#when there is so much obvious space on the right side

[skbeaumont]

Five for Five | Joel x Reader Oneshot

“I ain’t stupid.” His tone is heavy now, words grating out of his throat like rusty razor blades. “Last I checked, we had one hundred and two. There’s ninety-seven here. That’s five missing.”

Summary: It was probably a stupid idea to trade five ration cards for a tiny bottle of perfume, and it's not surprising that Joel is angry, but you think it might just be worth it. Tags/warnings: fem reader, smut, dubcon, spanking, punishment, dom!Joel, sub!reader, first time, oral (m receiving), fingering, pet names, unprotected p in v, aftercare. Word Count: 4k

A/N: Forgive me father for I have sinned. This is pure filth. Please mind the tags/warnings.

“Where are the rest?”

Joel’s voice cuts through you as soon as you step inside the apartment. It’s late, already dark out, and the dangerous edge to his words makes you jump as you step inside, shoulders aching, feet numb from the long walk back home through the QZ.

“Jesus fuck, Joel. What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer, just holds up his hand and shakes the stack of ration cards that are clutched in his fist. The only light is coming from the wonky reading lamp in the corner and it casts an amber glow over the apartment and Joel’s stern face.

“I said,” his voice is steady, clear, but you can already hear the frustration that’s buried underneath it, the anger that’s so quick to rise in him threatening to bubble over, “where are the rest?”

“They should all be there,” you reply, letting your eyes fall down to your boots, toeing them off so that you don’t have to look at his face.

“Well, they ain’t.” He takes a step toward you, his own boots heavy on the worn linoleum floor. “And I wanna know where they are.”

“Did you check under the floor?”

Of course he’s checked under the floor, and of course they aren’t there, because last night you took a handful – five, max – and traded them for a tiny bottle of perfume that’s now stuffed under your mattress. Joel rarely checks the ration cards – he lets you deal with that side of the dodgy business you’ve been running together for the last year and a half – so you’d thought you could get away with it. That he wouldn’t notice. But this is Joel, and he’s noticed.

“I ain’t stupid.” His tone is heavy now, words grating out of his throat like rusty razor blades. “Last I checked, we had one hundred and two. There’s ninety-seven here. That’s five missing.”

With this last he slams the pile down on the kitchen side next to you, stepping right up into your space so that you feel his breath – hot and tinged with the scent of cheap bourbon – on the side of your face. You’ve seen him angry so many times, but it’s never been directed at you before, and you’re starting to understand why most people avoid his gaze in corridors, why men cross the street when they see him coming. 

“Did you miscount?” You ask, fighting to keep your voice level, light.

“Did I miscount?” He repeats, slow, each word enunciated like it’s a full sentence on its own, and you realise it was probably the worst thing you could have said.

His fingers are hot on your chin when he grabs it, tilting your reluctant face up, dragging your eyeline to meet his. His face is a sight to behold: eyebrows furrowed, deep groves carved out in the lines that surround them, his jaw tense, a muscle twitching as he grinds his teeth. There’s danger in his eyes; a fire behind them that burns as he stares down at you.

“No, I didn’t miscount.” He spits the last word out, eyes tracing the blush that’s crawling up your throat, the way your eyes dart away from his, the flicker of your pulse – fast, rising – in your throat. The trace of the misdirection, the lie, so obvious.

He can read you like a book, always could. But you’re stubborn. You’re not giving anything away if you don’t have to. Those cards are yours as much as they’re his, and this one thing you’ve allowed yourself in eighteen months is worth the way his fingertips are digging into the sides of your face.

“What did you trade ‘em for?” He asks.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs at this, lets your face go and takes a single step back, swings his arm to his side and lets it carry him into a half turn. You slump back against the door, peeling paint sticking uncomfortably to your back. But it’s a short-lived reprieve.

“Fuck me?” He repeats, turning back to you. “After all I’ve done for you, all the shit I’ve taken for you-”

“I didn’t ask you to!” Your voice is shrill compared to his gruff curses, but you continue, adrenaline spiking, “And you’ve been the cause of at least half of that shit, Joel. Don’t make out like you’re some knight in shining armour when we both know the truth!”

The truth: that he’s brutal, feared by almost everyone in the QZ;  that people only trade with the two of you because of your hard work and negotiation skills. Joel’s good for enforcing things, for smuggling things in and out, and for sending a message when anything goes wrong, but he’s also a broken man whose anger has got him into more than a few scrapes that you’ve had to get him out of with nothing more than your sharp tongue and quick thinking.

He lets you rally this outburst at him, doesn’t blink in the face of it, until you’ve finished. Then he’s striding back to you, slamming the hand holding the cards hard against the door behind you. It makes you flinch away but his other hand’s back on your jaw, grip tighter this time, forcing you to look up at him.

“Where are the rest?” He repeats, brandishing the ration cards so that they’re inches from your face.

“They’re mine as much as they’re yours.” You say, quietly defiant despite the way your voice shakes.

“You trade them?”

“What does it matter?”

“Nuh-uh,” He twists his hand, turns your face away so that you’re forced to look to the side instead of into his face and he can say the next words into your ear. “This ain’t how this works. I ask the questions, you answer ‘em. Did. You. Trade. Them?”

His face is so close to yours now that you can feel spit landing on your cheek as he speaks, his breath hot in your ear. It shouldn’t turn you on, but it does. You can feel yourself getting wet, slick pooling unbidden between your thighs. It’s hard to ignore a man like Joel, but it’s even harder to get close to him. You don’t think he’s ever been so near to you before, not even when you’ve tended each other’s wounds after a run went south.

You’ve always wanted him to; held a secret flame that’s grown brighter and hotter over the last few months. There’s something undeniably attractive about Joel. The way he moves, the quiet confidence he exudes and the brutal, coiled power of him. You’ve watched him set his fist into another man’s jaw and wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of his temper, his passion.

Now, with his face so close to yours, his thick fingers digging into your jaw, you feel yourself sinking into it, relaxing despite the tension of the situation. You want this, you want his anger and razor-sharp focus. It’s overwhelming in the best way, and you feel tears burning at your lower lashline.

“Yes. I traded them.”

A tear slides down you face and Joel’s eyes trace its path as it glides over your check, pooling in the corner of your mouth, salty and unrepentant.

“What for?”

“Perfume.”

He laughs again, but this laugh is full of derision, not mirth. It’s a punch of a laugh, straight from his chest, catching in his throat and distorting into a growl that sends a shiver up your spine and a bolt of lightning through your cunt.

“Perfume.” He repeats, turning your face in his hand so that you’re looking at him again.

His pupils are blown wide, his face a mask of fury and something else that has you pressing your thighs together, seeking friction. He notices you doing it, lets his eyes follow the movement of your hips, the desperate, needy breaths you’re sucking in. He grins, teeth bared.

“And what, exactly, do you need perfume for?” He asks, not giving you time to answer before he’s bending down and pressing his nose into the side of your neck, inhaling deeply, stubble scratching your throat. “Smell sweet enough to me already.”

“Joel, please,” you say, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, because he’s licking a thick stripe up the side of your throat and you think if he stops you might scream.

“Buy it for those boys I see sniffing around you sometimes? Huh?” He asks, drawing back from you and shaking your face in his hand roughly. “Knew you were nothing but a fucking slut.”

“I just- I wanted something nice.” You try to explain, the words catching in your throat as he slides one thick thigh between yours.

“Something nice? What makes you think you deserve something nice, hmm? Ain’t nothing nice in this place, you should know that as well as I do.”

And you do, God knows you do. The QZ is dark and twisted and fucking soul-crushing, but you’d wanted the perfume, wanted it with a deep yearning that matches the way you want Joel to keep going now, to push you and punish you and take what he wants.

“I think you need to learn a lesson, baby.”

You’re nodding into his hand, tears rolling down your face, splashing onto his thick fingers. He lets go of your jaw, takes you by the wrist and pulls you into the room, toward the sofa, over his knee when he sits. Your stomach is pressed into his thighs, face buried in the dirty sofa cushion and he’s got one hand pressing into your spine, the other searching out the button of your jeans. He undoes it, wastes no time in dragging the worn denim down your shaking thighs.

“You’re gonna lie there and take it, you hear me?” He says, splaying a hand over your bare ass cheek, moving the line of your knickers out of the way so that he can squeeze the meat of you, fingers dipping between your thighs, finding the slick liquid that’s leaking from you.

“Jesus Christ, you’re soaked already. Fuckin’ filthy little thing, aren’t you?” His accent is somehow thickening, vowels lengthening, the twang of his consonants increasing.

“I asked you a question.” He says when you don’t immediately reply, and you nod your head, wipe your wet eyes against the sofa.

“Count for me.” He says, and before you can take a breath to prepare, his hand is coming down sharply on you.

The sting is sharp; delicious.

“Count.” He hisses, and you whisper a faint one, breaking off into a moan when he lets his fingers graze the side of your puffy lips.

You wish you could see his expression, see if this is affecting him as much as its affecting you, if he’s watching with something like ecstasy on his handsome, haunting features.

The second smack is harder than the first, sharper and sweeter for it. It makes you jerk against him but he’s holding you down firmly with one solid hand in the middle of your back, pressing you into his thighs, into his lap. The denim of his jeans is rough against your bare stomach, scratching you skin where your shirt’s risen up. The third slap makes you yelp, harder again, but he soothes it immediately with his palm, rubs the flesh of your ass.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Enjoying being bent over my lap and spanked like the dirty whore y’are, huh?”

You can’t believe the filth that’s dripping from his lips. Sure, he curses plenty, and you’ve heard him cuss out entire rooms full of angry men, but this is something else entirely. This is animalistic and derogatory and indecent. And God help you, its sending rushes of hot liquid practically gushing down your thighs.

“Be so easy to slide myself inside you, you’re so goddamn wet.” He says as he sends another harsh slap onto your ass. “Open you up and press myself inside this soaking cunt, hmm? Bet you’d let me, too, let me do fucking anything to you.”

“Yes, Joel, please, anything.”

His third laugh of the afternoon is throaty and coarse, full of self-indulgence. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, makes you clench your thighs together and grind your teeth to stop you from crying out again.

“You gonna come like this, baby?” He asks, sliding his hand over the meat of your ass, down between your thighs to press at your entrance, slipping beneath your ruined underwear. “Come on my lap like the dirty fucking slut I know you are?”

The sweet sting as he pushes two thick fingers inside you almost pushes you over the edge there and then, but you bite into your lip – probably drawing blood, but you’re too distracted to notice. He curls his fingers, drags the pads of them over the soft flesh inside you, seeking out that spot that makes you almost black out, pleasure ratcheting up so suddenly that you gasp, coming hard in his lap, muscles shaking and contracting, cunt squeezing his fingers tight.

“There she is,” He hisses, curling them again, chasing you as you shift against him, overstimulated.

How is he so good at this? You’ve never seen him with anyone – he’s always given the impression that he has no interest in sex, in relationships, friendships, even. But the expert way that he’s playing your body like an instrument, chasing your moans and gasps like they’re the air he needs to stay alive, tells a completely different story. And when you jerk in his grip and he presses you harder against him, shifting on the sofa, there’s suddenly a very clear indication of just how much of an affect this is having on him, too.

“Shit,” His voice is ragged now: This outburst isn’t controlled in the way that the rest of the curses he’s been spewing into your ears have been. It’s unexpected and bitten back behind a grunt as your hip comes into contact with his cock – a solid, hot weight that fills the front of his jeans, pressing the button of his flies into you, his pocket a line of stitches on your stomach.

The next smack is all the harder for the tiny huff of a giggle you let out, which turns quickly into a hiss of pain when his palm comes down hard against you.

“Concentrate,” He warns when you don’t immediately count the spank aloud. “’m teaching you a fuckin’ lesson, here, remember?”

“Four.” You say, pressing your face harder into the cushion, rolling your hips just slightly so that his cock twitches against your stomach.

“Five for five.” He says, soothing your heated flesh with the palm of his hand before bringing it down one final time. “Five. Think you’ve learnt your lesson?”

You twist round in his lap, eyes dancing when you see the flush that’s tinted his cheeks, the way his gaze is lingering on the swell of your ass cheek in his hand, perspiration beading on his heavy brow.

“I don’t know, Joel, do you?” You say, voice teasing, and he snaps his eyes up to your face as he hisses through clenched teeth.

“Fuckin’ mouth on you, you insolent little slut,” he curses, fisting the collar of your shirt and pulling you upright, opening his legs so that you slide between them onto the cold lino floor.

“Think we can find a better use for it, hmm?” He leans back against the couch, pops the first button on his jeans. Your eyes follow the movement hungrily, unable to look away as he slide the zip down painfully slowly, tooth by tooth, the clicks loud in the silent apartment.

He doesn’t take the jeans off, just pushes them far enough down his thighs that he can fist his cock where it sits, heavy and thick, in his underwear. There’s a dark stain at the tip that makes your mouth water, and when he drags his briefs down, too, you lick your lips greedily.

He’s painfully hard – head flushed a deep red, veins standing out boldly against his thick shaft. There’s a thatch of dark hair at the base, and his balls are heavy and full when he tucks the waistband of his briefs underneath them.

He strokes himself lazily a few times and you let yourself look up to his face. His eyes are dark, pupils eating into the deep brown irises, brows furrowed slightly. The amber light of the lamp is casting his face partly in shadow and it only accentuates the strong, curved line of his nose, the deep creases that lines his eyes and forehead. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists, his gaze so sharp and focused it makes you dizzy.

“C’mon then,” he says, running a hot hand up your jaw to grip the back of your neck, pulling you in towards him. “I got no doubt you know exactly what you’re doing here.”

The scent of him is musky and something distinctly masculine, and you bury your nose in the thick hair at the base of him, place a heated kiss to the side of one thigh. This alone make him moan, a deep, throaty sound that lights you up from the inside.

You press your lips to the tip of him, flick your tongue out to kitten lick at the slit.

“Fuck,” he curses.

He’s sensitive. When you wrap a hand around the base of his cock and place your lips around him he hisses, fingers tightening their grip in your hair, free hand fisting the loose cover of the worn couch. You take him further in, suck your cheeks in to caress him, work your tongue over the delicate ridge at the head of his cock. He tastes like salt and sweat and something distinctly Joel, masculine and heady. When he hits the back of your throat you try not to gag, try to swallow him down, throat contracting around him so that he groans and curses.

“Jesus Christ, baby. Your mouth is fuckin’ filthy.”

You grin around his cock, work your hand over the part of him that won’t fit, then pull back and lick one long strip up his shaft, letting your tongue follow one of the thick veins. He presses himself back into your mouth, tightens his grip on the back of your neck and raises his hips off the sofa.

“You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth, baby?” He asks, and you nod, feel hot tears prickling in your eyes when he starts moving, dragging his hips back and then forward, forcing his cock into your mouth, down your throat so that you feel like you’re choking, like all that exists is Joel and his hard cock, his breathy moans and filthy mouth.

“Got such a clever fuckin’ mouth, baby. Just needed to find a way to put it to good use- shit, yeah, that’s it.” He pushes you down once more, groans as he bottoms out on your throat, then releases the back of your neck so that you can pull back.

You’re a mess, tears rolling down your face, saliva pooling in your mouth and joining your lips with Joel’s cock in long strings. Joel’s looking down at you with fire in his eyes, his dark gaze flicking from your mouth to your eyes to the open buttons of your shirt and the swell of your ass.

“Get up,” He says, wrapping his hand around your upper arm and pulling you to your feet.

Before you’ve time to get your balance he’s bending you over, forcing you onto your hands and knees on the sofa. He lines himself up behind you, drags the blunt head of his cock through your soaking folds and presses himself inside your cunt.

The stretch is intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, press yourself back against him as he inches inside. He pauses for a split second when he’s sheathed himself fully inside, then pulls out and begins a punishing pace, fucking you into the sofa, his hands gripping your hips so hard you’re sure he’ll leave marks in the shape of his fingertips.

“Pussy’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight, darlin’” He says, and something in your chest swells at the sound of ‘darlin’’ rolling off his tongue like that, full of something that’s dangerously close to fondness.

He’s a cacophony of contradictions, greedy hands gripping your hips possessively, then smoothing up your back under your shirt before sliding back down to slap the soft flesh of your ass. His thrusts are hard and intense, cock hitting that spot inside you that makes electricity jolt in your stomach with each movement, but then he bends over you, slows his hips so that he can kiss the skin of your throat. His voice – deep, husky, reverberating in his chest – keeps up a filthy chorus that has you whimpering into the couch, but he’s praising you, offering you gentle encouragement, his words warm and dirty and entirely overwhelming.

Being so good for me, baby, pussy’s so fuckin’ wet and tight around me. Can feel you getting close, you gonna come like this, huh? With my cock buried deep inside this pretty little cunt?

Without waiting for an answer he wraps an arm around you and finds your clit with two of his thick fingers. He starts rubbing confident circles over it, bringing you closer and closer to your inevitable climax. You grip his arm with your fist; fingernails digging into hard muscle.

Then suddenly you’re coming apart, white noise blocking out the sound of his hips slapping into yours and his voice and the low level hubbub of the other apartments, until there’s nothing left but your pleasure and his cock and his clever fingers, his nose pressed into your throat, teeth nipping the tendons there.

The world fades back into existence as you come down, muscles jolting. You feel yourself clenching around him with the aftershocks. Joel gasps into your neck, squeezes your tits over your shirt.

“Fuck, just like that, gonna come in this sweet cunt. Shit, that’s it.” His thrusts falter, hips slamming into yours.

You feel him twitch inside you as he comes, ropes of hot cum painting the inside of you, his stuttering breath at your ear.

You stay as you are for a moment, both gasping for breath, hearts hammering in your chests. His embrace is suddenly tender, muscles shifting as he relaxes against you. You don’t say anything, but he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, and that simple gesture opens a floodgate in your chest.

He pulls out of you but keeps his arm around you, guides you both down to lie on the couch, your back pressed to his front. The light in the apartment feels different than it did earlier, the orange hue warmer, kinder than it was.

Joel peppers kisses along the back of your neck and over each shoulder, his strong arm keeping you firmly against him. He wraps a thick thigh over both of yours and tightens it, anchoring you in place. You sigh in contentment, head quieter than it’s been for months, years, possibly.

“I didn’t hurt you?” He says into your hair, voice low.

“No, Joel.”

“You sure? I’m sorry if I was too rough. I don’t- I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I liked it, Joel.”

He chuckles darkly, hooks his chin over your shoulder and teases the skin under your ear with his teeth.

“Fuckin’ filthy, aren’t you? Always knew you were.” He presses his nose to your neck, inhales deeply. “Perfume’s nice, by the way.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fic #joel x you #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction

[foxaftershocks]

I saw you were asking for prompts for lars pinfield and was wondering if you were interested in writing something where the reader is the oldest spengler kid(like 10-12 years older than phoebe) and she works with lars and its obvious to Lucky and Trevor that there's something going on between the reader and Lars but neither will admit it. This got so long, sorry.

No need to apologise. It wasn't that long at all. It could have been even longer lol

“Oi, Pinfield.”

Lars looked up as you sauntered over, hand in your back jean pocket. His eyes swept up your body, lingering a moment longer than was appropriate. Coming to rest against the bench, one hip cocked, you smirked down at him.

“You’ve got something of mine,” you said.

“Do I?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yup. You’re nothing but a common thief,” you replied.

“I think I’m rather uncommon, thank you very much,” he said, looking back to the wiring he was working on.

“Are you gonna give it back or do I have to plan a heist to reclaim my property?” you asked.

“Depends on what it is,” he said with a small shrug.

He glanced up at you from under eyelashes, lips pulling up at the corner. You lent closer, placing one hand flat on the bench in front of him. His chin tilted up towards you, blue eyes sparkling from behind glass.

“You’ve taken my soldering iron you bastard,” you said.

“Company property,” he replied, pursing his lips, “you have no claim on it.”

“Check the bottom,” you said, a hint of smugness entering your expression.

He sighed, picking up the soldering iron he’d been using only moments before. Your name was scrawled there, practically carved into the metal. His lips pursed again and you felt the need to bite down on your lower lip, holding back your laughter. Your shoulders shook once he looked at you, raised eyebrow saying everything you needed to hear.

“Hand it over, nerd,” you said, holding out a hand expectantly.

When he didn’t, you reached forward, trying to snatch it from him. Warm arms caught you, pinning your arms to your side, Lars’ face was so close to yours and as his head dipped you had the irrational thought he was about to kiss you. Your cheeks heated, a flush of warmth making you want to lean into him too.

“Possession is nine tenths the law,” he murmured, “and as far as I can tell, I’m in possession of it.”

You struggled against his hold, surprised when his arms tightened. You were practically pressed up against his body, his warmth seeping into your body. For such a scrawny man, he was so solid, strong enough to keep you from breaking away. Your giggles were soft, even to your own ears, and while this wasn’t what you’d been expecting, you never turned away from when Lars turned playful, despite how few and far between it was.

His chuckle was soft in your ear, holding you in place as you tried to get free. Caught against him you could smell the copper of the wiring and the laundry detergent clinging to his shirt. You pressed your face to his chest, trying to stifle your laughter but couldn’t. He froze for just a moment before he melted, his hold almost turning into an embrace.

“What’s this?”

You peeked around Lars, finding your younger brother staring at the two of you, a look of confusion and disgust mingling on his face. Pulling away, you put space between the two of you, feeling like a teenager caught by your parents with your boyfriend. A chill settled over you and you snatched the soldering iron from the bench, forgotten in your struggle with Lars.

“Lars is a rotten thief,” you said.

“Yes because I hug all the criminals I come across,” he said, his dry sarcasm only making your cheeks heat further.

“We weren’t hugging. I was… being restrained,” you said, struggling to find the words.

You couldn’t even look at the taller man, still standing so close to you. If you did, you were going to die of embarrassment.

“Right, well, now I’ve got this I’m going to…” You indicated over your shoulder with your thumb, “stop stealing my stuff.”

“Company property,” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear.

You didn’t acknowledge him as you slunk back to your own work.

Some time passed and you could still feel the ghost of his arms around your body, pinning your arms, his warmth still burnt into your brain. It left you feeling breathless, barely able to concentrate on your work. Which was increasingly becoming a problem with him. You were so distracted by him.

“So.”

You startled, so lost in thought you hadn’t heard your brother approach. He slid onto the stool beside you, resting his elbows on the bench. You ignored him, using the soldering iron you’d stolen back from Lars.

“What’s going on with you and the nerd?” he asked.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you replied.

“Really? You looked pretty close earlier,” he said.

“You mean like you and Lucky?” You shot him a look, watching his shift uncomfortably in his seat, “because I’m pretty sure you say nothing is going on there too.”

While you let him struggle with the conundrum you’d put him in, you went back to your work. You’d lost enough time thinking about Lars and had to make it up.

A steaming mug was slid in front of you and when you looked up blue eyes were looking down to you. Curling a hand around it, your lips quirked up.

“Chocolate or crips?” Lars asked.

“Chocolate,” you replied.

“Too bad. I only have crisps,” he said, tossing a packet on the table in front of you.

“Duble bluff, I love potato chips,” you said, opening the bag of chips, offering him a grin.

“Hoover,” he chastised but there was fondness there. You basked in it, the little private smile you seemed to draw out in him.

“Since when do you drink tea?” Trevor asked, reminding you he was still there.

“A while now,” you replied.

“You don’t even like tea,” he said.

“Sure I do,” you countered.

You took a sip from the mug as if to prove your point. It was still too hot, burning your tongue. You kept your wince inside, giving your younger brother a pointed look. Lars snorted at your shoulder, stealing one of your potato chips before leaving you, hand squeezing your shoulder as he took his leave.

Usually he’d sit with you as you drank your tea and disappointment swooped in your stomach. Clearly he wasn’t interested in sitting with your brother as well. A spike of resentment at his continued presence was a surprise to you.

“You’re only pretending to like tea,” Trevor hissed.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you snapped back.

“You want to impress him,” he said.

“I doubt drinking tea is what would impress him,” you said, taking another of the hot drink in your hands.

“So you have thought about it?” he was quick to ask.

“Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” you asked, “Lucky perhaps.”

“You don’t want to talk about it,” he said, as if it was a gotcha moment.

“How about you ask Lars about it? I’m sure that will go well,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Good idea.”

He hopped off the stool and you were grateful to be left alone. Especially since you knew Lars wouldn’t stand for having your friendship questioned by your baby brother. Sarcasm and wit were his weapons and you knew your brother would be eviscerated.

When you took your mug into the kitchen to wash up you found Lars already there, head bowed and faucet running. You snuck up behind him on tip toes, keeping as quiet as possible.

“Boo,” you whispered, right in his ear.

He jumped, whirling around towards you, a clatter of a dropped mug in the sink. Wet hands landed on your waist and for a moment you weren’t sure if he was going to shove you away or pull you closer. His brow furrowed as he looked down at you, hands tightening on you.

“Easily scared there, Pinfield?” you asked, lips pulling up into a smirk.

“You’re a terror,” he said but there was no fire behind it.

The way he was looking at you was making your heart flutter. The softness in his eyes, the small smile on his lips, the warmth of his palms seeping through your cotton t-shirt. Your teeth sunk into your lip and it looked as if his eyes darted down to it, darkening for a moment.

“What’s going on in here?”

You jerked out of his hold, wet patches showing through on your shirt. Lucky was leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, raised eyebrow. Once again heat rose in your cheeks and you had to turn away, hip checking Lars out of the way from the sink. He plucked the mug from your hand, manoeuvring you out of the way again.

“Crickets,” Lucky said, sauntering in.

“Because there’s nothing to say,” Lars said, slow to begin washing the mug he’d brought you.

“Looked like something was going on,” she said.

You rolled your eyes, shoulder brushing against his as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. His head twitched in your direction but his eyes were trained on the mug in his hands.

“Yeah, this is convincing,” she said.

“Nothing was going on,” Lars said, voice a touch harsh.

You looked down, not wanting anyone to see the disappointment you felt at his words. You knew you’d been saying the same thing to Trevor but it sounded so much worse in his voice. Especially when the outline of his hands were still on your shirt.

“And you’re sticking to that story, are you?”

His shoulder brushed yours again and when you looked towards him, blue eyes were already looking back to you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face but you could take the mug in his hand, fingers brushing together. You placed it on the drying rack.

“Mm hm,” Lucky hummed.

“I’m not having this discussion again,” you said to her, “ask Trevor. I’m sure he’ll enjoy spilling the details to you.”

You stalked out of the room, not sure how you felt. A mix of emotions were going through your brain and all you knew was that you wanted Lars to follow you. Sometimes it felt like you always wanted him around.

“Seems as if people around here don’t have enough work to do if they’re talking about us.”

Lars had followed you. You pressed your lips together to keep the smile from spreading over your face. You’d walked into one of the deserted parts of the lab, not wanting to have to school your features with your emotions. Now the walls felt closer having him just behind you.

“They’re meddling,” you said, turning to look at him.

He was closer than you’d been expecting, barely a step behind you. You had to tilt your head up to look him in the eye. He lent towards you, almost hunching his shoulders to be closer.

“They have no right to do that,” he said and you couldn’t tell if he was upset.

“Yeah, I mean, this is between us. Like, our relationship is no one’s business. We’re friend so they don’t need to get involved. It’s not comment worthy,” you said, not quite sure what you were trying to say.

“Exactly. There’s nothing odd about us being friends,” he said.

You stepped back, leaning against the wall. In the isolation of the corner, it felt as if the rest of the world was so far away. It was easy to forget other people existed and somehow that made it worse. Talking about being friends with the man who haunted your thoughts made your stomach roil.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself.

He took the step towards you. Something in his eyes burned and you felt your breath catch when he looked down at you. Chin tilted down, staring straight at you, your entire body heated. If he was looking to make you burst into flames, he was going about it the right way. You looked up at him, lips parted as you waited for him to do more.

Swooping down, he claimed your lips in a searing kiss. You gasped, hands reaching up, grasping at him. His hands were back on your waist, pressing you against the wall as his body came to rest against yours. His tongue swept along your bottom lip before he sucked it into his mouth. You moaned, fingers burying themselves in blond curls, arching against him.

He groaned into your mouth, and when his tongue brushed against yours, your nerve endings sang. You shuddered, tugging on his curls until his leg slipped between yours and his teeth sunk into your bottom lip. His hands were holding you tight enough to leave bruises and you were sinking into him.

The rest of the world didn’t exist. You lost yourself in him. It was hot, the way he kissed you like you were the very breath he needed to live. Pressed so close together, there was no space between your bodies, nothing stopping you from feeling every taut line pressed to your every curve.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” he asked, lips trailing down your neck, whispered into your skin.

“Bet I can beat you on that,” you sighed, pressing him closer to you.

“The first time I saw you,” he mumbled, “you walked in here, so beautiful, and I’ve wanted to kiss you since.”

“No,” you said, pushing him away far enough so you could look at him properly.

“No?” He sounded so confused.

“Because that’s how long I’ve wanted to kiss you,” you said, already wanting to kiss him again. He was so gorgeous with his molten eyes and his kiss stung lips and his flushed cheeks.

“You mean we’ve wasted months not doing this?” he asked.

“Plenty of time to make up for it,” you replied, flashing him another smirk.

“I hope you realise I’ve fallen for you,” he said, head tipping forward until his forehead rested against yours.

“Snap,” you said, “because I’ve fallen for you too.”

This time when his lips pressed to yours they were softer, sweeter. You sighed into his mouth, melting from the care he was showing you.

“Ew.”

Typical for your brother to interrupt your sweet moment.

“Go away, Trevor,” you shouted before kissing Lars again.

“You’re both such liars,” he said.

“Leave now or you’ll see something you really don’t want to,” Lars called out.

Footsteps retreated fast and you giggled, falling forward, face resting against his chest. laughter rumbled in his own chest, arms sliding around you in a hug.

“I think you’ve scarred him,” you said, muffled against his chest.

“Serves him right for all the questions he’s been asking,” he muttered.

You looked up into his face, relieved at the smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. The way he looked at you was so soft, like he couldn’t quite believe he was there.

“He was right though,” you said, “something was going on between us.”

“I suppose it was,” he replied.

And when you kissed him again, it definitely felt like something was going on between the two of you.

#lars pinfield x reader #lars pinfield imagine #lars pinfield

[renlyslittlerose]

Today's drabble is 'First Kiss'. This is a quick little drabble set in the Moonlight Serenade universe. This is from Padmé's POV during a visit back home. Takes place summer 1952~

---

Padmé wondered if Anakin knew about all the subtle ways Obi-Wan cared for him.

She wondered if he knew that Obi-Wan always stood to his right, their shoulders brushing, only a few inches of space between them as they navigated through crowds and public spaces. That it was Obi-Wan who protected Anakin’s injured side, blocking it from view and from touch, always mindful of where he was in relation to Anakin’s arm, keeping it safe within the shadows of his form.

Or how when Anakin’s manufactured bravado and fake cheer would wear down, instead replaced with weariness and irritation, Obi-Wan would tilt his head upward just to hear Anakin’s soft voice grow ever softer, and to breath in the words Anakin spoke. Obi-Wan never asked Anakin to speak up, to put on a show, to smile and laugh and coddle those he normally might disappoint. Instead he changed his own demeanour to fit that of Anakin’s, bringing his energies down until they swayed together like reeds in a lake.

Or when Anakin’s smile became tight, his shoulder tense, his eyes glassy with pain, Obi-Wan would grip his residual arm and hold. A friendly gesture, to the unknowing gaze, but filled with so much love and care it sometimes hurt to see. Obi-Wan would replace Anakin’s pain with something else to focus on - the stern yet still tender touch of a lover. The ache in his arm and the stinging in his skin would be replaced with the heat of Obi-Wan’s palm and the strength in his hand, grounding and steady as Anakin trembled through the memories of an agony not yet finished.

She knew, of course, Anakin noticed the most obvious things. Like how Obi-Wan would hold his plate at dinner events and pile it high with foods, asking Anakin what he wanted as they went down the tables, making sure Anakin’s belly was sated before he’d see to his own needs. Or how he tied Anakin’s tie and helped with the laces of his shoes when asked; how he styled his hair in the morning, and ruined in the evening; how he shaved along the curve of Anakin’s jaw and down the stretches of his neck; or how he cut the meats and vegetables for their dinners while Anakin did what he did best in the kitchen - make a mess.

And other stills, that Obi-Wan didn’t know she knew. Things more intimate that Anakin would confess over the phone, his voice bright with cheer as he detailed the latest night of passion, Padmé curling the phone cord over her finger as she laughed and sneaked glances into the living room to make sure no one could overheard the detailed descriptions.

Padmé wondered if he knew. Because she did.

“Padmé?”

Padmé blinked and turned to her mother. They were stood on the back steps of her parents estate, summer sun shining down on the backyard party. Vancouver had rolled out the nice weather for her visit, the skies clear and the winds gentle, the smell of roses fresh in the air. She’d missed this.

“Sorry, mother,” she said, and kissed her cheek quickly before venturing down into the party, a tray of cocktails in her hand that she’d offered to take out to the party.

The grass was cool on her bare feet, and she greeted those she passed by with a smile and an offer of a drink. By the time she’d reached Anakin and Obi-Wan, the tray was empty save for two glasses of gin and tonic.

“Fancy a drink?” she asked.

Anakin’s hand was occupied by a plate with the leftovers of cake on it, so Obi-Wan - as was expected - took both glasses and raised one to her in appreciation.

“Lovely party,” Obi-Wan said. He glanced around the space, his aviators sitting on the bridge of his nose, hiding away his blue eyes that Anakin had described to Padmé more times than once all those years ago. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“You’re welcome, though I’m sorry I haven’t been able to chat much.”

“It’s been six years since your last visit,” Anakin said, the word ‘six’ sitting heavy in the air. “It’s natural people would want to spend time with you.”

His shrug brought Padmé’s attention to his shirt. It was a pretty green silk and short-sleeved, the lapels broad and the top few buttons opened. Padmé could see Anakin’s scars along his chest, and his residual arm poked out at the bottom of his sleeve, exposing it to the world.

“I like your shirt,” Padmé said.

Anakin smiled, though it seemed hesitant. “Obi-Wan bought it for me.”

Adoration filled Padmé then. Of course he had, because he knew Anakin wouldn’t buy it for himself. Because he still cared what others thought; still hid from the world despite it all; still faltered where confidence would be best.

But Obi-Wan knew how beautiful Anakin was, and made Anakin believe it. If only for a short while.

“Ani, I forgot my pocket mirror in my purse back inside. Could you go and grab it for me?” Anakin made move to leave, but Padmé stopped him to grab his plate, replacing it with the drink tray. “And take this back inside, will you? Give it to Samantha.”

Anakin rolled his eyes but did as instructed, his long legs carrying him quickly through the throngs of people. He still cut quite the image, broad shoulders and slim waist making him look more a model from one of the catalogs, than a mechanic with a penchant for hot-rod racing.

When she turned back to Obi-Wan, she didn’t have to see his eyes to know where he was looking.

“That shirt really does look lovely, doesn’t it,” Obi-Wan mused with a soft smile.

Padmé laughed and dragged him in for a kiss. It was quick and sweet, and when she pulled away the greys in Obi-Wan’s beard were painted in red lipstick.

“Padmé,” Obi-Wan mumbled, his cheeks a delightful pink that matched the ruby tones of her lips. He leaned a little in, voice low enough for her to hear. “Not that I’m not flattered, but I’m a married man.”

She giggled again, but when she gripped his arm and held she couldn’t help but squeeze down as she spoke, voice serious, her brows furrowed. “I just wanted to say thank you. For the things you do, the things you say. For who you are. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan’s smile softened, and he nodded quickly. “No need to thank me. But I cherish the sentiment all the same.”

When she pulled away she grabbed a napkin and passed it to Obi-Wan and took one of the gins from his grasp. By the time Anakin returned the lipstick had been wiped away, and Padmé watched as Obi-Wan quietly filled the empty space next to Anakin’s right side once more. She ended up keeping the gin and tonic, while Obi-Wan and Anakin subtly shared the one, lips placed over the spot where the other had drank, like a soft kiss shared between the pair, known only to the trio stood beneath the summer sun.

#star wars fanfiction #lemon fanfiction #obikin #moonlight serenade

[bonafideyapper]

THE TRADER'S DAUGHTER - cooper "the ghoul" howard x female!oc (part 3)

Warnings: weird age gap (Daisy is mid-20s, Cooper is…upwards of 200.); drug use (mentions of weed); mentions of alcohol use; badly written almost-smut; dbf!cooper (and as always, proofread to the best of my ability)

(This part takes place immediately following part 1, expect this series to be present/past/present/past)

part 1 part 2 masterlist

my requests are open!

As Daisy finished locking up the shop for the night, her mind lingered on the ghoul that sat upstairs with her father. Other than the obvious inappropriate thoughts about Cooper, she was looking forward to sitting and listening to his stories again. Forever the storyteller, Cooper could have her hooked for hours. 

Securing the bolts on the door and taking the more valuable items with her upstairs, she met up with the two men in their living space. Coop had made himself comfortable by now, his hat off and sitting on the table as a sign of respect towards his hosts. Daisy took notice of the way his shoulders were tensed despite being in a safe space, coming up with a plan to help him… loosen up. The two men were trapped in a debate about who was the better shot when the girl walked in, and Cooper immediately took the chance to get a second opinion.

“Daisy, settle this debate we’re havin’ here. Your old man is sayin’ that he’s a better shot than I am, what do you think of that?” Cooper leaned back in his seat, the cup of whiskey held loosely in his hand as he trained his eyes on the woman. 

Daisy flashed him a smirk and shrugged as she locked away their cap stash, tucking the key back in a safe space on her person. “Well I dunno, I think Coop’s a pretty good shot, dad.” She came over to the table and grabbed the cup from Cooper’s grasp, finishing the dark liquor in one smooth shot.

“I think I’m the better shot out of the three of us, though.” Daisy winked at Cooper and set the cup back down on the table. 

“Damn, Daze, no vote of confidence for your own father?” Josiah stared at his daughter in fake shock, leaning forward to refill the empty cup for his friend before setting the near-empty bottle back on the table. Josiah had been saving that bottle for a long time, waiting for the right time to open it and celebrate something. Now was as good a time as any, seeing as how Cooper had made his way back to their corner of the universe in one piece. 

Cooper watched the girl take the liquor down like it was nothing, not even the slightest grimace across her face as the burn slid down her throat. He had gotten tougher in the wasteland, but it was becoming clear that she, too, had gone through some things to conform herself to survive the world around her. 

“Nope, I know for a fact I’m better than you, dad.” Daisy grinned as she pulled up a chair to the table, sitting down and reaching for the pack of cigarettes lying on the table. She rolled her own much of the time, and made pretty great money on the side by selling special hand-rolled cigarettes. She had found a dealer that specialized in old-world drugs like marijuana and tobacco, so she took whatever she could get. Daisy put the small stick between her lips and lit a match, holding the flame to the end and inhaling slowly to get the effects of the drug within. 

“When’d you pick that up?” Cooper nudged her arm with his cup, gesturing towards the smoking cigar between her pretty little fingers. “Never picked you to be the smokin’ type, darlin’.” 

Daisy would be lying if that little old nickname didn’t make her stomach ache with want as it slipped from the ghoul’s mouth, pretending like it had no effect on her as she took a drag from the joint. “I dunno, couple years ago I guess? Helps me sleep at night.” She joked, which wasn’t a full lie. Sometimes she smoked to help herself sleep, but a lot of the time she smoked to cope with the reality they lived in. Whatever, made her some extra caps on the side.

The three sat around the table until well into the night, only dissolving when Josiah spoke up and said he was headed to bed. He bid Cooper a goodnight and leaned down to kiss his Daisy on her head before he disappeared into his bedroom. 

Cooper turned his attention to his little flower when he heard Josiah’s door latch shut, a smirk on his face as he watched her. “You’ve grown up a whole lot since the last time I seen you.” He emphasized his words, letting his eyes wander down to her chest again. Oh how he wished he could get her out of that thin tank top and godforsaken jeans, to show her what a real man was like. 

“I guess I have, huh?” Daisy licked her lips as she tapped her second joint out in her ashtray, the motion like second nature to her as she never took her eyes off of the ghoul. 

“Mhmm, I remember you bein’ a chubby little kid, wild as a June bug on a string.” Cooper moved his eyes over her body, smirking at the confused look on her face at the unfamiliar comment. Before she could open her mouth to inquire about the foreign insect, he was leaning into her space, close enough to hear her heartbeat in the quiet room. 

“You’re a mighty fine lookin’ woman, now, little flower.” Cooper moved in to whisper in her ear, noticing how the girl had essentially stopped breathing. He watched as a bead of sweat dripped lower, lower, lower, until it disappeared into the space between her breasts. There was nothing stopping him from reaching out to her, putting his mouth against her smooth, delicate skin and licking the trail of sweat up to her neck. Nothing preventing him from putting his rough hands all over her tanned skin, nothing stopping him from bending her over the table in front of him. 

Nothing except her father, and his closest friend, in the next room. 

Daisy felt her cheeks go scarlet at the closeness of his body to hers, wanting nothing more than to jump the ghoul’s bones. “Come on, Coop, you ain’t even seen me since I was a kid-” she tried to argue, although she was beyond thrilled to find out he was just as attracted to her as she was to him. “Ain’t I a little young for you?” She looked up at him with those big ol’ chocolate eyes of hers, the words hanging in the air between them. 

“Darlin’, I think any woman I meet up here might be a lil’ bit outta my age range.” Cooper snorted as he pulled away before he could really touch her the way he had been craving since the moment he saw her all grown up. He hadn’t been with a woman in a mighty long time, but he felt like he was on the verge of going feral when Daisy laid her eyes on him. He was itchin’ to put his hand on her thigh, wanting to see the way her eyes fluttered closed at the intimate touch. He wanted to slide his hand up her thigh, wanted to brush his fingers over that sweet spot that she’d be begging him to finally touch. 

“You’re like a tall drink o’ water, and sweetheart, I’m just dyin’ of thirst.” Cooper moved back to whisper in her ear, smirking as he trailed his lips over the shell of her ear. 

Daisy wasn’t a virgin, by any means. She had fooled around with many of the teenage boys that had presented themselves to her in her youth, but she hadn’t spent any time with a man since she was in her teens. At this moment, however, she was almost ashamed to admit that her body was reacting as if she had never been touched before. Her thighs clenched together to try and quell the ache between her legs, her hand reaching over to grab his as though she could read his mind while she put his large palm on her leg.

“Ohh, ya want me to touch ya, huh?” Cooper spoke in a hushed tone so as to not alert to her father in the next room what was about to happen. “What happened to you’re too young for me?” He squeezed her thigh with a strong grip, a wide grin coming to his face as he coaxed her thighs open. 

“Coop, I-” Daisy breathlessly whispered, overwhelmed by the man and his voice and his hands. Lord have mercy, his hands, those hands that she had dreamed about touching her in ways that would make angels cry. The hands that had strangled a man to death for threatening her. 

“I want you to touch me.”

a/n: Hello ghoulfuckers! There’s no smut YET but I promise it’s coming. This is the first part I’m posting on my new blog (find part 1 and 2 on my old blog) – Wanted to get something out to make sure people follow here instead of @sixx-sixx-sixx

taglist: @savanahc @one-of-thewalkingdead @silverose365 @neverendingdumptser

#ren writes #cooper howard x oc #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x oc #fallout imagine #fallout fanfiction #fallout oc #cooper howard x reader #the trader's daughter #dividers by cafekitsune

[the-little-moment]

Angstpril Day 22: Little One

Prompt: Drained

Words: 745

Summary: When everything becomes too much, Cadet Hunter, his brothers, and their favorite doctor help Tech through a meltdown.

Senna straightened from her computer in shock when the small clone burst into her office, dark curls escaping from his bandana. 

“It’s Tech,” Hunter panted, looking like he’d run all the way. “There’s something wrong with him. Can you come?”

The doctor rose immediately to join him by the door, her unfinished forms forgotten. “Where is he?” She bent to meet the boy’s wild eyes. “Is he conscious, breathing?”

“Our barracks. Yes, it’s—it’s not like that.” The cadet’s face twisted in dismay, fingers tense and fidgeting at the hem of his tunic. “He—I couldn’t get him to come with me. Crosshair and Wrecker are watching him.”

“Come on then.”

Senna snatched her travel kit from the couch as Hunter practically fled her office, leading her out of the medbay and down the hall towards the cadet barracks, dodging past older clones who parted, wide-eyed for the doctor in his wake.  

Inside the boys’ room, she paused while her eyes adjusted to the dimness. “Over here!” Hunter beckoned from the edge of a bunk across the room where the object of his panic sat, knees to forehead, skinny arms wrapped tight around his legs. Wrecker and Crosshair were looking up at her with frightened eyes. They made room for the doctor on the bed beside their brother.

Senna lowered herself onto the bunk next to the young clone, setting her kit on the floor. “Tech, sweetheart, can you tell me what’s wrong?” He hadn’t moved as she’d sat down, not reacting at all to the sound of her voice. She looked him over for any obvious injuries.

“What happened?” She turned to the others.

Hunter bit his lip. “He just shut down like that. He was angry that he couldn’t get his pad to work and then he went all quiet. We didn’t…do so great in training today.” The last part was almost a whisper. 

“But he didn’t get hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” Senna could see frustrated tears building in the boy’s eyes as he tried to answer her questions. Behind him, Wrecker shook his head in fervent confirmation. Crosshair was quiet, eyes fixed on Tech.

She laid a hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Tech?” Turning back to her patient, Senna lightly touched his arm, pulling away when he made a low moan. He suddenly began to rock back and forth on the bunk, pulling in an occasional gasping breath. As she watched, his grip on his sleeves grew alarmingly tight. 

Oh.

“Boys,” the doctor lowered her voice as she faced the others, “you’ve done a great job, but if you could go sit at the table, I think your brother could use some space.”

They obeyed, and Senna shifted to the other end of the mattress. “Sweetheart,” she murmured to the small cadet, “I’m right here. Everything is fine. You’re safe.” The lights are down, it’s quiet, just give him some time.

She leaned back against the wall, smiling calmly at the three brothers on the bench and continuing in the same soft voice, “We’re just gonna be quiet a little while for Tech, okay?”

Their heads bobbed earnestly.

Ten minutes passed while Senna willed herself to exude serenity. When a shaky sigh was heard, she turned back to Tech. He’d stopped his anxious movements, but his head was still buried in his arms. “Tech?”

“I’m sorry, Senna.” His thin voice was worn with exhaustion.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, little one. I understand.” She raised her hand, then paused, “Do you mind if I touch you?”

The boy unfolded, revealing a tear-stained face beneath his large goggles. Tech wiped his nose on his sleeve and shook his head, still not meeting her eyes. Senna touched his shoulder gently, pleased when he didn’t flinch. “It’s alright, dear.” She was surprised when he turned and pressed himself into her side, his forehead against her collarbone. His delicate hands were tucked between them and she sighed in relief as her arms came up to hold him. 

Senna stroked Tech’s soft, brown hair as his brothers made an apprehensive approach. Bolstered by the doctor’s smile and lifted arm, Wrecker immediately snuggled into her other side. Hunter took his place next to Tech, one small hand on his brother’s back, and Crosshair climbed onto the far end of the bed, not touching anyone, but still wanting to be close. 

“You boys did such a good job.” Senna sighed again as she let her eyes close, just for a bit, she told herself. Then she’d go back to those karking forms. “Thank you for helping me.”

This one was more whump or hurt/comfort than angst, but that's okay 😅. I love the little Batch so much, especially little Tech.

8 more days of Angstpril! 😳 As always, the rest of the fics from this collab can be found by following our hashtag, #littlekyberthoughts, and by visiting @kybercrystals94, @just-here-with-my-thoughts, and my blogs.

Happy reading. 😬

Taglist: @clonethirstingisreal @lightwise @freesia-writes

#angstpril2024 #day22 #drained #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #clone force 99 #the bad batch #star wars oc #dr divehdi #the little moment writes #tbb tech #tbb hunter #littlekyberthoughts

[sebstan2020]

Red Ties

Chapter 39

Mary, a sweet Christian girl living in the city of Brooklyn as a nurse had a simple life. She loved her work, her friends and attending church every Sunday and helping Reverend McCarthy. Her life was nothing out of the ordinary. However, it all changed one day when she bumps into the intriguing and intimidating James Barnes, Brooklyn’s notorious mafia boss and is introduced to a world of guns, lust and dominance.

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence

Mary awkwardly followed James down the long hallway to the grand doors at the end. The halls of this hotel, BDSM Club, whatever it was called, were clean and simple. The hallway was lit with warm lights and a deep carpet with cream-coloured walls. The doors were deep wood with gold locks and were evenly spaced out, indicating the rooms themselves were large, and Mary wondered if they all looked the same. As they reached the door at the end of the hallway, her stomach flipped with caution.

Just a few hours ago, she was excited and curious about this club that James talked about and was about to step into his dark personal room of pain and pleasure. But after her encounter with Natalie, that feeling was replaced with nervousness and questions. She was questioning herself. Was she enough for James? Natalie knew all his needs and wants. She was his submissive for so long that she knew him inside and out, knowing every button to press to please him. Mary was nothing like her. Even her looks were of a higher standard. The way her breasts looked in that tight latex dress, her long, dark hair cascading down her slim body—compared to her, Mary was plain Jane. 

Why would James pick her over someone who could please him down to a T? Mary was a novice to this whole submissive, BDSM world, so why would he pick someone so inexperienced when he could easily have someone who knew what they were doing? It was so confusing, and yet another hurdle had been thrown at them. It seemed like lately everything was a test for their relationship, and Mary was starting to overthink it again. No matter how much James assured her and comforted her that she was the one for him, there was always something in the way. Natalie was obviously jealous and was quite vocal about it, and Mary didn’t want the girl to win, but she couldn’t escape the facts. 

James pulled out his personal key to the door, inserting it slowly and turning it; the click almost echoed down the silent hallway, and Mary’s stomach flipped. He opened the door, revealing his personal playroom, dungeon, whatever you wanted to call it, and Mary’s breath was taken away. If she had been surprised and stricken by his closest secret, then she was in for an even bigger surprise. 

The room was huge, with warm lights imbedded into the high ceiling. To the right side of the room was a large bed, kind of sized with four posters, and a ceiling made from dark mahogany. The sheets were black and neatly tucked away. Each poster had a gold ring drilled into the wood, for obvious reasons, and the same on the headboard. Above the ceiling were more rings, and Mary imagined they were for the same reason. She suddenly envisioned a girl hanging from those rings on ropes, hanging at his mercy, and she imagined they could be tied in all sorts of positions. 

Across the far wall were hundreds of implements. Floggers, canes, riding crops, belts, paddles, whips, and single tails, as well as long electric cattle prods and sticks, each hung on their own hook, ranging from the least to the most dangerous. As she stared at them, her body shivered as she imagined the type of pain they could inflict. She had only experienced the cruelty of the riding crop as well as its pleasure, but looking at the scary canes and long whips made her cringe. She wasn’t ready for those yet. 

At the wall behind the bed hung bundles of different ropes, different lengths, leather cuffs, belts, straps, harnesses, chains, and handcuffs, each hanging on their own hook as well. She never imagined there could be so many different types of cuffs and bondage gear. Across the room at the other end was a built-in wardrobe set of cupboards and draws beside another door leading to the ensuite. In the cupboards and drawers, there were more toys. Different outfits range from leather, latex, stockings, playful outfits, including school girl uniforms, nurse outfits, and sexy lingerie with matching heels. Bondage gear consists of masks, hoods, gags, blindfolds, nipple clamps, candles, and more electrical play gear. The room also held a large couch, a plush armchair, a St. Andrews cross, and a padded leather bench. Above the ceiling were more hanging rings on a rig that could be pulled down. There wasn’t one thing James didn’t have in his room. 

He had many submissives over the years of opening his club, and just because Natalie was his regular didn’t mean he didn’t divulge into other women and their needs. Some liked masociative pain; others enjoyed intense pleasure. Some enjoyed role-playing, while others enjoyed humiliation. He wasn’t just here to be pleased; he was there to please their needs. 

It was all so intimidating and overwhelming that Mary hadn’t realised James had shut the door, leaving them to privacy, and had pressed a hand to her shoulder, making her jump back to reality. She turned to him with a flushed face but pale eyes, and he frowned.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and she sighed. 

“Yeah… I just wasn’t expecting this,” she giggled nervously as she rolled her eyes at the hugeness of the room. But that wasn’t the only thing on her mind. She hated that Natalie had gotten to her, making her think about her and wondering if she was any good for James. She didn’t want to argue; they had such a nice couple of days since the argument about Reverend McCarthy, and now this. It seemed like they were never going to relax again. 

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” he agreed as he looked around as well. 

There was an awkward silence, and Mary sighed, turning to him. She had to ask him; it was only going to play on her mind, and if they were going to enter the world of pleasure and pain, she wouldn’t be able to focus if this was running through her head. 

“Why are you with me?” She asked straight up, and James looked at her, furrowing his brows as if he were annoyed.

“What?” He said. 

“I mean, you could have Natalie or anyone else who knows all about this stuff and probably does it better than me; why would you pick me over her?”.

If James didn’t love her so much, he would have slapped her right then and there for saying something so stupid. But that definitely wasn’t the answer to this question. He scoffed and shook his head. 

“How could you ask something so stupid? That display she just made is exactly why I’m not with her. Just because she was my submissive for so long doesn’t mean I feel the same way about her as I do about you. I never once loved her like I do you,” he exclaimed, and Mary stared at him with wide eyes. 

Love her. Did he actually just say he loved her? The words had come so quickly from James’s mouth that he didn’t bother to try and stop them, and for a minute he didn’t realise he had uttered them until Mary squeaked them back.

“You love me,” she whispered, and James took a breath as silence fell between them. There was no going back now, and he didn’t want to. He never wanted to go back. Not to Natalie, not to any of the girls he had fucked. He only wanted her. He wanted every inch of her forever and ever. He never wanted anyone but himself to touch her, kiss her, or fuck her. He wanted all her first, and so far he has gotten every single one of them. 

“Yes. I do. Natalie is a sub, someone I used to fuck. You are my girlfriend, someone I love. I don't know her or anyone else, ever. I only want you,” he had stepped forward, his voice softening, and he reached up and took her face in his hands, cupping her gently and lifting up her chin. His fingers curled around her jaw and under her chin, and she rested in his soft hold. It was the first time he had called her his girlfriend, and it was a strange feeling. Not because she didn’t want to be, but because they hadn’t used labels up until now. Mary stared up at him with wide eyes and silence. 

“I love you,” he said it again, and this time it sank in further. And right there and then, Mary could not hold back her feelings for him, and she said the words without thinking as well. 

“I love you too,” she whispered, as if she were committing a crime. James stared at her and softly smiled, his lips curling at the corners, and he pulled her face up to kiss her deeply and slowly. She leaned into his kiss and melted into his touch. The words were out, and there was no going back. James held her tighter, his fingers clutching her face harder, and he pushed her backwards onto the bed, her knees buckling, so she fell. He fell on top of her, pinning her to the bed, and kissed her again. As he pulled away, they both caught their breath and stared at each other. 

“Don’t worry about Natalie. She’s just jealous; she’ll get over it,” he assured, and Mary nodded. Right now she wasn’t thinking about her; in fact, the moment he had uttered those three words, she had left her mind straight away. She had won this fight. Mary one, Natalie zero. 

James pressed a teasing peck to her lips before smirking as he pushed up from her. Mary stayed there, pressed into the soft, dark sheets with her arms out and her hair a wild mess, as she watched with curiosity as James padded to the wall with the hundreds of bondage ropes and cuffs. He meticulously picked up a pair of leather cuffs, a bundle of rope, and what looked like a stiff bar with cuffs on either side. He carried the items back to the bed and threw them beside Mary, the cuffs landing with a clink, and she felt her stomach flip. Just a minute ago, they were confessing their love, and now he was ready to divulge it in a hot kinky play. James placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned on top of her, a darkness across his face as his smirk deepened. 

“Now, I think it’s time we do what we intended to do,” he whispered, and Mary felt her cheeks heat, and she couldn’t help but see the excited girl appear on her lips. She was stripped naked, pulled over to the clear wall, and pressed against it. James eagerly buckled the cuffs around her wrists, pulling them tight before roughly turning her against the wall. Her face was pressed against it. The tingles in her body grew, and her pussycat twitched. How did getting tied up make her wet already? 

James placed what was called a spreader bar between her legs, explaining its purpose was to keep her legs open so she couldn’t close them. Her wrists were tied to two small rings drilled into the wall by the bundle of rope, and she was completely at his mercy, her back and ass on show for him. As he buckled the last buckle around her ankle, he ran his hands up the inside of her legs, across her thigh, and one hand cupped her wet, hot mound. 

Mary moaned against the hard wall, gripping the small piece of rope she could grab. Her lips pressed into the polished wood, leaving wet marks as James pressed a finger to her wet slit, teasing her as he pressed against her body, his lips so close to her ear. 

“God, you’re already wet, and I’ve only tied you up.” It was almost an insult, and that turned her on even more. The seriousness in his voice was a change from his gentle voice, and Mary was enjoying it. His finger gently rubbed back and forth, teasing her and sending tingles up and down her body. She yanked against her restraints, and the spreader bar was the most torturous of them all. The ability to not be able to press her legs together was both infuriating and addicting. She would receive every last bit of pleasure. James chuckled evilly in her ear and dropped his hand from her aching pussy, walking over to the wall of torture, deciding which implent to pull out. 

Mary groaned and looked over her shoulder, getting just enough room to see what he was doing. She watched as James lazily walked over her clothes, having no regard for them. He was still fully clothed in his suit, and she wondered when he was going to undress. She wanted to see that fine body of his, feel his tough abs pressed against her back, and feel his long, strong arms wrapped around her body. 

She softly gasped as he ran his fingers over every implement, teasing her from afar. He could stop at any moment and pick one of the more dangerous ones. But he wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to subject her to the masochistic torture some of the other girls live for. Not yet, anyway. Finally, he stopped at a large flogger with a hard handle and several leather strands. It was black all over, matching his suit, and he picked it up and gripped it hard across the handle. As he turned, Mary quickly turned her head back to the wall, as if she were going to get caught. 

His light footsteps sounded so heavy in the silence, and as he reached her, his lips pressed against her ear again. “Do you remember what the safe word is?” He asked, and Mary swallowed. 

“Red and Mercy, sir,” she answered, and he grinned, pressing a kiss on her neck. He pulled back, and suddenly she felt the strands of the flogger press against her back. They were torturers. running across her skin and teasing her with their softness. She knew they weren't going to be soft, and she shivered against them. James brushed the ends of the strands across the backs of her legs, and she flinched, pushing herself against the wall. When was it going to end, and would she feel their real intentions? 

And then it came. the thudding pain that was released on her bare back. The strands flicked and whacked her, sending a harsh tingle across her body. She yelled at the first hit, pressing into the wall and pulling on the restraints. The spreader bar was making things very difficult for her, keeping her in place and leaving no room for resistance or movement, just as James wanted to see her squirming and trembling. 

James flicked the flogger against her body again, and she gasped at its second hit. Her back was heating up quickly with every hit and turning a bright red colour, flush against her pale skin. It was getting warm, and a numbness was beginning to radiate across her body. But the pain was making her pussy drip, and she felt her pussy heating up, unable to hold back the pleasure. James worked so elegantly, throwing the flogger in all directions, across her back, down her thighs, and over her shoulder blades. She couldn't escape it. 

Finally, the flogging stopped, and James stood a step forward, pressing his palm against her burning back. The touch was worse than the flogger, and as he pressed it in the centre of her back, she hissed and yanked at the cuffs. "Shhh," he hushed into her ear, running a light hand over the redness, his fingertips gently brushing her almost bruised skin. In a few places, the skin had broken and left red welts, and he gently ran his fingertips over them. Later, he would properly take care of those areas. 

When he reached a hand between her legs, she was soaking. He pushed a finger inside her, and she moaned, falling into his hand and letting go of the restraints. James curled his finger inside, his thumb reaching out to her clitoral area and rubbing circles against her sensitive good spot. She shivered into his hand, and James pressed his lips against her neck, biting gently and then hard, leaving bite marks on her skin. He wasn't able to hold back now. He was in full-dominant mode now. 

Moans, groans, and begs escaped her as James led her to orgasm. His finger worked faster as she crumpled against the wall, breathing heavily and shaking his fingers. The pain in her back was a blur now, and the pleasure of her orgasm was more torture than the flogging. 

"Oh, please," she begged, and James chuckled softly in her ear. 

"Please, what?' he teased.

"Oh, please, can I..." She felt embarrassed just saying the words. 

"Can you say it?" he commanded, and she whimpered. 

"Please, can I come?" She whispered with bright red cheeks. Whether that was from the humour or the whole ordeal, she didn't know, as long as she got what she wanted. 

James rubbed faster and uttered the precious words, granting her the right to orgasm. She came into his hand, the juices falling onto his fingers and coating them. Her body spasmed, and she was complete with exhaustion, falling into the cuffs and against the wall with no energy. She huffed and puffed against the wall, fighting the exhaustion that threatened her. James untied her, catching her as she fell into his arms. She carried her over to her, laying her down gently on her stomach as her back was still sore. 

Mary cracked an eye open, and a grin appeared across her lips as James gathered the aftercare creams and lotions from the cupboard. She loved this bit the most: James massaging her with his big hands, touching every inch of her body, and pressing soft kisses on those tender places. 

"That was... different," she whispered, and James softly laughed under his breath as he climbed on the bed. 

"Different good or different bad?" he asked with a raised brow. 

"Different good," she claified, and he grinned. He poured a heap of lotion onto his hand and began to gently rub it into her back. massaging her shoulders, around her sides, and over her hips. 

"What about you?" A sudden thought came over her as he rubbed the lotion into her skin, watching its white colour dissolve and soothe her sore back. 

"I'm sorry?" he asked, confused as he ran his hands all the way to her neck and through her hair. 

"I mean, you didn't get any pleasure," she said, and James slowly grinned, leaning down and kissing just behind her ear. 

"Sometimes it's not always about me. Don't worry, you can make it up to me next time," he whispered, and Mary gently moaned. James finished with a deep heat cream across the very sore parts of her body, an antiseptic cream on the welts, and a kiss to the centre of her back for good measure. She had done so well, taking that beating that any girl could find painful. 

James cralwed up the bed, pulling Mary with him so her head was laid on his chest, softly stroking her hair as she drifted off into a deep sleep, falling to the rhythm of his strokes. "You did so well tonight," he whispered, and she let out a soft grunt in agreement. She was too tired to answer with words, and his stroking was making her more sleepy. 

He laughed softly and reached under her chin, pulling her head up and leaning down to kiss her softly. 

"I love you," he whispered. 

"I love you too," she whispered back.

Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments

@pattiemac1

@sebastiansluts

@charmed-asylum

@blackwood-bodecker-housewife

@abaker32

@samjuarezzz

@sebastians-lover-blog

@buckysgirl85

@captainsarahscratches

@thischubbydumpling

@dhoruwolfie

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@hazomi

@unaxv

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@identity2212

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#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes dom

[nocturnalazure]

Not-a-tutorial - Dialogues: Part I

This part will be mostly about how I integrate dialogues into my graphic novel, and how I try to make them more visually interesting. Emphasis on "try". I don't think I have much to teach to anyone, I'm just explaining my process.

I use Comic Life for my graphic novel. I have no frigging idea how to do speech bubbles with Photoshop. Comic Life comes with a variety of pre-designed bubbles and layouts, I'm taking no credits here.

But first: speech bubbles and their shapes. Each shape has a meaning in itself and that's why I love them so much. Starting with an obvious one: the spiky, multi-edged bubble is used to indicate that a character is screaming, yelling or laughing out loud.

I use that shape for loud shouting exclusively. When a character is simply raising their voice, I put the text in bold+italics.

I do the same thing but on a single word when the character puts emphasis on it.

Voices over the phone get even spikier bubbles (and text in italics), to indicate that they come out of an electronic device.

Extraordinary circumstances require their very own speech bubbles. Like when Grimmy is talking. Or characters in a dream-like sequence.

I haven't been very consistent with my use of thought bubbles. I don't like showing too much of a character's inner thoughts, so I don't use them often. When I do, I prefer a "manga-style", rectangular caption that can be read as a voice-over.

I did use dashed-line bubbles for whispered convos for a time. But I like now to just use a slightly smaller font. Less traditional imho. And it works well for (funny) side comments.

The wavy bubble is used when a character is really distressed. I use it with parcimony for extreme situations, like when the character is crying or when their voice is breaking.

Extended speech bubbles are a godsend. I generally avoid having more than one sentence in the same bubble. The second sentence will very often be in an extended bubble.

...or on a different panel entirely. I like breaking down the lines of dialogue into several parts, to keep things dynamic and quick to read. The downside is that I need a shitload of pictures for every single scene.

A veeery important part is the order of speech bubbles. The eye must follow them seamlessly, from up to down and left to right. Characters' positions are obviously very important: ideally, a character who speaks first should be placed on the left side of the shot because that's where the eye will go first. That's not always possible though, and it's not always what I get after shooting. So I have to work around that using the tail to indicate who is speaking.

That tail is SO useful. I promise you: although you may not realize it, it helps you as a reader because you never have to stop and wonder who is saying what. It is just visible on the screen and you can focus on the important stuff: the text. That is particularly useful when there are 3 or more characters talking in the same picture.

I always pick quality of screenshots over space for my text. I can always move a bubble around and change the direction of the tail. It won't necessarily be pretty, but having the character's face (or whatever I want to put emphasis on) clearly visible is more important to me. My text goes wherever I can find some space. Now, maybe I unconsciously leave more space between my characters when I shoot? I'm not sure.

On to Part II!

#ts3 #sims 3 #sims 3 story #sims 3 storytelling tips #random

[ddejavvu]

more best friend james with no boundaries headcanons please 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 like sirius and remus definitely side eye the two of you but they don’t ever make it noticeable 🫢 they’re just waiting for the two of you to finally get together 😵‍💫 like james definitely rests his hands in between your thighs when he’s cold and remus is always muttering to sirius how that is definitely not best friend behaviour

Sirius and Remus stop in tandem, beat up shoes stomping to a halt in the middle of the floor. It would be comical if their gazes weren't so scrutinizing and judgmental towards you where you're curled up in James's bed.

"Are we interrupting something?" Remus raises a brow at you where you lay pressed to James's chest, his hands wrapped around your waist and tucked into the space between your thighs. He'd been griping about the chill of the air against his hands after realizing they wouldn't stay tucked into the sleeves of his sweater, so when he'd pried your thighs apart to slip his hands between them, you'd let him get his fill of your body heat.

"Jus' the most boring book I've ever read," James drawls, popping his head lazily off of the pillow to stare at his friends, "Don't even know why she reads this shit, anyways."

"I read it because I like it," You hum, used to James's disdain of your more 'boring' (read: not dangerous, reckless, or foolish) hobbies, "But I'm more curious as to why you read it over my shoulder, James, if it's so boring and awful."

"Not much choice," He reasons, but you both know he could shut his eyes if he wanted to be free from your novel, and you squeeze your thighs together in hopes of pressing his hands painfully together as a reprimand.

James makes a sort of stunted groan as his knuckles scrape painfully together, but when you release your grip, he doesn't pull away. He merely settles his head back against the pillow, eyes sneakily roving over the page you're reading.

"Remus, a word." Sirius grabs the man by his right scarred hand, tugging him towards the closet. They disappear inside together, and when the door shuts behind them, and Sirius manages to swat the sleeve of his leather jacket out of his face, he stares at Remus with wide, urgent eyes.

"Did you see that?" Sirius gawps, as if maybe Remus hadn't noticed James's hands resting inches from your core, "That is not normal friend behavior?"

"I bet two galleons they kiss within the month," Remus wagers with a smirk on his face, and the expression is contagious where it transfers to Sirius right away.

"Within the week," Sirius solidifies his stance, holding a hand out for Remus to shake, "You've got a deal, Moony."

--

The moment the closet door shuts behind Remus and Sirius, you crane your neck to look backwards at James.

"They're not even trying to hide it anymore," You breathe, keeping your voice low so that the two boys can't hear you, "What do you think they're doing in there?"

"Kissing, probably," James snorts, "Pulling someone into a closet by the hand is not normal friend behavior."

"When are they just gonna give it up?" You scoff, twisting back around to resume reading, "They're so obvious."

"Dunno, love." James hums, leaning forwards to press a kiss to your shoulder where your tank top has slid off of the skin there. He readjusts his hands between your thighs, nestling them imperceptibly closer to your heated core, "Some people are just oblivious."

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

[notafunkiller]

What if I am too much?

Summary: When Sam's girlfriend calls you clingy, you decide to give Bucky some space. What you don’t know is that he doesn’t want any space. None at all.

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, teasing, language, pet names, spanking, daddy kink, metal arm kink, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I want to thank @marvelouslizzie for her help!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

“Oh, you’re alone?”

You turn your head in the direction of the voice and smile politely. You don’t recognize this woman, but she looks at you like she does.

“Uh, yes. Hello!”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

You instantly blush, ashamed, and search for Bucky’s face in the crowd. Nowhere to be found. Damn it!

“No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says before coming next to you. “I’m Misty.” Brunette, tall and beautiful.

“Where did we meet?”

“Sam’s birthday, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You were too busy clinging to Bucky’s side all night.” She sounds serious, and you freeze, having no idea where this came from. She simply laughs, grabbing your arm with some kind of bionic cold hand for a second before letting it go.

It’s not like Bucky’s. It’s more... robotic.

“Clinging?” You ask confused.

“Yeah, you know, always sitting with him, holding his arm, following him around.”

You puff, already annoyed by this random woman. “Following him around? I’m not a dog!”

“Didn’t say you are a dog, honey. Just pointing out the obvious.”

You try to hold your tongue, pushing aside the impulse to start a fight. This is a night about Bucky. Not you or your discomfort. And she is his ex-co-worker-friend’s girlfriend. Your anger can wait.

“Alright, but how does my clinging affect you, though?”

“Oh, don’t take it so personally! I just meant to be friendly. It’s a girl’s advice. Live a little, being insecure is not gonna save your relationship.”

A piece of advice no one asked for. A take you never even considered. You’re not insecure and you’re definitely not keeping Bucky to your side all the time. You don’t… He is free to do whatever the hell he wants.

“Thank you.”

She has the audacity to laugh. “Don’t be so defensive, honey! Gonna get a cocktail, want some?”

You shake your head, feeling a hole in your stomach after she leaves you alone, and you basically run to the bathroom, trying to calm down. What if she is right, though? What if Sam heard or saw something? Maybe Bucky is extra grumpy or unhappy. Maybe he even complained…

You never thought sitting with Bucky is a sign of clinginess. You thought it’d help... he is not the most comfortable person at events. He gets stared at a lot, he hates small talk, and you really like being close to him. Gosh, you are clingy!

The rest of the night passes like a blur. When you come back, Bucky’s waiting for you, and despite your instinct to wrap your arm around his back and let him hold you, you keep a little distance, giving Sam and his nosy girlfriend a fake smile, while Bucky keeps staring at you strangely.

You even manage to avoid touching him all week somehow, except for a few kisses now and then. Your period came, and as he tried to hold you, you had to fight tears while telling him not to. You’re sick and tired and you miss him, but you want to give him some space. You’ve been suffocating him for so long... You make sure to cry only when he’s out because he might hear you even in the shower. He has super hearing after all.

You thought it would become easier every day, but quite the opposite. Every time you’re close to giving up, you remember Sam’s comment that he made a week after you met him about how Bucky always likes his space and what Misty told you, so you fight against your wish.

Until Sunday afternoon.

You’re in bed, scrolling down on Instagram as Bucky comes out of the shower. You try not to stare at him, but how can you not? He looks absolutely incredible.

What you don’t expect is him trying to get on top of you to tickle you with a huge smile on his face. He’s so adorable.

“B-Bucky, stop!” You laugh as his hands get under your T-shirt. He loves making you laugh no matter how he does it. “N-no.”

“Oh, I will,” he says playfully.

But what he failed to tell you is that stopping means sneaking his head under your T-shirt, which starts to rip a little because of the stretch, and resting it on your boobs.

“Bucky!”

He puffs, annoyed. “Why the fuck are you wearing a bra in the house, bubba?”

“Cause it’s a bra?” You ask back sarcastically, but you know this is weird. You always complain about needing to wear it outside. But inside? It’s even worse.

“Unacceptable.” He quickly rips your bra in half, not bothering to unhook it, and you feel his beard on your breast all of a sudden, making you shiver. Fuck, you really miss this.

“B-Bucky, come on, your hair is a little wet!”

“Bubba, please...”

“Bucky! Why did you do that?” He immediately takes his head out of your T-shirt, and you almost cry. He looks do lost and scared.

“Baby, do you not want me anymore?”

“What the fuck?” You groan. This is the last thing you wanted him to think. All you tried to do was to make him happy and feel less pressured.

“You don’t let me touch you. You don’t want to cuddle with me. You don’t wake me up with kisses. You don’t get on top of me You don’t hug me! What did I do?”

Your heart aches for both of you. “Wasn’t that better?”

“Better for who?” He cries. “This was the worst week of my life since Hydra.”

“Unfortunately, that cannot be true, Bucky.” You sigh, getting closer to him. “I thought you like space...”

“I do, but not with my fucking baby!”

You melt at his words, truth be told. He said it so passionately, but you’re so confused.

“I thought I was being too clingy, touching you too much, you know?”

“What? Where did this come from?”

You close your eyes. How are you supposed to answer this without sounding like a petty bitch?

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does!” You feel his hands grabbing your face so you can look at him. “It means I did something wrong.”

You frown, upset that he thinks that. He’s been nothing but kind, understanding, and loving to you, and you hate how he feels like he failed you or something.

“Sam’s girlfriend told me I am clingy... always with you, never leaving you alone to breathe basically. And it reminded me of Sam saying how much you love your space, and I just...” You try not to cry, you really do, but you cannot hold back the tears this time, which Bucky immediately reaches to wipe with his flesh fingers.

“Jesus, baby! I don’t give a goddamn shit about what they say, you aren’t allowed to listen to anyone! Just let me touch you.”

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, and Bucky lifts you a bit so you can sit on his lap. You can hear his heartbeat, and you find that so peaceful.

“I thought you’re gonna break up with me, honey.” He whispers in your ear. “I was terrified when you didn’t let me cuddle with you.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” You don’t know what else to say. You hurt both of you for days just because you let some woman get inside your head, but you had good intentions. “I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

“I should be the one saying that, not you, bubba.” He leaves a kiss on your shoulder. “God, I missed you so much, it feels surreal to touch you.”

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“Promise to never do this shit ever again!”

“I’ll try,” you murmur. “I didn’t realize you want me to touch you so much.”

Bucky lifts your head. “You know I have to punish you for that, right?”

“Punish me?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah, for believing some stranger over your man. For pulling away and giving me a heart attack. And for depriving yourself of my cuddling skills.”

You giggle. “What if I let you suck my nipples for a whole week anytime you wanted?”

“I already do that!” Bucky lifts your T-shirt as he speaks, and you gasp.

“You do not!”

“Yes, I do. Remember when I came home from the last mission and I made you come by-” He lowers his head and licks your right breast, avoiding your nipple.

“Fuck you, tease!”

“I am the tease?!” He snorts, continuing to lick.

“You’re always the tease. Now kiss me and gimmie your cock.”

“I won’t give you anything until I punish you.”

“Jamie!” You scream when he turns you around, ripping off your shorts in half, along with your underwear before placing you on his thighs. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck to you for keeping yourself away from me.” You feel him caressing your ass for a few seconds before slapping your right cheek with his flesh hand. You squirm, gripping into his hip.

“F-fuck!”

“Count.”

You groan. “Jamie...” He spanks you again but harder, and this time you moan. “T-two.”

“Nope, we start over.”

“O-one.”

“Good girl!”

The third and fourth aren’t as hard as you want and you find yourself wiggling your ass in the air.

“Harder.”

“Harder?” He snorts, amused, and before he can bring his flesh hand in the air, you grab his metal arm.

“Please, daddy, use this one!”

Daddy? It didn’t take too long for you to get back in the mood.

“Can’t use it, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No!” You cry. “I need it, pleaseee. I’ll ride your face as many times as you w-want.”

Bucky still doesn’t agree. “Baby, it would hurt.”

“Let it hurt!”

You want it to hurt because this pain is not unbearable, quite the opposite. It pushes you over the edge faster.

He sighs and listens to you, bringing his metal hand to your ass, but you barely even feel it when he slaps. You groan, upset.

“I said slap! Do you want me to hover?”

“I can fucking hurt you.”

“I told you to hurt me!” You beg. “Please, honey! Please, please, please.”

He does it again, not hard enough for you, but you count anyway. Again and again.

“Jesus, you’re making my thighs so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

Bucky’s moan comes somehow from the back of his throat, and the last spanks are perfect. He gently caresses your ass, cooling it off with his metal hand, and you smile. “You’re so dirty sometimes, but also such a good girl taking your punishment perfectly.”

“I am sorry,” you whisper.

“For what exactly?”

You pout, grabbing his face. “For all of it. But you’re you, Bucky. You’re the greatest guy in the world, I just didn’t want to be annoying.”

“You were annoying when you didn’t let me even hug you.”

You know that, but sometimes you can’t help but do dumb things, thinking about him. “I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, I wasn’t happy, obviously. And neither were you, bubba. Promise me you’ll talk to me first next time.”

“I was just stupid…”

“No.” You feel his thumb all over your lips. “You were worried. I love you and I really need your touch, okay?”

“I noticed,” you laugh.

“Good, now feed me my boobs, and then I wanna see you riding my face as you negotiated.”

You fake sigh and grab your boob. “Open up.”

*

You’re not sure how to react when Bucky drags you straight to Sam and his girlfriend as soon as you get inside the museum.

“Hey, Buck-”

“Who do you think you are?”

Misty gasps while Sam and you freeze.

“Wow, wow, wow, man. Hold on a sec, what is going on?”

“What is going on, Samuel?” Bucky asks rhetorically through his teeth. “Ask your little girlfriend where she got her audacity from to tell my girl she is clingy. That she basically spends too much time with me. Who the fuck gave her the permission to even speak to her? So she either apologizes and keeps her mouth shut, or we’ll have a big problem.” Bucky turns his head to look at Misty. “From one metal arm to another. Wanna try me?”

“You did what? What the hell?”

Misty frowns, staring at you. “You went to complain to him for giving you a friendly, harmless advice?”

Bucky instantly grabs her metal arm wrist before you can answer.

“You got three seconds to beg for her forgiveness before I snap your hand in half. And I am not bluffing.”

Sam doesn’t even try to get between them, simply watching, and Misty immediately gets teary.

“I’m... sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head, squeezing her wrist. Holy shit! You haven’t seen him like this in ages. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I am sorry. I should have minded my own business!”

“Yes, you should’ve,” you say without regret. “But I forgive you.”

Bucky lets go with a grunt before nodding to Sam and bringing his hand to your hips, leading you toward the exit.

As soon as you are outside, you don’t even care if someone can hear you as you speak. “Fuck, I wanna suck your cock so badly!”

Bucky laughs. “I see. In the car… is that okay for you?”

You get on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Perfect.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #my stories #my fanfics

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

can I request some cute fluff with Astarion - I think something cute would be tav’s never worn a dress and they put one on and Astarion is just mindblow by how good they look? 🥺

maybe he can do some chivalrous acts as well~

She Looks Breathtaking

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : astarion has never seen you in a dress, you haven’t been in one since you were taken from baldur's gate. you both find it hard to hide your excitement.

warnings : none :)

authors note: I hope you like this anon! (first, i finally played baldur's gate. second, i'm going to try and pump out the requests that I haven't gotten to.)

“Oh! Look how pretty this is!” 

You turn your head to look towards Karlach’s booming voice, much too loud for the small space you were in. She held up a dress, something you hadn’t thought about wearing in months. You hadn’t had any important events to attend.

Walking over to her side, you take the fabric between your fingers. “It’s beautiful..”

“You should get it. I think you’d look great, and I bet Astarion would like it too.” She nudged at your side, teasing. Your face flushed, and you ran your fingers along the hem of the dress, avoiding Karlachs gaze. She likes to poke fun at the obvious crush you had developed on Astarion, and everytime she did you regretted telling her more and more. 

Eventually, you find a small paper attached to the fabric showing the price of the dress, eyes widening at the disgustingly low price. 

“When would I even get a chance to wear it? It would go to waste, just weigh my bag down.” Karlach huffs, taking the price tag and reading it for herself.

“Are you kidding me? Even if you don’t wear it, you’d be a fool to ignore this price. Maybe you will attend some noble party when we get to Baldur's Gate!” She was way too excited but her energy almost made you agree with her, the dress was so cheap even if it went unworn for a long time. And you hadn’t worn one in..you couldn’t even remember.

You thought about it for a moment before moving for your coin pouch, pouring the amount into your hand and handing the coins to the trader. They slip out of your hand much faster than you'd care to admit, hiding your excitement from Karlach proving to be a challenge. “Don’t say a word to anyone, Karlach, I mean it.”

“Fine. But I better get to see you in it, at least try it on for me when we get back to camp!” You shake your head, amused by Karlachs childish antics, but you yourself can’t help but feel a little bit excited by the idea of dressing up. 

When you returned to camp that night you had forgotten about the dress in your bag, slipping your mind amidst the constant thought of being attacked or having to talk your way out of a hostile situation. 

So when Karlach came bouncing over to your side, your tent tucked away in a corner secluded from most of your party to keep your privacy, you could only give her a confused look. She seemed so excited and you had no idea why, and she was beginning to return the confusion.

“You gonna put on the dress or just make me stand here?” Oh! You let your bag fall to the ground, crouching down to rummage through its contents, searching for the dress. 

When you found it you laid it over your bag, standing back up to remove the leather from your body. You could hear Karlachs giggles as you shimmied out of your much too tight leather pants, only to have to pull the dress over your body right after.

Your hair was up, but you untied it and allowed your hair to fall over your shoulders. When you turned back to her, she stared at you with awe. “Woah..”

“What?” 

“You look..nice.” You giggled, which made her laugh along with you, both of you unaware of the approaching footsteps. His eyes trace along your figure, and he allows himself a moment of greediness to take in the full effect you have. You seem so happy, a smile appearing on his cheeks as he watches you smile gleefully and so..so..carefree. You're finally allowing yourself to have fun, and not worrying about protecting everyone else around you. And Gods.. you’re breathtaking. 

He would never admit to a living soul, or a non-living one for that matter, but he had been infatuated with you since the moment you asked him to join your party. You made him weak, and with his newfound freedom he wasn’t sure what the correct way to deal with it was. Obviously he could use his charm to lure you into his bedroll, but he wanted more, he wanted to be the reason you felt giddy enough to show your teeth with a smile. He wanted to be the reason you laughed, and fooled around, the reason you felt safe enough to have fun. 

He takes a deep breath in, to regain his confidence and charm, and he proceeds towards the two of you.  

Until his voice filled your ears and caused your eyes to shoot in his direction, “Well well..don’t you look nice.” 

“Astarion!” He approached the two of you slowly, staring at you and paying no mind to Karlach’s presence. 

“I’m gonna leave you two alone..” Karlach let out an awkward chuckle, making eye contact with you with wiggly eyebrows before sneaking away.

You look back towards Astarion, who is unable to make eye contact with you as his eyes roam along your body, preoccupied. You're certain he doesn't even realise Karlach has left from beside the two of you.

“Where did you get this pretty thing?” He looks back up to meet your eyes, smirk big enough to show his fangs which sends a nervous shiver through your body. A tingle in your neck reminds you of the favour you allowed him. Your arms cross against your chest, suddenly more nervous in his presence than ever before. 

“Just something I picked up from a merchant..” 

“In all the time I’ve traveled by your side , I’ve never seen you look so.. elegant.” 

“Wow thanks..” You roll your eyes with a snort, crossing your arms tighter across your chest.

“Now c’mon darling..you know I mean you no disrespect. Only pointing out the obvious. May I?” At first you're unsure what he’s even asking permission for, but when you see his hands reaching out to touch you, you give him a nod. 

He doesn’t hesitate, hands finding your hips. “See…usually you’re wearing that menacing leather, always so serious.” Your face scrunches up at his words, you’ve never thought your armour to be very menacing nor did you believe you were ‘always serious’. Only when the situation called for it. 

The heat of his skin can be felt even through the fabric. His thin fingers squeeze into the plush of your hips, then run along your waist, feeling the fabric between his fingers. “But right now, in this dress, with your hair undone,” He brings his hand up to run his fingers through your hairs, “You look so free. You’re beautiful darling..so beautiful.” 

You feel your face relax, and it only softens more when Astarions eyes meet yours once more and his pupils are blown . The softest smile blossoms on his face, which turns out to be contagious cause not soon after a cheek burning smile is on your face. Face hot as you look into his eyes, his hands still on your waist, thumbs massaging your skin through your dress. 

“I should take it off, I don’t want to get it dirty.” 

“Could you humor me?”

“Humor you? How so, Astarion?” 

“Keep it on, just for an hour. It’s been a long time since I spent an evening with a woman as beautiful as you..” 

#astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #x reader #oneshot #drabble #female reader #baldur's gate 3 #fem reader #bdg3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion

[riseatlantisss]

The end we start from

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader/Tav Around 1,8 words Takes place after the events in Cazador's palace in act 3 (non-ascended Astarion, established relationship) Angst with a happy ending (and loooots of sex) <3

Astarion doesn’t feel good enough. you show him he’s everything.

TW : 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, very angry/angsty/rough sex, fingering, mature language, mentions of death and depression, mentions of blood

A/N : when i don’t work, i do two things: i take care of my dog and i play BG3. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t socialize. i just play BG3. and I write stuff about *him*.

Astarion is many things. Quiet is not one of them. But lately, that’s all he’s been, and you’ve been worrying about him night and day. Tonight is no exception. You wake up in the middle of the night and realize two things : not only is Astarion’s side of the bed empty but the sheets and pillows are untouched, uncrumpled. His side hasn’t been slept in. This isn’t right. Of course, he doesn’t really need to sleep but he always, always lays next to you at night, spooning you, playing with your hair and whispering sweet I love yous in your ear until you fall asleep. His absence means something’s off. Unable to shake off the anxiety, you get up in one swift motion, determined to find him. No chance you’re falling back asleep now anyway.

Your bare feet hit the cold marble floor and you shiver as you make your way accros the bedroom in a hurry. You think of searching outside in case he went for a hunt, but it turns out you don’t have to look too far. There he is, silently leaning against the wall by the window, gazing into the pitch-black night of the Underdark. The light in the room is so dim that you couldn’t even spot him from your bed. You approach him and your heart breaks a little when you notice the lingering sadness in his crimson eyes, enhanced by the faint light of the burning candles next to him.

You want to ask him if he’s ok but it’s obvious he’s not so instead, you remain silent and close the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him and gently resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion averts his gaze and gives you a faint smile, nothing but a twist of lips.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just being selfish, as usual. Forgive me, y/n.”

You frown and stare at him incredulously. “You’re not selfish,” you say, surprised at how intensely he means it. “Why would you even say that?”

“I –” He pauses, rethinks his words. This does nothing to make you less worried. “I caused you great pain,” he finally says. “I put you in danger. Repeatedly, ever since we met. You could have died a hundred times and it would have been my own, entire fault.”

You look up to him and feel a lump form in your throat. You have never seen him look like this – grief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m not dead, Astarion. I’m right here with you.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes a sound somewhere near a sob and your arms tighten.

“But I did put you in danger and now you’re stuck with me for eternity, in the middle of nowhere, and you—" Again, he stops. He’s bad at this, at talking about emotions. But he fights through it because it’s you. And nothing can be left unsaid between the two of you. Not after everything that’s happened. “You deserve so much better. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.” You’re not sure where this conversation is going but you don't want to find out. His lower lip quiver but he goes on, words spilling out of him like blood from a wound. “I can’t give it to you, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it. It’s killing me all over again.” You crumble under each one of his words. His lips are trembling now and you can’t stand it. You can’t but you can’t do him the dishonor of looking away either.

“Astarion, I chose this life.” Your hands flutter to his face, each one cupping a cold cheek, forcing him to look at you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can feel it. “I had a choice; I could stay, or I could run, and I chose you. I’m not stuck here. I’m home.”

Astarion heaves a faltering breath in an attempt at composure. “Sometimes I think you would be happier without me. Better off.” He barely mouths the words, but you hear them all distinctively, nonetheless. “You should go and leave me here. Walk in the sun. Be happy and live your life.” You draw your hands away from his face and he steps back, speaking louder now.

“It won’t get any better in here,” he continues, gesturing urgently around the room. “It’ll always be cold and dark, I’ll always be a blood-thirsty monster. I belong to the shadows, and I’ll never be able to make you happy, so you might as well just leave.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and, for a moment, you cannot breathe. You feel your pulse pounding in your veins and blood thrumming under your skin as your heartbreak turns into anger. That fucking idiot, you think, looking up at him through eyes blurred with tears.

“You don’t know what makes me happy. You don’t,” you shout, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. "And you certainly don't get to speak for me." Astarion looks at you in such confusion that you almost feel bad for a moment, but you continue.

“You – you make me happy, Astarion, gods you do. I would rather live an eternity in the Underdark with you than one more day in the fucking sun.” Your heart is clenching in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. “By no means would I be better off, let alone happier, without you. I can’t believe that you could even think –” You trail off and sigh in frustration. You can’t bring yourself to scream at him any longer because that’s all he’s ever known before you, screams and shouts and abuse, and you can’t do this to him. But that doesn’t leave you with many options to get through to him. Astarion opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.

Without warning you grab his shirt to pull him close and your lips crash into his, knocking the breath out of both of you with the force that you collide with. It only fuels your rage because the moment his lips are on yours, you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss him harder. It’s rough and desperate and sloppy. It's harsh breath and biting teeth.

He turns you around and backs you against the wall. You take it rather hard, but you welcome the sting. Anything to shut him up about not being good enough for you. He crowds in closer, presses you even harder against the wall, shoving his knee between your thighs. His cold lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give him access to your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If he wants it, it’s his.

But he doesn’t take it. Instead, his mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against him. You cling to him, grabbing his shoulders and sliding your hands down his shirt and to his back. He hoists you up like you weighed nothing and you wrap both legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his curly silver hair and pull him forward to feel that mouth on yours again. His tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, more, more. You moan when his hand reaches beneath your gown and through your damp underwear.

Firm, icy fingers are stroking you into madness. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. You are clenching – aching to have him inside.

He is gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around him, and you must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; your head falls back and it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

You dig your nails hard into his back - you need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on his shoulder and groan in anticipation. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes his hard, large cock into you, going steadily until he’s all the way in.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You plead and he obeys.

He sets a pace that graces all the right spots, spurred on the increasingly desperate noises escaping your mouth. This is no effort at all for him, holding you up easily and fucking you hard with determination. But you can see it when you rest your forehead against his – the sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know he needs this just as much as you do.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. Your lower back thuds against the wardrobe with your oh gods and fucks singing in tandem. The vampire trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in his hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to him.

Your thighs start to quiver around him, the sounds of wetness and the feeling of his own explosion of pleasure deep inside you taking you so high that eventually, you shatter into him. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart.

Your repeatedly moan his name on your way back to consciousness, lips brushing softly against his pale skin.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please…. Please don’t ever tell me to leave, ever again.” You try to articulate, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

He sinks down onto his knees, holding you in his lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice is low and full of gravel. He never sounded so sweet. “I love you, always have and always will. And you’re not going anywhere.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #astarion fanfic #astarion imagine #astarion x female reader #astarion fluff #astarion smut #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #baldur's gate iii #astarion x you #larian studios #neil newbon #baldur's gate #bg3 fluff #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #bg3 tav #bg3 spoilers #astarion x y/n #astarion fic

[msgexymunson]

The Code

Description: Your very first day at your new school and you've already managed to find a dealer. Not only that, but he is fine. Maybe living with your mom might not be too bad after all. 

Warnings: Making out, fingering, male and fem oral receiving, p in v unprotected sex 

A/N: I just wanted some desperate, clingy ‘I need you’ sex so here we are. I loved writing this so much I think this is going to end up in a whole universe just about these two.

6.2k words

Masterlist 

This must be the spot. 

You walk out into the little clearing in the woods. It's private, encircled by trees, with a picnic bench right in the middle. As you wonder who the hell put it there, you take in the quiet. It's bizarre; a minute ago you were surrounded by loudmouth jocks and giggling girls, sneakers squeaking and lockers slamming, but here? Silence, except for the twittering of birds and whispering wind in the trees. 

Perching on the slightly mildewed table top, you dump your bag and jacket on the seat, crossing your legs and picking your fingernails to pass the time. 

A rustle of leaves makes you snap your head up, and you see who must be the most gorgeous guy at this school. Tall, long hair, a narrow little waist you want to wrap your legs around, and judging by his clothes, he's a metalhead too. 

“Hey, you leave me a note?” 

He looks around nervously, circling the table before walking over to you. 

“Yeah, you OK?” 

He smiles, and you rethink your previous statement. He must be the most gorgeous guy in this whole town. Such a pretty mouth. 

“Sorry, it's just last time I got an anonymous note in my locker I got jumped by four jocks.” 

“Oh, well you know what they say, when a boy bullies you they really just have a crush on you.” 

He laughs, tipping his head back. 

“Well these guys must want my fuckin’ babies or some shit!” 

Giggling, you look down, covering your mouth girlishly. Eddie takes the small opportunity to check you out. You look like you've wandered in from a dream. A very wet dream. Little black Mary Janes on your feet, thigh high white socks, and a black and white plaid skirt. The strip of thigh on show is making his pants tighter by the minute. The white t-shirt is a work of art; it seems so innocent, but it's tight enough to accentuate your obvious curves, and the outline of a black bra is peeking through the thin material. He's sure it's purposeful; who wears black under white and doesn't think about it showing? 

You clear your throat and his eyes flick upward to your face guiltily. Not saying anything, you let your little smug smile and raised brow do the talking for you. This looks like it's going to be a lot of fun. 

After a few seconds of letting him squirm, mostly to see the blush flowing to his cheeks, you give him your name and explain. 

“I'm new here, some girl told me you're the one to go to for weed. Eddie, right?” 

“Guilty as charged,” he replies, bowing at you. Rolling your eyes, you beckon him forward with one finger. His grin widens as he stands right in front of you, eyes darting to your lips and back up. 

“So, you got something for me?” 

Eddie plants his hands either side of you on the table, close enough to smell your perfume. It's heady, laden with spice and promise, not the sweet scent he expected. That just intrigues him even more.

Your heads spinning from him crowding your space. His eyes are otherworldly, deep brown, full of such depth and soul that it takes a moment for you to remember to breathe. 

“For you? Of course.” 

He winks, he fucking winks, sending a swarm of insects in a whirlwind in your stomach, then sits down at the bench, slamming a battered tin lunchbox down. He gestures at the seat in front but you swivel on the table to face him, legs crossed an inch or so away from his hand. 

“So, I'll do you a half ounce for… twenty. Cool?” 

He wags a baggy at you and you make a pass for it, but he holds it at arm's length. 

“Twenty?” 

Huffing dramatically, you lean far back to grab your bag from the opposite bench. Eddie holds an arm out, one thrown over his eyes. 

“Cover your, er, modesty sweetheart.”

You realise he means your skirt that had ridden high on your thighs, exposing a triangle of your panties. It was only for a moment, but he saw. He thinks it'll be ingrained on the inside of his eyelids, burned into the back of his brain forever. They're baby pink, yet another surprise. You seem to be full of them.

“Such a gentleman.” 

Plopping your bag in your lap, you rummage through it to find a note. Eddie's eyes widen yet again. Your little denim backpack is covered in patches; Megadeath, Anthrax, Saxon. Just when he thinks he's got you figured out, you throw another curveball at him. 

“Here, twenty.” 

He takes it and exchanges it for the bag in his hands. Squirrelling it away, you smile. 

“Thank you. Fancy a smoke?” 

“Sure, why not.” 

You move to get your newest purchase out again but he waves a hand. 

“This one's on me sweetheart. For the er, pleasure of your company.” 

“Well, aren't I lucky.” Smirking at him, revelling in the pink tinge on the apples of his cheeks, you watch whilst he rolls. 

“So, you're new? When did you start?” 

“Today. Moving in with my mom and my brother for a little while whilst my dad cools off.” 

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, licking the paper with a pointed precise tongue. 

“Yeah. I got suspended, he freaked. Mom wanted her little girl back, so here I am.” 

“Oh really? What did you do?” 

You bite your lip as he passes you the lit joint, and take a couple of hits. 

“What didn't I do?” 

He laughs loudly with you, eyes darting to your chest as it jiggles. Fuck, he's already down bad. 

You make some chit chat, surface level stuff, but it shows you just how easy he is to talk to. He's confident, bordering cocky, but it's belied by the way your flirtatious comments make him blush. 

The joint is long gone. Eddie stands up, getting ready to leave. You want him to stay, you need him to, just a little longer. It emboldens you, enough to make a move. 

“Eddie, what's your policy on kissing clients?” 

He's mid standing when your question gets through to his brain, entirely short circuiting it for a second. 

“Huh?” 

“I said,” you beckon, and Eddie's legs move on their own accord, “what's your policy on kissing clients?” 

He's grinning then, standing in front of you by the edge of the table. As you uncross your legs, his smile only widens, slotting his narrow hips between your thighs. You take one of his hands in yours, examining his rings, before you place it gently on your leg, silently giving him permission to touch you. 

Eddie feels dazed, half expecting someone to jump from the bushes with a camera, declaring this all some elaborate prank. The bare skin of your thigh is so soft, silky smooth. His fingers dance just underneath the hem of your skirt, testing the waters, but you let him. You let him. 

“My policy? It probably goes against the Holy drug dealers code.” He shakes his head sadly, but he's still smiling, and still not pulling away. 

“Drug dealer code? What like, don't get high on your own supply?” You respond cheekily, nodding at the butt of the joint stubbed out on the table. 

Your hands snake around his neck autonomously, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves infinitesimally closer, head bending a little. 

“Yeah, like that. But the thing is,” he says as he moves even closer, whispering, “it's more like… guidelines.” 

“Yeah?” 

It's all you can manage out, breathy and weak, practically quivering at his closeness. 

His nose rubs against the side of yours, mouths almost brushing, as he whispers again, even more quietly, the breath of it diffusing over your parted lips. 

“It's a good thing I like to break the rules.” 

Then his lips are crushed against yours, your strawberry lip balm surrendering itself, finding a new home on his full lips. Your tongue licks into his mouth thickly, laced with want. Eddie responds, exploring your mouth as the kiss turns dirtier by the second. Your chest is smashed against his, thighs gripping onto his hips. 

Eddie's head is reeling at the taste of you and the feel of your body desperately pressed against him. He winds his hand under your skirt to grab your perfect round ass, jamming you even closer. To his delight you moan in his mouth, lips sliding against his, slicked in spit. 

Your heart is thumping so loudly you can feel it in your throat. Or is it his? It doesn't matter, the kiss tearing any rational thoughts away. Snaking an arm around him to dig painted nails into his back, you roll your hips into him, an ache settling into your bones. 

The other of Eddie's rough hands travels audaciously to your chest, palming it over your clothes. You don't pull away, in fact your back is arching, searching for more. 

It's only then that he notices the time on his watch. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away, taking in the way your chest heaves, how your eyes are half lidded, as if you want to devour him whole. 

“Fuck, I'm sorry but I'm late, I really gotta go.” 

Huffing, you pout, and the plumpness of your bottom lip almost makes him say fuck it, screw Hellfire, but he knows he can't. 

“I really, really don't want to go, for the record. Last thing I want to do is walk back into school with a hard on right now.” 

You giggle breathlessly, risking a little look down. He's not lying. And he is packing. 

“Do you wanna come to mine later?” 

It's out of your mouth before you even think of the words, tongue working of its own accord. 

“Are you- for real?” 

You nod comically fast. He just shakes his head, stunned. 

“You know, I'm waiting for a Carrie moment or some shit.” 

“Eddie, I'm not gonna dump a bucket of pig's blood on you, I swear.” 

“Swear? On what?” 

“On, I dunno, on that code thing?” 

He laughs, hands rubbing up and down your sides as if he doesn't want to let you go. 

“You can't swear on that, we just broke it!” 

“Alright then, scouts honour?” 

“You were a girl scout?” 

“No.” 

He laughs again as you purse your lips, deep in thought. Suddenly, your eyes widen, and you hold your hand to your heart, the other forming the devil's horn sign. 

“I swear on Ozzy.” 

Fuck, Eddie thinks he must have made you in a lab. 

“Alright, alright, you best not be using his name in vain.” 

You rummage in your bag, grabbing a scrap of paper and scrawling an address on it. 

“Here. My er, my mom's out for the weekend and my dweeb brothers got some silly club thing then he's staying at a friend's, so…” 

Eddie's eyebrows raise and disappear into his hair. If this is just some fantasy and he's finally lost it, then he can deal with that. 

“Right, I will be there. I promise. Wild fuckin’ horses couldn't drag me away.” 

You scrunch the paper into his waiting hand, and he presses another kiss to your lips, before he's apologising again, having to run back to school before the guys send a search party. 

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

He only gets a chance to look at your hastily written note when Hellfires finished, a hell of a lot quicker than his usual sessions. The guys are put out, complaining about only managing to go for a supply run and deal with some bandits, but for once he doesn't give a shit. 

In his van, he's reading and rereading your note. Maybe he's got it wrong, your messy handwriting is difficult to read after all. Or maybe he was right before and this is all some joke at his expense. 

Hope is what gets him there, that and the traces of strawberry lip balm that still linger on his lips. He pulls up to the house and knocks on the door. 

You answer, still in your clothes from earlier, though Eddie notices immediately that you've taken off your bra. It throws him for a moment, the shape of your nipples singing a melody directly to his dick, but he recovers. 

“You live… here?” He asks, completely surprised. 

“Yes?” The way he says it you almost question if you're the one in the wrong house. 

“And your last name is…?” 

“Henderson.”

“Fuck.” He laughs it out, biting his lip. 

“Is that a problem?” You're entirely thrown by his reaction, but gesture at him to come in, closing the door behind him. 

“Dustin’s your little brother.” He says it like a known fact.

“How do you know Dust for Brains? Wait-” 

You step backwards, both hands held to your mouth in shock. 

“You're Eddie?? The Eddie??” 

“The one and only, sweetheart.” 

“Shit, Dustin does not shut up about you. I thought, well I thought you'd be some nerdy, awkward loser.” 

“Well, I'm a lot of things.” 

Laughs erupt from you in an unstoppable volcano. 

“Dustins gonna kill me.” 

Eddie shakes his head. 

“No, Dustins gonna kill me. How come he's never mentioned you?” 

“He's not exactly my biggest fan. Plus, he probably wanted to avoid- this.” 

Eddie deflates a little, the hope of kissing you again dwindling by the second. 

“If you want me to go-” 

“Oh hell no,” you grab his hand, keeping him there with you, “this is hilarious, he's gonna freak. I can't wait. You wanna drink, or something to eat? Or we can just-” 

“Wait, you seriously don't care?” 

“Nope. You're too hot.” 

Eddie blushes, not used to girls being so brazen with him. Smiling, you tell him to take a seat and grab some beers from the fridge. He takes his jacket off and throws it on a chair. When you return, you're laughing yet again as you hand him his beer. 

“How the hell did I miss that?” You point. He follows your eyes, to the Hellfire t-shirt he's wearing. 

“Too busy staring at my pretty face?” He suggests, winking at you. 

Settling down next to him, you flick the TV on to some random b movie. Nonchalantly, you place a hand on his knee, stroking the little bare patch of skin as you look at the film playing. 

“Maybe I was too busy thinking about what's underneath it.” 

You say it offhand, a casual statement, but it's got Eddie nearly choking on his mouthful of beer. 

“Shit you are nothing like your brother, are you?” 

Turning to smirk at him, you respond, “I fucking well hope so.” 

Then Eddie's thoughts fly straight out the window when your hand lands on his chest, nails raking him through the fabric. Suddenly, the temperature of the room is stifling, or is it just the feel of your body against his? He reaches tentatively to cup your cheek, rubbing a calloused thumb on your chin, eyes boring into yours for confirmation. Breath hitches in your throat; you lean in closer, gaze flickering to his perfect mouth and back up. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me, Eddie?” 

You smirk, but it's wiped from your face immediately by his mouth smashing into yours. It's so forceful you have to fight to keep upright, hand fisting into his shirt as some sort of anchor. 

As you pull away, his eyes widen, wondering if he did something wrong. He looks like a little puppy. 

“Easy Eddie, we've got all night.” 

All night? Eddie has decided that he must have got hit on the head today. Maybe he was jumped after all, and now he's in a coma, playing out some elaborate fantasy. 

He settles back into the cushions, swigging his beer and failing to focus on the movie playing, his leg restlessly bouncing. 

You look perfectly at ease, knees curled up on the seat. What he doesn't know is that your heart is pumping blood so fast that you're starting to feel a little dizzy from it, purposefully slowing your breath to keep your calm. 

Once your beer is finished you've decided that enough is enough. A part of you wanted to take this slow; he seemed like such a nice guy, as well as being into your kind of music, and hot as sin. Unfortunately, it seems your pussy has other ideas, already banging its own heartbeat like a dinner bell. 

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He tries to make it sound casual, but he's wound so tight it's almost a strangled noise. Nursing a semi since he saw you in the woods earlier, now it's straining against his jeans in a futile attempt to be near you. 

He looks so damn nervous, and it gives you the confidence you need to swing your leg over his and straddle him. Eager hands land immediately on your hips, thumbs pressing hard to keep you there. 

This time, you lean in. Your kiss is fire, tongue burning hot and heavy in his mouth. Eddie groans into the kiss, rolling desperation from his mouth to yours. He's breathing so hard it's whistling through his nose, clouding your cheek with condensation. 

It almost feels like a competition, both tongues duelling, determined to unravel the other. Lips swollen and blood filled, your mouth tries to keep up with his, spit gathering at the edges. You'd be self conscious about it if you weren't so damn turned on. 

Eddie's hands roam all over, grasping at your ass under your skirt, slipping inside the thin material of your panties at the back, until he runs a thumb just next to your underwear but this time dangerously close to your sex. You moan onto his tongue, your own hands winding into his hair, pulling harshly to spur him on. 

He can't concentrate on the hard tingle your fingers cause to run all over his scalp, not when slips his fingers past the cotton barrier and he runs them up and down your slippery slit. Mind entirely encased in a pink fog of lust, you realise your mumbling in his mouth. 

“Please, please, please-” 

The corners of his mouth turn up at the sound, thumb seeking out your clit to rub circles on and around it, your arousal causing it to slip and slide. You're dizzy, hot all over, pussy aching for something inside. 

Eddie's obsessed with the feel of you, the heat emanating from your cunt, but most of all with the sounds you make. They'd be pornographic, if they weren't so fucking real. Needy, hoarse moans, peppered with little gasps and whimpers that are making his cock twitch with each slip of his thumb. 

Gliding a finger inside, he watches as your head rolls back, a strangled groan falling from your kiss bitten lips. You're practically riding his hand, bouncing your tits so close to his face that he's in a trance. As if you can hear his prayers, you pull your shirt off, fighting with the tight material until you can shake it off your arm. 

He sees the glimpse of a tattoo, a snake wrapped around a dagger directly in your cleavage, which he momentarily thinks is really hot, but then he's gone. Your bare chest is a masterpiece, perfect tits jostling with each bounce of your thighs. He latches his mouth to a nipple, tonguing and sucking on it like he needs it to breathe. In fact he almost forgets to, pulling his mouth off to take a gasping breath and latch onto the other. 

He drags his mouth away when he feels you tightening impossibly hard around his fingers and leans back just in time to see the show. Your climax is violent, grinding into his fingers hard and rough until suddenly you're screaming his name, nails breaking the skin of his neck as you cling on for dear life. Your release engulfs your body in a flash of fire, singeing each nerve and causing you to convulse in his grip. Eddie can barely move, his fingers straining hard to work you through your orgasm, so much so that the tendons of his arm hurt, but he doesn't care. He keeps on curling them until you physically grab his arm to still him. 

His dripping fingers are released with a sucking sound as he grins at you smugly. Not for long though, not with your chest heaving like that and the way you're biting your lip. You yank at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and relishing in the exposed skin by lathing your tongue over his collar bone. 

“Nice tats.” You breathe onto his skin between sucks and nips. 

“Same to you,” he stumbles out in a gasp as a particular sharp bite to his neck shoots a lightning bolt of heat down his spine. 

“You haven't seen all of them,” you reply, nibbling at his earlobe. 

He's never wanted to hunt for tattoos more in his whole life. 

“Fuck, you are a dream.” 

His teeth bite down on your shoulder and you whimper, grinding down on his rock hard bulge. Enveloping his lips in another urgent kiss, and another, until you can break away long enough for one word. 

“Bedroom?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ yes.” 

He stands, still holding you, knocking a beer bottle to the floor. You cling to him with your legs as he walks backwards, sending a table lamp flying in the process. It's inconsequential; your head is fighting through a cloud of need, nothing can find its way through but touch and taste. 

In the hallway, he slams your back into the wall, pressing you hard against it as he writhes his tongue in your mouth again. A picture frame falls, you just about hear the tinkling of glass but it's not important. That's tomorrow's problem. 

Unhooking yourself from his clutches for a moment, you drag him by the front of his jeans and yank him into a doorway, gasping for breath, grasping at flesh. You practically punch the lightswitch to turn it on, the thought that you need to see him just about making it through the horny mist. Once inside he barely has a chance to take in his surroundings before you're falling to your knees and undoing his belt with impatient fingers. 

“Woah, baby, you don't need to-” 

“Shut the fuck up Eddie I wanna blow you.” 

Eddie rubs his hands over his face and then compulsively strokes his neck just to keep some composure. If he thinks about your words for a second longer he's sure he'll bust right in his pants. 

You work his fly and pull his jeans and boxers down swiftly, his turgid cock flying free and whacking his stomach, decorating it with a pearl of precum. It feels heavy in your hands as you rub him up and down, watching the soft skin move with each pass, like silk wrapped around a steel bar. 

Taking him into your mouth, you twirl your tongue around his head, licking up its salty sweetness, sucking lightly. Eddie groans, torn between covering his eyes and holding you in place, so he does a bit of both, until you start taking him deeper and deeper without gagging. 

His eyes snap open to see you staring straight at him, nose nestling in his coarse pubic hair, eyes wide and wet and innocent, mouth stretched full of him, and he feels his balls tighten. 

“Fuck stop stop, please.” 

He practically bends in half to get you off of his dick. Giving him a smug smile of your own, you delicately wipe the spit gathered at the corners of your mouth with a thumb. 

“You OK there champ?” 

“You are gonna kill me sweetheart.” 

He's heaving, trying to control his breath, eyes darting from your face, to your bare chest and back up. Standing up, you unzip your skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, leaving you in your tiny pink underwear with a very noticeable wet patch, and your thigh high socks. There's another tattoo hiding just out of sight, playing peekaboo over the top of your panties. 

Something about seeing you so innocent and yet so naughty flicks a switch in his brain. Before he can think he's pushing you backwards and you hit the mattress behind with a thud, legs dangling off the edge of the bed. 

Which is fucking perfect in Eddie's opinion because he needs to taste you right now otherwise he might die. 

You both fight to take your underwear off, but he covers your hand in his own when you start rolling your socks down. 

“No. Leave them on.” 

It's husky and dominant, a steely look behind those soft brown eyes you haven't seen yet. Well. Filing that away for reference. You lay there sweetly, propped up on your elbows to watch as his tongue squirms against you, making out with your cunt just as passionately as he kissed you. 

He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks and for a moment you can see God. 

“Holy fuck! Eddie!” He groans back, lost in the taste of your cunt. He wants to write a poem about it, a song, a fucking haiku, anything to immortalise the prettiest pussy with the sweetest flavour. 

“Eddie, get up here!” He's not listening, licking and sucking, almost getting as much pleasure as you are, but you need him inside you right now before you combust; you're sure of it. 

In the end you grab a chunk of his hair and pull him upward, sliding him over your trembling body, and you hold his face an inch from yours. 

“Eddie, I need you to fuck me, now.” 

His leaking tip is rubbing against your swollen clit; he takes it in his hand to line it up, when somewhere out of the pussy drunk haze he remembers something important. 

“Do you have protection?”

“I'm on the pill, is that-” 

It clearly is OK. It's possibly the best four words Eddie's ever heard. 

Your unfinished sentence morphs into a drawn out moan as Eddie pushes inside you, stretching you out until he's fully sheathed. As you whimper and whine at the feeling, Eddie stops, just for a moment, to hold your cheek and press a soft kiss to your lips. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

For some reason that takes you entirely by surprise, eyes wide and wet at his honesty. 

“Yeah? You're really handsome, Eddie.” 

The smile he shoots you is warm and genuine, lighting up that animate face of his with an inner glow. You roll your hips upward and take joy in the fact that he wasn't expecting it, eyebrows knitting in shock as a litany of swear words spill from his mouth. 

Your smirk is short lived when he hikes your leg around his waist and starts thrusting devastatingly deep, so deep it's like he's in your guts trying to root out the source of the burning desire at the pit of your stomach. 

“Holy- oh God, Eddie!” 

Moaning loudly, you press hot, cushy kisses to him between your stream of noises, forehead resting on his. Eddie's smiling, he can't help it. Just the joy of being with you like this, the feel of you losing it because of him, and the tightness of your pretty cunt have him in paradise. 

“Feels- feels so- oh fuck- so good, inside you, sweetheart. So fuckin’ tight, I-I can feel you shaking, you close?” 

Words escape you. All you can do is cling to his back and nod, nails clawing into him with shivering intensity. Eddie thrusts into you harder; all you can do is cling on for your life, arms and legs nearly suffocating him. The telltale tingle of your release is nearly burning your skin, prickling over each downy hair making it stand on end. 

The heat is immense, tension gripping your legs as you quake, and writhe, and whimper, until your climax flies out of you, shooting out of every pore and forcing tears from your eyes. Your vision turns bright white for a moment, until all the tension leaves your muscles and you flop back on the bed. 

Eddie doesn't understand how you keep on getting hotter, but it doesn't matter. You let him inside of you, raw, and his head is still reeling from that. Each little sound, each flex of your constricting walls is pushing him to ecstasy; in fact he's staving it off so he can enjoy you like this for a little while longer. 

Getting up on his knees, he pulls you toward him by your thighs, guiding you to roll your hips as he pumps into you. This angle is so much better; he can see all of your incredible body laid out before him, tits bouncing with each thrust. Your small hand finds his forearm, just holding it lightly, as you whine. 

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” 

It's high pitched, mumbled and nearly incoherent. He's not even sure you know you're doing it, but it's what pushes him over the edge. He feels the tightness in his balls as his length grows impossibly hard.

“Sweetheart, where-” He manages through gritted teeth. 

“Please cum in me.”

Eddie's four new favourite words. He grips hard to your thighs, hard enough to bruise, as he groans and swears his release out. You feel it deep inside, throbbing out of him, when he finally collapses forward. You hold onto each other, tongues rolling into each other's mouths, kissing and kissing and kissing. You kiss until it hurts, until your mouth is chapped and sore, until you need air, and water. 

“Fuck, Eddie, that was… sorry, if I er, came on a bit, strong?” 

Eddie just laughs, pressing his body as tightly against yours as he can. 

“Please don't ever apologise for wanting to fuck my brains out.” 

You laugh, kissing his cheek.

“When you put it like that, fair enough. Right, get off me, I need to clean up.” 

“I can take care of you-”

“Yeah, and I'm a grown woman who needs to piss, so please?” 

You roll your wrists, flinging your hands in desperate circles. He surrenders, pulling off you and rolling onto his back, more than happy to watch your naked form sway out of the room. 

Eddie does a little wiggle dance when you leave the room, punching the air with glee. He starts looking at your room, since he had no time to see it earlier. There's a tin on the bedside table that looks remarkably similar to what he has at home, and an honest to goodness lava lamp next to it. Unable to help himself, he flicks it on at the plug, waiting for it to warm up. 

“Sweetheart, you mind if I roll?” He calls out. 

“Sure, my shits on the side table, just light the incense on the dresser.” 

Eddie seeks his boxers out and puts them on for his modesty, though it seems you may be a little, lacking, in that department. Not that he's complaining, far from it. He's obsessed with your demeanour, your confidence. 

Once the incense is lit, he rolls a joint, fussing over it to make sure it's perfect for you. Just as he pulls the little twisted paper end off, you walk back in. 

You'd taken the time to go to the restroom, clean yourself up, and find his t-shirt that was abandoned in the TV room. The hellfire logo is tight across your chest, the shirt barely covering your sex where you stand. The smile you shoot to him is absolutely smothered in sin. 

“That's, fuck, you do not play fair, sweetheart.” 

Eyes wide, eyebrows round and innocent, your mouth falls into a perfect o. 

“I have no idea what you're talking about baby.” 

Eddie can't speak. If he does, he'll give everything away. How wonderful you are, how that tightrope of dirty and sweet that you walk with ease twists his insides up. How he never wants to go home. 

Instead, he passes the unlit smoke to you, and holds out his zippo like a sacrificial offering. You sit side saddle on the bed, knees together, barely covering your throbbing core, as you take the rolled joint gratefully and spark it. Once you've had a few tokes you pass it back. 

“So, this was…” He widely gestures his arm, like it can encompass everything he's felt over the last few hours. 

“You wanna leave, Eddie?” You ask. A genuine question, cocking your head to the side, as he takes a few pulls of the smoke and hands it back. 

“I thought, well, I thought you'd want me to go.” 

“Eddie, I said we had all night. If you're done with me then-” 

“Oh, oh fuck no, I thought you'd be done with me!” 

You giggle and climb into his lap as he grasps at the flesh of your ass desperately. 

“Then stay. Stay with me.” 

Your mouth presses kisses to his jaw as your hand winds itself into his boxers, seeking out his hardening length. Eddie hisses through his teeth. 

“Fuck, I'll stay, as long as you fuckin’ want, w-whatever you want, Holy shit!” 

Laughing, you puff on the smoke with one hand, and tease him relentlessly with the other. 

For the second, third, or maybe even fourth time today, he's thinking he's in way over his head, but he can't find it in him to care. 

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

Eddie blinks hard, squishing his eyes shut, then opens them again. Nothing has changed. There's still an unfamiliar fabric hanging on the ceiling in front of him; some rainbow tie dye mural with a painted mariguana leaf in the middle of it that he's never seen before. When he turns his head, he sees a lava lamp, still on, running bubbles of fake lava up it too loose and fast, and then he remembers. 

Flicking the switch to stop the lamp's heat, he turns over to see you. You're snuggled into the crook of your own elbow, face perfectly at ease. Your pretty mouth has the hint of a pout to it, daring him to plant a kiss. 

He wants to do something for you. Anything. Right now, he'd throw a parade, organise a concert to sing to your cunt, hold a benefit to make you believe how hard he's fallen for the colour of your eyes, but maybe making you a coffee in bed will do. 

So he wiggles out of bed in his boxers, and puts his jeans on for good measure in case your mom decides this is a good moment to turn up, and starts busying himself with the kitchen appliances. There's an ancient coffee maker that shakes and sputters to life. Whilst that is going on, he takes a slug of milk out of the carton in the fridge. 

That is, until he sees Dustin from the side of his eye. 

Dustin looks very confused. His eyes trail from the messed up couch cushions, to the beer bottles on the floor, the out of place lamp, and the broken picture frame, and finally land on Eddie, still bemused and befuddled. 

“Eddie… did you… break into my house?” 

Dustin clearly doesn't believe his own conclusion as his eyes scout across the available options and still come up empty. 

“Sup, Dust Buster!” 

Dustin swivels to see you exit your new bedroom, still wearing Eddie's hellfire t-shirt and a pair of panties. You perch nonchalantly on the kitchen side as Eddie grins, making his way between your knees. 

“You've got to be fucking kidding me! Eddie!” 

“Henderson, honest, I didn't know until-” 

“Until you were in my fucking house???” 

“OK fair, but it was a bit… late then. Sorry dude.” 

‘Sorry? What about the code?” Come on, she's my sister! And you!” He says, pointing at you accusingly, “you were in school for one day. One! Then you sleep with the one guy I look up to!” 

“The codes, more like… guidelines. Don't shit your pants, you've still got Harrington, Jeez.” 

“Well, you shouldn't be such a- a scarlet woman! A hussy!” 

Uncaring, you shake your head back and away, laughing at the names. Eddie, however, is not having any of it. 

“Hey, Henderson, you better show your sister some respect.” 

“Yeah? Or what?” He dares, forgetting who he's talking to. 

“I might be fucking your sister, but I'm still your DM. You want your green adventurers running into Tiamat next session?” 

The way he curves his lips, the confident stance he's giving, it stirs tiny fires in your gut and dares unthought of kinks to come out and play. 

“Alright, alright, don't TPK us, I'm leaving, alright?” 

Dustin turns on his heel. Before he disappears entirely, you make out the start of him begging, ‘Lucas, do you copy, I have a Code Red! Repeat! Code Red!” 

“so, what now, Dungeon Master?” 

“Mmph,” Eddie sounds out, low in his throat, “ whatever you want, scarlet woman.” 

Taglist- If you want to be added or removed, please PM me!

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @joejoequinnquinn

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #switch!eddie #switch!eddie x switch!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x female reader #eddie x fem reader #eddie x fem!reader

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[7:09 pm]

(cw: parents!au)

Every parent knew what silence meant. Silence meant some huge mess was being made, someone was hiding, being mischievous, general mayhem being had. This was especially true in your home with your daughter and 3 cats. It was never this quiet in your house with the four—five troublemakers in your house. It couldn’t be the main troublemaker because he was sitting right next to you, fully invested in a a reality tv show.

“Jaemin, listen,” You said quietly while you muted the tv.

He looked at you quizzically, “I don’t hear anything… what could she be doing now?”

“It’s not her nap time yet, I have a very bad feeling about this,” you replied nervously.

Your daughter had a sweet face, she was nice and friendly in public. She always waved at strangers with a huge smile on her face. She knew to stay by your side when she wasn’t sitting in a shopping cart. She very rarely threw tantrums, a perfect little angel. People had even told you so.

In the comfort of your home on the other hand, she was hyperactive and loud. She wreaked havoc on the daily. And the cats were either right her side or far, far away from her. There was no in between. When the cats decided she was being too much your daughter would try to climb their scratching posts to reach them or pull on their tails. The poor animals. When they decided to help her the house was loud, something got destroyed, scratched, or simply broken.

The last time the 4 of them had joined forces you needed to buy a new bookshelf for the living room with all new frames for the pictures that filled up some empty spaces on the shelves.

“Rock, paper, scissors to see who goes,” Jaemin offered. You rolled your eyes but complied. Softly hitting your fist against the palm of your hand. One paper and one rock, you lost.

“Wish me luck please, and have your credit card ready to shop. Oh my god, I think I’m gonna be sick,” you muttered, standing from the couch and walking toward your daughter’s room, but not without pouting and sending pleasing looks to your husband.

You tiptoed quietly to her open door and took a peek inside. Oh good, she was playing with her baby dolls. Wait, since when were they covered in fur?

You ran back to the living room whisper yelling, “Honey, you have to come see what your daughter is doing!”

Jaemin tilted his head back and shut his eyes, “why is she only my daughter when she’s being naughty?”

“It’s not even that bad, no new furniture. Just come see!” You tugged on his arm until he was up and quietly sneaking behind you.

You both peeked into the open door and watched as your daughter swaddled up one of the cats, Luke. And he liked it! He was purring and nuzzling into your daughters small and unusually gentle hands. “Ok baby! It’s time for a nap!” She told the cat before placing him in her toy bassinet. The poor doll who it belonged to could be seen face down under her bed.

“And for the other baby, it’s lunch! Time for your bottle,” she told Luna, picking up the cat and holding her like a newborn while holding a toy bottle to the cat’s mouth. And poor Lucy was sitting on a doll bed with a bonnet tied below her chin, but she looked unbothered.

“I think the cats… like it?” Jaemin whispered in confusion.

You looked at him, “weirdly enough, I think they do too.”

You and Jaemin continued to watch the four of them play and interact. They were all calm and playing happily, until, she turned and caught sight of you.

She bounded over to you and jumped into your arms, knocking the wind out of you.

“I’m practicing!” She smiled brightly.

“What are you practicing for, baby?” You asked her, moving some hair out of her face.

“Daddy said he’s going to get me a baby brother! So I have to practice being a good big sister!” She smiled, stating it like it was obvious.

Your fave dropped, looking at Jaemin with a raised eyebrow, “did your dad say that? That’s news to me. What else did he tell you, baby?”

Jaemin’s face dropped and your daughter began spilling all their secrets. How he always bought her candy before ballet, they sometimes snuck some ice cream together after you were asleep, Jaemin put sugar in her cereal, and how he promised her new toys if she didn’t mention anything about a new sibling. “Do I still get my toys daddy?”

“Uh! No! She would not be getting any new toys!”Jaemin yelled in his mind.

“You can ask daddy later, he’s about to be in very big trouble.”

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #jaemin fluff #jaemin imagines #jaemin x reader #jaemin blurbs #jaemin drabbles

[moon7jay]

i would KILL for a hearing non-con but like in public, at a restaurant or something so public kink x somnophilia kink (?) pretty please

Don't let them hear you (p.sh)

Warnings : non consensual, stalking, public sex, chikan, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dub con(?), just pure filth

THIS WORK CONTAINS NON CONSENSUAL THEMES SUCH AS RAPE

if u still proceed to read I take 0 responsibility

"He's still looking" You whispered in to your phone, trying not to make it obvious to the man sitting 3 tables across from you that you had caught him staring at you like a creep.

"Babes maybe he just finds you attractive" your best friend answered and that option would have been viable if it wasn't for the eerie feeling you got from the said man.

"No you don't understand syd, I'm pretty sure I saw him earlier in the cafe today"

"at your part time?"

"Yes! and I've seen him there a couple more times before and he's always maintaining this weird eye contact with me it's so creepy" You said urgently, trying not to raise your voice more than an octave while simultaneously trying not to look in his direction. He was still staring at you, you could feel his dark eyes on your face.

"You do know that it's the most famous cafe around town right? Besides its so close to the university maybe he's just a random college student?" she tried to reason.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you were reading too much into the situation and maybe he really was a random stranger who happened to be around you most of the time by a stroke of coincidence. You looked up momentarily and met his eyes, a jarring shiver running down your spine when he stared back blankly, sipping on his coffee, his headphones hanging around his neck, gaze focused intensely on you. You tried to shake off the unsettling feeling creeping up in your chest and managed a small, polite smile in his direction. Maybe he was just someone who had a crush on you and needed some encouragement to talk? And if you were being honest..he was insanely gorgeous, that was the main reason you had noticed him at the cafe before.

What you weren't expecting was for him to go stiff in his seat and break eye contact. You watched in confusion and worry as he slammed his coffee down on the table and stood up, eyes downcast, hurrying towards the other side of the restaurant. You felt disrespected and confused while you watched his retreating figure. What the fuck was his problem??

"You still there? Y/n? What's happening?" syd's voice brought you back to the conversation at hand.

"Idk I smiled at him and he just...left, so weird" you whispered to her and she cackled

"Men" she snickered and you chuckled, finally breathing in relief now that he wasn't around and breathing down your neck

"Men" You laughed back, stirring the conversation onto the other topics while you finished your meal.

your phone dinged while you were waiting for your bus to arrive, the phone number was unknown, weird, you thought.

Your blood ran cold when you read the first sentence, a couple more messages flooding in one after another.

[Unknown]

[9:34] : your smile is so pretty, had to rub one out in the restaurant's washroom baby

[9:34] : can't wait anymore

[9:35] : you're mine you know, I just need to show it to you

[9:36] : fuck i know you're reading my msgs, r they turning u on?

What the actual fuck?

You cupped your mouth with your palm and turned off your phone, looking around frantically, the panic rising in your chest, but you saw no one around and it creeped you out more.

A relieved sigh left your mouth when you saw your bus pulling over, hurriedly getting inside and squeezing through the crowd, moving past pressing bodies to reach the end of the bus, leaning against the glass window and panting with the exertion and relief of finally being in a safe space, scanning the crowd to see if he was there.

The bus doors closed and you finally stood up properly, your shoulders relaxing, turning around to look out the window while u held onto the strap handles on the ceiling.

What a fucking weirdo, you thought. How did he even get your number? had he been stalking you all this time? How had you been so slow in noticing him?

you felt him before you saw him, his large hand coming up to engulf yours on the strap handle you were holding, pressing his body closer to your behind. Your chest constricted in acute fear, the position was so uncomfortable that you tried moving forward to create some space between you two, leaving the strap handle and pressing yourself closer to the glass windows, holding on to one of the seat handles instead. This can't be happening, how did you not see him get on the bus, your hands started sweating.

You knew you were in trouble when he shamelessly invaded your space again, both hands looping through your waist to rest against your stomach while he buried his nose in your hairs , inhaling deeply.

Your breathing became heavy, your nerves making you freeze. You looked around and realized that the bus was too crowded for anyone to notice anything inappropriate, with the way he was holding you, you almost looked like a couple. Almost.

Your eyes met an elderly man's and you were about to open your mouth to scream for help when you yelped from feeling a sharp object dig into your side. Your blood ran cold.

"Don't even think about it" he whispered. His voice was deep and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. You stilled, facing forward to not provoke him. He was so much bigger than you, his body practically covering yours. You did not want to die here tonight. He wasn't going to kill you was he? Would anyone ever find out what happened to you if he did? Tears started to gather in your eyes when you felt his hands squeezing around your body, touching and groping u like u were meat.

"U think anyone would care? look around you, these are all men sweetheart, they would probably jerk off while you cry for me" He chuckled condescendingly in your ear, his one hand moving up towards your chest, groping your boobs harshly, a gasp leaving your trembling lips at his actions. A satisfied groan left his chest at feeling you, his fingers digging into your mounds.

"so fucking big, ever fucked a cock between them baby?" He asked and a sob left your lips at his words. No one had ever talked to you this way before. It was making you feel so dirty, a weird feeling rising inside your chest.

He chuckled at sensing your discomfort, running his hands down your body, leaving your boobs and groping your ass through your skirt, lifting it above your rear cheeks, basically exposing your bottom half to the entire bus if someone were to look over.

"ever taken a dick in this gorgeous ass? fucked back on a dick while it pounded your tight hole?" He groaned, groping your hips and connecting his lower region to your ass, his actions pushing you forward to press against the glass. You pressed your hands against the window to gain some balance, the position giving him leverage to rut into your behind.

"mhmmfuck do u feel how excited you make me? " He asked groaning in your ear, running his tongue against it while his hard cock poked your ass repeatedly as he grinded against you. You could feel that he was big, a disgusted shiver ran down your body when you realised how violating this all was. But at the same time, a sick tingling feeling was beginning to throb between your legs.

"Take your panties off" He whispered and you thought you heard him wrong.

"w-what" You sobbed quietly, dreading what this was leading to, his fingers flexed impatiently at your sides, his hips moving against youu in a subtle grind.

"I said fucking take them panties off, you won't need them soon anyways" your hands shook as you slowly reached under your skirt to slide your panties off your legs, the implication of his words wasn't lost on you.

"fuck yeah" He groaned, snatching the lace fabric from your hands. You shivered feeling the cold air run between your legs, cursing yourself mentally for opting out of wearing pants today, more tears ran down your cold cheeks.

Slurping sounds reached your ears and you closed your eyes, trying to drown out the sounds of him licking into your panties. The sounds were so lewd, you wanted to puke. This can't be happening to you. The movements of his hips became fast, muffled moans coming out of his mouth while he rotated his hips to search more friction for his throbbing cock against your bare ass.

"You smell like sex you know? Taste like fucking peaches, so fucking perfect" He panted, burying his face in your underwear.

you could hear his excitement in your ear and it was starting to affect your body in a way that disgusted you. The moisture was beginning to gather in your pussy, body heating up from the assault.

"fuck this shit" You heard him curse and he pulled away from you, dangling sound of a belt being undone and pants being unzipped made your body shake in anticipation of the oncoming violation of your body. It was going to happen. You were going to be raped. More hot tears spilled over your cheeks, a sob building up in your throat.

"Name's sunghoon, remember that while I tear your pussy apart" he whispered.

"P-Please" You sobbed quietly even though you had no hope left when he was pressing his body into you again, a hot and heavy organ digging between your thighs.

"p-please no, please stop, I'll do anything" you sobbed again, a sharp gasp leaving your throat when he rubbed his cockhead against your entrance, gathering your slick.

"you're wet as fuck for me baby-shit-u like getting raped on subways yeah?" he chuckled, hissing through his teeth when he finally breached your opening, tearing through your cunt, impaling you on his monster cock roughly. A sharp pain tore through you, your pussy unable to adjust to the harsh entry, he was too big for you. You scratched against the glass window, resting your forehead against it to find some support as you sobbed in pain.

His mouth found your ear again and he started to thrust in you, groans of satisfaction leaving his lips upon feeling the tight clench of your warm pussy.

"dreamed of raping your cunt since the first time i saw you in that cafe baby" he panted, his words confirming your suspicions about him, but what use was that suspicion when you couldn't even protect yourself? His dick lodged itself into your womb again and again, a reminder of your foolishness.

"always so pretty, wanted to open your legs and fuck into you while everyone watched, that guy that works with you? He wants your pussy too, that fucker" He groaned and snapped his hips into you harder, a pained sob ripped through you again. Jake? No.. Jake was a sweetheart, he would never think about you like that.. . He would never -

"You're so unaware of the effect you have on men's dicks aren't you baby? - jesus fuck- if given the chance, everyone here would bury their dicks in this slutty pussy, raping it till they're satisfied" He groaned, chuckling condescendingly, as if mocking your naive nature with the constant pistoning of his hips into your cunt.

"pussy so good, so fucking tight and creamy mhmmn" he moaned into your ear in pleasure, more slick ran down your legs, your lower body burning up in arousal now, a sick pleasure running through your body as his dick kept bumping your cervix. His hands travelled inside your shirt and groped your breasts roughly and painfully, holding onto them for leverage while he thrusted into you like a madman.

"Oh fuck yeah, jerked off to this image so many times baby, fucked into my fucking fist imagining it was your cunt"

Your eyes closed, unable to stop yourself from moving your hips back on him, it was instinct, or maybe some sick part of you was enjoying this. Tears ran down your eyes again, but for an entirely different reason now.

"fuck yeah baby - he laughed in disbelief, his thrusts getting deeper now that you were meeting his hips halfway - fuck back on me like a fucking slut"

Your bodies found a rhythm and a lewd moan left your lips as the pleasure started clouding your brain.

"Yeah? Raping this pussy so good huh?" he panted, hot heavy breaths falling against the side of your face, his eyes rolling back in pleasure due to the insane friction of your lower bodies.

The sound of slick squelching and skin slapping was reaching your ears and you looked around to see if anyone could see you both. Your eyes met the elderly man's from before but this time his stare was different. A jolt of pleasure ran through you when you saw him squeezing his cock through his pants while he watched you getting violated.

You slammed yourself back on the dick that was moving in and out of you faster while you watched the lewd sight. Your hand moved down to lift your shirt up and bite its hem into your mouth so that your entire body was exposed. Your boobs already spilling out of your bra cups, being held onto by sunghoon who was fucking into your greedy cunt.

A sick satisfaction washed over you when you watched the elderly man haphazardly unzip his pants and slip his hand inside, his eyes watching your body get used and violated, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Yeah that's right baby, show him what he's missing out on, show him how u like to get raped by random men's cocks like a real slut" sunghoon groaned , his eyes catching onto the scene your gaze was pivoted to.

A gasp left your lips when you felt sunghoon shift your body to the side so that it was facing halfway towards the man while still being hidden from the rest of the passengers. He lifted your right leg and held it up, holding it from under your knee, spreading you out, giving the pervert man a fucking show.

"Now he can see how my dick moves in and out of your creamy cunt, raping it so good that you're making a mess-shit baby just like that" He panted in your ear, his hips snapping harshly into yours. Your eyes met the old man's again and you moaned upon seeing his hand moving faster and faster inside his pants, drool falling from his lips.

fuck why was this so hot, what was fucking wrong with you??

Your hips moved back into sunghoon's, cunt slamming down on his dick, grinding and fucking back cuz your brain was broken, the thought of cumming overwhelmed your senses, your pussy leaking gallons of slick, making the act of penetration more pleasurable for the both of you. Sex getting messier and nastier.

"keep fucking it baby-holy shit- you need to keep fucking that dick, just like that oh yeah" His breathing was becoming heavy, your mouth was panting, working your body faster and faster to chase that friction on his dick.

His one hand left your chest and travelled down your body to rub your engorged clit, a sharp moan leaving your lips, making him slap you on the clit harshly.

"Don't let them hear u, or do u wanna get gang raped- he groaned, feeling your pussy clench at the thought- is that what u want? what a greedy little cunt" He chuckled hotly, licking into your ear cavity.

His thumb rubbed your swollen clit, making the knot in your stomach tighten, you were so fucking close. Your eyes met the old man's while sunghoon's thrusts became sloppy, his groans getting whinier , the pleasure getting too much for your tangled sweaty bodies. His pelvis met your ass in a few more harsh thrusts, his balls slapping the underside of your thighs

"You're gonna make me fucking cum, yeah fuck yeah make me fucking cum baby" He groaned, his high so close you could feel yours approaching too.

"cum cum cum, gonna cum in you, gonna take you raw, fuck my babies in that cunt, fuck jesus-ughmhmmm- his words cut off as his hips stilled , his dick spurting cum inside of you, your own eyes rolled back upon seeing the old man cum in his pants like a freak, your pussy clenched harshly around sunghoon's dick, milking him for all that he was worth as you came all around him, making him ride his orgasm.

"Shit yeah, feels so motherfucking good" He moaned, pushing his hips deeper into you, fucking his cum back into your cunt, breeding into you. His hold on your body loosened and his dick slid out of you with a pop when you heard your stop approaching. He shoved the panties in your hands and you instantly wore them back, adjusting your shirt and skirt while he watched, his zip still open and cock still hanging out, his hand fisting it to overstimulation, a pained hiss leaving his lips at how good it felt.

You turned around to meet his eyes and watch him jerk off his cock harshly, biting on his lower lip, pressing against your body again, his brows furrowed in pleasure, hot breaths falling on your face.

Your pussy was starting to heat up again, seeing pure carnal pleasure on his face was driving you insane, god what had he done to you?

He slammed his lips into yours and licked into your hot mouth while his hand continued to fist his dick, trying to make himself cum again. He groaned at your taste, his movements becoming faster. He pulled back from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours and stuck his tongue out, just a millimetre away from your lips. As if on instinct, you stuck your own tongue out to meet the tip of his, moaning at the feeling, rubbing your tongues against each other while he jerked off, saliva dripping down your chins.

When you sucked his tongue into your mouth, you felt his body jerk rapidly, pleasure overtaking his senses as he groaned into your mouth and came all over his hands, finally pulling away from you, sighing in relief and satisfaction.

The bus had reached your stop, coming slowly to a halt but before you could move to leave, he was bringing his cum covered hand to your lips "lick it clean" he whispered and you met his dark eyes, maintaining eye contact while your tongue snuck out to eat his cum out of his hands, moaning at the taste.

"Fuck" he cursed at the sight, watching as you licked his hand clean and finally walked away from him, licking your mouth clean with your fingers.

You were his perfect match.

#enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen #enha #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon #Park sunghoon

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 1

[prompt: against a wall window]

male reader x huh yunjin

5k words

You're not entirely sure where the jacket to your suit has gone.

You know you should know; it’s a rental and you need to return it in a week. But Yunjin told you to take it off, and since then, things have been... a little hazy.

More concerning - or it would be, had Yunjin not also lost some part of her attire - is what her thumbs are hooked into. Like she's peeling out the silhouette to her skin-tight, backless dress - the way she can't keep from leaning against the elevator wall. Your lips have the taste of her red lipstick all over, and her body melts with every little flick of the tip of her tongue against yours, puddles that much further when she feels your fingers curling into the folds of that skin-tight black material.

The motion to push the fabric up and over the rise of her hips is a purposeful kind of thing.

For the past hour, her skirt kept brushing over the fabric of your pants while you went from shaking hands to kissing hands to her placing yours on the hem of her dress, in the quiet space of a balcony the hotel staff had clearly marked as off-limits. A kiss behind the shell of her ear, a suggestion, a shiver.

Now, things are happening in a sort of reverse: from slow and curious, to needing more and wanting less, and suddenly, neither of you want to wait - until her thighs are spread wide apart, with your free hand slid over her smooth thigh, fingers skirting the edges of her lace, cupped over her heat - right, there. The throbbing.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me," is what she's asking.

"Something awful," you reply, but there's only a gasp out of her throat to prove your point. No words.

Just the look: desire clouding over the expression. The not-so-subtle display of want, need. Tongue pressing to lips and tugging along the corner. A moan, two, quieted behind the knuckle she can't quite help putting in her mouth.

You consider shoving her panties down the curve of her thighs and spinning her around - leaving her arms to brace the railing and keeping the dress around her waist while you fuck. Quick, rough.

The mental image is too nice to let it go.

You consider how much she might genuinely prefer to that to whatever she'd had in mind when she suggested you really ought see the view of the city from her room - oh, the skyline, it's gorgeous, she offered, lips tugged into a perfectly practiced little quirk that said: the view of me, on all fours, face down into a mattress as my ass swallows down your cock - I can't wait to have you.

You can feel the thought concrete itself to the base of your skull when you roll the flat of your finger over her clit and start sliding up and down between the lips of her pussy - finding her a little wet already, dripping onto the fabric in the most obvious way. When the elevator stops a few floors shy, you try to play it off by squeezing at her rib cage and tugging the fabric back in place, hiding the tell-tale lines between the fabric, just as Yunjin starts that gentle laugh from the very base of her spine. A real beautiful timbre in its sound.

But things get more muddled, admittedly, when the doors ding and the group on the other side piles through.

There's an exchange of glances, where they're asking if this is allowed, is there enough room, can they make room. One of them, in a dizzyingly plunging, strapless blue number that has you pressing your palm into the small of Yunjin's back just a little more than you have been up to that point, considers, carefully.

"Yunjin," she says, fingers brushing through the fringe of a smart-chic bob, prim cut of jet-black hair.

Yunjin shifts her weight onto the other heel. "Chaewon."

"By the looks of it," she says, and the way she looks you over has all the judgmental verve of an older sister, a real cold stare. "You've got a I'll-be-staying-in-tonight kind of vibe."

A deeper laugh now, rolling out across the backs of her teeth. "If it's all the same to you," is what you hear from her, "it'll be an early night for me."

“Don’t make it a habit,” she tells Yunjin.

“We’re just going to go enjoy the view.”

“Yeah.” Chaewon gives you one final, disapproving expression. “I bet he will.”

The elevator isn't totally silent, not for the subtle hum and whir of machinery. But everything is a lot closer now. Especially your thoughts, the way Yunjin pulls herself closer against you by a hand on the back of your dress shirt - her fingernails mapping the ridge of your spine, finding your hip bone, thumb curving back and forth against the curve of it.

The four girls at the corner are just making chatter in their corner of the lift. They've got a reservation - in name, anyway. If things were as simple as getting from the hotel to the elevator and beyond, no need for the next forty floors to pass at a snail's pace.

In fact, the four have this sort of tense, concentrated way to them that suggests otherwise - like maybe they came all this way and made that sort of promise to have the whole night end the way some things ought: alone.

"Don't stop on account of us," one of them says after a while.

Which is enough to set off this glare into the furl of Yunjin’s brows. Not her friend's intention. But they laugh it off.

When the doors scuttle open, finally, the two of you stumble out, feet not catching up to the rest of you before Yunjin has her fingers around your wrist and drags you out. Her heels - red-bottomed and not entirely flat but definitely a lot less heel-ey than others (she’s tall, she says, it makes her self-conscious), are clacking quick across marble tile until she arrives at the door of her room, pulls her keycard out of her clutch and leans shoulder-first into the door after the click and whir of entry.

She takes a step backward.

The door locks at your back when it's kicked into its frame.

The first thing you notice is her dress: pooled on the floor around the arches of her heels, cast off like a cloak or some overcoat - to be tossed aside once the sun goes down.

"Make a habit out of this, huh?" you ask in an effort to keep yourself busy - gawking's never been a good look on anyone, even with your natural gifts, the glint in your smile, all your charm - but the curves of her body are stunning, curves that start where her thighs begin, wrap around her hips, cut in at her waist, bloom from the perfectly-small-breasts that now are showing their dusky pink nipples, firm and on full display.

All of Yunjin, like this, beneath pale moonlight pouring diffuse through the fish-bowl-glass of her hotel room, is nothing short of an invitation.

A good look, is what you're about to say if you don't come up with anything else.

"You do this kind of thing often?"

"What's that," Yunjin says over the sharp line of a grin.

"What I mean to say is: I hadn't pegged you for the," and you gesture, rather elegantly, with the flop of your wrist, "lure-some-poor-sap-away-from-a-party-and-take-advantage kind of type," before managing something like a genuine laugh. "Not to knock that lifestyle or anything."

"There's not a thing in the world you know about me," is what she offers. Which is, unsurprisingly, totally true, and slightly unfair.

Yunjin is walking toward you while you consider it.

Drifting when she comes around. It's that close. You can smell the warmth of her skin, a whiff of that vanilla, an infuriating softness - the room is dark, but the moon is bright and the city is glowing, reflecting its light and the various hues from neon signs below, outside, until Yunjin stops, standing right in front of you, just, waiting.

Then, the steady rise of an eyebrow that, for a second, feels like a challenge.

“So," you kiss into her lips, and that's the first. "Let me know you."

The second is when her hands slip up and over the back of your neck and you can't keep from reaching for her sides, pulling her closer. Her hips and ass and those fucking gorgeous, full, legs that can't decide which direction to take - until she's pressed, warm, soft, and perfect against your body, and she's sighing this sigh, heavy, a moan.

The third time, she's licking into your mouth, tongue rolling in and around the taste of your own.

"Too many clothes," she murmurs, and you can feel the pull at your half-undone bowtie, the collar to your dress shirt. She's working the buttons off their slots with deft, clever fingers.

"That's what happens when I'm trying to look sharp."

"Sharp, and hot."

"Is it working?"

Her eyes are as dark as the hair framing the smile that plays at the edge of her mouth. "I'm taking your clothes off, aren't I?"

"Mm," you reply, a smirk of your own. Pressed right into her jaw, her neck, the column of her throat, where she tastes sweet and salty. Like the sea and the night. Before you can even ask, with your fingers teasing the elastic of her underwear, I'm guessing you want me to do the same.

Yunjin makes a sound like, mm-hm.

The hotel room is quite standard, which is to say, nice. But, for what it is, it's not too fancy. There's a large, king-size bed with the crispest sheets you've ever felt. A little kitchenette. Some counter space and a fridge. A TV hanging opposite the bed, with an armchair and a love-seat positioned to face the screen.

"Do you want me to tell you what to do?" Yunjin asks, and her voice is low. Almost a husk, a whisper.

"What did you have in mind?" you say to her, and there's a hand on the nape of your neck, a fist of soft, slender fingers wrapping the length of your cock.

"You're going to fuck me until I'm cumming on your cock. You'll get me on my knees, first, though."

"That's the plan?"

"Unless you have another." Yunjin grins, a smile so full and bright and genuine. You don't know anything beyond her name and the perfectly sculpted curve of her ass. She could be anyone, an actress, a singer, a model. A girl-next-door. A friend of a friend.

She could be yours.

And in a way, when she's on her knees, her mouth hot and tight around the shape of your cock, those fucking lips pressed into the base of it, sliding easy with the spit she leaves on your shaft, that's exactly what you tell her.

"Yunjin," is all you're saying, a sigh, a hiss. You're helping her get your pants off the ends of your feet while your cock is lathered and bathed in her spit, feeling her slender fingers pull up and down your shaft. "That feels so fucking good, baby. Just like that." It's fast, sloppy, she's taking you in and out of her hot mouth like it's the most natural thing in the world. A slurp, a cough, and she's completely unfettered, sucking down and swallowing another breath - not to mention all that about her tongue. A swirl over the head of your cock and you show how much you like it, letting her read the bite into your lip, inventorying every little wince through your brow.

But see - you have your fingers in her hair, holding the strands away from her face. Away from where Yunjin's eyes are breathtaking and glittering, blinking back up under upturned brows, looking up at you from where she's taking you into the hot wet of her mouth, inch-by-inch. And the part of you, this cruel, twisting sensation, would hate for her to think anything of your hands - how they're at the top of her head, cradled behind, and easing her forward, the head of your cock teasing the roof of her mouth.

The back of her mouth.

The back of her throat.

Fuck, her eyes go wide. She's good. She takes it.

And just from the pretty look she keeps on her face, Yunjin loves it. Loves to be pushed, loves to have her hands running along the ridge of your thigh until her fingers are prying the very bottom, the underside, your balls. Like this, with her kneeling down between your legs, the flexing muscle of her upper arms to her palms squeezed tight on either cheek of your ass, where the heat starts to stir deep - to pull. Bring the full length of you to the back of her throat.

The choked sound from deep in her chest should surprise you.

And for the shortest moment, you're holding still and forcing her head, your hands keeping her perfectly put: just there, right there. Exactly like that - where she could look like the perfect mess and feel a twitch right between those lips that keep asking so kindly, go ahead, fuck a load of cum down my throat, baby, use these lips - the soft swell of these lips until you're cumming for me.

Or something else along those lines.

The thought of it crosses your mind: cum spilling from the corner of her mouth as she tries to take everything you have. The flutter in her throat wringing it all down. The mess that all would make. Not that she isn’t already a perfect sight.

You tug on her hair again.

Yunjin's eyes sparkle.

Her eyelashes go a little droopy, hazy. Dark.

And she starts humming across this wistful note of a sigh as her lips start slipping over your shaft - dragging in that slow, agonizing, blissful way over everywhere sensitive and aching. Taking her time, while one hand goes up and strokes what her mouth can't touch, while you pull her head, those perfect strands, just a touch further down, because if she can't quite deep-throat you then Yunjin can give a goddamn masterful impression.

Her cheeks hollow, and the suction - god.

You could cum right in between the pretty little pout of her lips, over the flat of her tongue. Right down her throat.

But in a turn of events neither of you anticipate, you don't do it; you are, much like anyone else, not without limits. Which is probably how you end up lifting Yunjin back up by the underside of her elbows, asking, "that feels a little one-sided, no?"

It's only fair to pull a smirk, kiss, all the best tricks - all for the best parts of her, full, curving, down from her neck, shoulders, her arms, the palms of her hands, every part of her: that perfect shade of peach, pink. From there, everything else falls away. The slow way Yunjin sneaks away with the kind of saunter you'd expect, hips swaying all the way up, sashaying out this inviting side-to-side before you realize it's working -

And you're asking, "Yunjin?" then telling, "I want you up against that window."

The sun's long set - but it'll come up soon enough, over the edges of skyscraper-blocks and shining up out from the base, until everything is bright and gleaming.

"Which window?" she teases.

So you swat at her ass. A not-so-delicate slap. "I don't care so long as I fuck you into it."

"And if someone sees?" she laughs out, still intent on teasing you, and the small edge in her voice is some combination of excitement and worry.

"Then we better give them something worth seeing."

Yunjin's palms land flush to the glass, fingers spread out - wide, wanting, willing - where the blue, yellow glow of city lights shines in over the curves of her profile, the slope of her cheek, the bright pools her irises turn under the warmth. She's the only thing worth seeing, and there's nothing that could possibly stop you from needing, wanting more, right now.

There's no other explanation. No other reason, really, to explain how you're desperate: to fill her, bury yourself inside her - to where you're promising, coming up behind her and guiding her over - so you can spread those creamy thighs apart, push her shoulders up against the cold surface of the window. Where she'll catch a view of her reflection staring back at her: beautiful, exposed, and hers.

"I'm going to fuck you now," is exactly what she's been begging you to say, is why she ends up feeling, with the deep, twisting need building somewhere, how you'll work your cock so deep into her wanting cunt that the only thing that makes her legs go weak - wobbling, really - is the promise of cock rubbing so close and teasing the slick folds between her legs. Until she's a little more demanding, needy - and fuck, where is all the foreplay you'd promised earlier? That perfect, thick cock of yours is missing. She knows what all this really needs.

"Yeah? You need me here?" and she gets this whine, a little pathetic, but in the cutest way.

Yunjin turns her eyes to you, over her shoulder, just the faintest bit of a sneer. 

Because she needs it, right now - rough, quick, good. 

A gasp catches in her throat when you drag your cockhead through her wet heat, once, twice, and the slide of it against her clit becomes the only thing that matters in the entire goddamn world. 

"Inside," her teeth are clamping hard on her lip now, holding it from trembling as she tries to put words together, "Put," is where she loses focus and you're sucking, and kissing, and biting at her shoulder, "put, fuck. Please, put your, put - that cock of yours in my-" You slip into her hot-soaking-wet cunt, and after you've clenched a fist and brought a palm to the center of the window, so that you could open up your body around her a little easier, her muscles squeeze and grip and milk the first few strokes so tight. So-fucking-good.

There's not even a word for it, how she fit like a glove around the first thrust, but if the expression on your face says anything, it's everything Yunjin wanted and more: the shape, the angle, how you're pressing your fingers so hard into the impossible geometry of her waist, the round of her ass - oh, she’ll be a mess of red marks, shapes and lines, reminders of how good you fucked her - these long deep strokes in and out of her creaming pussy - evidence left where the heat inside her builds and pools.

And god, Yunjin is so, so easy to fuck: you can pound into her as rough and steady and fast as she'd begged - there with your other hand, pulling hard, hard, at the loose, dark locks of her hair. Where it has Yunjin gasping, moaning, the whole nine. She has to look to find her balance - and meets the two silhouettes framed inside the reflection on the window. Two shapes, lost in the blurred shadow and outline of lights outside the hotel window, behind which the whole city and its crowds might have stopped the way they'd started, with the rest of you caught between these strange moments:

First, the mindfulness. The purpose and meaning in movement, sensation. In being alive and young, hot, gorgeous and dumb as you can afford to be be.

Yunjin's murmuring, "right there, I want you," or telling, or begging, "don't, you have no idea, I, no-" until your body presses flush up against hers, hips rocking into her perfect figure - taking you like she was built for it, and everything feels so much tighter now, so much closer. Her palms and cheek against the glass, her knees are all shaking and ready to fold at any moment. "So deep, fuck. Fuck me right there, just like that."

Then as you suppose, the unbridled lust on display: Yunjin's turned to this kind of abandon - she's swearing out loud, saying things that have no name and very little form until you've dragged the roughness of your fingers all over her body and found she needs a palmprint on her inner thighs, her ass. That she's whimpering with every deeper plunge until, finally, she gets what she's after - and the words are falling out of her mouth. All it does is mean nothing now - whatever you've been waiting to hear, the pleas to fuck her harder, the cocksleeve talk, or any other request or order.

It's a small miracle, really, considering how she'd gotten you throbbing and aching with just the press of her lips and the dangerous little curl of her tongue - the tight heat all in the back of her throat - but Yunjin cums first.

Loudly. 

Messily, too, as she rides out the feeling - tightness gathering right into her core. But her head, it's in the clouds and a little far away, the skyline bathing her skin in shades of glittering silver and gold. And god, the heat of her tight, twitching, soaked pussy - pulsing around the thrusting curve of your cock: the sublime kind of place, spot, rhythm.

How her arms give out and she's pressed, flushed, back to chest with you, right there. Her words are soft. Wholly unimaginative: yes and fuck, yes and oh, she wants you, loves how well you fuck. The murmur comes from that gorgeous body of hers, the exact shape of everything that feels good to feel. The jut of her hips and her legs are longer than her height suggests they'd be, flawless from the ankle and foot to her thigh to where your arm wraps around the base of her ribs, hugging her from the back.

It's a perfect fit.

And not in the glass-slipper kind of way that means there is such a thing as a soulmate, no.

"Cum in me," she breathes, and then - all over. That's it. The moment your fingers are splayed back out over the pane of window, she can't hold her gaze steady. Those tears prick up at the corner, where they get caught. Where her voice is too high and pitchy - begging, a whining noise and some syllable. Something inaudible that has pressing these hot, open-mouthed kisses right into the pretty rise-and-falls of her spine. The sloppy-wet sound from your cock slipping back in, and back again, until you're just left fucking these little ragged breathes out of her chest.

The space between her lips and the glass, the white-ghosting breaths of air out between those plump little pouts that have shaped and molded themselves into some version of words, a few half-finished pleads: “kiss, hold, fill, fuck, just," and, "my body, love-

"Your fucking pussy, Yunjin, holy shit, it's - fucking - so, god," you all but growl out.

Pounding into the tight clench of her cunt.

The bed in the other room might be the better choice, the sheets and pillows for more support than the hard wall she's propped against. But the glass, to see the view and take her up against it: it feels nice, cool and comfortable, even when your motion makes it fogged and sticky with condensation. She had, when your first thrust pushed inside the molten heat of her pussy, reached around the corner - fingertips splaying wide apart, up, along the foggy pane, watching the shadow of her palms turn blurry and indistinguishable against the soft glow of neon beyond.

"I'm cumming," you tell her, "I'm cumming - fuck," before shoving her body even further into the glass. Fucking her hard - just short of bending her to the point of where she might break.

That last stroke or two goes a little wild; all that coiled and pressurized want and need, boiling over the moment you fuck your cum deep into her trembling body. This time, your sounds aren't just the thoughtless hum and groan from the depth of your lungs, but some collection of dirty words, grunts. Nasty things. A whole host of obscenities: like how it's for the sake of claiming, leaving something of yourself behind. How you're pulling the smooth, curve of her hips into your body to push as much of yourself inside the gripping warmth of her. How your hot cum is starting to spill from her pink, perfect, hole - all for the better because when you take your thumb and swirl and trace and smear all along her slippery-wet slick, she gets like this: squirming in these lazy, needy little wriggles against your touch.

It takes the two of you sometime longer to move. Not long, but, you know, a little while.

When it is that Yunjin comes back to herself, you feel the smile as the ghost over your arm.

The kind of thing to ask, though you're too fucked to pay attention, are questions about life: where do you go to school, how long will you stay? All of that. There's a quiet moment where your mind plays back, vaguely, a little more intensely, the realization - and regret of it, the waste - of fucking a stranger for a night.

And in a real short moment:

"That was - really good," she says, still not recovered quite enough to walk.

Yunjin sounds all that same: a stranger. Not familiar. That's, like, your last chance or whatever. Before this becomes a one-off.

("Stay for a while?" is what she doesn't manage to ever ask.)

"Have to leave early tomorrow." And she looks at you, shoulders dipping at the ends. She says things like: "my work," and "we have an international flight. Customs is a bitch."

"Oh," is what you say to all that, looking her body over again, drinking down all the small details of her. The ones you'll lose forever after tonight. All of them, you know.

All because that's how it had to be, from the start.

"For sure."

Yunjin's hands are twisting at the end of her hair, stroking and brushing through the silky, black strands. Just for something to do: maybe, optimistically to keep herself occupied with some semblance of a thought that has nothing at all to do with how she can't seem to shake this sudden, cresting wave of frustration - how there's an urgent throb from deep within, pushing into her skin like a force.

You swallow. Try to smile. "It was fun."

-

The hotel's checkout desk is staffed by a cheerful looking man, almost fresh out of high-school. Too cheerful a smile, perhaps, and maybe a little too bright for the time of day. You'd been busy pacing the lobby, trying not to stare at your phone for the third or fourth time since stepping out of the elevator. Your feet have scuffed the ground under the coffee table, around the floral couches - almost tripping over the boutiques lined in the middle of this path. Likely you'd have considered them if you weren't focused elsewhere.

Thinking about how you'd put off any discussion about piecing back together your rental suit.

"Did you have a good stay, sir?" the concierge asks, reaching out across his desk to pick up a card. He's placing a machine in front of him.

Your face warms ever-so-slightly. "Wonderful."

"That's what we like to hear. Just swipe your key here."

The machine's screen flashes and there's another cheerful beep, indicating everything was processed.

"Could you get me my receipt?"

"Absolutely. One second."

And the printer whirs to life: spitting out line-after-line of printed data. Until there are twelve characters of nonsense and garbage, including but not limited to the link to a questionnaire and an explanation for all the boxes marked 'x'. It also indicates your total costs (minimal, really) and lists a detailed breakdown of services: breakfast, in-room bar, laundry, towels - all the necessities.

"There, would you like- wait. Sir? Someone asked me to hand this to you," and after reaching under the desk, "looks like a suit jacket of sorts."

"Oh."

He raises an eyebrow. "From the event, I'm assuming."

It's hard to tell what it's about. But as you wrap your fingers into the cloth of the fabric, tug at it a bit, there's a note that slips and falls to the floor.

You sort of frown, skeptical. Fumble with the note. And the note says this:

In your absence, I helped myself to your jacket, your wallet, an extra serving of breakfast, as well as a large iced-coffee. Promise you I'll get the next one. Call me: (xxx)-xxx-xxxx.

Affectionately, your (girl)friend for an evening,

Huh Yunjin

#yunjin smut #le sserafim smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Roses are red... [W. W]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

[Timothée masterlist]

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A noise in the distance was responsible for waking you up from your not-so-pleasant sleep in the hard, cold bed that you had been using for almost a year. Could it be Scrubbit? It was too late for her to be doing anything, you thought, much less in the bedroom section. With some curiosity you slipped your cold feet into the even colder shoes to turn on the lamp on your table and left the room with the intention of discovering what that was.

Hallways always made you nervous and the thought of encountering something unpleasant made you even more uneasy, but you tried to keep your mind occupied with something else as you moved forward step by step. Seeing nothing outside the rooms, you continued down the spiral stairs and that was where you finally observed the cause of the commotion: a crouching body that made you jump in surprise.

“Mr. Wonka?” you whispered when you noticed the burgundy coat and this time it was your turn to startle.

“Oh, it's just you,” he laughed, a little more relieved “What are you doing here?”

“The noise woke me up. What are you doing here?” you asked back, seeing him fully dressed and with his shoes on.

“Trying to get out. I need to get an ingredient to finish tomorrow's chocolates” he explained to you.

True, tomorrow would be the big day where you guys would do your best to present your friend's chocolates to the world. You had to admit that at first you hadn't been fascinated by the idea, but after seeing all the good things that this had brought for the entire group you were more than willing to continue supporting in whatever way you could. That was why the next day you would sneak into the gourmet galleries during the day to help operate the shop that Abacus and Noodle had managed to rent. And you could tell that Wonka could barely contain his excitement.

“How do you plan to go out at this time?” you asked, as it was obvious that your usual exit through the laundry tube wasn’t an option.

“There's a space big enough for someone to get out in that part, see?” he murmured, pointing with his cane at a gap above the front door “I just need to get a good grip on this rope and I can climb up there. I will pull it to the other side and before dawn I will climb again.”

“And what if Scrubbit sees you?”

“She won't,” Wonka whispered, completely sure of himself. There was a brief silence between you, where you just looked at him with a certain claim and he returned that look with an amused "Do you want to come with me?"

"What? No!"

"Come on! It will be fun"

“I'm in my pajamas,” you said through clenched teeth.

“Then put on different clothes,” he quickly resolved, with a smile that was too enthusiastic for your liking. Looking at your doubtful expression he added: “It will only be a few hours, don't you want to get out of here?”

Although you were a little hesitant, after thinking about it a little and with the help of the man's hopeful expression you ended up being convinced. Making as little noise as possible you went up to your room to dress properly and when you returned he was already sitting on a step, waiting for you.

“I hope you know what you're doing,” you whispered close to him, half excited and half scared to death by what you were about to do.

You had gone out before, of course, but you knew that doing it at night was even riskier for many reasons you didn't want to think about right now.

He went first, just to check that everything was safe, and then you followed him, albeit with a little less grace. When you were above the door he reminded you to pull the rope for the time to return and when you looked at the height at which you were the idea of going down became less promising than at the beginning.

“Jump and I'll catch you” he exclaimed, noticing your frightened expression and you took a moment to try to calm down by breathing deeply.

You analyzed your options and thought that in that position you would have to go down anyway, and it was preferable to do it outwards, so without thinking too much about it you made a sign to the boy and then threw yourself forward with your eyes closed. You heard him exhale in surprise and the next thing you felt were his arms holding you, perhaps too tightly, as he feared you were going to fall suddenly.

"Are you okay?" he laughed softly, quite close to your ear. Upon hearing that you opened your eyes only to meet his, as green and beautiful as a pair of emeralds.

“Yes, everything is perfect” you sighed, and then he gently placed you on the floor. Without even expecting it you had already giggled too.

“Okay, go ahead.”

Without questioning him, you began to walk behind him and when you were a couple of streets away you were able to breathe more calmly, as if the weight of your captors had been reduced on your shoulders. Due to the schedule of your visits abroad, you hadn’t had the opportunity to appreciate the beautiful lights around you and you were sure that at that moment you looked like a child fascinated by them.

“They're pretty, right?” Wonka asked, confirming your hypothesis completely. Seemingly he had been watching you look at the decorations.

“They are,” you answered timidly. “What precisely are we looking for?” you asked next, still a little distracted by the environment, but trying to get his attention away from you.

“Some young rose leaves to make an infusion for the chocolate roses. I saw a full garden near the park the other time, when we were returning to the laundry. I think they can be useful”

“Are you feeling nervous?” you murmured gently, giving him your full attention now as you crossed your arms to keep some warmth. “About tomorrow.”

“A little… well, a lot actually. But in a good way,” he smiled “The truth is that I have never felt so nervous and excited in my life. All this is like a dream come true”

“I hope it’s perfect,” you murmured and you said it with sincere faith.

You had tried so hard to achieve all this that you were not only looking to do it to pay off your debt with Scrubbit, but also to see your new friend happy. And how would you not want that? Seeing him happy was a wonderful sight.

"Are you cold?" he asked, noticing that your figure was slightly curled in on itself. Apparently he was noticing a lot more than you would like.

"Only a little"

You were going to add that you were fine with it, but suddenly he stopped you by jumping in front of you and when you were about to ask what was happening, he undid the scarf around his neck to wrap it around yours. His movements were careful and the closeness forced you to hold your breath, only for your nostrils to then be flooded with the boy's aroma combined with the cheap detergent with which he had surely washed the garment.

"Better now?" the man smiled and since you didn't have time to assimilate the situation you just nodded, without stopping looking at him just because he kept looking at you.

You thought maybe this was what it would feel like to hug the boy, even though you had never done it, and then you hid your nose in the soft fabric. It had purple and green patterns on a gray background, quite pretty actually.

“The… the park. It’s there,” you stammered, pointing to a point behind your friend.

When he turned around he could see the rose bushes in the distance and let out an exclamation of joy, while his warm hand sought your wrist to guide you in their direction, causing a shiver to run through your entire body.

When you walked through the place and reached the plants he knelt next to the bushes, starting to rant about how functional these flowers would be, whether it was their leaves, the color, the shape... he listed more and more qualities, but you just could focus on the feeling on your neck and the warm ghost of his fingers on your skin.

And in that moment it was as if you had suddenly noticed something about him that you hadn't noticed at first; that there was some tenderness in his features that made you feel nervous or maybe it was his thin, skillful hands walking through the branches or even, daring to sound exaggerated, you would say that you suddenly noticed how handsome he really was. How did you notice it until now?

He said something and then you asked him to repeat it, since you had been too busy watching him to pay attention to his words.

“I asked you if you think any would be useful,” he said again. You took a look at the bush in front of you and pointed towards the first specimen you found, hoping that the talk would take away the thoughts that had invaded your mind.

To your surprise it turned out that the rose you had pointed out was quite pretty and, according to the requirements you remembered, it was perfect for the man's purposes. After congratulating your choice, he took out some scissors from his hat and carefully cut out the flower, to keep it in the same piece of fabric as the others that he had already selected.

“These roses will make the best chocolates, I can already imagine it,” he said with some pride, looking at the pile of plants you had. You hadn't even looked when he cut so many.

"They are beautiful"

"Yes, they are. And this one is for you."

If you had managed to get rid, even for a moment, of romantic thoughts towards him, right now he wasn't being very cooperative. Not when he was offering you the prettiest rose with such a sweet smile.

Why was he doing that? You did not know. Maybe he was just being kind and grateful, like he was most of the time.

“Huh, thank you, Mr. Wonka…”

“Be careful, he still has some thorns,” he warned you, “And stop calling me Mr. Wonka. “We are friends and my friends call me Willy.”

A small smile invaded your face and it was lucky that you were able to hide the blush on your cheeks with the excuse of inhaling the scent of the rose. It was exquisite, by the way.

“Then thank you, Willy,” you corrected yourself, to which he showed a satisfied expression.

And then a pleasant tickling invaded your stomach because, whether they were real flowers or chocolate flowers, it would always be a pleasure to receive such a cute detail from such a cute boy.

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