"You do know that there's only so far you can go, right?" You gasp, head falling back onto your pillow.
Gaz's between your spread thighs, his cock halfway into your already stuffed pussy. "Yeah, I know. But you can take more."
Gaz carefully take hold of the backs of your knees, pressing them to your chest. "Deep breath."
You breathe in deeply, brows pinched as Gaz grinds forward. That breath is harshly punched out of you as Gaz's tip roughly bumps your cervix.
"Kyle!" You squeak, "You can't go deeper! That's it!"
"Baby, I'm not even all the way in yet. You can take it, can't you, sweetheart?" Gaz smirks. In slow horror, you look down.
Gaz barely has three-quarters of his cock in your cunt. You can see the shape of him sitting in your tummy. You rapidly shake your head, pussy fluttering.
"I can't!" You gasp, hips squirming.
"You can, baby." Gaz soothes, kissing your forehead. He grinds his tip into you, ignoring the high-pitched shrieks you let out. "Fuck, look at you. You can fuckin' see me in your stomach."
"Kyle!" You whine, "It hurts!"
Gaz gently rubs your clit, coaxing you into a shaking, mind-numbing orgasm. "There we go. Now you'll let me in, won'tcha?"
poly werewolves knights!141 x bunny hybrid!reader. Follow up to this
Part two ->
Synopsis: You’re one of Queen Kate’s handmaidens and quite loyal to her. You have a good, privileged life, but you have an issue… You don’t want to be courted by the knights of 141, in fact, you want nothing to do with the werewolves at all. But they don’t seem to care about your repeated dismissals and when you go to your Queen for help, you’re convinced she will help you…
Tags: non-consensual touching, implied upcoming rape, imagined non-con sex/rape, dubcon, werewolf courting, poly!141xreader, bunny hybrid!reader, reader is Kate’s handmaid, unwanted attention, unwanted flirting, stalking, royalty, royal au, Beatrice is there, implied poisoning, werewolf culture, uh the boys masturbate onto presents to reader, yeah they’re nasty, Kate lowkey “gives you away” to the 141
a/n: welp. There was a request and the plotbunny (heh) took over my brain so uh. Here is the first part. ❤️ Buy me a treat?👉👈
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Every time Sir John Price saw Kate’s little handmaid, he wanted to hunt: to howl and sprint after you, nipping at your feet or little bunny tail to make you run even faster in your attempt to escape him. He wanted to chase you around the castle with his pack and corner you in a long hallway or a room where you wouldn’t be able to escape from. He wanted to take you as the first, which was his right as the alpha of the pack, make you wail and moan on his cock, bite your neck and knot you.
Make you theirs. Then he would let the others have their turn, who would fight about it first, over the right while you were on his knot, and the winner would be the next to take that sweet pussy of yours.
Alas, so far it was nothing but a dream.
A lustful, intense dream that was slowly growing from a dream to a plan.
You, however? You seemed horrified every time you spotted them and your blatant attempts at avoiding them became rather cute, but a little annoying at the same time. You clearly did not feel like being courted by them, barely wanting to talk to them.
Not that they really cared, they were going to get you one way or another. The fact that you constantly attempted to run away didn’t really help either; it merely sparked their predatory need to hunt you, their little prey.
Little bunny, not knowing how lucky you would be to be a knight pack’s plaything. It would be an exhausting task, no doubt, having to deal with a werewolf pack, yet you were a bunny - those were easy to force into heat, were they not? John wasn’t sure, but he would find out whenever they got their claws on you and whether it was real or not, well, that didn’t really matter.
Ever since they returned, their attention had been on you. You were a delightful surprise to return home to after such a long journey and a rather tasty looking one. Those long, soft-looking ears of you, that he liked to tug since he made you squeak.
He was afraid they would have to go to Kate soon however, because loyal little you were clearly devoted to her and if he knew their Queen well, she was fond of you too.
But Queen Kate Laswell was fond of their pack behaving nicely as well.
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“Your Majesty?"
“Yes, my dear?”
You twisted your fingers together shyly, your ears downwards as you hesitated for a moment. The dear made your body warm. You were not only disturbing her in her writings, you were going to complain; you hated complaining to hear, you already had the most privileged life that you had ever dreamt of. Yet…
“I uhm. I wish not to complain, as you’ve done plenty for me already, but…” you looked down at your furry feet that barely peaked out from your dress, wondering how you were to explain that her beloved pack of knights were essentially harassing you.
“But?”
You looked at her again, her head tipped to the side. She was a beautiful woman, her elven ears long and pointy, small rings and diamonds hanging from them.
“The knights - ah, the one-four-one pack… they keep… bothering me.” There you said it. Your Queen looked at you like she didn’t understand which made you twist your fingers a bit more.
“Bothering you?” She repeated, clearly waiting for an explanation of what exactly you meant.
“They follow me, your majesty, they touch my ears - they do not stop when I request them to.”
Then your queen just smiled and something inside you broke.
“Ah, no worries, my maid,” she easily said, waving her hand in your direction, “they’re merely happy to be home. They just think you’re pretty.”
“I do not wish to be pursued by them.”
“Merely tell them so,” she sounded rather uninterested in it, clearly not believing it to be a proper issue, “now, would you be a dear and fetch me a cup of tea?”
“Certainly, your majesty.”
“So?” Beatrice asked, waiting a couple of steps away from the now closed door to the queen’s office, “what did she say?”
You swallowed hard, the two of you walking down the hallway before you finally answered, “she more or less dismissed me.”
Beatrice said nothing. You opened one of the discreet staff doors with the small long corridors where the different workers could move without bothering the royals or nobles.
“Did she just refuse to answer?” Beatrice whispered, the two of you easily able to hear each other due to being bunnies.
“No,” you replied, “she said that they were merely happy to be home - that I should just… tell them not to pursue me.”
“But you’ve done that,” Beatrice sounded conflicted, “have you not?”
“Many times,” you agreed as the two of you walked down the slim stairs, “too many. She requested for me to get tea for her, so I assume it’s a way of dismissing me.”
“Hm,” Beatrice stayed silent for a moment and you could hear her stomp her feet now and again as she thought, “maybe she is right. Maybe they’ll tire of this.”
“Hopefully soon,” you agreed, “it’s tiring to be afraid all the time.”
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“Your Majesty.”
“Sir John,” she greeted, sipping her cup of tea before nodding towards the armchair across her, eyes flickering to look over at the group of wolf-looking humanoids that followed him with wagging tails, who she greeted with a soft, “boys.”
The doors closed and John settled, the three other knights remaining in their wolf forms, much to Kate’s preference. It made speaking easier when there was only one knight to speak to.
Werewolves in their wolf forms weren’t particularly pretty beasts; that wasn’t a necessity when one was made to kill. Human bodies that looked like it didn’t quite fit together, furry lower bodies that somehow had too odd proportions to truly like the bottom of a wolf, yet fully covered in thick fur, with a long tail. A human face that had grown a muzzle, yet the eyes were still human, wolf ears instead of their human ones, fur sprouting along their backs, their spines pointy.
It was as if the arms of a werewolf didn’t quite fit either, too long for a normal human, too hairy, the finger having claws; it made running on all fours easier, Kate assumed. It was like someone had picked out bones from a human and a wolf skeleton and decided to mix them together.
The results were the weird walking beasts with big ears, odd shaped faces, a furry bizarre body and right now, wagging tails.
Kate didn’t quite understand the bonds of werewolves, the idea of the pack. Elves created families, groups, but not quite packs like the werewolves and certain hybrids did.
And it was due to one specific hybrid that she had called them.
The rest of the pack settled around Price’s feet, like giant monstrous dogs, waiting for their master to finish.
“You wanted to talk, your majesty?”
Kate leaned back in her armchair, crossing her legs.
“John,” they were alone now, just her and them, so she saw no reason for formalities. Instead she tipped her head to the side, watching him curiously, “how come you and your boys are bothering one of my handmaidens?”
If they wanted to deny, they could attempt, but by the way all the knights in Wolf forms raised their heads and wagged their tails, well they clearly already knew who she was talking about.
“We find her…” Kate could see how John considered what to say, all of the others looking up at him with their twisted faces, a few inhuman sounds leaving them until John finally decided on a word, “Interesting. Alluring, one might say.”
So it was true. Yes, Kate had seen the way they had looked at you, but she had thought nothing particularly of it. Her knights were known to be, well, unruly at times. Parties, whores, they were known for drinking and creating chaos, for chasing pretty folks and leaving them a moment later. It wasn’t until you had expressed your discomfort over their repeated attempts that Kate had eyed a possibility.
It was mean to you perhaps, to make these decisions without you weren’t particularly kind of her either. She liked you, you were one of the smarter ones. Loyal as a dog despite being a bunny.
You had seen her give back the empty poison vial to the hooded figure and had no doubt realised what you had seen was important; yet you had merely held a hand over your eyes and turned around, pretending not to see you.
A smart thing, worried when she found you the next day, yet you never tried to gain something by the knowledge of what actually happened to her late husband.
Kate however, didn’t like loose ends. Giving you to the knights would not only entertain them, but also keep you submissive - you couldn’t go telling truths if you were busy trying to survive her knights.
“I like my handmaids,” she calmly said, casually looking at her well kept nails for a moment, “they’re smart, loyal, pure. I don’t like them distracted, you all know that.”
“We do,” John confirmed, not sounding too happy, while odd sounding words of agreement left the others.
“But…” they all sat up straighter as Kate said the simple word, “if I was to let you play with and have this one…”
So many tails wagged, including John’s own, a pleased grin even growing on his face.
“Then you would have to behave more properly - no more drinking and whoring so greatly and loudly that the whole kingdom will know and gossip about it. No drunken kills that I will have to excuse,” Kate tipped her chin down a little, staring at John ,“because then I would let you take her. But if you’re unable to promise this, to keep this promise, I can easily take away my little handmaid.”
Words that she barely understood escaped several of the turned knights, but John clearly understood them, knowing what it was like to speak a language that your mouth and throat was not created for.
After a quick look at his pack and a few nods, he looked at Kate again, his grin almost hungry.
“When may we have her, your majesty?”
Kate huffed at their eagerness. It was like dangling a bone in front of starving dogs, knowing they would kill whoever they had to in order to get to the bone.
“Soon. You will make preparations in your quarters, but,” they all looked as she raised her finger in a warning,” but I will not — and I will not repeat this — have you scare half of the castle with your hunting instincts. If it must be a part of it, then go to the forest or something, and for the love of the gods; At least attempt to be civil and court her at first.”
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They were getting braver, all of the handmaidens unable to deny it at this point; they were walking down the hallways when you were, at this point not backing off even though you walked in a group. A few of the handmaidens even tried hissing at them, which had only resulted in laughter and playful growl back.
You mentioned it to Queen Kate once more yet she merely dismissed it for a the second time.
It was an unspoken rule that Kate disliked being asked about something three times. So you shut your mouth, trying to ignore them again.
Then the presents appeared.
Neatly wrapped outside the door to the maidens chamber, your name carefully written on each of them, always sitting there in the morning. First once a week, then several times a week - at this point it was every single day. As if that wasn’t enough, they were slowly getting worse.
One of the maidens who had grown up with a werewolf pack next door, was the one to finally explain after a week.
They were trying to court you. Which you supposed was better in stalking you, but they still did that.
The first few had been innocent enough, but when bones and eventual dead small animals appeared, carefully wrapped and with flowers and wine next to it.
The maiden explained they were getting more serious about it, making it as clear as possible that they weren’t messing around.
Dead mice, small birds - then a full on pheasant, feathers and all. You gave the mice and birds to some of the carnivorous maids and when the pheasant appeared, you took one good look at it and gave it to the cooks. There was a chance they ate it themselves that night and you liked that idea.
You weren’t even a carnivore hybrid, so you had no idea why they kept giving you meat. Sure it was more in their nature and they were probably used to being traditional. But it also proved that they didn’t care, not really- at least it seemed so at first.
Then it changed, after three weeks.
Vegetables. Expensive fruits. You wondered whose vegetable garden they had stolen, or if they had actually gone and bought them. You wouldn’t put it past you to do the first thing.
The other maids ate it. The one with the knowledge of werewolf culture pointed out that it was considered, well, quite rude since the handmaidens weren’t a proper pack. You didn’t really care, you had no empathy for them when it came to harassing you - in fact, you hoped they took it personally.
They creeped along the hallways, always waiting for a moment to catch you off guard. You made it a point to never walk alone, constantly staying near the other maids or staff members.
It was the end of week four when another present of expensive fruits and vegetables appeared when there was something completely off about it. They stank.
Of werewolves. A more musk scent than usual, stronger in a way you couldn’t explain.
One of the staff members who had happened to pass, a server if you weren’t wrong and a werewolf himself, took one sniff and one look at the present before looking you in the eyes and explaining that they had… he had blushed like crazy, almost unable to say the words out loud. Tail between his legs.
Finished upon them.
You had never thrown such expensive food items out in the trash that fast.
They had… had an orgasm upon them and you wanted to throw up at the mere thought.
Both the handmaiden and the server warned you. It was one of the last steps before the courting was considered in the final stages, even without you accepting.
You felt nauseous to the point you had to sit down, yet, at the same time, something tingled in your lower half. It had been over a decade since you last touched yourself and the feeling of being turned on like this was foreign. Uncomfortable. Especially because you really shouldn’t be, not with the white crusty spots upon perfectly colored apples, large grapes and thick carrots. The idea of them… touching themselves while standing in front of the present? It just sounded so… wrong.
Disgusting.
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You had taken to walk in the servant corridors more often, still with one of the other maidens near. But when you were specifically called late in the night? You had no choice but to go on your own, all the others already having changed into night gowns.
Without a real choice you grabbed a small lantern, the corridors never really lit at night, wearing your dress and robe, quickly thrown over your nightgown with the help of Beatrice and one of the other handmaidens.
Your soft paws barely made a sound along the floors of the narrow corridors, cold seeping up along it, spreading to your entire body. There was a sound of creaking floors above you now and again, other people moving around, but that was about it. You hummed as you walked while wondering what exactly it was that Queen Kate wanted from you at this later hour. There was probably a good reason, you told yourself, you just didn’t know it yet.
Then you could return to your bed and snuggle beneath the blankets, with a little bit of hay beneath your pillow for a nice smell.
It was halfway towards your Queen’s chambers when two pairs of yellow eyes shone in front of you, startling you. Fear shot through you as you looked at them, only the yellow eyes visible, their forms barely visible in the dark. You didn’t need to step forward to see the faces, because they almost instantly let you know who they were.
“Little maid,” Sir John crooned sweetly, a slightly mocking undertone to his voice, “out in the corridors so late, no? Dangerous for a little bunny like you.”
A dark chuckle came from the man behind him and you instantly knew it was the famous Ghost. Sometimes that dark chuckle of his haunted your dreams. The corridor was narrow in the first place and one of them barely fit, their shoulders too broad.
Your ears tipped down as fear rushed through you, not a word able to leave your mouth and you stumbled backwards - only to hit a chest, a small squeak leaving you. You turned around, the face of Sir Kyle and Sir Johnny lighting up from your small lantern. Their eyes also shone in the light, looking at you, the shadows on their faces only making them look scarier.
“Aw, dinnae be scared, pet,” Johnny cooed, leaning down a little, his ears tipped towards you, “we just want tae talk.”
“I - I -“ your heart beat so fast it was almost painful in your chest and your head constantly turned between them, realising that the four men had cut off both ways of the narrow corridor, leaving you no room for you to escape, so you said the first thing that came to mind, “H-her Majesty is waiting for me.”
Kyle snorted behind you, as if he didn’t care; the lack of respect would usually make you angry, but you were too scared to care, your hand with the lantern shaking, almost making their yellow eyes appear and disappear in the dark.
“N’aaaw, our Queen is waiting for her,” Ghost said, his skull mask barely visible, “such a proper handmaiden, sweet little bunny.”
“Not that sweet,” Kyle commented, your ears tipping towards him, “haven’t been nice to us despite our polite courting.”
“Ach, been sae mean to us, wee lass,” Johnny agreed, “and we were sae polite.”
You let out a little sound of disbelief; were they out of their minds, thinking they had been polite with you, when they had refused to back off and constantly harassed you?
“I’ll scream,” you warned, “I’ll scream for help…Please, please - leave.”
A giggle left Johnny and Kyle, the sound echoing through the hall.
“And what do you think that will help, little bunny?” John asked, stepping forward, closest to you of them all, “who do you think dares to step between the pack of one-four-one knights and their upcoming mate? Do you really think anyone would be able to stop us?”
You almost wanted to piss yourself from fear. The cold wasn’t the only thing that made you shake now, the fear almost made your feet feel numb, your mouth dry, your heart pounding.
“I’m not your mate.” You tried to sound brave, not looking away from the large werewolf in front of you, knowing that in a fight, you would never be able to win, yet you had to try, had to stand up for yourself.
“Yet,” Ghost offered darkly from behind John, the word making you tighten your grip around the handle of the lantern.
“I do not wish to—“
The hands slammed around your middle and over your mouth and you instinctively fought against them, screaming behind the large, warm and stinking palm of Johnny. Your legs immediately kicked and you tried biting the palm.
“Let’s go, boys,” John took the lantern from your hand before you dropped it and you watched him snuff out the light with his fingers, “we got a long night ahead of us.”
Summary: Jaskirat is back home after a long mission and needs his wife. That's it.
Warning: smut, dom!Jassi, slight dubcon. MDNI.
read my other fics here
Mmm... something about military husband Jaskirat coming home after a long mission to his family and YOU.
The marriage between you and him was arranged and he left just a week after the wedding, which didn't give you both much time to get to know each other.
Fast forward to now, where his mother and sisters are feeding him all the delicious food while his father is asking him questions about his time at the military. Jassi answers everything and eats happily, but his gaze keeps drifting over to his wife, who's standing a few feet away, quietly watching the scene with a soft smile. His eyes greedily rake over her figure, taking in the redness of her cheeks, the swell of her breasts and the way she's standing so shyly. He notices that she has gained weight since he last saw her and mentally thanks his mother for being an amazing cook. He loved the chubbiness on her, and he couldn't wait to sink his hands into it.
But of course, it's a desi household where privacy is basically non-existent. The whole day, he's surrounded by his close relatives and neighbours who have come to visit their house, after knowing that he's back home.
Don't get him wrong, he loves being with his people, but right now he just wants to have some time alone with his pretty wife and make up for all the time they've missed out on.
Finally, after dinner, everyone retires to their room, and Jassi walks into his, to find his wife combing her hair, oblivious to the inner turmoil of his mind.
As soon as she notices him, her gaze turns soft and she shyly smiles at him. Jassi loses it then and there and walks towards her to pull her into his arms. She's caught off guard and freezes for a whole minute before hugging back. Oh cute, she thinks as she loops her arms around him.
But his hands start wandering, and his lips find her neck in heated kisses. His one hand squeezes her ass while the other bunches up her nightdress. She's shocked, but doesn't question the man, knowing that he needs this after being away for so long. She ignored the nerves reminding her that this will be their first time, and focused on his lips on her.
Soon, she found herself on the bed with Jassi on top, whose kisses have now drifted further down her neck. She clamped a hand over her mouth, realising that the whole family will hear if she lets out any noise. Jassi, of course notices this and is very irritated that he can't hear his wife make those pretty sounds. But he too knows that it will be too embarrassing for both of them if the family hears.
But the hesitation on his face soon turns into a smirk, and he smoothens down your nightdress before pulling you up towards the bedroom door. He quickly grabs a blanket and leads you out of the house. You follow him outside as he walks towards the fields, the only source of light being the moon. You're utterly confused but don't bother him with questions. Maybe he just wants a walk to clear his mind, you thought. Oh how you're so mistaken.
He walks further into the fields, and you look back to notice that the house is now a distant view. He kept walking and only stopped when he found a space where multiple rows of the fields intersected, creating an open space in the middle with no unwanted grass.
He quickly laid the blanket on the floor as if he couldn't wait anymore, and turned to crash his lips onto yours. Once you realize what's happening, you softly pull away from the kiss to tell him that anyone could find you both here. What if someone walks by? You worry.
But your concerns fall on deaf ears as he kisses you again. He makes you sit on the blanket next to him, and before you can whine about the possibility of being caught again, his hand slips beneath your nightdress and finds your wet panties. He smirks and swiftly pushes it out of the way before slipping a finger inside, making you gasp out loud.
In a few minutes, you're cross-eyed and whimpering against his chest as his fingers move at an impossible speed. You uselessly thrash around from the sheer overwhelming feeling, but his grip on you is absolute as he whispers filthy details in your ear about what he's going to do next. He encourages you to be as loud as you want as you reach your climax, and he groans when you grind against the hardness poking through his pants.
After you make a mess of yourself, he has you fully laying down on the blanket as he eats you like he's been starving for years. He murmurs something about how he's been dreaming about this every night while he was away on duty, but you're too ditzy to pay attention.
He looks up every now and then to give you a look that has you shamelessly whimpering his name. He realises then that his pretty bride has already gone dumb. He smirks in triumph as he knows that you're now putty in his hands. Soon, you cum again, but this time he doesn't waste a drop of it. He drinks it like it's the most delicious thing ever and crawls on top of you to kiss you.
You mindlessly kiss him back and don't notice when he shook off his pants. His tongue is sweeping over yours while he pushes himself in, and you scream in response at the sudden stretch. Jassi pulls away from the kiss and groans into your ear before whispering how tight you are. He soon began to move, and you dragged your nails down his back at the sensation.
Jassi looks down at you as he picks up speed, and is pleased to find you looking absolutely mind-dumb — your eyes unfocused, and murmuring incoherent things. He lifts your leg over his shoulder, and moans as he now hits a new spot that has both of you seeing stars.
Soon, you're both reaching your climaxes. You arch your back with a loud moan as you cum and Jassi finishes inside you with a groan, at the same time. Then, he carefully pulls out and leans down to kiss you before dropping onto the space beside you. He places your head on his chest, and you cuddle as you both watch the night sky.
The next time Jassi comes back home from duty, he's pleased to find you waddling around the house, holding the swell of your belly with a glow on your face.
i was wondering if you could please do Lucifer with biting, or sex pollen, or body worship, or dacryphilia, or daddy kink. Any prompt will do tbh i am not picky 😆
((Thank you so much for the link! These are all good — I think if I don’t get any requests on a specific day, I’ll take from that list and write something small 💕))
You liked Charlie’s father well enough. He was a high-strung and dramatic eccentric — and the literal King of Hell — but it wasn’t difficult to warm up to him given a little time. In fact, if you caught him in the right mood and setting (without a certain radio host chomping at the bit to antagonize him), Lucifer was a fun person to converse with. He had so many ideas and whether big or small, there was always conviction behind them that you found admirable.
Take for example, his spontaneous idea to create a greenhouse behind the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie had been hesitant, unsure of how it would benefit her residents until Lucifer dressed it up as gardening being a relaxing hobby.
‘Nature walks can be beneficial to mental health as well.’ You had chimed in — a rarity that had heads turning in your direction.
It seemed to sell the idea to Charlie, who’d been batted back and forth between her father and Alastor. The perpetually smiling Overlord had thrown bitchy quips and comments to dissuade the princess from agreeing. Not for any real reason, as most of his arguments took jabs at Lucifer more so than the greenhouse idea.
With Charlie on board and Alastor undoubtedly hiding a pout underneath that plastered grin, Lucifer had smiled gratefully at you. Such a simple thing, but you had coasted on the rush of dopamine that came with it for days.
~ ~ ~
You still thought the greenhouse was a good idea.
The already humid air that wrought a sticky sensation all over your flesh had turned sweltering with the sweat pouring down your body. You could see the glisten of it on your arms, contrasted with the very fine shade of rose gold dust that covered you from head to toe, as you kept your arms locked around Lucifer’s neck. It made you stand out in a lush array of jungle growth, dark yet phosphorescent in the strawberry champagne-tint that had consumed your vision — but Lucifer’s alabaster outline was positively glowing as he rutted into you.
Every thrust was balm to the ache that permeated your being. Your very soul. And you wished you could tell him so, if only to stop his litany.
‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’m so so sorry!’ Lucifer looked near tears, stifling the grunts that escaped with every slide into your dripping heat.
You wanted very dearly to respond that he had nothing to be sorry — it was you that had gotten too curious. It was you that had reached out to touch that mysteriously strange and interesting plant out of bounds. It was you who’d touched your lips with the powdery perfume exuded by the plant’s treacherously deep, dark purple blooms and you who’d licked over them as they tingled and buzzed. You were the one that needed him to save you from the pain that had you convulsing not even a minute afterward — but all you could do was mew and whine and clench down on him.
Your fingers, smeared like your lips and, dug into his platinum hair and tugged. The pollen wouldn’t hurt him, so he swore to you, and you could bring him close for a kiss. Lucifer whimpered into your mouth, sucking the fine spores from your lips like it was sugar. His hips smacked against yours, faster and harder as you bestowed affection onto him. In spite of the jacket he’d draped behind you, you could feel the texture of the tree trunk at your back insistently, though the irritation was dull.
Everything that wasn’t Lucifer’s solid body, his high keens and quick pants, his greedy mouth, and his perfect hard cock gliding past your walls and kissing your womb was dull. Insignificant. Nonexistent. Nothing.
With your heel tilling into his backside, you had the Devil yelping. The over-loud squelch of your sloppy cunt being fucked relentlessly stopped as he spilled into you, hips stuttering until cum dripped down onto the mossy ground below.
Also I had an idea watching the Lisgoe scene today (when he lashes Barry with his belt) - it made me imagine an x F!reader smut fic where he uses his belt for… other purposes 😏😏 WHO SAID THAT
I love this 🤭🤭 i very much hope you like this, because i enjoyed writing it! 😁 thank you for requesting!
Tag list: @pleione-sketch , @justanothercomedynerd 😁☺️
Like this? Feel free to send me a request! 😁💛
Part 2
My hand shakes as I lift it to knock at the door of the trailer. The metal is cool beneath my knuckles, my deliberate raps ringing out clearly into the space beyond. I chew my lip, paying as little attention as possible to the pounding of my heart and the tightness in my throat. Nausea swirls in my head, the sharp air doing little to help.
Something like hope flickers to life inside me as silence ensues. I turn to leave, stopping in my tracks as a clipped voice calls me in. Just like that, the promise of a delayed meeting is stamped, rather cruelly, out of existence.
Taking a long, deep breath, I slowly open the door and step inside.
As usual, it's musty inside, the air dry and cloying with the smell of old paperwork and even older steel. Cold, grey light filters in through the flimsy curtains covering the windows, casting the trailer in a sinister hue, muting any colours that might've stood a chance at surviving in this maudlin room. A clock hangs forlornly on the wall, ticking dutifully as each moment passes by, tiredly pointing to the correct time. The dull clicking noise seems to echo around me, my pulse leaping to mimic it as best it can.
Sat in amongst it all, lounging in his chair in a quietly menacing fashion, Lisgoe spins a pen over his fingers, the plastic tapping against his rings like a broken metronome, counting down the seconds to my ultimate fate. His gaze is steady, trained on me in a way that reminds me of a deadly predator, watching to make sure its prey doesn't escape. My spine prickles under the intensity, my eyes dropping away from the icy steel of his, not willing to dare make contact again. Something bitterly cold curls in my stomach, snaking into my throat, leaving a foul taste in my mouth as my hands start trembling harder. I wipe my clammy palms on my trousers, trying to still them. It doesn't work.
‘Well? Did you come here just to stand there?’ His voice cuts the quiet, slicing through me.
For a galling moment, I grapple with the concept of speaking, eventually clutching at the few words remaining in my head.
‘N-no,’ I finally manage, internally cursing my stammer, ‘It's about the Tipps debt.’
He cocks his head, ‘Spit it out.’
I swallow dryly, licking my lips quickly. My hands meet, fingers picking at the skin by my nails.
‘I-I didn't get the repayment,’ I admit, cheeks burning in shame.
Lisgoe's gaze turns poisonous.
‘You didn't get the repayment,’ He repeats slowly, the words dripping venomously from his tongue.
‘N-no.’
‘Care to explain why you couldn't do the only thing I fucking pay you to do?’
I grimace.
‘I really tried! I was nice to him, then tried being harder on him…’ I falter as I hear his scoff, ‘He pulled a gun on me! What was I supposed to do?!’
‘For the love of god, are you thick?’ He snaps, standing from his chair.
I step back, panic flaring to life within me.
‘W-what?’ I stutter pathetically, watching as his feet near me with every stride he takes towards me.
‘The cunt only has blanks. Everybody knows that!’ Lisgoe snarls, ‘Well, everybody except you, it seems. I can't fucking believe this.’
I risk a glance up, cowering as I realise he's much closer than I thought. A frigid fire burns in his eyes, his face pulled into an expression of pure wrath. My mouth goes dry, my blood freezing over.
‘Blanks?’
‘Yes, blanks. Worst you'd have gotten was a fucking bruise. Instead, you've made yourself look stupid, and by extension, me, for sending someone so weak and useless to get a debt from a bumbling idiot!’ His voice is raised, teeth bared almost animalistically in anger.
‘I-I'm sorry…’ I practically whimper, backing up into the wall as he steps ever closer.
‘You think sorry is going to fucking fix this?’ He spits, stalking up to me until he's mere centimetres from me, ‘You've fucked up, (Y/n). You're going to have to do a lot more than just say fucking sorry.’
I look up at him, eyes wide and wet. Every muscle feels frozen, rooting me in place as his gaze trails down my body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. I shiver slightly, which he catches instantly. Something dark lurks in his gaze, his tongue flicking out briefly to wet his lips. On the wall, the clock watches, somehow deafening in the new silence. Every tick feels like a bullet through my skull, unforgiving and excruciating.
Finally, Lisgoe speaks again, his tone threatening.
‘Lean over my desk. Now.’
I fight back my hesitation, his voice leaving no room for argument. Scurrying to as he asks, I chew my lip in consternation - what is he going to do? I try not to think too much about the possibilities, cautiously bending myself over his desk. It's an oddly exposing posture, my elbows resting on the wood, my back slightly arched from the way my weight is supported, my face to the wall, unable to see the man behind me. Too late, I realise that might not be my smartest move.
‘I think it's high time you're taught a lesson about messing me around.’ He tells me, moving to stand closer to me.
Before I can ask what he means, his hands are on me. One pins me down, the other roughly yanking my trousers down my legs along with my underwear. I protest, jerking under his grip to get back up. Panic explodes to life within me, though another part of me glows with heat at the dominance in the way he's manhandling me. He just shoves me down again, his hand landing on my arse with a harsh smack.
‘Stay still.’ He commands, waiting for me to go placid in his hold before letting up.
My heart practically drops from my body as I hear the telltale jangling of his belt coming undone, followed by the swishing of the leather being pulled from the loops at his hips.
There's a sharp crack, then pain flares up across my backside. It's searing, burning a welt into my skin where the leather has connected with me. A cry tears from my throat, my eyes bugging in shock. Lisgoe is silent, lining up another lash.
The second is as agonising as the first, but something flickers within me as he strikes me a third time, a quiet whimper takes from my lips as I squeeze my eyes shut against the pain. My body betrays me, even as he lashes me again. I do my best to hide the edge that's biting at my shout of pain, blinking back the tears that have sprung up. Lisgoe scoffs quietly, audibly shifting his stance, the belt swinging ominously in his grip.
My fingers claw at the table, scraping horribly against the scratched wood. I dig my nails in as a fifth strike lands across the tops of my thighs, a new discomfort flaring up in my fingertips as my nail snaps. It's easily overwhelmed by the fiery sting. I gasp, biting into my lip hard to hold back the pitiful sob welling up in my throat. Heat burns across my cheeks - this is as humiliating as it is painful, especially as I realise a familiar swirling sensation has developed in my abdomen. Mentally, I pray that the silent man behind me hasn't noticed.
Even as I do so, his hand returns to my skin, gripping my arse hard. My blood runs cold as he finally speaks.
‘Don't think I didn't fucking notice you rubbing your thighs together. You're fucking enjoying this, aren't you?’ Lisgoe spits down at me, scorn colouring his words.
I bite back a moan, feeling a fresh wave of shameful arousal wash over me. He lands a harsh slap to my presumably red arse, digging his fingers in to grope me lewdly.
‘This ain't fucking working,’ He mutters angrily, dropping the belt unceremoniously on the desk beside me.
A tense silence follows, my mind whirring as I try to figure out what he's planning for me. It's blanked instantly when his fingers suddenly rake through my exposed cunt, tearing a shocked moan out of my throat.
‘You're soaked,’ He pulls his fingers from me for a second, ‘You really fucking liked that, didn’t you? I didn't take you for such a filthy slut.’
I just whimper in response, lowering my head to the desk as my cheeks burn. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, then leans over me, one hand planted by my shoulder, the other returning to my bared skin. His fingers find my cunt again, slipping down to probe between my slick folds. A quiet sigh escapes me, enjoying the sensations of his cool rings pressing into my hot skin. Lisgoe chuckles, low and deep, full of malice.
‘I've got a better idea,’ He purrs, suddenly plunging into my cunt.
I arch my back, a soundless cry pulling my mouth open. Ruthlessly, the debt collector shoves his fingers deep into me, barely giving me any time to adjust before he's removing them and slamming them back into me. He sets a harsh, unrelenting pace, roughly thrusting his hand against me. It rides the line between pain and pleasure deliciously, each dig of his digits against me hammering against the spot inside me that has my toes curling. Unable to help myself, I moan loudly, pathetically, trying to rock back against his onslaught of agonising ecstasy. My arse still stings, the burn only adding to the raw intensity of it all.
Then, too soon, the man removes his hand. I whine, trying to follow the missing touch.
‘Fucking stay still,’ Lisgoe growls, moving the hand by my head to the back of my neck, pinning me in place.
The rustling of fabric breaks the quiet, and my face heats as I realise what's about to happen. My body jerks slightly as the blunt head of his cock appears at my entrance, sliding through my folds a few times to slick up. The first firm press into my cunt steals my breath, my eyes rolling back into my skull. Ever so slowly, he sinks into me, each inch stretching my walls around him until his balls are flush against me. A near-inaudible sound escapes him, the grip on my neck tightening fractionally. He twitches where he's sheathed inside me, his free hand now appearing at my hip.
In one smooth action, he pulls from me, leaving only the tip still lingering inside me. I whine, then promptly have any sound or breath I possess punched out of me as he slams back into me.
The force shoves me harder into the desk, the edge cutting into my stomach uncomfortably. He doesn't give me time to process the sudden shock of pleasure as he repeats the action, driving into me with an almost feral growl. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the small room, overwhelming the perpetual ticking of the clock. It makes the angry skin of my arse burn with each smack of his hips against me, but I ignore it, my eyes closing instead at the sheer pleasure.
Lisgoe uses the hold on my hip to tug me onto his cock with every thrust, his fingers digging into me. I can feel bruises forming, small crescents of pain flaring up where his nails are digging into me. Something darker curls in my gut at the realisation that he's using me like a toy, just something to fuck a load into, moving me in any way he possibly wants. My cunt clenches around him at the thought, a guttural groan pulling from somewhere in his chest at the sensation. Impossibly, he picks up the pace.
‘Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for an excuse to bend you over my desk?’ Lisgoe suddenly snarls, punctuating his words with merciless thrusts, ‘And finally, you waltz in, having made a fucking fool of me, and get wet when I fucking punish you. Like God's fucking gift to me.’
All I can do is gasp, clutching at the table as he fucks me into it. I barely register what he's really saying, my mind turned to sludge by the continuous assault of ecstasy. There's something possessive about the way he's holding me down and pounding into me, like he's making sure I know exactly who I belong to. It makes my heart swell, though I'm sure he means nothing by the punishing way he's claiming my cunt. Still, I can feel his precum leaking into me, mingling with my arousal; it makes me groan, hoping he'll stake his claim internally, too.
A knot has started building in my stomach, pressure building quickly. Part of me wishes I could push a hand between myself and the desk and play with my clit until I cum around his cock, but something tells me I won't get very far doing so.
The hand on my hip disappears for a moment. I wonder what he's doing, until he slaps the skin of my arse once again. The sting blazes back to life, a cry ripping from me at the sudden blow. I throb around him, squeezing his cock as he shoves it into me. Lisgoe slaps my arse again, chuckling breathlessly at the pitiful mewl that bubbles from my lips. He continues until I can barely take it, useless pleas joining the obscenely wet noises reverberating around the room. Soon enough, though, the knot threatens to snap, and my begging turns to pleas of permission. I tighten inextricably around him. He just groans, twitching within me.
After a long moment, he pulls out. A fast, wet rubbing noise fills the air, and I realise he's jerking himself to completion. I whine and whimper, begging for him to return to me as I'm left feeling entirely bereft. He ignores me, gripping me tighter as he groans and spills onto my arse, painting my skin with his load. Instinctively, he grinds against me, smoothing his cum over me with each movement, staking his claim.
Finally, he finishes, stepping back from me. Wordlessly, he pulls his trousers up, replacing his belt. I wait, still bent over the desk, unsure and extremely desperate to cum.
‘Get up. Sort yourself out,’ He commands, lighting a cigarette.
Confused, I hesitate, turning to look at him. I must look pathetic, staring at him desperately, completely fucked-out but needy. His lip curls as his icy eyes land on me. It makes my stomach drop as he speaks, tone cool.
‘You don't get to cum until you've gotten that repayment,’ He tells me, shooting me a withering look as I whimper in protest, ‘Don't fucking complain. This is your punishment.’
Pairing: Eddie Munson x you // Eddie Munson x f!reader // perv!Eddie Munson x innocent!reader
Genre: romance, mild smut, Catholic trauma, religious trauma, friends to lovers, slow burn
Notes: this will have a three installments // this chapter is just the intro honestly lol so sorry if it’s boring build up // Eddie is kinda pervy lol // he’s kinda dark but also not // i tried to write him to be as much of a consent king as possible
Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // talks of religion, reader goes to confession and her priest is a little mean with his words (at the beginning), slight manipulation, pillow humping, humping, first times, dacryphilia, corruption kink, praise kink // masturbation //please let me know if there should be more added, thank you!
ao3 // chapter two // chapter three // masterlist // series masterlist
-:-:-:-:-
Every other Sunday was for confession. While other members of the family went on Wednesdays or Saturdays, you always chose Sundays since it would start the week off on a clean slate.
Not that there was much to confess about. Oftentimes, you would walk from your house to the church a few hours after mass ended, maybe feeling a bit guilty about your thoughts, rarely was it ever your actions. One day, you came in to tell the priest about how angry you got at your parents when they grounded you for accidentally falling asleep in church. You didn’t lash out at them, of course; but, you did curse them in your head — not honouring thy father and mother very well.
Then there was an instance three years ago at the homecoming dance. One girl had on the most beautiful baby blue dress you had ever seen, while you were stuck with a hand-me-down gown of the same colour. You prayed aloud that night in front of your bed, that you would one day have the opportunity to wear a dress as nice as hers. But the prayer backfired when your mother overheard, then told you to march to the church the following morning to confess how you broke the tenth commandment of coveting thy neighbour’s goods.
As a whole, you thought there were never any major moments in your life where you sinned gravely. That was until you went to your friend’s house for Bible study on Saturday night. She hosted it weekly, and invited all the kids from school. Needless to say, only a handful of people appeared. Not that it wasn’t fun, the six of you would always spend a few hours going over passages, and then eat a nice dinner afterwards. Truly, you looked forward to it since there weren’t other things you were invited to in town.
So when this past Saturday rolled around where the first epistle to the Corinthians was read, specifically the sixth chapter and eighteenth verse — your group started to analyze it as normal. But, little did you know that this was the day your heart would drop the hardest it ever has.
‘The sexually immoral person sins against their own body,’ the people in the room repeated the verse over and over, like a chant taunting you and your actions.
It was the first time you walked into the confessional on a Sunday afternoon with shaky legs and an intensely beating heart. You told the priest what you told your friend, trying to rid yourself of the sins you unknowingly committed. But he stopped you, his voice only getting louder as he gave you guidance on your next steps. ‘Stop doing that,’ he said, ‘God may not be so quick to forgive you if you give into the Devil’s temptations so often.’ Then after he assigned you a penance of five Hail Marys and going through the rosary twice, you were gone.
All you could think as you took your first steps outside, were words that should never cross your mind. Not now, not ever.
If sinning is so bad, then why does it feel so good?
-:-:-:-:-
As the day ended, and a new week of school began — your guilt never went away. Teasing you from the back of your subconscious as you walked home, ate dinner, and failed at doing some homework that was due a few days later.
It had been three days since the last time you unknowingly sinned, two days since you found out what it was, and one day since the priest’s voice scared you to the point of no return. Everything affected you gravely, that even once you walked into school Monday morning, the noises from the other students became a muffled and chaotic mess in your ears. So much so, that as you were shakily getting things out of your locker, you didn’t even notice movement from the one next to yours.
“You look stressed, sweetheart.” The voice startled you, only amplifying your inner-guilt, since you spent the past few moments focusing on shutting the voices up in your head, rather than greeting your favourite locker neighbour.
But what made you feel guiltiest of all, was that he is the one who inspired these sins of yours.
The throbbing ache between your legs felt good, and the way your pillow helped relieve that ache felt even better. If you were able to feel this level of delight every night, then why not think of someone who made you feel the same way? — the question plagued your mind nightly, during the moments you were oblivious to committing a sin.
Little did you know that it was truly sexual in meaning.
There was only one person who made you feel equally as amazing with their words and actions. Your locker neighbour to the right, Eddie Munson.
Several moments replayed in your head. Like the time he kept calling you ‘pretty girl’ because you decided to wear a skirt on the first day of Spring. Then, you remember how his calloused fingers felt when they were so close to your face after he brushed your hair from your neck; making sure to linger on your sensitive skin before mentioning how beautiful the silver crucifix looked on you. There were so many times after that too. From his deep voice whispering in your ear to ask if you needed a ride home while you both were in study hall; to his arms wrapping a sweater around your shoulders during lunch when the school’s heater broke. The Hawkins townspeople claimed him as a spawn of the Devil, but you named him as the only true friend you had. The only person to make the butterflies in your stomach tingle every time he spoke to you.
“I-I’m not, it’s just I can see now why Mondays aren’t people’s favourite,” you responded, still staring into the vastness of your locker. Thinking about how your start to the week wasn't so great as it usually is.
Eddie had opened the metal door completely, removing the barrier between the two of you. “But, Mondays are always your favourite because you get to see me after a painstakingly long forty-eight hours,” he pouted while trying to get you to giggle at his dramatics.
It worked.
“Well, I normally see you around the fourth period. This is the earliest you’ve been at school for a while.”
“Mondays are the worst because my homeroom teacher loves putting tests at the buttcrack of dawn,” Eddie groaned, while holding up the notes you loaned him at the beginning of the year since you already took the biology course before.
“Well, good luck, I’m gonna go—” no matter how much you loved talking to him, and how warm he made you feel, Eddie was part of your current predicament. So seeing him now made your heart ache in the worst way.
As you went to grab the locker door to close it, Eddie lightly grabbed your wrist. “I saw you leaving the church yesterday. You looked so,” he paused, moving his head downwards to meet you at eye-level, before continuing. “Sad, you looked so sad. I even called out your name a few times so I could give you a ride home, but you kept walking, so I assumed you didn’t hear me.”
So it was the Devil’s spawn shouting your name as you made your way home; not the Devil himself making you feel guilty for your actions. It was just your friend who wanted to look out for you.
Eddie continued: “or maybe you’re ignoring me,” he pouted with feign-sadness.
“Oh, uh-uhm it was just a really tiring day and I guess the voices in my head were too loud,” it was only partially a lie.
“If something’s bothering you—”
“Nothing’s bothering me, honestly,” this one was a lie, and it came out a bit too easily. But all you could focus on now was the feeling of Eddie’s thumb stroking small circles on the soft skin of your wrist.
He looked you up and down suspiciously before saying, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”
“I do.”
“So whatever is going through your mind, let me know. Who am I to judge anyways?” He winked before letting go of your wrist.
You nodded, seriously contemplating if you wanted to have a confessional with your little Devil. Just as you stared at him with eyes full of conflict, the bell rang. Instead of responding, you softly said your farewell. “Anyways, see you later during fourth period, if you decide to come again.”
It was the only class Eddie had a perfect attendance score in, but he would never let you know that you’re the reason why.
-:-:-:-:-
By the time English class rolled along, you didn’t realize just how much your body was moving itself robotically. Going through the movements you’ve been so used to doing for the years you’ve been in high school. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, thankfully. First period was a calculus lesson, history happened afterwards with a lecture on the French Revolution, then a substitute showed up for geography during third period so that was a boring class. All throughout those hours, you kept quiet; because the wrath of the Angel on your shoulder, condemning you for your sins, was becoming far too much. To even think about answering questions the teachers asked was mentally exhausting.
It all came to a peak once you sat on your chair for fourth period English — the only class you had with Eddie this semester, and of course, the only class everyone sat at long desks that held two people. As you looked out the window to the dark blue skies of Autumn, your conscience kept telling you to be careful. You were about to sit next to the boy who amplified your senses as you sinned. Goodness knows how he’ll react to the news if you told him.
What would he think if he found out you think about his hands helping guide your hips nightly, or his voice telling you ‘you’re so beautiful’ when you finally find the climax of your relief, or his lips kissing your —
“You’re still so tense,” the voice brought you out of your haze for the second time today. But this time, Eddie’s warm hand was on the top of your left thigh; the set of thighs you unknowingly went from bouncing one second to squeezing together the next.
“Just tired, maybe I’ll nap when I get home,” you sighed. Truly, it has been three days since the bane of your guilt was committed. You could barely sleep now that you’ve stopped doing your nightly routine.
“Take a nap in my van, I have cute pillows in there,” he scrunched his nose as he teased you, then released your thigh to stretch his arms in the air.
Thinking of how your class went to the zoo for a field trip once, and Eddie found the scariest-looking bats cute, you replied sweetly: “your definition of cute is not really the same as mine.”
“But, I think you’re cute, don’t you?” Eddie loved to make you blush with his not-so-suave comments. Said it was practice for whenever he goes to the bars and flirts with girls there. But he never was able to make them flustered in the way you always were.
You saw the teacher walk into class in your peripheral vision, and prayed that would mean you didn’t need to talk to your locker and desk neighbour for the next three quarters of an hour. “I’m not,” you shyly say while looking away from The Dealer completely.
“You’re such a good girl too,” his voice was deeper than normal.
He was wrong. So wrong. The guilt in your heart only deepens as his words echo in your ear, along with the voices of your priest telling you need to repent for your sins. If this day couldn’t have gotten any worse, of course the muse of your sinful thoughts believes you’re a good girl when you aren’t.
“I-I’m—” your words are saved by the bell and your teacher’s voice which booms through the classroom. You thought you were safe, thought that until lunch you could get away with not looking at the boy who makes you unknowingly rub your legs together. But no, the day that was going downhill, just hit rock bottom.
“This class is a bit different, it will be a work period since I’m assigning you a small project due Wednesday. That’s not a lot of time, so today will be a work period then tomorrow we will have a lesson. I hope that you all can get the project finished after school over the next couple days.”
Doing a small project wouldn't be so bad, would it? The curiousity sat in your brain momentarily before your thoughts went haywire. The teacher paired you off, specifically with the people you were sitting next to, where each duo would need to analyze and present a different chapter of The Picture of Dorian Gray. So after a beat of silence once the teacher’s explanation was over, the class erupted in murmured voices and squeaky chairs. But you couldn’t get yourself to move to face your project partner.
“Don’t kill me but, we may need to finish this tonight because tomorrow—”
“You have your g-gig, I remember,” spreading out your time with Eddie would have helped your intensifying sinful thoughts subside. At least until you got over your bad habit. But now, you both had to do this for your grades — mainly his — so there was no time to lose. Maybe this could be a positive distraction.
“How about we work on it today right after school so we can get it over with?” he suggests.
“Alright, I guess skipping band practice one time wouldn’t be so bad,” you start shaking your left leg again. If you were a sinner, why not fall down the path of delinquency — your tendency to accept defeat a little too quickly, and then spiral, was catching up to you now.
Eddie notices, and touches your thigh again to calm you down like he has so many times before, even a few minutes ago. Although now, you move your leg away from his grip. “No, no, no, you go be a good girl and head to band practice, then I’ll pick you up afterwards and we'll run to the library,” he says trying not to sound disappointed that you backed away from his touch.
“I’ll finish probably a little after half-past three today since there’s only one song to practice,” you state while opening the book to the assigned chapter. “What will you do while you wait?”
“Oh, you know, maybe do some buying and selling,” The Dealer says nonchalantly.
“Shopping?” you ask innocently.
“Of sorts,” he mimes the act of smoking a joint in your direction, and you look at him curiously before understanding what he meant. You remember your father telling you it’s not a good idea to be friends with your locker neighbour because he’s a sinner who does the Devil’s drugs.
Guess he rubbed off on you, while you rubbed off on something else.
The pang of guilt hit you again. Like a stab to the heart from God himself. Tonight, you’ll do penance until you sleep, before the Devil on your shoulder tells you to commit your sinfully bad habit again. “R-right,” you say quietly. “Let’s get started then, you have to stay focused, Eddie, do you promise?”
“Pinky promise, my dear,” he grabs your fingers that are so much smaller than his, and hooks his pinky onto yours. “Only if you promise to focus too. You’ve been zoning out all day long. When you walk from class to class it looks like you’re constantly about to puke.”
“I do not,” you say in a defiant whisper.
“So do,” he teases. “Listen, if I promise to stay focused the entire time while we try and finish this project, you’re gonna tell me why you’re acting this way. It’s worrying me.”
You pause, looking at Eddie’s weirdly mischievous eyes as he starts to rub the bottom of your back. “There’s nothing really bothering me, though.”
“You’re lying, aren’t you, pretty girl?” his fingers started circling in a pattern that brought pleasurable shivers up your spine. After years of giving you featherlight touches — because that’s what friends do, he said one day — he knew exactly where to grasp your body to make you relax.
“Let me think about it,” you slightly give in. However, you can’t get yourself to admit, again, how badly you want to confess your sins to the one who inspired them.
He notices how you started to squeeze your thighs together again during this class. “That’s all I ask,” Eddie chuckles before moving his hands to your waist to move your body closer to himself. “Now, don’t kill me again, but I didn’t read the chapter. Or the book, so,” he elongated the last word while looking at you with feign-innocence with his doe eyes and pursed lips.
One thing you unknowingly did admit, was just how easily you were able to fall for his manipulative ways.
-:-:-:-:-
As Eddie waited in his van for you to come out of band practice, all he could think about was how strange you’ve been acting throughout the day. You were always one to talk to him in shy tones as he would talk your ear off in any given conversation. Today was different though, and he wasn’t able to place a finger on it. What hurt him most was when you reacted to his touch by moving your leg away — a move you haven’t done in the years you had gotten used to his touch. Then, you didn’t join him for lunch like you did every Monday and Friday, since the other days you would be asked to join the band or church group tables.
Something was off, and Eddie feels like it has something to with the downcast image of you walking through Hawkins on Sunday afternoon. Today, he was going to figure it out.
Ever since the man found out his locker was next to yours on the first day of Freshman year, The Dealer became obsessed with you. Not that you noticed him often — Eddie was notorious for skipping class so much that even though you went to your locker between every class, you would only see him once a day during that year of high school. However, he definitely noticed you: your shyness, the way you kept your head down as you roamed the hallways to the next period, and how you had a tendency of jumping a little every time you closed your locker and saw him standing there at his.
The small silver crucifix that was dangling on your neck was the icing on the cake for Eddie. Realizing then, that you were an innocent Angel who went to Bible study and mass every week. While he could only ask God why He put him in such a shitty place with even shittier parents.
Your innocence astounded him — like when people would joke around about how you didn’t know what sex was, all you would do is blush; or how one time a Senior basketball player walked up to your locker and invited you on a date. He was infamous for keeping a list of all the girls he took the virginities of, and you were his next target. The only thing you did though, was thank him and tell him that Bible study was scheduled to be a long one this week so you would rather go to that.
Something possessive leaped out of Eddie that day as he overheard the conversation from behind the metal door. He had to have you, had to know what it was like to roam your mind. He would do anything to make sure you were his.
So he did. Slowly, as the days passed, he would start talking to you more, trying to get you out of your little shell. You were so quiet that sometimes he would need to get close to your figure as you spoke — not that he minded of course. Eddie genuinely did love your innocence and how you didn’t even realize that he was being a flirtatious pervert when he complimented you. That every time he mentioned you were wearing something nice that day, he would go home and picture fucking you in only that piece of clothing or jewelry. His favourite, being the image of you wearing only that tiny silver crucifix you both loved so much.
Then there were the touches you had grown accustomed to. Eddie would invite you to sit with him during lunch — where he would lightly touch your fingers as he went to steal a fry off your tray. Afterwards, he would take his perverted compliments further, by straightening out the fabric of your skirt or shirt collar for you even if it just came from the dry cleaners. The Dealer would do anything to have an excuse to caress your skin for one moment.
You had asked him one day when you had visited his home to watch a movie: “you touch me a lot, why?”
“Do you not like it? Sorry, I just really enjoy—” if he wasn’t already worried about the fact that you were in his trailer for the first time, his heart dropped at the thought that you might hate him for his touch.
“No,” you would never want to make Eddie feel guilty for his actions. Youth group lessons taught you better than that, since it was only right to be accepting of everyone. “What I mean is, I don’t see many other friends do that with each other and I feel bad for them.”
It was his turn to be curious now. “What do you mean?”
“Your touches are nice, Eddie, so soft and sweet. I wish that all people would feel as nice as this with their friends too.” Look at you being charitable with your experiences — when these touches were only meant for you.
“That’s what friends do, they find ways to make their friends feel good.”
“Do you want me to do it for you too?” you reach out to touch his shoulder awkwardly, but you weren’t one to enjoy touching other people yourself.
“Not if you don’t want to. You make me feel good by being there for me when I need it. While I do the same for you, when you need someone to support you,” it’s true; even through all his indecent intentions, Eddie truly found an innocent and friendly warmth within himself for you, besides his love of wanting to be more than friends.
You look at him with sweet eyes to innocently ask the next question. “Then may you please rub my back like you do sometimes? It makes my heartbeat calm down and this movie is scary.”
“Of course, Angel,” it was right then, Eddie realized how much he loved it when you were needy.
“I wish I could have you do this whenever my cousins want to watch horror movies with me. Honestly, my parents don’t even know I’m here. But I just like your tou–”
“Tsk tsk, so naughty. Where do they think you are?”
“Am not,” you exclaimed and Eddie could tell your heart was beating a lot faster than before so he started to rub sweet circles on your back. “Plus, they think I’m watching a movie at a friend’s house, just don’t know who. It’s not a lie. I’m still a good girl.”
“Yes, you are,” he proclaimed deeply, realizing his rebel tendencies have inspired you. While you nearly moaned as your heartbeat stabilized, his touch and his voice made you feel so much better.
When Eddie was home alone that night, he couldn’t stop replaying the small whimpers of yours he memorized. If it was the hormones, or your innocent eagerness to be alone with him and let him touch you — he would never know which one he loved more.
Eddie was a sinner, he knew that, and was able to empower himself with the label. No matter how many times people around Hawkins would rebuke him as the Devil, or how often he would get stares from kids at school as he started to talk to you more: none of it phased him. What he loved most about you was how easily your innocence became obliviousness when it came to his sins – that you would hear about them and refuse to believe he was such a bad person because he was always so nice to you. Eddie couldn’t seem to understand why.
What he did understand though, was that his biggest sin was that every damn day of his life he was on the path of no return when it came to wanting to corrupt your virtue. To make all of his fantasies become a reality as he wanted to slowly make you addicted to him.
Did you figure it out? Is that why you were so awkward with him throughout the day? Why did you beg for his familiar touch in his memories, but pull away today?
Eddie’s mind moved at a million miles a minute, unsure of what was going on. But one thing was for sure: he was going to find out exactly what was hurting you, and he was going to do everything in his power to relieve that pain.
A small tap on the driver door window brought him out of his overstimulated thoughts. “Are you ready to go?” Your voice was muffled by the barrier, but Eddie was able to hear you before nodding.
He chuckled at your tendency to knock everywhere before you entered. Even with the van, you never approached it first unless he was already in it, or opened the door for you — that was mainly because The Dealer wanted to have some semblance of being a gentleman to you, even if he took that opportunity to touch your back to guide you into your seat.
“So the library?” Eddie asked as he watched you put your bag on the floor and straighten your skirt in the seat, not looking him in the eye as you respond.
“Y-yeah, it probably won’t be crowded since it’s a Monday.”
You were wrong, so wrong. It looks like all of the English teachers assigned similar group projects to their classes, since the library was filled to the brim with students from all grades cooped up at tables. You started to get nervous, the library was going to be your saving grace as you worked on this project.
“Should we go to my place?” He asked while tugging on the strap of your backpack lightly to get your attention.
“No,” you exclaimed a little too loudly, shocking Eddie a bit. “We can j-just go to mine instead.”
If you two finished the tasks at his trailer, then you felt as if it was walking into the Devil’s lair — a place where Eddie sinned like your parents said he did. The memories of the times your friend made you feel warm were enough to commit your treacherous acts; goodness knows how you’ll be when you’re in a room where everything is him.
While bringing the Devil reincarnate into your home wasn’t the best idea, your house had your Bible and other religious paraphernalia to protect you from giving into temptation. But, that’s also the place where you committed your unknowing sin, night after night — you thought.
These conflicting thoughts were about to be the death of you, as long as the annoying throbbing between your legs and Eddie’s teasingly sinister voice didn’t get you first.
When professor Sharp asks you to assist him with fetching some more volatile ingredients from the storage cupboard in the dungeons, of course you come to his aid. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like the door will lock behind you and trap you inside, right? Right?
Shout out to my amazing consultant, @tea-withjamandbread <3
header made by yours truly
18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN
The Storeroom Incident (6.2k words)
tw: explicit, vaginal sex, orgasm denial/edging, dubious consent (but not really), teacher-student relationship (reader is an adult), age difference, dirty talk, light swearing, porn with little plot
How did you even end up in this situation? Your front was pressed against a door, you were breathing and blushing heavily, your heart was beating out of your chest. Two large hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as your potions professor’s hot breath scorched the skin of your neck.
It was a day like any other. You woke up and went to breakfast in the Great Hall, idly chatting with some of your housemates about nothing in particular, other than the upcoming exams and everyone’s nerves. You gently rejected Natty and Poppy’s proposal to enjoy the Saturday in Hogsmeade in favour of preparing for the practical exam from NEWT level potions. Your essay was long since written, proofread about a dozen times and even appraised by professor Sharp, whom you asked for criticism.
Speaking of professor Sharp, you gave him a little smile and a ‘good morning, sir’ as you entered his classroom sometime later. He was sitting behind his desk as usual, enjoying a cup of tea and some biscuits. You haven’t seen him in the Great hall, so he either ate earlier than you, or he decided to forego the full English breakfast in favour of sleeping in, and later decided that biscuits were a acceptable breakfast substitute.
Judging by his still quite sleepy eyes, you decided it was the latter.
He murmured something unintelligible in return and waved his wand. Another teacup appeared and the steaming hot earl grey was poured into it. You sat down on the other side of his desk and thanked him, bringing your tea to your lips and blowing on it softly.
“So, miss (L/N),” he drawled in his gruff voice, although there was a certain amount of warmth hidden inside it, “what will you be brewing today?”
Yes, you could have easily used the Room of Requirement for your potion making. You did use it, for potions like Wiggenweld, Maxima, Wideye or Dreamless sleep, however,you preferred to brew the more complicated concoctions in the safety of the classroom, as well as professor Sharp’s company. The man always provided you with useful advice, guiding you towards unlocking your full potential.
“Oh, I think it’s nearly time to finish the Polyjuice potion, sir,” you chirped cheerfully, sipping on your tea and leaning back in the chair before his desk. “I think you may be right,” agreed the professor, “remember, Miss (L/N), the entirety of that potion stays here. I don’t want you running around the castle impersonating your classmates, or, Salazar forbid, your professors.”
You give him your most innocent smile, batting your eyelashes.
“I would never, sir.”
That was a lie. One of the best Christmas presents you’ve ever received was the chance to impersonate Headmaster Black in your fifth year. Yes, you did so in order to get a password for his office, where Niamh Fitzgerald’s Keeper trial was waiting for you, but you had to admit to yourself that it was pure, unadulterated fun. Very much unlike the following trial, which still sometimes made you wake up in cold sweat.
Though Sharp probably knew you were lying through your teeth, he decided not to comment on it, giving you an unimpressed sarcastic expression instead before placing another biscuit into his mouth. You copied him, a little smile still present on your face.
The potions professor, you found, had a bit of sweet tooth. Sometimes when you’d come over, you’d make a stop in the kitchens first and sweet talk some baked goodies out of the house elves there. Well, sweet talk… the little fellows pretty much pushed them into your hands the moment you stepped in! You only ever took enough for the two of you to share. It always improved the grumpy man’s mood slightly.
“Before you go get your cauldron from my office, there is something I could use your help with,” professor Sharp said as he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, brushing away the few little crumbs that stuck to his lips and beard. His pink tongue appeared and he licked at his lips. You couldn’t help but follow the muscle’s movement with fascination. “Of course, sir, how may I aid you?” you said innocently.
“There are a few ingredients in the storeroom that I’ll need for later. They are a little volatile, which is why I can’t just summon them, and as useful as Hogwarts’ house elves are, I’d still feel more comfortable to fetch them myself. And as I don’t want to have to make two separate trips there, your assistance would be greatly appreciated.”
You finished your tea, the hot drink making your body warm up. Or was your teacher’s dulcet tones? Nevertheless, you smiled at him again: “Certainly, professor Sharp. I am entirely at your disposal.”
“Good,” he replied curtly and stood up from his chair, “let us be on our way then.”
You made your way down towards the storeroom in comfortable silence, descending further into the dungeons. The air was cool and damp down there, a big contrast to the outside of the castle’s walls, where summer was quickly approaching, bringing the sun and its warmth. Professor Sharp used a key to unlock the door to the storage closet, no doubt enchanted to be nearly or entirely resistant to the unlocking charm.
You stepped into the room together, the space so tight your shoulder was touching his upper arm as you stood next to each other there. “So,” you began, your voice a little quiet as you found yourself slightly tense to be so close to the former Auror, “what are we looking for, sir?” Professor Sharp cast a non-verbal Lumos and started skimming his eyes over the shelves to the left and the various jars and bottles they held.
Suddenly, the door closed shut with a bang, startling you both. Professor Sharp’s surprise forced him to drop the charm and you were suddenly plunged into total darkness. “A draft of wind?” you chuckled awkwardly, embarrassed at the high pitched yelp that escaped your lips. You could almost hear Sharp roll his eyes: “A draft of wind, Miss (L/N)... In the dungeons where there are no windows… With all due respect, Miss, that seems highly unlikely.” You went red under his remark. He was, of course, right.
With a sigh, the potions master reached for the door, making you blush even further, as his body brushed against yours in the process. He gripped the handle and… nothing. You expected him to open the door and let some of the dim light of the corridor inside the tiny room as well, but you both remained in total darkness. You felt his confused little sound before you heard it, as his strong chest pressed against your own. He gripped the handle again and this time you heard him repeatedly pushing and pulling at the door.
It didn't budge.
“It sounds like the door’s just… locked,” you say curiously. Professor Sharp is quiet, it feels as if he nearly doesn’t breathe, and it suddenly occurs to you as to why. Uh oh. The door is locked, and the key is inside the lock on the other side. Therefore, judging by your professor’s silent state, this door really cannot be opened with the unlocking charm. The two of you were stuck.
“Lumos,” you say and the tip of your wand flares up with a bright light. Your professor is still standing very close, looking at the door morosely. “Um, sir…” you nearly whisper, “we couldn’t… blast the door out?” The tall teacher turns to look at you, a dark amused expression in his brown eyes. “By all means, Miss (L/N), be my guest. That is if you’d like the two of us to die - the door is reinforced by enchantments, and I’m fairly certain there’s some highly explosive powdered Erumptent’s horn somewhere in here.”
You huffed. Sometimes he was really driving you mad with his snarky comments. “Then what do we do, professor Sharp? Just wait here until someone passes by and unlocks the door for us? It’s Saturday, sir, nobody’s going to come through here until Tuesday when the Fourth years have Alchemy class.” You may have sounded a little desperate… If only one could apparate in Hogwarts! You understood why the no apparition rule was set, but why on Earth couldn’t teachers be excepted from it? Were you really going to spend three entire days stuck with the potions master? What would you eat? Where would you sleep?
Oh… Oh, no… How would you use the bathroom?
Professor Sharp seemed completely calm where he stood in front of you, if not a little bored. “Why don’t you try and call out, Miss (L/N)? Bang on the door? You never know, maybe someone’s wandering through the corridors, lost or looking for mischief… Or perhaps a friendly ghost will hear and glide for someone to aid us.”
You put the light out on your wand and pushed it into your robes, so that you could use both of your hands pounding on the door. And pound you did. “Hello! Hellooo-?! Can anyone hear me?! We’re stuck in here! Hello?! Anyone?!”
Your shouting and beating on the door caused you to not hear the movement behind you. So when you were suddenly pushed against the cold wood, there was nothing you could do but gasp and yelp in surprise. Professor Sharp’s large, powerful body pressed into your own from behind, his hands on your hips and his lips inches away from your ear. His breath was scorching hot when he spoke: “See, my dear. Nobody will be able to hear you. You poor little thing…” he said darkly then, and you felt something hard push against the curve of your bottom, “Stuck with me out of all people… I am going to ruin you for everyone else.”
And with that, his mouth attached itself to your neck, making you shudder with both fear, but also a strange surge of arousal. In any case, you weren’t able to do anything about it, as you were perfectly sandwiched between the door and Sharp’s body, your wand absolutely out of your reach when your front was squished against the wood like this. Sharp growled into your ear and bucked his hips against your behind.
You were helpless… Completely at his mercy.
He began nibbling down your earlobe, his teeth sinking into a little spot between your ear and your neck, and you suddenly moaned, the sound torn out of you unexpectedly. Your body felt way too heated, and the air around you terribly heavy. “P-professor…” you gasped when he rutted against your bottocks again, his large build making you feel like you were going to be crushed. You cried out softly when a calloused hand slipped under your skirt and trailed between your legs, making you instinctively close them and trapping the curious hand there in the process. You shuddered: “Sir…”
“Such a sweet girl you are, Miss (L/N), so very innocent…” said professor Sharp, his voice a hoarse whisper. Two long fingers pressed against your folds roughly and you suddenly realised just how damp your underwear felt. “Do you even know what your body wants? What is it aching for?” The fingers searched blindly along your soaked drawers, looking for a way to get under them, touching your most intimate areas and making you writhe as well as you could in his iron hold. You were filled with so many sensations, the burning pleasure, the confusion, the slight twinge of fear at professor Sharp’s sudden shift in personality, but also a sense of wild heady want.
One strong arm curled around your abdomen, keeping you in place between Sharp and the door, while his hips started rhythmically rubbing against your behind, the feeling of his hot hardness making your cheeks burn even more, and when his gruff voice began grunting right into your ear, you could barely stand it anymore. You tried to move again, unsure whether you wanted to move away from him, or further into him. The arm around your stomach gripped you harder immediately, and you were promptly reminded which one of you was stronger.
The long digits of his hand finally found their way into your underwear, and you whimpered when they made contact with your soaked core. This was wrong. He shouldn’t be touching you like this. And you definitely shouldn’t be putty in his hands, moaning for more, your legs quivering. Your back tried to arch in vain when he pressed against your clit with his thumb.
“That’s right…” he said, his voice low and dangerous “yield to your master, my little lamb.”
Silence.
And then.
You let out a little breathless chuckle. And then another, And then a few more until you’re laughing fully.
“A lamb?! Really, Aesop?” you ask through your laughter, leaning your head against his shoulder behind you. He’s slightly shaking with his own giggles: “I’m sorry, dear, that was so bad.” You laugh together, your position getting slightly awkward, as he’s still squeezing you tightly with one of his arms while his free hand’s just sort of resting against your core inside your underwear. You make a move to turn around and he releases his hold immediately.
“Lumos,” you say once more that day and the soft white light illuminates the small room. You put your wand on one of the empty shelves. “Oh, Merlin’s beard,” you chuckle again, running your hand through your hair, your cheeks still blushed heavily, “As much as I enjoyed this little play of ours, I don’t think I can take it seriously now, not when I’m being called barn animals.”
“Alright, first of all, it was a barn animal, singular, and second of all, I mean… It’s not the worst barn animal one can be called, lambs are cute.” was Aesop’s facetious answer, as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist, much gentler now. “Meh, true enough,” you relented, letting yourself be pulled into his embrace.
“Thanks for not calling me a cow, by the way.”
“Oh, come off it, you!”
You kissed his lips slowly, teasingly. “Is there actually a powdered erumpent horn in here? Should I be worried?” you asked then. “There is, but it’s fairly safe without the explosive fluid. Still, best not to take down any shelves while we’re at it” Another long, passionate kiss.
“Speaking of which, do you want to continue, or shall we retire to my chambers?” The potions master offered after a while, and you could feel that his throbbing need had not subsided in the slightest. Neither has yours. “No more barn animals,” you said cheekily then, pointing your finger at him and admiring his features in the soft light of your wand on one of the shelves. His eyes, darker than two bottomless pits, twinkled momentarily as he lifted his hands in surrender: “No more barn animals, promise.”
After another heated kiss, during which his fingers kneaded the flesh of your behind, one of your hands moved to his front to return his previous teasing, easily slipping into his trousers and underwear and finding the hot stiffness there. Your first sexual adventure was still fairly fresh in both of your memories, but you already knew how he liked being touched, you knew what made him groan, what made him throw his head back. He knew the same about you, and he promptly proved such, when his hand disappeared into your drawers again to resume fondling your cunny.
You played with each other for a little, sharing open mouthed kisses and a single breath. “How would you like me then?” you asked before a whimper was forced out of your mouth by a particularly delicious twist of his fingers. He responded by giving you a wolfish grin, and you suddenly found yourself one pair of drawers poorer, as the sound of ripping fabric tore through the otherwise silent room. “Oi!” you protested, “those were perfectly fine underwear!” “I’ll get you a new pair,” replied Aesop dismissively, shoving the ruined piece of garment into his trousers pocket. His smug little smile was so handsome, yet so infuriating, it made you want to kiss it off his blasted face. So you did.
The potions master hummed against your lips, his hands coming to squeeze and fondle your now bare backside, massaging the cheeks in his large palms for a little while, before dropping them lower, to the back of your thighs.
Your feet suddenly leave the ground, and your surprised sound forces your mouths to part, as you scramble to grab onto both of his shoulders, and wrap your legs around his slim hips in an instinctive effort to not fall. He chuckles slowly. His teeth are illuminated by the glow of your wand, making him appear slightly predatory, and forcing a shiver roll down your spine. Once again, you are sandwiched between the door and his body, except this time you’re facing him.
Using the door and his body for leverage, Aesop lets go off one of your legs in order to hurriedly tug his straining trousers and underwear down, finally revealing the throbbing erection he sported since the moment he originally pinned you to the door. Maybe even before that. You feel your lover push your skirt up as much as he can, his engorged tip teasing at your soaked folds. He gives you one more heated look, and his voice is clouded with lust when he speaks: “Alright?”
Despite being quite fond of the occasional rough play and wild passionate coupling, one thing about Aesop was that he always made sure you wanted it too. And how could you not?
“Alright, love.”
And with that, Aesop gave you one last smile before positioning himself. He let gravity help him, loosening his hold on you just enough to make you sink on his throbbing prick fully. You gasped at the intrusion, your back arching against the door. Even after quite a few fun escapades together, your lover was still a lot to take in, not to mention a force to be reckoned with. He licked hotly into your mouth while your body adjusted to his considerable size. The searing arousal combined with the thrum of anticipation, as well as the blissful feeling of intimity, made you feel lightheaded. The potions master was breathing hard, being enveloped in your tight heat making him tether on the edge of sweet madness.
Aesop pulled out then ever so slightly, before plunging back in immediately, the movement making both of you shudder and groan into your still loosely connected mouths. He set a slow rhythm at first, savouring the delicious friction, your walls stretching around him, squeezing him. Both of his hands moved to your bottom, fingertips digging into the plush flesh as his mouth left yours in order to attach itself to the tender skin of your neck instead. The sensation of his rough, prickly stubble only served to heighten your desire, and a trembled moan poured out your lips.
“Good heavens, lass, the things you do to me…” he slurred between thrusts, voice cracking with pleasure, “making me feel- ah! like a bloody teenager. Making me- hngh… crave to be inside you with a single look.” His current libido was most likely only a bit bigger than that of any other man who was in a fairly new intimate relationship, however, after years of dry spell, Aesop genuinely felt like his yearning suddenly went from below zero to red-hot. You weren’t exactly making it any easier for him - you weren’t a stranger to the act of bringing pleasure to oneself before, however, that first ardent, lust-filled night has awakened what felt like a sexual renaissance within you. It made you long for him as much as he longed for you, and the two of you always connected in a searing inferno of mutual desire and the sweet surrender to it.
Your fingers knotted into his hair, pulling at the locks near his nape perfectly, while simultaneously sinking your teeth into the edge of his jaw, right under his ear. You knew this particular combination of sensations drove him wild. His hips stuttered mid-thrust and his hands squeezed you harder, a low growl reverberating around the tight space. The snapping of his hips increased in speed and his large manhood throbbed within you, his heightening need evident. You moved against each other with increasing desperation, your previous activity having left you feeling the first faint hints of an upcoming climax, which were becoming more and more pronounced under Aesop’s relentless pounding into your willing body.
One of the potions master’s hands dipped down between the tight fit of your bodies and he began rubbing harshly at your lovenub in time with his thrusting. The double stimulation, his hot ragged breath on your even hotter skin, the wonderful ache of your current position, and his groans turned short moans made the knot in your core grow tighter and tighter. You were rushing straight towards that peak, tugging at your lover’s hair and pushing his face closer to your neck, your eyes closed and mouth opened in a consistent stream of wanton sounds. However, before you could reach it and jump straight off to claim your release, all of the wonderful sensations suddenly stopped.
You were left trembling and breathing hard, imprisoned between the door and your beloved, your sex aching and screaming at you. You couldn't move, couldn't buck your hips, couldn't arch your back, couldn't do anything to bring that sweet friction back - Aesop was holding you too tight. Your upcoming climax got fainter and fainter until it became nothing but a blurry vision. You threw your head back against the door, as it was the only thing you could move, ignoring the pain and the banging sound your movement caused, too busy letting out a very unhappy whine.
“Why?!” your voice was high and desperate, unwanted tears of frustration gathering behind your screwed shut eyelids. So close, you were so close! Why would he stop? You were suddenly angry with him for ripping your orgasm away from you and you took a breath to give him a mouthful, when a pair of hot lips pressed against your own.
Aesop's hold lessened and you regained some of your freedom to move. He started a slow rhythm once more, and your anger slowly dissipated. The pleasure began coming back, but it felt different. More intense. It felt like it was rippling under your very skin, as if every single nerve ending was connected to your core by an invisible string. Aesop’s hands, his mouth left a scorching heat in their wake, one that spread throughout your flesh a sweetly invaded and imprisoned your mind, taking away from you all of your higher mental functions.
The climax came back into view, even though Aesop was moving considerably slower than before, and the fingers on your clit retreated. With every single second, every deep thrust, your abdomen tightened, body preparing itself for its unravelling, and when both of his hands grabbed your hips again, his own speeding up, you felt about ready to beg. And so you did.
"A-Aesop, p-please… Please don't stop now! Please," you were long past any actual coherent speech, tears were still running out of your eyes and your body ached and tensed for release, feeling like it might burn to a crisp if it's denied again.
It wouldn't be.
With a dark chuckle that turned into a groan, Aesop continued his deep thrusts, angling you slightly to find that very special spot inside you. He was successful in his endeavour merely a few seconds later, and if you weren’t currently in the midst of releasing a frankly pathetic wanton sound, with your nails clawing at his back, you would’ve surely made a remark that bringing you pleasure was his greatest talent.
He pulled away slightly to watch where his thick cock kept pistoning in and out of you. “Dear Merlin,” he growled between his harsh breaths, his voice an octave lower, “look at you. Taking me so bloody well.” He leaned back in, releasing shuddering puffs of air against your now perpetually open lips. “You are mine… No one else’s. Say it.” He was close. Aesop quite often doubted himself and his deserving of you, however, when he was close to his peak, he got deliciously possessive. He got selfish. Nobody else was going to have you, nobody else was going to be allowed to do to you the things he did, nobody else was going to make you feel this good.
“Y-yours,” you whimpered out, your answer the same as it always was. Your head dropped to his shoulder, and your thighs were beginning to quiver around his pumping hips. However, the potions master wouldn’t quite allow you to hide your face from his sight like this. One hand came to grab it and pull it right back with gentleness that contrasted the roughness of his voice. The knot in your stomach was growing heavier with every snap of his hips, it was glowing brighter, becoming red-hot. Your eyes fluttered as you were forced to look at him. His own eyes were bottomless dark pits of molten lava, and you craved to fall into them and burn. You could see his pleasure, his love, his utter devotion, even as his voice came out a strained growl: “Say it again.”
Time stopped. There was nothing but him. No Hogwarts, no blasted ingredient cupboard, nothing but him loving you, and bringing you to your edge. It was over, you felt yourself tipping over and plummeting down. “I am yours, Aesop,” spoke a voice you barely recognised as your own, before a loud cry forced its way out of your throat and two more tears fell from your eyes.
You felt yourself being ripped out from your body by some unseen force, only to return a fraction of a second later to a gratification so overwhelming, it was nearly too much. The orgasm he denied you earlier came back, and it shook you to your very core. Your head trashed against the door, your legs were shaking violently, and your walls were clenching and unclenching around his prick tightly, the proof of your pleasure squirting out and staining his trousers.
It was like a hurricane rolled through you, and you weren’t exactly aware of the sounds you were releasing, nor the sight you were making. However, Aesop absolutely was. And it forced him to grab your hips harshly and increase the speed of his rutting: “Oh, fuck…f-fuck, sweetheart…” When Aesop Sharp began cursing, he was either extremely mad, or mere seconds away from an earth-shattering orgasm.
His cock pulsed heavily, getting even stiffer as he repeatedly rammed it into your trembling body, precum leaking out in a constant drizzle by now, before finally - Aesop’s strong hand closed around your silky locks, and he tugged. You moaned at the sensation, still lost in the throes of your own explosive climax. The professor pressed his forehead against yours, his wavering gaze desperately locking onto your own, and his choked out moan falling against your lips. His hips stuttered as he emptied himself within you.
You were vaguely aware of the hotness that spread inside of you as your lover reached his peak, still very much out of it from your own thunderous release. You did take notice, however, that the professor’s body began trembling slightly. His orgasm left him slightly weak, therefore holding you pinned against the door was quite the effort. He used the last of his strength to lift you off the door, turn so that his own back was leaning against it, and slowly sank down onto his bottom with you in his arms.
Aesop let his head rest against the cool wood, his ragged breaths mingling with your own in the tight space, his tired arms having released their vice grip on you and closed around your waist loosely instead. Your brain has been masterfully turned off, unable to comprehend any concept more difficult than 'pleasure', 'gratification', 'love' and 'exhaustion'. You reposed in the storeroom quietly, basking in the heavenly afterglow of your shared ardour.
You stirred slowly, fatigue making your eyes strangely heavy, while your limbs positively felt like they were made of lead. It was quite curious - not you feeling a little tired after a lovely culmination of your lovemaking, but the fact that this was no ‘little tiredness’. You felt about ready to ignore absolutely everything in favour of just closing your eyes and dozing off. Then again, your release today has been a particularly thunderous one…
“What the devil did you do to me…” you slurred against the heated skin of his neck, fighting to keep yourself awake. Aesop, still coming down from his high as well, took a few moments to answer. “Oh… that. Sorry, I should have warned you beforehand. I did mean to tell you, but then… you know. With the lamb…” Despite your tiredness, a chuckle broke out from your lips, one Aesop soon joined into. “I really am sorry, though… Are you alright?” You thought for a while. While you really could’ve used the heads up, you supposed the result was quite worth it, even if it meant your energy levels had dropped to almost zero. “Hmm…” you sighed, snuggling further into his neck: “I’m great… Though, I might just fall asleep on you.”
Your lover chuckled once more. “As much as I’d like to let you, I’m afraid that you wouldn’t be able to get me back onto my feet afterwards. I’m not twenty anymore, napping on the floor has severe consequences.” It was your turn to laugh. You sluggishly moved your hands to his shoulders and braced against them as you got up, releasing a tiny groan as you found yourself empty, your combined releases running out. Still, you extended a hand towards Aesop and aided in pulling him up and to his feet.
With a flick of his wand then, you were both squeaky clean of all bodily fluids, the door clicked unlocked and the silencing charm was dropped. He languidly tucked himself back into his pants with a content expression, slightly leaning back against the door. “You owe me a pair of drawers,” you reminded him.
“I’ll happily buy you a hundred of them, as long as I get to watch you try them on.”
“You utter beast, Aesop!”
You stuck your head out of the door after making yourself a bit more presentable, and, unsurprisingly, found that the corridor was completely empty. It was a Saturday after all, the majority of third years and up were in Hogsmeade, many students were enjoying the sunny day on the banks of the Black Lake, and some were simply in their common rooms or out on the school grounds. First and second years had no business around here, unless they were looking for trouble or very very lost.
You made your way to the nearest floo flames, Aesop’s hand holding your own cautiously, ready to let go immediately in case anyone popped out from behind the corner unexpectedly. However, it seemed the Faculty tower was similarly deserted, and the two of you walked hand in hand all the way to his chambers, sharing quiet banter, your yawns interrupting the conversation every few moments. Sweet Merlin, you really were beat…
The door of Aesop’s chambers closed heavily behind you, locking itself promptly, and you leaned back against it, happy to finally be in the comfort of Aesop’s rooms, with nobody else but the man himself.
“One would've thought you’d have enough doors against your back for one day,” Aesop teased quietly. You didn’t even bother answering his remark, or opening your eyes for that matter. There was nothing but silence coming from the potions master for a while, but then a very gentle pair of lips brushed against your own. Despite your fatigue, your mouth stretched into a little smile, and you returned the kiss, your arms trailing up to wrap around his shoulders on their own accord.
After a series of little kisses and pecks, you felt Aesop shift, and suddenly one of his hands was placed at the back of your lower thigh, the other curled around your side. You opened your eyes just as your beloved lifted you into his arms, and, with utmost care like you were something incredibly precious, carried you over to his bedroom. You stifled another deep yawn against his throat, prompting Aesop to chuckle softly. “Aren’t I usually the one who wants to rest afterwards?” he quipped again. His face took on an expression of mild worry when his little jab went unanswered once more.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked once he gently placed you upon his bed, your head and body immediately nestling into the soft, clean sheets. He sat on the bed’s edge beside you, his hand placed on your hip. “Hmm, alright…” you mumbled, looking at him through your lashes, “Please tell me I actually did finish that polyjuice two days ago… I don't think I'd be able to brew even a Wit-sharpening potion right now.”
This made him grin impishly: “You can’t seriously think I’d leave such a potion unattended after it’s finished stewing, can you?”
“Oh, and here I thought I made you stop thinking altogether.”
You look at each other fondly for several seconds.
“Really, though, are you-” “Yes, Aesop, I promise I’m alright, just get in here, you beast!” You laughed out loud and pulled at his hand until he was forced to climb into the bed behind you. You immediately nuzzled into his arms, relishing in their warmth and comfort. Aesop hasn’t stopped grinning. “So… I know ‘lamb’ and other barn animals are a no-go, however, you definitely cuddle into and purr against me like a kitten." You groaned lightly, no actual annoyance in your voice.
“Hmm… ’Kitten’ I am pretty alright with,” you said eventually, opening your eyes to look up at him in good humour. “Is that what we’re doing now, by the way? Animals? Because if so, you are absolutely a big bad wolf. Always trying to eat me right up…”
“Eat you up, you say?” is all Aesop said with a positively wicked grin, before descending down on you, his teeth immediately going for your neck, pinching the skin there and scratching it with his beard. You squealed softly at the feeling, hands going into his hair, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him off. He eventually pulled away himself and settled on the bed once more, pressing himself to you. “I’ll stick to the more human terms of endearment, I think. Nothing wrong with ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’,” he said quietly then. You smiled against the material of his shirt: “Hmm… I love it when you call me that, Ace.”
Aesop froze momentarily. Ace. It was Ashley’s, his Auror partner and oldest friend’s nickname for him. Nobody has called him that in more than a decade, by his own wish. The last time he heard it was in that godforsaken harbour.
“Alright, Ace. Lead the way.”
The potions master swallowed audibly. It’s been so long. He blinked his eyes rapidly and suppressed a shaky breath. The strangest thing was - while his heart panged at the memory of his late partner, the nickname that fell from your lips caused it to speed up and flutter.
When you said that one simple short word, it felt like a wave of warmth rolled through him. And while he was reminded of the past, what he felt most of all was… a strange sense of elation. The word rolled from your tongue so naturally, as if it’s always been there, as if you never called him anything else.
And he wanted to hear it again.
“Aesop? Love, are you alright, have I said something wrong?” The professor realised you had been looking at him with equal parts worry and confusion. “No, no…” he breathed out and his mouth stretched into a little smile.
“Not good? The nickname? I just thought, you know… Aesop - Ace. Sorry, I guess it’s a little silly.”
“It’s not. You’re not the first person to call me that, but I couldn’t stand the nickname for the past 12 years. You though… You can call me that, if you want to… I'd like you to.” Aesop said quietly, his large hands drawing little circles against your back where he held you. You looked deep into his eyes, before taking his face in your palms.
“Are you sure, Ace?”
His breath hitched again, but he couldn't deny the pleasurable shudder that overtook him when he heard the word in your tender voice once more. He closed his arms tighter around your form, pulling you against his chest. You curled up into your lover once more, nosing at his throat and caressing him wherever you were able to reach.
“Will you tell me someday?”
“I will. One day, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”
Hiya! I hope you enjoyed reading. You can also find this story as well as all of my other stories on AO3. I love feedback <3
Eddie sighed as Steve cuddled closer. One arm wrapped around Steve’s waist, while the other hand made its way to his hair. Lightly scratching against his scalp. Steve’s face was buried into Eddie’s neck, while his hand traced patterns into scarred skin. Their legs tangled together under the blankets.
This was not how Eddie pictured his night going. He thought that he would oggle Steve’s thighs in those short swim trunks from a safe distance, get picked on by Gareth for his crush, drink a bit too much to drive home, and then pass out in one of the Harrington guest rooms. And while all those things did happen, he didn’t think he’d wake up to Steve in the throws of a night terror. Pleading with him to stay once he managed to snap him out of it.
“Stay.” Steve’s voice sounded raw. “Please stay. Don’t leave me.” And how was Eddie supposed to say no? Steve is seated on the floor in nothing but shorts and Eddie’s battle vest. Hand gripping Eddie’s wallet chain. Staring up at him like Eddie held the Sun in the sky. Like he was the only person who could chase away the monsters that haunted him in the night.
“I’m not going anywhere Steve.” He promised, as he pulled the younger man to bed.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel bad about this. Fuck this isn’t how their first time should have happened. Their first anything for that matter. Steve was clearly in an emotional place. He hadn’t said what this nightmare involved, but it must have been pretty fucking bad. Eddie wasn’t sure Steve even knew where he was when he woke up. And he was starting to feel like he’d taken advantage of the situation. Even though Steve had begged him through tears to make him forget.
It should have ended with Eddie putting Steve to bed. Just staying in the room until the sun came up. He didn’t expect Steve to kiss him once they laid down. Desperate and panicked. Like the only thing that would hold him together was Eddie’s arms wrapped around him. Hands moving down his back, under his shirt. Lips moving so harshly they would surely be kiss bruised soon. It should have ended there. Eddie shouldn’t have let it get any farther. But he can’t tell Steve no. Not to something this serious.
“Steve we shouldn’t-” Eddie was cut off as Steve pulled him in, crashing their lips together again. Hands finding their way under his shirt. This was getting heated. Headed in a direction that they shouldn’t be going, at least not right now. He had to pull away before they went too far and regretted it. “Steve please. Listen to me!” He pushed Steve back gently, hands still holding his biceps. “You’re upset and not thinking clearly-”
“I need you to make me forget.” There was something in Steve’s eyes he couldn’t read. Between the fear and pain, there was something else. “Eddie please. I need you.” His voice broke at the end. Tears finally starting to fall. And God did Eddie want to do everything in his power to stop Steve’s suffering.
“Fuck Sweetheart.” He breathed, pulling Steve back in. “Whatever you need. It’s yours.”
Now Eddie was laying here in the aftermath. Completely unsure of how to feel and process everything that had happened. Because yes, Eddie wanted Steve. He wanted to kiss, and hold and take Steve apart and put him back together till the only words they could utter were each other's names. But he also wanted more than that. He wanted all of Steve. Even the little pieces that were hidden from the world. The parts that only a select few were deemed safe enough to be trusted with. Parts that had started being handed to him, shyly, over the last few months. And he wanted to give pieces of himself to Steve too. Maybe he already started, trusting Steve with secrets that could break him. Had broken him before.
He didn’t want whatever this was between them to fall apart before they even got started.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Eddie whispered, breaking the silent bubble around them. Steve’s hand flinched, halting his movements briefly, before continuing to trace gnarled skin. “I’m worried. I’ve never seen you that bad. And I wanna be here for you, in any way that I can. But to do that you have to let me in.” He could feel Steve’s shaky breathing on his neck. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, but at some point we will.”
“I know.” Steve mumbled, lips moving to press against the twisted patterns on his throat. His hands slipped under Eddie’s body. Arms wrapping around the older man, pulling him closer until he was almost on top of Eddie. “It’s just… It was a lot. And the dreams have been getting worse over the last few months. I don’t know how much longer I can keep watching everyone die before I completely lose my mind.” Steve’s face was still pressed into his neck hiding, however the broken tone of his voice gave him away. “It’s supposed to be over. But it feels like everytime I close my eyes I’m back in the middle of it.” Eddie tightened his arm around Steve’s waist. If he could meld their bodies into one he would. Take some of the burden. “God I sound so pathetic. What the fuck is wrong with me?” Eddie felt something cold and wet on his neck before he heard Steve swallow hard. That was enough to kick his brain into gear.
“You’re not pathetic and there’s nothing wrong with you.” His voice was steady, even though he felt his fingers shaking as they brushed through Steve’s hair. “You sound like someone who’s been dealing with this for years. You’re traumatized. Hell, we’re all pretty fucked up at this point. We all have nightmares and feel like we’re losing our minds.” His hand slipped from Steve’s hair to the back of his neck. Gently kneading the tense muscles. His other hand stroking the rough skin on Steve’s side. “You’re allowed to not be okay after all of this. You’re allowed to need help Steve. And most importantly, you’re allowed to ask for that help. Anytime you need me. I want to be here for you.”
They laid there for a while in silence. Steve still quietly crying. Eddie still massaging Steve’s neck and sides. Every once in a while kissing the side of Steve’s head. A reminder that he was here and that he wasn’t leaving. It seemed like hours before either of them spoke.
“You called me Sweetheart before.” It was softly spoken and caught Eddie off guard. “You said it a few times actually.” His brain was going into overdrive. He hadn’t meant to let the pet name slip. “I um… I liked it. A lot.” Oh. That was something unexpected.
“Would you like me to keep calling you that?”
“If you don’t mind. It was ah… nice. Really nice.” Steve readjusted himself slightly. Head on Eddie’s shoulder, using him as a pillow. Arms still wrapped around his body. “Can we just stay like this tonight?” It occurred to Eddie what this was. Steve was slowly letting himself be taken care of. He was trusting Eddie. A warmth filled his body as he wrapped his arms tighter.
“I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else Sweetheart.”
