— stardew valley characters reacting to you asking them to be your partner.
req: The bachelor(ettes) heard that the farmer had just brought a bouquet, and they’re a little jealous, thinking it’s for someone else. At the end of the day, the farmer appears holding the flowers to their face and asks them to be their partner 🤭
Sebastian
He hears it from Sam, half-murmured, half joking: “the farmer bought a bouquet today.” and he pretends not to care; keeps staring at the screen, watching the code scroll by without actually doing anything. he swallows hard and stays silent. Sam asks what he thinks about it, but he just shrugs. his heart is racing and he feels a mix of sadness and anger at himself for not having spoken up sooner about what he felt. the ache lingers all afternoon; stupid thoughts cross his mind while he uselessly tries to get back to work.
that night, you look for him everywhere but can’t find him. when you reach the dock, you see him smoking while staring out at the sea. you approach as quietly as possible, the bouquet hidden behind your back. he hears your footsteps and turns around; he meets your eyes and feels a pang in his chest, but when he notices the flowers behind your back, his face twists in confusion. you extend the bouquet toward him and gently ask if he would like to be your partner. he freezes. then laughs, breathless, stunned.
“god, yes… i thought i had lost you before i even had you.”
Sam
he spirals instantly. a bouquet? for who? someone from town? some mysterious ex? he gets confused and anxious. he plays louder than usual, misses a note, sighs deeply, annoyed at himself. he tries new tricks on his skateboard but can’t focus enough and falls two, three times. by sunset, he’s staring down the path to the farm, thinking about going to you and confessing everything at once. but he knows now it’s too late.
when you finally appear, the flowers shyly held in front of your face, he smiles automatically—until you ask him out. for a second, he just blinks. then: the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.
“wait… me? you mean me?”
“yes! who else, silly?” you say, playful. he hugs you so tightly the bouquet almost gets crushed.
Shane
he hears about it at the Saloon and feels a chill in his stomach. he thinks it’s a lie, but in a small town like this, it can’t really be a lie; people see everything and talk about everything. he takes another gulp of his beer and tells himself he doesn’t care. you deserve someone better anyway. but still, he’s quieter than usual, nursing his drink, staring at nothing.
he’s the last to leave the Saloon because he knows that the moment he’s alone in his room with his thoughts, he’ll fall apart. however, when you find him outside, in the cool, soft night air, he freezes, staring at you. you, embarrassed, step closer and offer him the flowers—and your heart.
his voice falters. “…are you sure?”
when you nod, he hugs you tightly, squeezing his eyes shut to hide the tears.
Harvey
he hears it from Vincent when Jodi brings him to the clinic. he thinks it’s just a child’s joke, but when Jodi, in a tone more certain than questioning, asks if he knew about it, he freezes for half a second. “no… i didn’t know,” his voice is low and he forces a gentle smile. a bouquet. bought today. he spends the rest of the day distracted, his heart racing for reasons he refuses to name.
when you show up at the clinic after hours, the flowers trembling slightly in your hands, he assumes he misunderstood—until you ask him. his eyes soften immediately.
“oh,” he whispers, smiling as if the world had just settled back into place. “my dear… i was so afraid i had imagined what we had.”
Elliot
he notices immediately. the empty flower stand at Pierre’s shop. the whispered rumors. he convinces himself this is the natural order of things: beauty chooses beauty. still, the sea feels lonelier that night; his heart races, aching as he stares at the horizon.
when you approach him on the beach, the bouquet raised like an offering, he goes completely still. when you confess nervously, he takes your hand reverently.
“my love,” he says softly, “you’ve written yourself into my life..”
Emily
she hears Gus and Pam talking about it at the Saloon that night. she keeps working, but her smile no longer reaches her face; she feels a strange heaviness, like a thread pulled too tight. there’s a flicker of doubt in her eyes.
when you arrive, the flowers glowing between your fingers, she sighs with joy the moment you ask. she laughs, claps once, and hugs you.
“i knew it!” she says fondly. “but it still feels magical.”
Haley
she hears and pretends she doesn’t care—but she does. much more than she’d like to admit. all day she’s distracted, strangely quiet, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. when you show up at her house, the bouquet partially hiding your nervous smile, she almost scoffs—until you ask, and her expression completely softens.
“oh,” she says, breath caught in her throat. “i thought… never mind.” instead, she cups your face with both hands and smiles brightly before pulling you into a delicate kiss.
Penny
it breaks her heart quietly. she tells herself you deserve to be happy, even if it isn’t with her. she spends the afternoon reading, but can’t focus on a single page. when you approach her by the riverbank, the flowers carefully raised, she looks up, surprised. you take a deep breath before confessing; when you ask her to be your partner, her eyes fill with tears.
“i was so afraid to hope,” she admits, her voice trembling as she stands. she holds the bouquet as if it were something precious and hugs you tightly, happy tears rolling down her cheeks.
Leah
she hears and feels a sense of loss even before it’s confirmed. she tells herself it’s fine, you never really had anything. still, it hurts. when you arrive at her cabin, she opens the door and looks at you in complete shock; you with the bouquet raised like a question, she sighs softly. you look at her with shining eyes and she smiles, slow and genuine.
“i almost let myself believe i’d lost my chance,” she says. then she kisses you, a firm, certain kiss, as if choosing you too.
Why isn't anyone writing heated rivalry x male reader smut like there is so much potential
Power bottom! ilya rozanov just absolutely destroying your dick riding out all his frustration mumbling and cursing in Russian about the new player on the team while your hands are on his ass trying to tell him to slow down
"Блин! This guy, he drives me crazy. Я ему говорю - simple thing, simple, and he just смотрит like cow"
ilya mumbles grinding his ass hard against your poor cock hands tangled in your hair running through it like it's his personal doll
"Hey, hey, take a breath. Maybe he didn't understand what you meant"
Ilya jerks his head up, eyes fixed on you, stunned
"Didn't understand? Come on. I explain in English, in Russian, almost in French. Ничего! Zero reaction." Suddenly, his movements turn sharp and uncontrolled against your dick."
You laughed, attempting to distract yourself from the punishment your cock was enduring.
"Okay, but yelling won't help" trying to reason with the angry blonde
"Ughh-b-baby please slow down" you warn in a breathy whisper tears, swelling up, blurring your vision feeling overwhelmed
Smiling, ilya ignoring you, decides to take his chances and ride you faster and harder than before.
ilya tilts his head, unimpressed.
“Or what, huh? Что ты сделаешь?”
Or sub! Shane Hollander with reader who plays for the new york admirals comes back home after 2 weeks and Shane’s finally gets a taste of him
Shane jolted awake to the creak of the door.
There you were, back from two weeks with the New York Admirals, hockey bag slung over your shoulder, and that impossible grin he could never resist.
“Oh… you’re back,” he said, heart racing for a reason that had nothing to do with sleep.
“Yeah,” you said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Miss me?” Your voice had that teasing edge that made it impossible not to grin back… or maybe blush.
Shane swallowed, trying to sound casual. “Uh… maybe a little. But really, could you have picked a better time to show up?”
You smirked, stepping closer. “What, your the one who woke up right before my shower? I thought I’d… you know, make it interesting.”
Shane felt heat creep up his neck as he started tugging on the towel around your waist. “Interesting isn’t exactly the word I’d use…”
“Hmm,” you murmured, eyes twinkling, “I think it’s perfect.”
For a moment, the awkwardness hung in the air… and then the tension, electric and unavoidable, making Shane wonder if two weeks apart had been far too long.
“Get in the shower Shane” your voice dropping a couple levels as your eye strip off his clothes your gaze dark and fulled with hunger
A groan ripped from his chest as he complied, desperate to shed his clothes
“I was going to think about you” you muttered slowly “while fucking my hand in the shower”
“Fuck… stop.” His gaze never left yours as a trembling hand lifted to his cock, fingertips tracing the glistening trails of water that slid over his skin, slow and deliberate."
“You reached out, hand grazing his hip, and whispered, ‘’spread your legs'"
Wait guys first post kinda nervous…. What do I need to work onnn
It's a beautiful word, really. Something to be used in many contexts.
Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck you. For Fuck's sake. Only a small pinch of what blooms out of Shane’s regular everyday vocabulary, a versatile thing that was always there to truly help him express himself.
The very word runs rampant in Shane’s head, looping over and over in a messy string, nearly mouthed out with the purse of his lips – But not for the reason one may think.
The burly man storms through the rough debris that dared to sprout around the edge of your farm, the entrance from the Ranch side path almost deliberately left unkempt, surely just to piss him further off, right? Add to the blasting hot flush that wrecked up his body, fueled with hot white annoyance and the nauseating touch of what felt like a fever.
All this over a midnight snack – Cookies.
Or so he initially thought. Two bags wrapped up all pretty on the dining table, an obnoxious bow tied all prissy and pristine with a little tag, a message scrawled in your handwriting: “Special Treats!” - Little Miss Perfect infiltrating his home life now? Was the Saloon and his Goddamn place of work not enough for you?
Look at you, trying to pander around- Coming ‘round and gifting Aunt Marnie these treats, that sweet smile you usually threw at him surely smeared on your face, that crinkle in your eyes that had him chewing on his inner cheek lest he barked out something truly horrid. Sickeningly sweet - Enough to have his gut churn every time he had the displeasure of seeing you bound up to him, striking up some meaningless small-talk conversation as if you cared about any of the half-assed answers he had for you.
However, that all didn’t deter him from snagging one of the wrapped-up parcels filled with cookies, yanking the tail of the ribbon bow with a clumsy pinch of his fingers to unwind the packet. Surely put out for the whole family, right? Right. So Shane thought at least.
The first bite had Shane scrunching his thick brows, chewing slow and heavy as he mused over the ‘cookie-biscuit-treat-thing’, pinched between his fingers, turned and rotated for inspection.
It was sickeningly sweet, just like you. With a swirl of thick caramel-like ribbons running through the crunchy dough, making him salivate, saliva pooling under his tongue as his jaw gives a dull and quick ache at the flavour. Fuck- It was almost as if it wasn't for human consumption. The thought makes Shane snort as he reaches for another, biting into the treat before washing it all down with an equally tooth-rotting swig of Joja-Cola.
The treats leave a grain of crumbs left on Shane’s fingers, sandy and dry, clinging to his clammy hands until he dusts it off with his thumb, going the extra mile to swipe his hand over the front of his jacket for good measure.
He only meant to sample a few, just a few! Like three.. Okay, maybe four- Or five?
And soon all that is left is the clear cellophane bag and a wrinkled and sad little ribbon you had used to tie it all together. Shit- Whoops, he’d gone and zoned out and ate himself into a stomach ache, mindlessly chewing and crunching down on each sweet treat until he was left with mere crumbs.
Shane sucks on his teeth, tongue running over his molars, absentmindedly swiping up the last remnants of cookie while he bins the evidence and makes way towards his room for the rest of the night. Shane doesn't even bother flicking on his light, kicking his shoes to an unknown corner, lost to the piles of floor-drobe scattered around the ground. He smacks his lips, still sweet with an essence of sugary cookie treats.
The springs in his mattress creak with his weight as he sits, his large paw of a hand grabbing at his tousled duvet, nearly settled in for the evening – Until a heat washes up from his gut.
Shane freezes, eyes blindly flicking to each corner of his room, thoughts swirling through his mind, the twinge of fight or flight raising up his pulse, heart beginning to thrum in his throat. – Something was wrong – Ohh.. Fuck, was he about to be sick?
A hot flush trills through his body, a full shiver starting from his shoulders and all the way down to his toes, treading past his gut in a way that had him panting a few out-of-breath gasps. He sits still, trying to listen to whatever his body was telling him, feeling his blood pressure rise with a thrum against his throat, the instinct to clench and unclench his jaw already in motion. His teeth grit audibly, a bubble in his gut making his brows scrunch tightly together.
He hiccups, more nausea following the jolting breath, something daring to jump up his throat- It bubbles, feels like a lump of something nasty, a fizzling sick that was surely about to come up and make some kind of mess! Shane sighs with an audible crack, his voice tainting the sound in a pitiful near-whine. It comes closer, his body fighting him, sickly hot and nasty- Yoba, he was going to be sick, wasn't he? His hand covers his mouth, body instinctively leaning forwards, bracing for the-!
“Ughh…Buh..” Okay. It was just a burp.
Sure, it relieved some of the pressure in his gut and maybe the nausea had died down but.. He still felt horrible, feverish..
Something else bubbles in the depths of Shane’s gut, rising up into the core of his chest, settling into a heavy ball of agitation, of annoyance and anger placed towards you. You did this, you had practically poisoned him - Maybe it was on purpose? Knew he'd be tempted by a snack sitting right on the table, just asking to be eaten. Yeah. You were in for it-!
Sweat beads down Shane’s forehead, turning uncomfortably crisp and chilly in the cool night air, a hot full-body shiver wracks down his form, the contradicting temperatures churning his stomach into something nauseating. His brow furrows hard, enough to feel the lapping lick of a headache drag over his temple with a throb- He’s surprised he hadn’t popped an artery and collapsed amongst the messy brush of twigs and rocks scraping against his ankles, picking the threads of his socks with each clumsy, agitated step.
The burly man mutters under his breath, a silent string of unintelligible curses and swears, a permanent scrunch woven into his thick brows to top it off.
“Fucks sake..” There's his favourite word, gritted through his teeth as a tree root hooks the toe of his shoe, the rubber soles squeak with apprehension, a kick of the dirt grounding Shane into staying upright. Another growl rolls through his teeth, f-bombs snarled with a crinkle of his nose; Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck, You-! Yoba, he wishes.
Fucking. What.
Pause.
Shane has to give a physical shake of his head to throw the thought out of his ear, blinking hard a few times over before he properly comes to – When had he stomped up your porch steps and bashed a heavy rasp against your poor door? Somehow, his frown deepens, brows tightening and worsening the headache that budded at his temple, his hand stays stuck in the air in a fist just hovering by the door frame. He lets out a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding, the air feeling wet against his lips, combined with the slick drip of sweat that drops off of the tip of his nose.
He nearly jumps when the door creaks open, letting the light from within bleed into the night, making his eyes squint and blur as you come into vision, peeking your head through the door.
“Sh.. Shane?” Your voice is so fucking soft, caressing his ears, paired with the concerned look on your face; Dolly eyes blinking at him, all filled with worry, and that puppy-like tilt to your head? It has his molars grinding together. “Are you alright..? It’s quite late-”
“No- I’m not ‘alright’-” Shane cuts you off, coming back into the present, his voice stressing against his throat. “You,” He starts, easily barging into your space with heavy steps, his palm pawing at the frame of the door, “Fuck- Y’have it out f’me, dontcha?” He accuses, irritation quickly bubbling back to a rolling boil. Yoba, don’t look at him like that, all frowny-faced, brows knitted into an innocent sense of confusion.
“N-No? I don’t, I-”
“Oh? You don’t, huh? So, what, you go out of your way to fucken’ poison me for no reason then?” His tone rises, headvoice busting through his throat with a growl.
“Poison? Shane, I-I’m lost, I’m sorry-” You carefully reach your hand out to him, tilted carefully as if he were a distressed beast. It sounds alarms in his head, making the feverish wash of shivers all the more worse, as if touching him would send him spiralling.
“Ohohh.. Don’t act all coy and stupid-” Shane avoids your touch and points a finger at you, jamming it into your chest with a mean poke, “You made those cookies,” he heaves, “were practically askin’ me to eat em’, too,” He points back at himself, movements swaying and a little clumsy, “knew I would too, know I’m nothin’ but a-” You cut off the attempt at his self depreciation with a stumble of words.
“C-Cookies?” Shane watches your face contort into some kind of horror; lips parting, mouth opening with a soft gasp, “Shane.. H-How many…” You take a step back, fingers worrying around your mouth, teeth digging into the end of your nails in a nervous bite, a panic setting in to your body language. “How many did you have..?” Shane can barely hear you through your mumbling, that silly way you cover your mouth and the Goddamn thrumming in his ears. Your tone sends something icy through his chest.
“A whole fuckin’ bag?” His pitch raises; you weren't instilling a whole lot of confidence in him. Shane rolls his neck, agitation hot on the edge of his patience. Your reaction was less than stellar for his own mental stability.
“Ah-! Shane.. Those..” You look him over, eyes frantically searching his form, full of worry and.. For Yoba's sake, were you tearing up? Give him a break, he’s not falling for whatever this little act was, the faux sweetness, trying to wrap him around your little fingers, tugging at his heart and causing a thrum of palpitations – Okay, maybe it was working to some effect.
“Uhm.. D-Don’t freak out,” You preface, slow and careful, your face twisted in thought, he could practically see the gears in your brain working overtime to articulate whatever was on your mind. “The ‘cookies’..” You stammer, looking everywhere but him.
“They were for the cows.. For… for b-breeding..?” You say it like you’re unsure, embarrassed to even utter the word.
“Breeding?!” Shane regrets the raise in his voice, the splitting throb in his head protesting his reaction.
“Yes! Yes- I just.. M-Miss Marnie wanted some ‘special treats’ for the cows? T-To help with uhm..” You pause your rambling, tongue trying to wrap around a word that didn't sound downright filthy, “To cultivate them in time for the Valley F-Fair..?” It sounds more like a question, like you were trying to convince yourself of the story. “I swear!”
Shane can’t even respond, staring at you like a dead fish, mouth agape and all of the breath in his lungs sucked out, eye twitching with the semblence of something that said ‘are you fucking kidding me?’
“I should have labelled them better, I-I’m sorry I didn't know I..” You start rambling at him, excuses about Jas, the fact that not everyone was home, that you thought the wrapping would be cute, blah, blahblah, blah blah-
“F’Gods sake, Shut up-” Words come back to Shane, gritted through his teeth with a dull growl, effectively making you snap your jaw shut and obey with a nervous nod. Fuck, a trill of warmth swells in his guts at that, the way you so readily listen to his barks. You shrink under him, more soft mumbles spilling from your lips, “Proper words.” He scolds you, that practiced dad-like tone coming out for just a moment.
“I-I’m sorry.. I-”
“Sorry isn't going to fix this- Fuck..” A dizzy spell knocks Shane into a wobble, his palm coming into contact with a nearby wall to stabilise himself- There was no way he was going to walk his ass home in this condition, not anytime soon at least. “How.. hahh.. How do I stop it?” His cool, sunken eyes glare at you.
“I.. You.. Can’t, really…” You hesitate, teeth nervously picking bites at your bottom lip. “Can.. Manage symptoms, maybe? Y-Yknow..?” You make a few awkward gestures, vulgar enough to get the idea across.
“You’re tellin’ me I gotta jerk off- What? You gonna watch or something? Huh?” He leans harder into the wall, his knees starting to give out underneath him, creaking with a deep ache. It redirects the source of the symptoms, however.. How long had his groin been aching with steady swells of arousal? Feverish hot and cold shivers manifest into something more tingly- Anticipatory excitement agitating his limbs, making them feel oh so restless.
“N-No I.. I’m… Offering..” You ponder off, biting your inner cheek on one side, shrinking into yourself even more, “I wanna help.” Your eyes trail down, lingering on the steady swelling pudge of Shane’s cock outlined in his pants. Fuck- Was this your plan all along? Have him chase you down as part of your little game? Play the helpful little nice girl after you’d fucked his night up? “S’my fault.. Right? I-I should at least.. You know..” So forward, and you can’t even say the proper words.
Fuck.
This was a bad idea, obviously.
That's why he let you guide his clumsy, fever-stricken ass into the living room, settling him into the cushions of the couch, legs spread apart enough to show off the throbby swell of his cock straining hard against the front of his shorts. Obviously. He watches your eyes widen a smidge when it dares to flex, hot and aching with the press of fabric, the seam line of his pants digging right into the swollen tip of his dick, making Shane hiss a wiry swear through his teeth.
He lulls his head to the side, clumsily leaning into the back of the couch, eyes dull and lazy as they look down at you, watching you kneel between his spread knees. Your fingers carefully trace the threads that made up the edge of his pants, tentative and seemingly weary, eyes looking up, all clueless and puppy-like, hesitant to make the first move.
“Fuck y’lookin at..” Shane’s grudge resurfaces, words slurred as another ache throbs in his brain. He nearly feels a pang of guilt at the way you snap your gaze downwards, nearly. His cock gives another throb instead, visibly flexing beneath the fabric like a taunt, the barest itch of fabric friction earning the room a sigh-laced groan.
“Y-You..?” God. You think you’re cute, acting all nervy and worried like this, cowering under his blurred, less-than-sober gaze. Shane has to swallow down another bark of insults, his thick fingers struggling to fumble with his fly, thumbing helplessly at the button and zip that confines him. Your hands raise to help, stilling at the pointed and unamused look he hurls at you. This was for him, not for you. He was in charge of what was going down, got it?
Finally, finally- the telltale buzz of his zipper sounds as he frees himself of the horrid confines of his shorts, stomach breathing in relief as his waistband slackens, cock nearly punching through his boxers when he shimmies his pants down just enough.
God- He’d bled weeps of pre-cum through his underwear, the kitschy, worn-out pattern of pizzas tainted with a blobby wet patch. The fabric sheens in the dim warm light of the living room, all but the mark his cock had cried into his pants, wet and matte and visibly sticky- He has to flex his calves when another onslaught dares to cry from his clothed tip.
“Shit..” Shane sniffles, thumbing at the elastic of his boxers, soothing the bite the band left embedded in his skin. His eyes flick to you, nose crinkling when you avoid his gaze, feeling the remnants of sweat on his top lip, all cool and uncomfortable. He wipes his face with his shoulder, giving his head a shake in an attempt at composure, regretting the way it has his vision swamped and swimming. This was stupid, he felt sick. Now, he should haul himself off to the clinic, but something in his body kept him right there, sunken into the comfy seat of the couch, shimmying his cock free with a fumble and a grit to his teeth.
Okay, this was sort of worth it, watching you marvel at his length, standing tall and proud for you- Because of you, yeah, this was on you. He thumbs at the base, feeling through the thickly dark brush of wiry hair that framed his cock, cringing at just how worked up and sweaty he’d gotten on the walk over. To be honest, he almost feels bad or something, but it's short-lived.
He can't contemplate regret with the huff of your nervous breath, how it has him forcing up a hot flex through his cock, the thick vein that tread up to the tip pulsing almost comically- Pornographically, as if he were some actor making chump change for some seedy website, hopped up on viagra or some shit makin’ his dick too big – Well, that wasn’t far off of the current events, honestly.
Fuck you and your stupid sex cookies, making him lose the breath that rasped out of his lungs, aching the joints of his jaw as his teeth grit and grind with a hearty scowl.
The teasing has his guts churning, that nauseating bubble of fever mixed with that sickly sweet essence of arousal- Shane feels bad for the cows and what they’re sure to endure with that other batch of treats sitting and waiting on the counter back at the Ranch. Your little breaths are warm, combating the hot dribble of pre-cum that cries a weepy tear down the thick vein running down the underside of his cock. Your head tilts, lips coming closer, doll eyes looking up at him for some kind of permission, pursing and pouty and so- so, so close-!
Fuckkk.
“Hahh.. Sh-Shit.” He doesn't mean to make such a whimpery, pissy sound, but it's hard not to. That velvet sweet tongue of yours dragging a careful kitten lick up the underside of his rosy cockhead, flattening softly over the tip to lap up the dribbles of arousal leaking from his slit. He paws a hand into the couch cushion, fingers flexing a handful of the material in some attempt to ground himself. Fuck, that shouldn’t have elicited that kind of a reaction. What was he? Some bitchless virgin teenager?
God- but it soothes that pulsing ache in his head.. Both of them- Each and every drag of your wet tongue sends clarity to his brain and a fuzz of arousal to his cock. He lets his head fall back, a careful sigh slowly pushing out of his lungs, brows now knitted in concentration over outright pain and discomfort, focusing on those gentle, rhythmic licks and laps. It annoyed him, just how tentative and gentle you were, practically coddling him through this.. Rut he was going through- Just proving him wrong to a degree. Was a few kisses and licks to his prick making him have second thoughts about you?
“Haghh.. Fuckk-” You rip a groan from his throat, Adam's apple peeking through the stubble that poked his skin with a bob. He feels it, your lips wrapping around his chubby mushroom tip, spitty, warm, silky even, tongue swirling patterns around and around, cheeks hollowing to give a suckle. You hum back at him, soft, breaths huffing from your nose brushing against the length of him while you gift attention to the tip.
Shane peeks an eye down, dick flexing against your tongue at the content little expression on your face – eyes fluttered shut, lips pursed and pouty on his cock, lost in your own little world down there. Ohh, but something itches, an urge to soothe a new feeling, something hot and buzzing, not quite like that sickly wash of fever, something that had his hand itching to touch you..
Thick fingers thread their way into your hair, heavily and clumsily petting at you, coordination still washed from the effect of those fucked up cookies. His knuckles ache to squeeze, to give a pull, wanting to take some charge and be rough with you. The fingers tighten, gripping your hair in a fist, strands taught and pulling on your scalp. You can only glance at him before he pushes his palm down.
Down, down, dowwwn girl. Yeah, that's right, take him right to the back of your throat.
“There ya go.. Haghh.. shh..iiit..” His head drops forward from the couch, neck rolling to a stop, tilted for the best view of you down there.
Just look at’cha. Pretty face smushed into the messy, wiry brush of his base, your fingers grappling a handful each of the fabric of his shorts, nails digging a delicious stinging scratch into his skin through the material- Fuck, you’re even tugging at the hairs on his thighs in your scramble. It stings and it shows with a hiss through his gritted teeth. Shane couldn't care enough, though, not with how sweetly velvet your mouth felt, all softly-silky with spit and drool gagged up from the bullying choke of his tip down your throat. Ohh, how you gargle down on him, those pretty lashes of yours bled wet with tears, sparkling up at him with your strained and fluttered blinks.
His hips roll off of the sofa, up in experimental thrusts, the swollen pudge of his tip pressing wetly to the back of your throat. His hand pushes you down to meet with him, getting a kick each time your nose buries into the musk of his pubes, those lips kissing a ring of bubbly spit around his length. His chest heaves, a burn nestling into his lungs, veins on fire, the thought of your own well-being thrown out the door in favour of using you as a remedy.
It was your fault in the end, right? You’re only doing your part in all of this.
Still, Shane has enough mercy on you to lift you off of him, sloppy, gagged up saliva slurping up his cock with the movement. His thick fingers cup your face, squishing your cheeks together to purse your lips into a pucker, and he inspects you, already feeling that uneasy bubble of artificial arousal pulse to his cock. Your breath stutters a hiccup, a sob seemingly right at the tippity top of your throat, ready to barrel out with a cry. The threat of it has Shane groaning a low sound, tilting his head to admire you, dullen grey-green eyes looking you over, taking it all in..
The spike of that arousal coursing through his veins was surely an aid in his opinions – You were cute like this, sniffly and frowny, lips wobbling between the pinch of his fingers, eyes locked to the flushed up bruisy-rose head of his cock.
His skin pricks with pins and needles, fiery and agitated, only soothed when he plants you back on his length, ignoring the muffled, gargled sound you make at him. You fist against his shorts for comfort, curling into the material of the waistband that pools around his upper thighs, looking all huddled up and cute on his cock.
“Relax- Oi.. That’s it- C’mon, fuckk..” He massages his free hand around your chin, fingers cupping your jaw, making you go nice and slack, knuckles brushing a delicate – a Shane level of delicate, at least – brush against your throat, opening you up all nice and easy for his bullying cock.
Perception blurs, hot lust and a clouded shadow of arousal takes over Shane’s mind, that sickly sweet and sticky feeling in his body transforming into something alive and buzzing, needing more- more and more.. Sharp pangs of arousal replaces the fever, lethargic bones and joints now twitchy and on fire, guts twisting with the build-up of an orgasm rather than the swirl of anger and nausea.
Oh, he feels it, fuck- the taught squeeze of his balls, constricting with a flex when he comes to his peak, the plump and rosy tip of his dick lodged nice and deep down your throat, feeling that tongue massage over the underside. He spurts his first round, hot and thick, cumming hard with rolling thrusts of his hips until he pushes you down with a heavy palm. The gags and sputtering only urge him on, milking up a healthy cum-shot just for you.
He groans when you come up for air, messily coughing and gagging up a sputtery, spitty mix of cum and saliva, wet tears streaming down your cheeks, a sniffle to your nose adding to the vision. You make a show of swallowing, covering your mouth just like earlier, hiccuping the barest hint of a cry behind your hand. You look up at him, eyes watery, hair a mess, nose snotty, and what do you see? Well, Shane’s already pulling off another gush of cum, busting a load over his thick knuckles as he fists his cock at the sight of you, tip flexing angrily with dribbles of milky white.
Why stop there, right? Not like he could regardless.. Fuck… Good thing you were so helpful to help him out in such a predicament, right?
Right.
So generous, maybe you truly were the sweet and doting little farmer everyone said you were, look at you now – Split in half, taking cock on the floor of your living room, legs folded to your ears while Shane’s heavy weight presses you into the run below. Your clothes are gone, so are his, long forgotten between Yoba knows how many rounds between you.
Your supple cunt weeps his cum, a filthy ring of cream bubbling around his base, sticking into the brush of his pubes, leaking down his heavy balls, making them all sticky as they clap against you with each and every thrust. You’re practically non-verbal at this point, whimpering little noises, hiccups of something soft and sweet. You cling to him, arms clumsily locked around his sweaty neck, nails digging a scratch each time Shane rolls his hips a certain way.
He mounts your cunt, stuffing you up with the thick of his cock, his skin sticking to yours, thick tummy and strong thighs giving a slight wobble every time his hips smack into yours. He’s practically in your stomach, fucked into your guts, spattered at least two- or what it three.. Thick loads into you already. What a champ you were, helping him out like this, after tormenting him for so long, for practically drugging him into an endless plane of arousal. Can’t stop, won’t stop- Not when your cunt sucks him in like this, not when you do more than just lay there and look pretty- around after round and you’re still craning those hips, digging your heels into his back, peppering desperate kisses against the scruff of his soft jaw.
Ohhh fuck.. He’s close again.
Shane groans loud, manhandling you in place, bending you in a way he could only previously imagine, eyes rolling to the back of his skull when you desperately hold your own legs all steady for him. So sweet and generous, might give you something for it all too-
His thick thumb plays with your clit, rubbing rough circles into the poor, puffy and overstimulated little bud, all wet and slippery with cum and slick. His thrusts grow rough and heavy, the full weight of his body practically crushing you into the floor, punching you in the guts with his cock. Shane watches your tits jump with each fuck, the plaps of his hips cutting up for breaths into cute little stacattos, endless hiccups, messy sniffles, bleary eyes that can barely properly look at him.
“Hmmm fuckkk.. M’gonna cum again y’know- wan’ more? Hmnn?” Shane slurs, licking at his lips, catching drool with a messy slurp. You respond with a sniffly, wobbly ‘yes’ of your own, petting a hand into the grown-out undercut that curls at his neck. His free hand grips your shoulder, pulling you down on his cock, the other paying that very special attention to your clit, pinching, rubbing, massaging, working you into your own nth orgasm of the evening.
Your pussy gurgles with cum, all lubed and suckling on his cock, coming closer and closer, tightening up on his length, a squeezy kiss of your cunt to his base-! Shane digs deep and grinds, rubbing his pelvis into your clit, hot friction tipping you over, both of his hands now pulling you into him. You tug his hair, he sinks his teeth into your neck, groans and cries synchronise as Shane floods you with more of his cum, adding to the sloshy mess he’d dumped into you already. It spurts hot and heavy, rope after rope, fuck, it feels impossible to hold this much cum. His balls ache and twitch, tip all swollen and surely a bruisy purple by now, but Yoba, how could he care? Especially now.
You squeeze around him, pushed to the edge as he fucks himself through it all, quivering around his pulsy cock, toes curling, throat hoarse with whimpery rambles, babbling nonsense about cumming for him, all for him! Ohh, it's wet, it's messy, adding to the stickiness that drips between his thighs and smears onto your skin, has Shane’s cock pulsing for more, despite the protest in his arms and the dull aching in his back.
2nd prompt for this week! I do really hope you enjoyed, I had so much fun writing this! This wip has been sitting for quite a while, I'm really happy to have it done. Sort of a leftover wip from a request earlier this year before my hiatus :>
I've never posted a mean Shane fic so that's exciting!! I think I like how he turned out~ lmk what you think hehe
c/w - fauxcest/stepcest, spanking, forced intoxication, shane is a mean pervert, dubcon
hmm thinking abt staying at stepuncle!shane’s cabin for summer break after you’d begged stepdad!dex to let you stay there, but later finding out he’s really mean :( meeting your stepdads brother at some little family get together and shane making an interesting impression on you, insisting that you call him uncle instead of shane. talking about what he does for a living and inviting you to come see him some time if it was okay with dex.
it took a lot of convincing from your stepfather, probably over a week of whines and negotiations to let you go on this little mini trip. dex was warning you that his brother was not as nice as he presented himself to be, that you wouldn’t enjoy it after he showed his true colors. you didn’t care though. dex thought it might be best if you just learnt and saw for yourself. and cluelessly you were so excited, wanting to see all the deer and the wildlife, getting to wear the cameo sets you bought specially for this trip—and to spend some time with the hot older man that reminded you so much of your daddy <3
dex dropped you off with a kiss and made you promise to be a good girl for your uncle shane, telling you to call if you needed him to come back and get you. and with your smiley demeanor you told your stepdad you were a big girl, you can handle it.. but sure enough, jus like dex had known, you could not handle it :/
shane wasn’t the same as before, he was mean and cocky. as soon as you stepped foot in the house you had all these rules of what you had to follow to stay with him, they were strict and there were many. at first you didn’t believe him, seeing rules like you having to clean his gun every week, address him as sir and not even being allowed to wear panties in the house. you thought it had to be some kind of joke. but when shane was getting ready to go hunting and he checked on you, to see that you hadn’t even touched his gun, only sitting on your bed mindlessly scrolling on your phone—you were really in for it. he pulled you by the arms into the living room and manhandled you over his lap, holding your wrists tightly ignoring your cries. your lip was trembling knowing this position so well, dex has had you like this many times before whenever you acted out, delivering the harshest spanks to your ass until you promised you’d behave.
“gave you all damn day to do your chores bambi don’t start crying now. m’not like your daddy, you aint getting out of this just from those pretty little tears..” shane barked, pulling your skirt down to your feet and winding his hand back to slap your ass, already getting hard from hearing you yelp. “m’sorry! ah-i’ll listen i promise sir-“
but shane wasn’t listening to your pleads, he spanked you until your cheeks were sore and throbbing, skin stinging and hot to the touch. he continued like that for what felt like hours, your face was doused in tears and you couldn’t stop hiccuping even when your uncle stopped. he just pulled your skirt up as if he didn’t just beat your ass and got up to go to the kitchen. “stop all that fuckin crying and go do what I told you to do yeah? don’t want me telling your dad about this, tell him how wet you were after getting the belt from uncle shane huh?” he taunted as he grabbed a beer, sitting right back down on the sofa and getting amused from the terror on your face.
you were quick to turn on your heels and head to your room, cleaning the rifle just like he told you to do, struggling to sit down comfortably after what he did to you.
the rest of the trip was just as hard unfortunately. you weren’t allowed to wear panties in the house and shane made sure to check every day, ordering you to come to him after you finished dressing. pulling your skirt down or your dress up, pulling the fabric of your jeans away from your hips to peak and see if you were wearing panties.. you didn’t want to find out what would happen if you did wear your underwear so you just listened obediently.
at times you tried to look on the bright side and find some fun despite all your rules. wearing your cameo outfit on the camping trip that dex bought you some time ago on a shopping spree—wanting to look nice for your uncle but shane didn’t approve. “s’just gonna get dirty anyway bambi, go change.” he’d mumble, hiding the bulge he had in his pants because the fabric clung to your body in all the right places. and when it came night time and you and your uncle were sat around the fire, he would beckon you to come sit in his lap, somehow seeming like the kind uncle shane you were introduced to. you were all smiles and happy again just for him to still be cruel :(( he would force you to drink his bottle of beer, holding it to your lips and watching as you gulped it down till it was empty with disgust. “i d-don’t want anymore uncle shane please.” is what you said as you saw him grab another bottle, your defensive hands being swatted away as he pushed the newly open beer bottle in your mouth again.
and after you were passed out from all the alcohol, shane put you to sleep right next to him in his sleeping bag, your body all vulnerable and unconscious for him to touch. he would put his hands all over you as you slept, groping your tits and fondling your soaked clit, you kept tossing and turning from how good it felt and eventually you groggily woke up. “mn uncle shane..?” you’d question, wiping your sleepy eyes to see his veiny hands between your legs :((
“shh sweetheart, it’s okay.. need this pretty little pussy checked huh? that’s what y’re old man does back at home?” shane asked soothingly, his fingers rubbing your soaked folds —pulling a long moan from your lips. you can only nod and snuggle yourself closer to your shane, letting him take control and make you feel good. he’s rubbing rough circles around your sensitive bud, slipping his fingers in your hole every once n awhile and kissing at your neck until you cum. your pussy all messy and ready for him to use..
next thing you know you’re on your back and shane has his cock out, rubbing the pink tip in your puffy soaked cunt, groaning above you in ecstasy. “fucking pussy s’just asking to be filled.. you gonna let me in bambi?” shane asks, already pushing the head of his cock against your sloppy hole before you could whine out a “yes please!” your face instantly scrunches together when shane rams into you, every inch of him pushing its way in your guts. “that’s a good girl..” he’d groan, his head thrown back as he rocks into you harder and harder.
…
you still had a couple more weeks left with uncle shane after that and it had its ups nd downs—your uncle had been nicer to you, letting you come along in his trips into town, sometimes patting his leg so you could watch TV with him but other times he would snap and take his anger out on you.. by the end you felt like you learned a lot, you were much more obedient than when you first came.
and your step dad noticed it when he picked you up, how quiet you were as shane handed you off to dex, how your feet were together and your posture was straight as a board. dex knew that your uncle really put your through it <\3
content: shane hollander x nb!reader. same universe as compress / repress, ilya’s turmoil and complicated. unresolved feelings. SEX! - kissing, making out, grinding, heavy petting, d/s themes, slapping, choking (barely), penetration (hole not specified. shane tops (!)), fingers in mouth, hair pulling. ilya is still haunting the narrative (his two sub bottoms go at it while thinking about him & they both drive themselves and each other into subdrop <3).
author’s note: listen i don’t know how we ended up here. this was pulled out of me like an exorcism. enjoy!?!!!?!
god knows how and when they end up tangled together. they don’t know whose bed this is. they know the why, though.
the invisible thread that connected them individually to ilya had tangled at some point. shane wanted to see. he felt compelled to learn the curves and angles of their body as he imagined ilya had once done. he was a little upset, and he kept waiting for the spell to fade but it never did. the want was surpassing the neurotic questions bouncing around his head— especially now, with their hands in his hair and their lips on his neck.
“you’re not doing anything bad, shane.” ilya had told him over the phone while shane was still hiding in the bathroom.
shane hadn’t wanted to hear that. a sick part of him wanted ilya to tell him off, to tell him he shouldn’t do or want this. shane wanted ilya to act… territorial, just so shane could press against it and do it anyway. deal with the consequences later.
“feels wrong.” they mutter against his skin, echoing his own thoughts. shane kisses them to shove the feeling away, swallows down a moan (his or theirs, he doesn’t know).
their thighs part easily when he moves, draping himself on top of them like it’s a place he’s been before. it is, indirectly, he thinks.
they are looking up at him with a fondness that makes both of them uncomfortable. we don’t know each other. you don’t know me. that’s also not completely true and i hate that. shane kisses it away again, drags his teeth against their lip rougher than he needs to. rougher than he ever would with ilya.
the thought feels like a punch in the stomach. it also makes him moan.
“when you— do stuff,” he starts, threading one hand in their hair to steady himself and feeling his stomach churn when they sigh. “who gives?”
they smile at his choice of words, at the pink tint spilling over his cheeks. they blink away some of the haze settling where their thoughts should be. “i take. ilya gives.”
“yeah. same.” the words seem to hurt him physically. they huff out a breath as his fingers tighten on their hair.
“shane.” they call softly, wrapping a hand around his jaw how ilya always does, only softer. it grounds them, so it must ground shane too, right? his eyes snap closed. “we don’t have to… do anything.”
“i want to.” he whispers, leaning into their touch.
he’s so lost. he keeps reminding himself he didn’t drink any alcohol. he’s sober. he shouldn’t be feeling so weird. so… stupid.
they pull him down for a kiss that drives them both under some more, until there’s nothing but the sound of rustling fabric where they’ve started grinding against each other at some point, and the soft gaps they’re breathing into each other’s mouths.
shane isn’t even trying to get off. the angle is so bad, his jeans are too tight. but they sound so, so good, and their face is scrunched up as if they’re already close. it’s maddening. it makes his dick ache.
this must be how ilya feels, he thinks distantly.
“what does he call you?” shane hears himself ask, mouth pressed just under their ear. “in bed. or out. in… general.”
they hum, petting the hair at the back of his head. “zayka. baby, sometimes.”
he wants to throw up. he is jealous and envious all in one, and he doesn’t know where to put these feelings. he shoves a hand between their bodies to slide his zipper down.
“baby.” he repeats, tasting the word on his tongue. his eyebrows are furrowed so tight it almost hurts. he ignores the way they call his name, both because it’s too soft and because he needs to focus or he’ll lose it. he leans back, pawing at the waistband of their pants. “can i fuck you?”
they gape up at him. their eyes widen until they think they might pop right off their head, and part of them thinks that might be easier than whatever is happening right now.
“you don’t have to. shane—”
shane wants to scream. “do you want to?”
“yes.”
ilya is expecting the notification, but he almost lurches out of bed when he sees the preview.
Jane (03:21 a.m.)
[video attachment]
the video starts with a high pitched keen he recognizes all too well. shane’s hand is obstructing half of the screen. he is propping the phone up and making sure it stays there. even though ilya knows who he’s with, he still feels a lump in his throat when he sees their hand clawing at shane’s arm to pull him closer. always so needy.
ilya feels outside of his own body as he watches shane — his precious hollander — finally meet their eyes before kissing them. it’s not soft. he is panting into their mouth, and ilya just barely notices how hard shane’s hands are shaking as he pulls one of their legs over his shoulder and thrusts once.
he pauses the video. his hands are trembling so hard he thinks he may be having a medical emergency. he is hallucinating.
he presses play again.
ilya’s mind reels as shane’s hand lands on their cheek, a half tentative slap that turns their face away from the camera.
ilya pauses the video again. unpauses.
“too much?” shane gasps, but there’s a dopey smile forming on his face. he dips his head to bite at the skin of their neck, a hand on the back of their knee to press their leg further back so he can thrust deeper.
they are making all kinds of sounds, strangled sobs that get stuck in their throat every time shane moves. they are pawing at him, pulling him closer and then pushing him away when shane starts moving faster. i won’t last like this, ilya can almost hear their voice in his mind.
and shane— shane is lost. ilya’s mouth drops as he recognizes his own mannerisms in the way shane palms cruelly at the meat of their thighs; the way his hand wraps around their throat to make them look at him.
ilya palms himself lazily at the sight of the two people he loves defiling each other in a close-to-perfect depiction of everything he’s taught them. he wonders for a moment if it’s bad that he likes this. he knows shane has taken over that role to please him, and oh, is he pleased.
“good?” shane asks, and ilya notices how his hips falter when their eyes roll back into their head. their nails dig into shane’s forearms, and they let out a garbled string of syllables that ilya translates into yes, fuck, please, more.
shane glances at the phone, and that does ilya in. he looks intoxicated, jaw slack and eyes half lidded. blissful.
ilya thinks he watches the rest. he could be making it up.
he convinces himself he must have imagined the ease with which shane moves them around so they can ride him. and he is for sure imagining their hands on shane’s chest, squeezing and feeling him up before they dip down to lick at shane’s nipple. the sound he makes when they close their lips around it.
ilya feels faint.
they come hard and fast when shane wraps a hand around the back of their neck and slaps them again. they have half a mind to shove two fingers in shane’s mouth with a grunted “suck”. he comes like that.
ilya’s eyes stay on the screen until it fades to black and locks on its own.
Y/N Kotov, a rising figure skater from Russia. He moved to Boston at the age of 15 in 2005 to achieve his dream of making it to the Olympics, leaving behind his family and bestfriend.
Y/N worked hard and came close to qualifying for the Olympics in 2009, but a devastating injury took him out of the competition. When he was ready to come back to the ice, he received an email from his coach that stated the rink he practiced at had shutdown due to a malfunctioning generator, and that they would be practicing at the Boston raiders rink for the 2010-2011 season.
