esta. Necesitamos dormir, no? Sleepy time?” She asks and you realise that you don't want her to go just yet. You walk towards her and take her hand, she looks at you with confusion as you try your best to formulate a sentence.
“Tu.. dormir.. here-o?” You said pointing at the floor, and she continued to look at you silently. Deciding that you had to try harder, you take your phone from your back pocket and type out what you wanted to say and show it to her.
“Ah vale, I stay.” She smiles and you move to lay on the bed, expecting her to follow you. When she makes a move for the couch instead, you get confused, fully expecting her to lay on the free side next to you, as she sits down, she realises that you were staring at her. 
“You want me lay there? With you?” She says slowly, and you give her an exaggerated nod and a wide grin, patting the space next to you. She complies and settles herself, looking at you softly and you both just stare at each other, smiling like idiots until you let out one of the biggest yawns, Mapi giggling afterwards. 
“Now sleep, yes?” She smiles and you nod your head, moving to get even more comfortable as you settle down, you feel her tap your arm lightly before pointing to her chest with a questioning look. You give her a nod and place your head on her chest, hearing her steady heartbeat and she tentatively runs her hand down your back.
“Mucho gracias for everything, Mapi.” You say as you feel yourself falling asleep.
“De nada Y/N, tomorrow more explore. Good sleep.” She says softly. 
You might not have had the best start in Zaragoza, but youÂŽre grateful that you encountered someone as sweet as Mapi to help you, hopefully she doesn't get tired of you too soon.
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Ghostwriter was really asking for soup time at this point.
He had apologized for his first Christmas truce before, last year he even convinced Clockwork to help him make a copy of the original work he had ruined.
So why in god’s gracious earth did he wake up to Amity Park being in a hallmark movie.
Danny glared as the people milled about the center of town like they haven’t since the portal opening.
It was unnerving, the only thing really missing from the equation was some out of town love interest or something.
“Hey, excuse me.”
Tall and built with black hair and blue eyes.
Oh you got to be-
~~~~~~~~~~~
Dick tried to make himself look more charming as the guy he approached turned around.
When he heard that the justice league were getting concerning calls about a town In Illinois, he saw an out from the Christmas gala.
Sure Dick enjoyed the season, but the fact that he has to spend a large amount of the winter season putting up a front as the perfect firstborn was not something he wanted to do unless he had to.
That being said, the town was a bit unnerving. He hadn’t seen anything supernatural per say but the constant cheer is something he had only ever seen on the silver screen of his home. He had tried to approach several different people only to be met with seasons greetings and promptly ignored when as they ran off to do whatever small towns do for the holidays.
This guy at least wasn’t plastering a smile on his face.
“Hey, excuse me I’m new in town and looking around, my name is-“
“Let me guess, Rupert or Orlando or some shit.”
“What?”
“Well it has to be pompous and annoying. It’s kind of a trend and shit last time I checked.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about man I just wanted to ask-“
The man snorted as he left, throwing over his shoulder with a large amount of snark,
“For a tour around town? A place to stay? A friendly face? Sorry man, man but I’m not interested. The town square is full, ask someone else I have a date with a caffeine addiction.”
Dick watched a bit stupefied as the guy weaves into the ground and out of his eyesight.
“Well he seemed charming.”
Dick raised his phone to the earpiece and sighed,
“Yeah well, he’s the first person who didn’t sound like they weren’t on a script so far. I didn’t even know that midwesterners took Christmas so seriously. How long until you reach town Jay?”
I’m reaching midtown just about now. It looks like Santa took a shit on every-“
There was a sudden squeal of tires as the line cut.
Oh no.
~~~~~~~~~~
Jason gasped as he tried to calm his breath glancing at the guy he almost hit on his bike.
Jesus Christ that was close.
“Shit man are you alright?”
“Peachy. Always liked pancakes and all that.”
~~~~~~~
Danny felt a blush hit him as the behemoth of a guy let out a snort. It was embarrassing that he didn’t notice the guy until he almost became a smear, the dude was built like a tank and wearing a red helmet.
“I shouldn’t’ve taken that turn that quickly.. sometimes forget I’m not at home.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s home for you?”
“Gotham if you believe that.”
“Explains why you drive like you’re chased by death.”
“You have no idea..”
He took off his helmet with another snort and shake of the head. A white wisp in a sea of black shook out while mirthful blue eyes met his.
Crap..
“Name’s Jason. You are?”
“Nunya,”
The guy raised a brow mildly confused.
“Pardon?”
“Nunyabusinessbye!”
Danny took off before he was done with the sentence. He could feel eyes on his retreat for the second time today.
‘Jesus, smooth recovery Fenton.’
~~~~~~~~
Tim rubbed his eyes as he listened to his older brothers bicker over the coms.
He couldn’t understand the issue with the surveillance! All the cameras and mics are properly functioning but for some reason everything is corrupted and it’s driving Tim up a wall!
A break, Tim needed a break from this Airbnb and something caffeinated.
~~~~~~~~
‘Just ten minutes, ten minutes and he could get his drink, he could rant to his friends on the group chat afterwards and wait out the story. ‘
And with as much bravo as any tired young adult, he entered the shop.
Danny almost left the cafe as he heard another unfamiliar voice bellow out.
“What do you mean you don’t have coffee, it’s a coffee shop!”
Blue eyes, black hair, surprisingly smaller than the first two and eye bags that could rival Danny some nights.
Danny was done.
Fuck the treaty this was war.
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avatar-anna · 7 months
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2022
Y/n stepped into the studio in search of her boyfriend, who had been eluding her for a couple hours now. He woke up before she did, then went off on a morning run, then to rehearsals, and now that everyone was back, she still couldn't find him. Another person might've assumed he was avoiding her, or everyone, but she knew Harry better than most people. He was as clingy as they got, often crawling on top of her when she was at her desk to get her attention and his constant insistence on being the little spoon whenever the two of them watched TV at home. But Y/n knew he liked his space from time to time.
With a little more searching through the unfamiliar Palm Springs house, she found Harry laying in the middle of the studio, one arm draped across his eyes. From her vantage point, Y/n could see her boyfriend's chest rise and fall slowly, as if he'd fallen asleep on the carpeted floor.
"Come lay with me."
Y/n was a little startled to hear his voice, she could've sworn his eyes were closed at the very least, but he must've seen her come in. Still, she didn't question him, didn't say much at all until she was next to him, cheek nestled against his black hoodie. Y/n closed her eyes too, her hand sneaking beneath Harry's layers of clothes to feel his warm skin beneath his palm. Harry hummed, leaning into her touch a little as her breath kept time with his.
"H?"
"Yeah?" he replied, his voice low and croaky.
"Why are we on the floor when there's a perfectly good bed for us to sleep in upstairs?"
"I'm not sleeping," he mumbled.
Y/n picked her head up off his chest, and she smiled a little at the slight pout that turned the corners of his mouth downward. "Then what are we doing?"
"Meditating."
But it was clear Harry was content to lay on the floor in complete silence, so Y/n obliged, once again resting her head against his chest and focusing on his breathing. Minutes passed until she wasn't sure how long they'd been laying prone like that, but she didn't say anything. Even when she started to feel the hard floor beneath the rug and grew uncomfortable, she stayed put. There was something on Harry's mind, Y/n could tell. He was just finding the words.
He said it with finality, as if that was an obvious reason to be laying on the floor of the house's studio. But Harry was like that sometimes, believing him and Y/n were so in synch that she could read his thoughts. Most of the time she could follow his train of thought without him having to say anything, though even she had to admit this was unusual behavior for her boyfriend.
"You're supposed to be meditating," Harry mumbled.
Harry might've been meditating, but Y/n had never been all that good at it personally. She could hardly get through basic yoga poses without getting distracted or falling into a fit of giggles. Now her eyes were getting heavy, the smell of Harry's cologne and the soft material of his sweatshirt putting her to sleep.
Blinking slowly, Y/n inched her way up until she was face to face with her boyfriend. His eyes were closed, and if he hadn't just spoken, she would've guessed he was asleep. Tapping his nose gently, she said, "You're taking too long to talk to me."
"Oh. Well, excuse me," Harry said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a crooked smile.
"You know what I mean," Y/n said. She kissed his jaw, her thumb grazing the other side of his face. "We're laying on the floor in the middle of a studio. That's pretty strange, even for an eccentric celebrity such as yourself."
"You're just full of jokes after your nap."
"I wasn't napping!" Y/n insisted, pinching his stomach. Harry giggled and pinched her back until they were both rolling around the studio and play-wrestling until both breathing heavily with laughter. The tussle ended with Harry on top of Y/n his knit sunflower hat tickling her forehead.
"Talk to me. What's bothering you?" she asked him gently. She took his hat off and ran her hand through his hair, twirling a strand around her finger.
"It's all just...happening so fast," Harry finally admitted. He rolled back onto the floor, his head turning so he could still face Y/n. "I feel like just yesterday we were quarantining back home, and now we're here, and I...Am I crazy if I kind of miss it?"
Y/n's gaze softened. "You were chomping at the bit to go on tour when lockdown started," she said, smiling at the memory of those first few weeks. "And now the world is opening up and you get to perform again. This is a good thing, bub."
She and Harry hadn't been dating for very long when lockdown started, but they stayed in a bubble with Sarah and Mitch, which helped to make it feel like she and Harry weren't diving into moving in together so quickly. Y/n worried she would grow to despise him or discover a habit of his she didn't like and vice versa after spending so much quality one-on-one time together, but she didn't, and neither did he. Eventually the two of them quarantined without their friends, and Harry was right, it was honestly the best time. Y/n had never felt so close to someone before. All the movie nights and making dinners and late night wine and card games and cuddling for hours while sharing secrets and staying up and helping him with his music were so precious to her, and she wouldn't trade it for anything. But this was important too.
"I know what you mean," Y/n said. "I've missed my all-access pass to Harry Styles whenever I want."
Harry grinned. "You still have that, dork."
"And you still have me," she said earnestly. "But you're also going on tour again, H, and that's amazing. This album is so good, and you've worked so hard. If you need to take a step back from it all and have to decompress with little old me, you can. You know you can. But this is good too, okay? This is great. I mean, look at where we are? Coachella? Come on."
"I'm so nervous," Harry admitted.
"That's okay," Y/n told him. "I know you're gonna be great. And after that? We'll come back here and unwind. We can still do what we did during lockdown, bubbie. We'll just take it on tour. If I'm invited, that is."
Harry gave her a funny look. "Of course you're coming."
"Okay. Then that's that. Nothing to worry about."
Y/n grinned at him, but Harry just kind of stared at her. Normally she was pretty good at reading her boyfriend, but this was a look she'd never seen before. She was about to ask him what he was thinking now when he blurted,
"I'm gonna marry you someday," he said quietly, turning on his shoulder so he could face Y/n better.
Her eyes widened. They'd never talked about the future like that before. Y/n had been hoping and praying that Harry was the one for a while now and that he felt the same, but it had never been put in such plain terms before. Or out loud.
"Promise?" was all she could think to say.
Harry nodded. "Promise."
Y/n's grin was wider than anything she thought was capable. "Now can you please take me upstairs so we can lay on something other than a rug over hardwood floors?"
Rolling his eyes playfully, Harry stood up and helped Y/n to her feet, promptly picking her up until his legs were around his waist. "My fiance is so demanding," he said, leaning in for a kiss, but she stopped him by placing a finger on his mouth.
"Absolutely not. I am not your fiance until you ask me properly on one knee with a ring in your hand. And you can't call me anything else but your girlfriend until you do."
Harry looked amused but didn't argue, just raised his brows and glanced down at where Y/n's finger was still pressed against his lips. Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping the ends of his curls excitedly as he walked them out of the studio.
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c-nstantine · 5 months
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Things That Go Bump In The Night
Description: Vampire!Bruce Wayne fucks his maid
Warnings:Blood, Vampirism, Maid Costume, Cunnilingus
Word Count: 1.4k
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Y/N knew the job was a little sketchy but who could say no to this kind of money, especially in Gotham? When she saw the advertisement put out by the housekeeper of the old Wayne Manor, she figured why not? Being paid $19 an hour for simply cleaning up the house was almost too good to be true. However, sometimes you gotta get it how you live it.
There were three rules that the housekeeper, Mr. Alfred, instilled upon Y/N during her acceptance of the job. The first of which is that she must leave before the sun sets every day. The second was that if the door was locked, leave it be. Finally, she must wear an oddly sexualized maid uniform. Y/N did question the last one but Mr. Alfred swore that it was the way it had always been.
Y/N had been working at Wayne Manor for about two weeks and nothing odd had happened. Of course, occasionally there would be an odd creak here and there but Y/N wrote that off as the house is old. She did feel like she was being watched but that was just the amount of paintings that were trapped in the home. One time she asked Alfred whatever happened to the Wayne family, and he responded with "Sometimes it feels like old Master Wayne still lurks around,".
That was an odd statement to Y/N but she continued her work nonetheless. She found herself in the library of the manor and there was something so serene about it. She began to dust book after book until she was sure that there was dust stuck in her fluffed-out afro, which made her regret wearing her out today. For some reason, she felt more tired than usual and thought about taking a nap. Mr. Alfred had already left for the evening and there were plenty hours of daylight left. A little nap wouldn't hurt.
"What are you doing here?" A deep voice said, startling Y/N from her nap. A tall pale man stood over her. He had eyes as blue as lightning that touched the ground and his black hair was messy.
"Who are you?" Y/N responded standing up next to the man. In the two weeks that she had been working, she had yet to see another person other than Alfred. She also had to pull the already short skirt down because it left nothing to be desired. Of course, this only caused her cleavage to spill out even more.
"I asked first," The man said looking her up and down. Y/N felt self-conscious under his gaze but the man was simply drinking her. His eyes trailed everything that the damn uniform didn't hide.
"I'm the maid that Mr. Alfred hired," She said wrapping her arms around herself. Once again she forced her cleavage to be more prominent.
"So, he does have good taste after all," The brooding man licked his lips at the sight of the woman by the fireplace light.
"Huh? Who are you?" She asked once more stepping back away from the man before her.
"Bruce Wayne," He said, stepping to her once again. He cared not for her personal space, after all, it was she who was in his home.
"The Waynes all died. Everyone in Gotham knows that," Y/N stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Then how am I standing right in front of you," Bruce pestered the younger woman. He could see the gears turning in her head.
"Are you a ghost?" In Y/N's defense, that was the most reasonable thing to assume with a creepy old house involved.
"No, I'm something better than a ghost. You smell nice," He leaned in next to her and sniffed just above her neck. Y/N found herself not being able to move.
"Excuse me?" This man was giving her whiplash. At first, he had seemed angry that she had been in his house after hours but now he seemed attracted to her.
"You smell nice. Virgin?" He asked, stepping closer to her once more. Y/N could no longer step back and was leaning against a shelf of the books that she had just cleaned.
"I guess it doesn't matter, you won't be after tonight," He spoke once more after Y/N didn't respond to the question.
"What are you talking about?" Her voice wavered. She was scared but something about him felt safe. She didn't like it.
"Do you want me to pretend that I can't smell you from here?" He whispered carefully. Y/N wanted to pretend that this entire situation wasn't turning her on. She squeezed her thighs together in hopes of something changing. Nor did she begin to question how this man could smell her arousal.
"Oh, sweet girl. Clenching those thick thighs doesn't hide the arousal," Bruce taunted and he forced his knee between her thighs to spread her legs. Y/N was almost a little too compliant with her actions but she wanted to see where this would go. Her skirt rose and just barely covered her panties.
"What do you want from me?" She asked as Bruce pressed himself against her. He didn't have the aura of someone trying to hurt her but rather please her.
"It's not what I want but what I can give you. I'll give you pleasure, but you'll have to do something for me later," Bruce was a bit ambiguous on the terms of the deal but that was his job in a way.
"Pleasure?" Y/N asked almost with a moan. If she didn't have any self-respect, she would've been riding that man's knee then and there.
"I will relieve that little ache between your legs. Just say 'yes'," He began to kiss down her chest and paused as he waited for her confirmation.
"Yes," Y/N sighed and the creature picked her up and bent her over the couch's arm that she was previously napping on.
"Good girl," He said as he yanked off her panties. There was a distinct ripping of the cotton fabric and Y/N whined. He simply hushed her while looking at his feast.
Y/N's stomach was pressed against the chair's arm as Bruce's tongue played with her clit. His tongue felt sharper than what she imagined and she swore she saw a fang earlier. Those notions were dropped from her mind when he spread her pussy lips to dive deeper inside of her. He continued to lick and prod while her pussy gripped nothing. He was having fun with this, she thought to herself. Bringing her to the first orgasm of the night, with nothing but his tongue.
"If your pussy tastes divine, I can't wait to see what your blood tastes like," Bruce said, giving a heavy smack to her ass. Y/N was too fucked out from her first orgasm to even comprehend the words that fell from his lips. She heard the dropping of his belt to the floor and the soft steps of him stepping out of his dress pants and underwear.
"I'll go slow for you since it is your first time. I make no guarantees for the future," Bruce said lining up his cock with her entrance. Just the head had gone in and Y/N was already moaning like a bitch in heat. Bruce simply chuckled. Her pussy was sucking him in but he remained strong and continued his strokes at a slow pace. That was until Y/N tried to push herself away from him.
"Good girls don't run from dick," He said while grabbing her hips. He held her in her place on the couch as he began to ram into her. Since she wanted to run, she would take all that he gave her. The echoes of skin slapping began to fill the library. Y/N never really thought about how she would lose her virginity but in a library by firelight sounded nice enough. Y/N's knees buckle and Bruce smirked as he continued to ram into her pussy. Y/N's moans were almost pornographic and the stimulation from his balls hitting her clit was what finally put her over the edge. Her eyes crossed for a second.
"Now, it's my turn," Bruce whispered. He sat Y/N up and she stood on shaky legs. Bruce pushed her afro out of the way and sniffed her neck. He bared his fangs and with a hiss, his teeth broke her skin and drank her blood. Y/N soon passed out and Bruce carried her up to his bed and left her there until she awoke, a new.
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mcfuckity · 9 months
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You know what? Im breaking my silence. Im TIRED of people missing Jess’ character on purpose. Like, everyone can use context clues and fill in the blanks for every other character but somehow Jess is the only one taken at face value? Jess is being seen as a cold, detached, mean bitch by fans but I cannot determine whether we even watched the same movie.
Let’s address the elephant in the room, because she is a black woman who is NOT a mammy character, people criticize her harsher. Jess was MORE than Miguel’s “lackey”. She had her own thoughts and opinions. She definitely had her own personality and feelings about the entire situation. She lowkey stalled time to give Gwen chances to fix her mistakes.
If Jess was as cold as Miguel and such a “bitch”, she would’ve left Gwen the first time. Let’s not forget that Miguel was fully about to leave Gwen with her own father holding her at gunpoint, JESS vouched to bring Gwen under her name. Jess put her OWN position at risk to help Gwen and it required that she do her job accordingly. Jess made the boundary VERY clear, she is NOT Gwen’s mother. She is NOT her friend. I seen people argue that “Jess’ maternal instincts” should’ve kicked in to protect Gwen” but fully ignoring that Jess HAS A FAMILY! Jess is PREGNANT with her OWN child. Her instincts DID kick in and she chose her dimension with her family in it!
Jess was stuck in a rock and a hard place. She obviously wanted to help Gwen (considering she brought her in at the cost of her own position) but UNFORTUNATELY, GWEN messed up. Gwen saw Miles and that ultimately led to Spot escaping. You can love these characters and acknowledge that every character had their OWN thoughts and motivations that led to fuck ups. It’s not right to try to make Jess sound worse than the man who fuckin replaced his dead self out of grief, was about to leave a teen at gunpoint, and had an entire society of people chase a teenager who wanted to save his dad.
Don’t get me started on the “she’s fighting crime while pregnant argument” because we can accept superpowered people but NOT the possibility that their bodies are more resilient. NOT TO MENTION THAT PETER B HAS A WHOLE BABY ON MISSIONS???? Like, no one is calling him a bad father so what’s different with Jess? Miguel was mean as fuck to Miles upon meeting but Jess doing her JOB is considered being “mean”.
Then the “I didn’t see her enough to connect with her” is fair until everyone can somehow create entire {TERRIBLE} mischaracterizations of Hobie, Pav, and Peni who (arguably) had just about the same amount of screentime. She also shares traits with every other spider person with being snarky and quick-witted while being completely grounded. She’s literally one of the spider people that Miguel fully trusts but somehow the fandom erases her and goes “He loves Peter B and Lego SpideyđŸ€ȘđŸ€Ș”
Like, it’s crazy how people find it so easy to erase Jess and Margo (Spiderbyte) in fanworks for things they easily dismiss from other characters and it’s feelin like misogynoir. Like, Margo and Hobie served the same purpose with deciding to go against Miguel for Miles, yet only Hobie and Gwen gets that credit.
AND THEN THE MANY EXCUSES WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING! People keep hating on Jess/Miguel because she’s “obviously pregnant and married” but go right around and ship Miguel with Peter B. Same with Margo/Miles because it’s a bunch of “Miles and Gwen are obviously endgame” ANDDDD???? Since when did every ship HAVE TO be canon in order to be a ship? It’s especially crazy because I BARELY EVER see those comments on Miles/(Peni, Pav, or Hobie) or have no problem with having all the boys huddled around Gwen. The double standard is glaringly obvious.
In conclusion, some of you mfs dont deserve ATSV.
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hoshiputa · 3 months
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You're mine
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💌 S.Coups x female reader
đŸ“© Request: Toxic jealous S.Coups
cw: nsfw, established relationship, jealous!scoups, slight angst, name calling, exhibitionism, arguing, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, piv sex, creampie
word count: 2.2k
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It all started when your boyfriend called out for you and then stood at the edge of the pool with an open wide towel. It was summer and not cold at all, but you thought it was cute, so you just let Seungcheol wrap you up with the soft fabric.
“What's up, babe?” You asked softly, giving him a quick kiss.
“Nothing, I just wanted you to get out of there.”
You frowned with confusion, your boyfriend shooting deadly stares at every single person out there.
“What? Why?”
When you unwrapped the towel from you to use it to dry your hair, Seungcheol took it and covered you again, impatiently wrapping the towel around your body.
“Cheol
?” You started.
“Why did you have to wear such a tiny bikini?”
“Excuse me?!” You chuckled, towel resting on top of your shoulders. “I was swimming, Seungcheol.”
“But you could be wearing shorts or something,” he argued. “And don't call me Seungcheol.”
Your boyfriend had always been protective over all, but not actually jealous. Most of the time, he just trusted the fact he was a black belt in taekwondo and was training jiu-jitsu if someone ever approached you. Okay, he always had something to say about you wearing revealing or short clothing, but most of the time you just ignored it.
“You wanted me to wear shorts to the pool?”
“Yeah, what's so shocking about it?”
Your boyfriend sighed with frustration, eyebrows furrowed as he ran his hand through his hair, damp from his previous dive. He looked like a sin, exposed chest and swim shorts hanging low from his hips.
“You're just saying anything,” you scoffed, giving him back the towel. “I'm getting a drink.”
“No, I think you should dress up.”
You had just turned your back to walk towards the house, but turned back around after hearing those words.
“What?”
“It's too small,” he said as if it was obvious. “Put on some shorts or change for another bikini.”
“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” you chuckled.
Walking inside the house your boyfriend and his friends rented to spend summer, you went to the kitchen, finding a shirtless Seokmin chopping something by the sink.
“Hey, are you hungry?” He asked as you opened the fridge. “Mingyu is grilling meat. I'm preparing a salad.”
He proudly showed you a bowl full of perfectly chopped lettuce and spinach, thinly sliced cucumbers and purple onions, a wide smile on his face as you popped a soda can.
“Great job,” you gave him a thumbs up. “Should I be scared that you're this good with a knife?”
Seokmin laughed, loud as usual, making you laugh along with him as you stood by his side to watch him cut up something else.
“What's so funny?”
Seungcheol's voice made you sigh, and as he walked inside the kitchen, Seokmin's smile slowly faded as soon as he saw the older man's expression. You turned around to stare at your boyfriend, leaning against the kitchen's sink.
“Seokmin was just talking about his salad,” you said.
“And you're shitting your pants from that?”
“Cheol, we're not gonna do this,” you said firmly. “If you have a problem, say it out loud like an adult.”
“I just said and you turned your back at me,” he argued.
“No, you—”
“Guys,” Seokmin said softly.
“You never listen to me anyway,” Seungcheol shrugged.
“I'll listen if you stop talking nonsense.”
“Nonsense?!” He stepped closer to you, staring into your eyes. “You think it's nonsense?”
“Cheol—”
“Shut up, Seokmin,” he gave his friend a deadly stare. “It's none of your business.”
“Don't talk to him like that,” you said, frowning. “God, what's gotten into you today?!”
“I'll talk to people however the fuck I want.”
Seungcheol was standing just a few inches away from you, eyes fiercely staring into yours.
“Okay, but he doesn't have anything to do with this—”
“Why are you defending him anyways?” Seungcheol got even closer, lips now inches away from yours. “I bet you're getting off from knowing everyone here wants to fuck you, right?”
Your jaw dropped, and you weren't sure if you wanted to cry or punch your boyfriend in the face.
“Dude, what are you saying?” Seokmin was just as shocked as you. “I would never— No one here would ever look at your girlfriend that way.”
“Oh, miss me with the bullshit,” Seungcheol stepped away, turning his back.
Knowing him pretty well, stepping away meant he was trying not to lose his temper.
“I'm actually offended that you think of me that way,” Seokmin said.
“Ignore it, he's just being insane,” you told your friend, turning back to the sink. “Go back to your salad.”
“I'm being insane?” Seungcheol said, sarcastic smile on his face. “Then why is he popping jokes every five minutes to get your attention? It's not the first time today.”
“That's just who I am?” Seokmin said with confusion. “If you don't want anyone here to talk to your girlfriend then you shouldn't have invited her.”
Seungcheol went towards Seokmin, staring into the other's eyes.
“Don't think I won't beat you up just because we're friends,” he threatened. “Keep up with your shit and you'll see what happens.”
“I think you should calm down,” you said, pushing your boyfriend away.
Seokmin stood there motionless, not because he was scared, but because he probably felt betrayed that his long term friend didn't trust him.
When Seungcheol looked at you, he was almost foaming at the mouth as he spoke in between teeth.
“I'll calm down once you get fucking dressed.”
Seungcheol didn't even raise his voice. He didn't have to. If it was anyone else, they would've already pissed their pants and went home crying. But that was your boyfriend for three years now, you knew exactly how things worked with him. So you went to the living room, Seungcheol right behind you.
“They're literally your friends. And everyone has been nothing but respectful—”
“Oh, yeah, I saw how respectfully Wonwoo stared at your ass when you got out of the pool,” he said sarcastically.
“I'm sure he didn't do that.”
“I literally saw it!”
“Okay, whatever, why does it matter?” You shrugged. “It's not like he tried anything or—”
“Why does it matter? You must have lost your fucking mind.” He sneered at you.
“What the fuck are you talking about?!” You said with irritation, voice slightly raising.
“I just don't want them looking at your body.”
“You're fucking crazy,” you said nonchalantly. “We're swimming. It's summer. People wear bikinis.”
“I didn't fucking ask,” Seungcheol looked scarily calm. “Go put on some clothes.”
You laughed sarcastically, still not believing his words.
“I'm not changing just because you're insecure.”
That seemed to make him snap. If his eyes could turn red, they would've. Seungcheol slowly got closer, eyes glued to yours.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“That's where jealousy comes from. Insecurity,” you shrugged.
Seungcheol grabbed you by the chin, lips inches away from yours.
“Get upstairs.”
You laughed at his face.
“I'm not going anywhere.”
“You're getting upstairs because I fucking told you so,” he spat the words. “Otherwise I'll take you out and fuck you right in front of everyone since you like to show-off so much.”
Your body temperature raised as you stared into your boyfriend's eyes, his words echoing in the back of your head. It was a pattern you had to work on; every time he got angry, it went straight down your pussy, thighs clenching and all.
“Oh, did I upset you, Cheollie?”
Your lips crashed, your boyfriend eager as his hands grabbed tight around your waist, pushing his body against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, Seungcheol's hand gripping so tight at your ass it made you moan against his lips.
“Cheol—” You gasped as he sucked at the skin in your neck. “Let's go upstairs—”
“Now you want to go upstairs?”
Seungcheol held tighter around your waist, pushing you against the sofa. You laid down with your heart racing, your boyfriend getting on top of you with a devilish smirk on his lips.
“Wait— What if someone sees us?”
“Isn't that what you want?” He leaned down, lips pressed to your ear. “My pretty little attention whore.”
Shivers went down your spine as he bit on your neck, gasps escaping from your lips and your shaking hands going through his hair. He sucked on your skin hard enough to leave marks, heat growing in between your legs.
“Seriously— Ah!”
Seungcheol had pulled your bikinis top to the sides, exposing your boobs to suck on your nipples.
“Weren't you all over Wonwoo? You won't mind if he sees me sucking your tits, will you?”
“Please— Not here—”
“Wow, you're polite all of a sudden?”
Your boyfriend slipped his hand inside your bikini bottom as you desperately put your top back in place, looking over your head at the giant glass window from where the sun came in and you could see the pool.
Fortunately, they were probably all gathered outside at the table by the grill, but if anyone decided they wanted to go swimming, you'd be fucked. Not in a good way.
“Cheol, what if—”
Seungcheol started rubbing your clit, your cunt getting wet in seconds as you gripped onto his shoulders.
“I'm just gonna show you how insecure I am,” he smirked, fingers brushing at your entrance.
“Let's go—”
You were stopped by your boyfriend untying one side of your bikini bottoms, pulling the rest to the side and exposing you right in the middle of the living room in a house where six other people could walk in at any moment.
“Shit, don't—”
You swallowed dry as Seungcheol started moving down, hands softly caressing your hips before he went down in between your legs, leaving open mouth kisses in your inner thighs.
“Fuck, no
” You moaned, his fingers playing with your cunt.
“Are you scared Seokmin might see us?”
Seungcheol's lips were really close to your cunt when he spoke, his warm breathing hitting against your core, making your toes curl.
“Anyone could see us—”
Your hand almost smacked your mouth when Cheol wrapped his lips around your folds, sucking hard on your clit, slurping your juices. Your legs trembled as you looked up once again, then at the kitchen’s door, waiting for someone to walk in.
Cheol didn't seem to care, wet sounds from his lips against your dripping cunt taking over the room as you pressed your hand tight against your mouth to keep yourself quiet.
“You looked really pretty with this bikini,” his tongue brushed against your entrance. “But your wet pussy looks better. And they can't have it.”
Cheol pushed one of his fingers inside your cunt, softly stretching your entrance. Your back arched, your heart skipping a beat when you heard Mingyu's laugh, followed by Seokmin's high pitched scream.
“Oh, God—” You whispered.
Giving in, you held tight onto your boyfriend's hair, shoving his face harder into your wet cunt to try to make him go faster. Instead of working harder, he simply grabbed one of your calves and placed your leg on top of his shoulder.
With your pussy spread out to him, you let Cheol’s finger fuck into you as his tongue sucked on your clit so hard you felt your soul almost leaving your body.
“Babe— A room—” You whined.
Cheol surprised you by pushing a second finger in, still sucking hard at your clit, heat pooling down your core as you squirmed under him. Losing yourself, you closed your eyes and let him stretch you out, his fingers hitting just right as you gripped onto the sofa's armrest. Cheol’s soft lips felt like heaven, especially when he started moving his head faster.
You just didn't expect him to pull out his cock and shove into you without a warning, his thickness stretching you out so good you let a loud and clear moan escape from your lips.
Desperate, you once again looked around, checking every exit and window, your friends nowhere to be seen.
“What? Want them to watch me fucking you?”
Seungcheol grabbed your chin, making you stare into his eyes, and when you held tight around his neck and wrapped your legs around his hips, it was just you, him, and the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You got lost into the sensation of his thick tip hitting deep, every thrust making you bite hard onto your own lip to keep quiet.
“You're. All. Mine.”
Every pause of his previous words turned into a hard, deep pound, your legs turning into jelly as you opened yourself even more to him. You didn't want to open your eyes, because you were pretty sure you'd end up seeing a crowd watching your boyfriend fuck you into oblivion, anxiety mixing with the feeling of your walls tightening around your boyfriend's big cock.
“Fuck—” You whispered, scratching his back. “Cheol— I'm—”
Your back arched as the wave of pleasure hit you like a punch in the stomach, leaving you breathless and almost paralyzed as Seungcheol started thrusting even harder, your sensitive clit and walls pulsing. You held onto him as you felt Cheol's cock fill you up with his cum, leaking as he kept thrusting until there was nothing left.
“Fuck,” he gasped. “That's what you needed, right?”
Seungcheol grabbed your face, your cheeks squeezed into his hand as he breathed hard while staring deeply into your eyes.
“Never forget you're mine.”
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