50% green juice and yoga 50% beer and marlboro red

Bani. LG(B)TQIA+. 29 yo. she/her.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 | laszlo kreizler x reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 | being a traditional, well-behaved woman, you saved yourself for marriage. but the things your new husband has planned for you are... less than traditional, and might just show how poorly behaved you can be.

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | over 9k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | SMUT (18+ only!!), virginity loss, age gap (unspecific; laszlo is in his 40s, reader is probably 20-25), multiple orgasms/overstimulation, fingering, oral f receiving, squirting, shy/innocent reader, religious reader (but nothing tooo shame-y or anything), some innocence kink, a hint of medical kink?, slightly pervy laszlo?!?! (moreso he's just a wee bit of a weirdo and says some cringe stuff but like. that's just his vibe sorry)

Laszlo was such an impossible paradox of a man.  Especially compared to the sort of man you always thought you’d marry— what you’d been raised for, even.

An accomplished doctor, a successful and wealthy man of high social standing— a kind, sensitive, intelligent, and patient partner who made you feel beautiful and special and, for lack of a better word, fancy.  That part was exactly as you’d always imagined for yourself, though you had never really believed you could find someone so wonderful.

And then there was the other half of him, the pieces that even in your wildest dreams you would’ve never thought would make up your future husband.  First of all, he was quite a bit older than you.  Even your parents, who had always preferred for you to marry someone already established (as they put it) rather than your own age, were a little concerned that he was in his mid-forties, and only a year younger than your father.  Of course, that was nothing compared to their offense at his profession, and the subsequent open-mindedness he had towards people your parents would rather pretend didn’t exist.  Then again, Laszlo himself having his disability made him the sort of person they would rather pretend didn’t exist, though he’d managed to hide it relatively well.

Maybe they could’ve forgiven any of that.  It was the atheism that put the final nail in the coffin, unfortunately… and someone as brash and unapologetic as Laszlo had no interest in hiding his beliefs to appease your parents.  He hadn’t brought it up, of course, or protested to the crucifixes and cross-stitched scriptures on the walls; but when they’d asked if he was Catholic or Protestant, he told them directly that he was a man of science and didn’t entertain any metaphysical notions or, as he’d so thoughtfully put it, fantasies.

They instantly forbade the courtship and warned you never to see him again.  And maybe that was when he surprised you most— he was so romantic, so… dashing.  He took a carriage to your home and literally threw pebbles at your window, daring you to climb down the lattice and join him for a midnight adventure.  It was then he suggested that you marry him anyways— he had more than enough to take care of you after a disownment from your parents.  He promised to give you anything you wanted, to treat you perfectly, to spend every day trying to keep you as happy as you made him without even trying.

There it was again, the contradictory enigma of Laszlo Kreizler.  A serious, even stern man, proposing to you like a lovestruck teenager.  He had eschewed fantasies a few evenings ago only to turn around and ask you to jump headfirst into a fairytale.

You said yes, though.  You really didn’t think twice about it— you knew he would be good to you.  And you knew you’d never loved someone like you’d loved him before.

You wanted to run away right then and there, but he told you to go home for a few more days, to gather your things— he would send for them while your parents were out, and you could move in with him as soon as you were ready.

When you did move in, though, he seemed a little surprised that you asked for your things to be moved to a spare bedroom.

“Is everything alright?” he asked you softly, stepping closer to you as you crossed your arms over yourself nervously; you waited until you were sure Cyrus was out of earshot, carrying your bags away, before you answered.

“Yes,” you replied quietly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s understandable if you’re feeling conflicted now,” Laszlo assured.  “Having just left your parents, and not knowing if you’ll see them again—”

“It’s not that,” you promised.  “Well— of course, I feel something about that, but I’m happy to be here with you.  That’s not my issue at all.”

“Then what is?” he pressed.  “I hope you feel that you can tell me.”

You sighed as he reached up to brush your cheek; his touch always soothed you, though it felt a bit different here, in his home.  Your new home.  “I just… wouldn’t feel right about being in your room, until we’re married.”

He nodded.  “Of course.  I shouldn’t have presumed.”

You smiled a little, though it was more out of nervousness than anything.  “I… I wondered if you thought my parents were the only reason that we never— that nothing had—”

“Shh,” he soothed, pushing your hair back from your face until you looked up at him.  “I don’t expect anything from you now.  Well, only that you do whatever you like to make yourself feel at home here.”

“And what… what will you expect from me once I am your wife, Dr. Kreizler?” 

Though you were a little afraid to, you met his gaze; his brown eyes seemed deeper than ever, and you were powerless to look away from them.  “What do you think is right to give me, when you are my wife?”

You sighed a little, feeling his hand on your cheek move carefully down to your neck, his gentle fingers brushing along the smallest part of your collarbone exposed by your dress.  Words escaped you; you wanted him to know that just because you wanted to wait for him didn’t mean you didn’t want him.  Even before, even when you first met him, your mind had supplied you with thoughts that sent you straight to the confession booth.

You wanted to be one with him in every way you could think of… you just needed some to come before others, to feel right with your own beliefs.  Even if you loved an atheist, and felt surprisingly little guilt for it, you were still religious yourself and wanted to honor God’s intention for marriage.  

Didn’t mean you couldn’t yearn for your soon-to-be husband, right?  It certainly didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the full benefits of physical intimacy when the time came.

But obviously, you were far from brave enough to say all that.  Instead, you found your hands wandering to his chest, following the pattern of his suit coat up to his shoulders, biting your lip without even realizing it.  He simply continued to watch you, and you got the feeling that he understood you better than you could explain it yourself.  One of the bonuses of being loved by an expert on the human mind, perhaps.

You were almost in a trance, not noticing how long you were spending just gently touching and holding him in this simple way— until you looked up and met his gaze again, and felt a little weak.  “Can we marry soon?” you asked softly, almost under your breath.  You hoped he wouldn’t tease you, you weren’t secure enough for him to mock your obvious eagerness, to call attention to your desire for him.  Thankfully, he stayed perfectly serious, because he was just as affected as you were.

“As soon as you like,” he replied earnestly.

It was probably for the best that Cyrus walked in to the parlor at that moment, and you instinctively pulled back from Laszlo, crossing your arms again.  “Your bags are in the downstairs bedroom, madam,” he informed you, “down the hallway under the stairs.”

You nodded at him as Laszlo responded, “Thank you, Cyrus.  That will be all.”

He left, and you looked at your fiance again, feeling a bit silly for what he’d seen in you a moment before.  But he smiled at you, and you figured he’d be the last person to judge you for any of that.  “I’ll give you a little time to unpack and freshen up, if you like,” he offered.  “I hope you’ll join me for dinner at seven this evening.  I believe we’ll be having quail.”

“Of course— thank you,” you smiled, watching him begin to turn to depart.  But for a second, he hesitated— like he didn’t want to leave you— and you prayed he wouldn’t kiss you.  It’s not that you didn’t want him to… you wanted him to more than anything.  He’d only kissed you once before, at the end of a particularly exhilarating night out together, and you hadn’t stopped thinking about it for a moment since.

So no, it wasn’t that you didn’t want him to kiss you.  It was only that, if he did, you knew you’d have trouble letting it be just a kiss.

Therefore, you were just as relieved as you were disappointed when he departed without incident.

///

A few days later, you eloped.  You hadn’t felt much urge to have a ‘proper’ wedding when no one you knew approved of the marriage anyway— they were all too deep in your parents’ pocket, unfortunately.  And even if anyone cared enough to come, Laszlo refused to be wed in a church (you thought maybe he would bend on it if you really begged, he was overall quite accommodating to you, but it wasn’t worth your trouble) and so it would’ve just been another scandal.  

Truly, you were just as happy this way— it was the happiest day of your life, really.  You left the courthouse as Mrs. Kreizler, wearing a stunning silver band he’d had engraved with your new initials and flowering vines all around in a swirling, whimsical pattern.  His band was simpler, but you loved it even more— just because it was his, and seeing him wearing it made your heart skip all day.

Anticipation for your wedding night only grew with every passing moment.  Laszlo himself was in the bathroom with the door shut— you heard the sink running, the various sounds of him preparing for bed.  You were just trying to get your heart to slow down, trying not to have any specific goals or expectations for the evening.  Today had already been perfect.

But, of course, it was hard not to imagine what was next for the two of you— your things had already been moved into his room.  A vanity had been placed in it as well, a wedding gift from Sara Howard (a friend of Laszlo’s you had become acquainted with during this whirlwind romance), and you were using it now as you prepared yourself for bed.  You were already in your nightgown, having changed after Laszlo left the room (not that you had to, but it felt more natural that way), and you were carefully unpinning your hair from its meticulous style.

As you concluded the final steps of your evening routine, you saw the bathroom door open behind you in your reflection; your husband emerged, wearing an embroidered silk robe that offered a view of a sliver of his chest— not very much, but more than you’d ever seen.  You didn’t notice the way your thighs pressed against each other more tightly; he approached you slowly, and you eventually turned to look at him directly.  With you still sitting on the vanity’s padded stool, he towered over you when he stood close… and as you lifted your head to look up at him, his hand brushed softly along your jaw.  You tilted into his touch just a bit, smiling at him while your heart fluttered.

“You’re so beautiful, meine Schatz,” he whispered, and you felt a little giddy when he talked like that— he’d only ever indulged you in his German after having a few drinks, so this instance caught you off-guard in the best way.  Not to mention he’d called you Schatz before— treasure, apparently, and a common term of endearment— but he’d never tagged it with meine before.  Mine.  And you were his, truly.  You were glad he’d waited to say it until it was actually true (even if, in a certain sense, it was already true before).

He motioned, rather subtly, for you to stand up.  It seemed simple enough, but you felt a little shaky as you did it— a nervous excitement, like the kind you would feel before a piano recital or debutante ball.  Except those were all public engagements, and this was as private as anything could be.

Touching your face again, he wove his fingers back around your neck, his thumb cradling your jaw right in front of your ear.  And he kissed you— just like that, quick at first but then slowing down as you both sighed a bit.

You admired how easily he’d done it, and thank god for it, because you would’ve spent quite a while working up the courage.  This was different from the night you’d kissed him after a few weeks of seeing each other— it was very different from the kiss you’d shared at the courthouse earlier that day.  It would’ve made sense if there was a sense of neediness to it, as if he were making up for lost time or relieving all the anticipation for this night.  But really, it was all rather relaxed, at least on his part.  Like he had all the time in the world: which, you know, he did.

You, on the other hand… you were feeling a bit more out of your element.  Not that you weren’t enjoying this new one so far, it was just a little unfamiliar.

His hand floated lower and traced down your back— delicately, with the tips of his fingers brushing your skin through the thin fabric until chills started to run over you.  You gasped a little into the kiss, and put your hands on the patterned lapels of his robe; you didn’t actually push him away, but he pulled back as if you had, examining your face carefully for a moment.

You hadn’t needed him to stop, but you were a little glad he did: just a moment’s break from it all before it became overwhelming.  His fingers still traced gentle shapes on your lower back through the nightgown, and you found your gaze drifting to his chest, to your hands resting on it— and your own fingertips ventured into the exposed piece of his chest.  His skin was paler here, with a reddish-blondish patch of hair just starting to be visible.  You touched it, taking a quick and shaky breath, and wondered why something inside you tightened as you pet him here.  He was so… masculine.  His looks weren’t sweet and boyish, no: he was broad and strong (he would deny that one if you said it, but to you he was) and sharp around the edges, and it was something you never expected to excite you so much.

But you loved that you could still feel a bit of friction from his beard after he’d kissed you.  You loved the subtle scent of his cologne, how sturdy he felt under your touch.

Your hands drifted up to his face, fingers brushing through his hair slowly, and he smiled at you.  His hair was just a bit long for what was typical of men these days, and you enjoyed combing through the dark brown locks and noticing the little golden highlights in the dimmed light of the room.

The hand on your hip pulled you closer, pressing your body against his, and you tried your best to relax into the warm strength of his form while your heart kept racing.

When he kissed you again, he moved in slowly, watching your face before his own eventually met with it, and you fluttered your eyes shut as his lips gently pressed to yours.  This time, you found yourself leaning in for more, kissing him back with more passion; you let out a little dampened moan when his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, taking the next opportunity to gently move further into your mouth.  

He broke away all too soon, embracing you even tighter, pressing his cheek to yours.  And when you, in turn, wrapped your arms around him and pressed yourself against him everywhere you could… you felt it.

Even if you had very little knowledge about this sort of thing, you understood what that hard, curved shape was, pressed just above where your hip met your stomach.  You knew what it was, and your body did too— heat pooled at your core, every touch awakening you even more.

“Oh,” you sighed shakily, holding tighter onto him to just have something to hold onto.

“It's alright,” he whispered, soft words floating on his breath which tickled under your ear.  “It's alright, my darling, I won't hurt you.”

You hummed softly in return, nodding as his lips brushed over your cheek, then moved to your neck.  “I know,” you replied.  “I trust you, Laszlo.”

But you couldn't help but gasp when his tongue teased your pulse, his teeth gently grazing the most delicate places they could find.  His grip at your waist tightened when you whimpered.  “Is this pleasurable to you?” he asked softly; even such a formal statement made you shudder when he said it in that low, buttery voice…

You nodded, your back arching slightly to press yourself against him, but you felt him smile against you suddenly.

“I'd like for you to say it,” he explained, an unfamiliar darkness to his voice.

“It's… pleasurable,” you panted.  “When you kiss me there… it's like I feel every touch s-somewhere else—”

“Where, my love?”

“Here,” you sighed, grabbing his hand from your back and moving it between your legs.  He instantly cupped and rubbed your mound, and your knees nearly buckled from the pleasure.

“Mein Gott, you're so sensitive,” he observed, his own voice sounding a little strained, “I've hardly touched you.”

“L-Laszlo, just touch me more,” you pleaded.

Though he’d been so careful until that moment, he suddenly started to pull up the skirt of your nightgown rather hastily, nostrils flaring as he bent down slightly and worked to hoist the fabric up.  Finally, he got under it, but teased you by rubbing and groping at your thighs instead; under his breath, you just barely heard a growl before he began to kiss your neck again.

“Even if both my hands were strong, I'd wish for more to touch you with,” he mumbled against your skin.  “I'd still want to cover you entirely, reach every part of you at once.”

Well, you liked the sound of that, but one hand was doing you plenty of good already— especially when it slid back up to cup you again, making you sigh and moan as his fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your abundant wetness all around.

Desperate to return even a portion of the sensation he was giving to you, you placed your hand against the bulge in his trousers.  Though the shape and firmness of him made you gasp excitedly, he only let you rub it for a few moments before sighing and moving your hand away.  “Not yet, my darling,” he instructed.  “It's best if we take this one step at a time, for now.”

You felt a little silly, having to be held back like that, but you nodded.  He obviously knew better than you about all this.

It was almost too much, the way he was touching you: you had your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders to try to keep yourself upright, frankly.  And yet, for how overwhelming it was, you heard yourself saying—

“More, please,” you begged, “I-I need you, just give me more, please—”

“I will,” he promised roughly, “but not here.  I think it’s only right that I take you to bed, hm?”

If you weren’t all worked up, you might’ve made some witty comment about how at least the bed’s not too far or whatever— but no, you just let him guide you the few steps to the mattress, and you sat on it as you simply awaited further orders.  So little that he’d done to you, and you’d already do whatever he asked in exchange for continued attention.

You watched him roll up his sleeve— it took him a little while with the weaker hand, but you didn’t mind letting this moment last— and didn’t even notice the way your mouth had gone slack, you were nearly salivating.  “Lay back, darling,” he instructed simply, still looking at his sleeve as he finally folded it up to his elbow, “and open your legs.”

You obeyed, of course, and bit absent-mindedly on your lip as you slowly lifted your knees and parted your thighs.  There was no point being shy now, of course— and you were more than eager for him to get back to doing what he had been before— but you still felt a nervous hesitance that made your hands (and heart) shake slightly.  Something about stopping to get in the bed had brought a bit of sobriety to the moment, and you realized in retrospect how desperate you must have looked.  Surely he wouldn’t hold that against you…

He lifted your skirt again, up to your hips, and hummed lowly at the sight of your sex.  Your face burned hotter; you liked the way he touched it, but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable with him… staring at it.

Still, it was the sort of slight discomfort that felt oddly… good?  Yes, you were a bit embarrassed and exposed at the moment, but it felt wrong in that fun, naughty sort of way; it made your hips shift a little, presumably in hopes of some friction.  Thankfully, their wish was answered: his hand was on you again, pulling your lips apart, slowly exploring you until your eyes fluttered shut.

“May I touch you inside as well?” he asked— as if there was any risk of you turning that offer down.

“Y-yes, Laszlo, please,” you whispered, whimpering as you felt the tip of his pointer finger— suddenly it seemed a little thicker than you remembered— press up to your entrance and ever so gently slide inside.

“Just one to start,” he narrated softly as that one finger made your toes curl, only one finger making your hips twist and your back arch.  How could he do that to you so easily?  “And my thumb can help with this lovely little organ you have…”

His thumb circled your bud, and you shuddered all over— even inside— and instantly struggled to catch your breath.  “Laszlo, what… what is that…” you breathed, whimpering when he rubbed it again.

“Your clitoris, my love— you’ve never touched here before?”

He should’ve known you hadn’t— even if you had… explored yourself out of childish curiosity probably a decade ago, you would’ve remembered if it felt like this.  Shaking your head, you were surprised by his little growl.

“Your poor girl,” he cooed, something a little attractive about the slight condescension of it.  “You have so much to learn.  I can’t even imagine the things you’ve never felt before…”

He slowly moved the pad of his thumb up and down over the flesh, which only grew firmer as he continued.  “Oh!” you whimpered, hips rocking back against his touch— it was so wild of you, you thought, but you couldn’t really stop yourself.  He pressed harder and your whole body jumped.  “Fuck!”

He laughed a little, and your face got warmer.  “I’ve never heard you use language like that, Schatz, but it sounds impossibly adorable when you say it.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you began, “I couldn’t help it—”

“No, don’t apologize,” he insisted, “I’d rather you said it again.  Whenever you can’t help it, of course.”

You knew that Laszlo knew more than you about many topics, being a highly-educated man of great intellect, but you hadn’t expected him to introduce you to an entirely new body part that you’d been carrying with you this whole time.  If you’d figured out how to do anything like this to yourself, you might have spent your entire adolescence trapped in your room, so maybe it was for the best that you never put it together.

You weren't sure how any woman was meant to learn these things— you figured she wasn't meant to, unfortunately— but if she had a choice, you'd certainly recommend this method, provided she could find her own husband to try it with rather than borrowing yours.  What a visceral and beautiful way to learn how much that little organ could really do: Laszlo rubbing it with his thumb, with just the right amount of pressure to make a loud moan crawl out of you.

“The noises you make are just delightful, my darling,” he praised.  “Keep going, so I know what I should do.”

“Just do that,” you begged, “just keep doing that.”

“Only this?” he pressed.  “I shouldn't even add another finger?”

Of course, that was when he did— gently pressing his middle finger to your opening until it accommodated it, and you heard your own high-pitched whine in disbelief that you'd made the sound.  “F-fuck, that feels… Laszlo, you're so—”

But you interrupted yourself, because he did something so diabolical with his fingers just then.  He'd only twisted and scissored them inside you for a moment before curling them up, rubbing the most delicate place you never knew you had— just as he pushed down harder on your poor clit.  You felt ravenous all of a sudden, terribly overwhelmed but greedy for more.

“Please, oh god, please—” you started to beg before you even knew what you wanted.  He knew what you wanted, and he gave it to you: more.  It wasn't even very significant of a movement, and yet it turned your whole body into his plaything as you started to shake all over.

“You react more than I ever expected, my darling,” he cooed.  “I never dreamed how well you would respond to my touch.  I've only just begun and I think you're already nearly there.”

Before you could wonder where he was talking about, he pulled his fingers out of you carefully.  You heard yourself whimper a little, opening your eyes and looking at him worriedly.  He smiled, seeming to enjoy how much his interruption seemed to bother you; “Take off your nightgown, my love,” he requested plainly.  “I think I’d like to get a good look at you before I go on.”

Sitting up (and finding your head a bit more dizzy than you expected), you started by unbuttoning from your neck halfway down to your chest, before lifting the thin garment up over your head slowly.  You felt so strange doing this— undressing in front of a man— but your heart pounded with hope that he would enjoy what he saw.  Tossing the dress aside, you sheepishly bit your lip and waited for his assessment as his dark brown eyes grazed over your nude form.

He moved a little closer, his hand running up your leg and then around your side, reaching up to carefully cup one of your breasts.  You breathed deeply but unevenly, your chest rising and falling against his touch.  You were almost nervous that he hadn’t said anything yet, but the look in his eyes just became more and more clear; you whimpered under your breath when his fingers brushed over your hardened nipple, ever-so-delicately pinching it until your hips shifted a bit in response.  “How beautiful you are, my love,” he whispered, making you squirm again with just his words.  “Is it true you’re really my wife?  This lovely, delicate body that only I can touch and caress, laying next to me every night… I don’t know when I’ll really believe it.”

You had to shut your eyes for a second— you might be too brash if he kept on like that, praising you so tenderly.  “You could’ve been a poet,” you told him with a little smirk, blinking open your eyes again as he guided you to lay back once more, “if medicine didn’t suit you.”

“Oh, I’m no poet, Schatz,” he smiled in return, taking one more careful squeeze of your other breast before moving down to pet inside your legs again.  “All I am is painfully honest.”

His fingers slid inside you again, and you could’ve sworn he was rubbing inside you a bit more firmly than he had been before— thrusting a little faster, pushing a little deeper.  And all the while he was staring down at you, back and forth between your face and your hole, with a delicious darkness in his eyes.

It was still a patient endeavor, so much so that you never really noticed that he was getting a little quicker and rougher with it.  You really didn’t figure it out until you heard yourself choking out his name, groaning and gasping louder than you meant to— but you couldn’t suppress it very well, either.

You soon began to realize what he meant before with that nearly there comment, without even having any prior knowledge of what it could be… there was something instinctive about it, something totally natural.  You didn’t know what was coming, but you understood it; you knew you were on the edge of something and that if you could just get there it would be perfect.

Still, you couldn’t have known how much you would enjoy it.

You couldn’t stop moaning— it was this all-surrounding, ecstatic feeling, like… sinking into something.  Relaxing into something… something warm and soft and good.  Even a lifetime of religious repression couldn’t convince you this was anything but perfect.  Actually, nothing had ever felt right quite the way this did.

Your back arched rather dramatically, until you had a good view of the headboard upside-down; and he gave you few more fast, rough pumps of his fingers into your shaking body before slowing down to a stop and letting you rest.

Suddenly drained, you melted back down onto the bed with a long whine.  “How did that feel?” he asked, sounding a little formal about it, and you only could muster a little, exhausted laugh because what did he think you were going to say?  ‘It was alright, tickled a little bit, but I didn’t mind it.’

“That was… you… you’re so—” you began a few times, giving up to open your eyes wide when his fingers pet up and down over the seam of your lips, gently exploring you, making you quiver from how sensitive you’d become.  You weren’t even done recovering from the stimulation and he was giving you more; he seemed sort of absent-minded about it, the way he gently and repetitively slid up and down and up and down through your slick and swollen folds… but it was deliberate, you knew it was, because he smiled when you moaned weakly.

One finger pressed inside you again, and he watched your face closely and you shuddered.  You were just the slightest bit sore, and it felt like that one finger was more of a stretch than before… which seemed impossible, but with the erratic pulsing of your walls, it was a little hard to keep track.

You gasped sharply when he put the second finger in you once more, almost snarling a bit as he watched you react so strongly.  “Laszlo, I— I don't think I can do that again—”

“You can, I'm sure of it,” he encouraged, curling his fingers inside of you, which required a bit more force with your channel bearing down against him in response.  “It might even come faster this time, that little spot is all swollen now—”

Before he could finish that sentence, he proved it by circling the place, making your hips jump up as another whine eked out of you.  “O-oh, I— fuck…”

He smirked a bit, a delicious smugness to his expression, and the emotion looked much too good on him.  “See?  Just let me take control, my love.  I think you'll like what I do, if you simply let me do what I like with you.”

Fuck, that had to be the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard.  You were biting your lip to try to keep back the flood of terribly embarrassing things your pleasure wanted to say for you: you can do whatever you like with me; I'm yours; I'd do anything for you; don't ever stop, but also if you don't fuck me soon I might lose my mind, you know, things of that nature.  Instead you let out a muffled moan, and nodded to make sure he knew that he had your permission for whatever he thought was best.

And, of course, he’d been right about you: that you’d be even more sensitive after coming, and would be able to go through it all over again.  It only took probably a minute or two of dedicated, precise stimulation for the feeling to grow again… except it felt a little stronger this time, like it was building past the point that it had broken at before.  Maybe your tolerance was higher, or something?  You really weren’t qualified to say— all you could think about was this sensation, this tension, and the way he looked at you as you started to shake all over.

Your eyes fell shut instinctively, your shaking hands clutching at the bed under you; you felt sort of numb all over, except instead of everything being dulled and distant, it was only heightened.

“O-oh, oh, Laszlo, I—” you tried to warn him, words escaping you as the heavy, almost sharp feeling gathered tighter and tighter…

“Give into it,” he insisted, “it’s alright— I want to see it.  I want to hear you, I want to feel you when you come—”

His voice was getting darker, rougher, more demanding as he went on; and in the same way, his fingers’ thrusts into you became more aggressive.  “Fuck, I— I think I’ll— oh god!” you yelped.

“Yes,” he encouraged, “let go, darling!”

Your arms flailed around for a second before finding a lump in the sheets to grab onto tightly, your hips rocking against his hand, your head falling back in a scream; it was so intense, and so sudden, and you felt like the pressure that had been building broke so violently that it would’ve been painful without all the ecstasy running through your veins, numbing you inside and out.

You could tell that this one was different— hotter, warmer, wetter— but you had no idea what you’d done until the high had started to fade just a bit.

His hand slowed down to a stop, you heard him quietly catching his breath, and you blinked your eyes open… that’s when you noticed small wet stains on his rolled-up sleeve, and shiny fluid along his forearm— and a very proud grin on his face.

You felt your eyes go wide and your cheeks start baking.  He spoke up before you could even try to process what to say: “That was excellent, my love— I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so magnificent,” he praised.  “You’re incredible.”

You wanted to believe him, but it didn’t really offer much explanation.  “Laszlo, I… did I—?”

“No, darling, don’t worry,” he cooed, scooting a little closer on the bed as he pet the inside of your thigh.  “It’s natural— one of the… rarer ways that a woman’s body can respond to stimulation.  I’ve always found the concept fascinating, but until now, my knowledge was… purely theoretical.  Actually, I’d love to gather your perspective on the experience, possibly for a future research paper on the topic— but that’s an issue for another time.  There’s a more pressing matter I need to discuss with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious what matter could be discussed in a time like this.

“I… I'd like to try something else,” he announced, and you dropped your head back on the bed in a sort of defeat.

“Something else?!” you whimpered, still catching your breath from the last thing he had “tried”.  “What else could there be but making love?”

“That will be soon, I promise, I just… I can't resist such an opportunity,” he explained.  “Your scent is so erotic, and it's only grown stronger now that you’ve so generously covered my arm in your ecstasy.  And with anything that smells so delectable, one can't help but crave to taste it.”

You'd only heard about this before— sort of a dirty schoolyard secret, almost an urban legend.  The whole thing had always sounded odd to you, if maybe not as icky as you thought it was when you first had the concept whispered to you as a child.  You didn't realize it was actually something you might experience someday, assuming it was a practice reserved to the especially perverted.  Now that he was offering it, you found yourself biting your lip as you tried to imagine what it would be like.

“I'd like to pleasure you with my mouth,” he concluded, really spelling it out for you.  “Would that be alright?”

You weren't sure what to think of that, and yet you were already nodding yes.  This was your husband, after all— who else could you trust to do something like this?  Most of all, you did it because you wanted to please him.  Because he'd asked you for it.

He smiled a little when you agreed, and began to lean down between your legs.  Those deep brown eyes seemed to sparkle more than ever when he looked up at you, but his gaze couldn't stay with yours for long before he had to give a closer look to your cunt.  He carefully spread the lips with his fingers, humming at the sight.  “I wonder if it's even possible for you to be as delicious as you look,” he spoke quietly, and a needy whine caught in your throat.

It was just a gentle kiss to your clit first… then another, with his lips parted.  Then he started to ever-so-gently suckle at it, tongue softly petting it; he wasn't doing too much, physically, but you never could catch your breath while he was doing it.

You whined a bit when he broke away, looking down at him in search of an explanation but finding instead him looking back up at you with an indescribable look in his eye.

“How does that feel?” he asked, his voice rougher and darker than you'd ever heard it before, making you shiver gleefully.

“Wet,” you blurted out, making him smile a little, a small laugh on an exhale through his nose that made you feel a bit foolish in an unexpectedly pleasurable way.  “A-and warm… please don't stop, Laszlo, it felt so nice…”

He got back to it, a little more intensely than before, and your eyes rolled back when he really started to lap at you with his tongue— harder and wider each time, making you writhe from the intensity of it.

You couldn't even describe the sound you made when he pushed his tongue inside you.  He moaned against you in response to it, though, and thank God, he kept going.

He kept petting your thighs, even encouraging you when your legs clamped down around his head unintentionally; presumably that was his way of saying it wasn’t giving him any pain, which you were a bit concerned about, even if you couldn’t really stop yourself.  Sometimes you had the strength to meet his gaze, but most of the time you felt like you’d melt if you looked back at him— the way he was staring up at you was just too fiery, too intense, too beautiful.  

Just when you thought you were getting used to the pattern of his tongue’s movements on your clit, he gently pushed his two fingers back into your pulsing channel.  You were all tingly and sore inside, but a long, deep moan fell from your mouth as your back arched.

“Beautiful,” he praised, the word muffled by what he was doing— which he got back to more urgently than ever, twisting and thrusting his fingers inside you carefully at first.

“J-just like that,” you pleaded.  “Oh, Laszlo, I— I didn't know anything could… feel like this…”

You could feel the smallest smirk on his lips as he continued; even just being able to feel his smug smile there was such a lovely, erotic, totally novel concept to you.  

When he really buried his face in your legs, you could feel the roughness of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and buttocks, and god was it the most beautifully filthy feeling.  It was really an excellent metaphor for the whole thing: the symbol of his maturity, the well-kempt facial hair itself a balance between his wildness and his meticulous self-control, rubbing raw your delicate and untouched skin in such an intimate place.  If you weren’t too busy shaking and crying and seeing stars on this bed, you might have appreciated the beauty in those parallels, but clearly you weren’t capable of thinking about it to that level of depth.

The stream of helpless praises you'd been trying to hold back earlier?  There was absolutely nothing stopping it from spilling forward now.  “You're incredible,” you blurted out, your hand holding tighter to the sheets beneath you.  “Laszlo— my husband— you… you must be the devil, o-or an angel or prophet— or something. You make me feel things, such incredible things, that I didn't even know—”

He opened his mouth wide around you, breaking the seal of his lips so he could speak against your skin.  “I'm just a man,” he promised, “I'm just a husband becoming addicted to his new wife's pleasure, that's all, my dear.”

As he started to do it again so suddenly, you reacted suddenly as well: your hand found his hair and grabbed it, and your mind was too far gone to worry about it being too aggressive.  Not that he gave any signs of annoyance— if anything it was the opposite, as he lapped at you harder in response.  

This, of course made your hips jump up— until his hand slipped out of you, grabbing them and pulling them down, keeping you still as he continued.  The simple show of dominance affected you greatly, another heavy pulse of pleasure hitting you suddenly.

“I-I'm close,” you whispered.  “Laszlo, I'm so close— and it feels so different than before— I swear, nothing's ever felt so— fuck!”

He hummed encouragingly, and your whole body rocked in time with the growing pressure.  His fingers sliding back inside you, seeming to curl even more than before, certainly added to the sensation.

Just as you were teetering on the edge, his teeth grazed impossibly-carefully over you, a sharp and raw sort of pleasure jolting your entire body.  Of course, you couldn't fight against that, and the feeling inside you snapped as yet another flood of pleasure ripped through your body.  Your ears were ringing but you still heard how loud you must have been, how totally wrecked and helpless your moans had become.  

It wasn’t as… aggressive of a feeling as the one that had made you… you know… but it was probably the most powerful in its own way.  The highest, the heaviest, the most whole.  You couldn't hear him moaning against you through all that, but you could feel it: a deep and bassy vibration that only heightened the feeling even more.  Your moans turned to cries and then sobs; it was too much, the feeling was spilling over inside you— you weren't sure how much longer you could take it all before you broke.

It seemed, however, that he broke first; he pulled away and sat up, leaving you both panting, sweaty messes.  

“God, you're so beautiful,” he sighed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up into a filthy, heated kiss.  You surrendered instantly, grabbing into his shoulders with hands that were still pricked with pins and needles as your high dissipated slowly.  “I can't wait anymore,” he mumbled against your lips, “I need to be inside you.”

“Please,” you gasped softly— you'd been waiting for this all night, at least.  You'd never imagined yourself so eager, so desperate for it, though…

He made quick work untying his robe, leaning over you as he held tightly onto his cock and guided the swollen, leaking head between your lips.  Yes, even with desire coursing through your veins, a touch of anxiety was still present.  You just couldn’t imagine what this was going to be like, you could still hardly believe it was happening to you— and, though it was a bit crass to think, you were a bit surprised by the brief glance of his cock that you’d gotten.  You wouldn’t really know what was big or small or normal or abnormal when it came to that… you had nothing to compare it to.  What you did know was that it seemed much… thicker, than seemed appropriate to go inside you.  Of course you knew that a young woman’s first experience could be painful, you’d heard that bleeding was normal (if not expected, but that seemed a bit barbaric and certainly not what a progressive man like Laszlo was after) — yet, you still weren’t properly scared.  It was just the sort of anticipation that made you shiver and let out a long breath to compose yourself.

He groaned a little as he continued to rub against you, and you noticed the arm that held him up over you was shaking.  You could only imagine how frustrating it must have been to be giving you all that attention and not getting any in return for so long, and you could only hope he might take a little of that frustration out on you…

“Please,” you said again, quieter, as you looked up at him.  Thankfully, that was enough to make him press forward and slide into you all at once.

While his fingers had stretched you in such strange, sometimes overwhelming ways, his cock… it just fit.  It filled you exactly the way you needed— not too wide or too deep… though you suspected it would've been had he not prepared you so incredibly thoroughly.  And while his tongue has made you feel such unimaginable things, though his lips had effortlessly sucked ecstasy from your shaking body, having him inside you felt so simple and natural and easy.  

He hissed in his breaths as he moved— slow at first, but each one just a bit faster than the last.  Every movement stimulated all the places he'd already awoken inside you, and your legs moved on their own to latch around his hips while your head fell back with a satisfied sigh.

“My angel,” he groaned, staring down at you as each of his thrusts rocked you under him.  “I knew I— fuck, darling— I knew I'd have trouble keeping myself together when I was finally inside you.  Yet you're… you're even more perfect than I imagined.”

You smiled proudly, reaching up to hold his shoulders; he seemed encouraged by that, becoming just a bit rougher in his movements until your nails accidentally dug into his skin just a bit.

“I won't be able to last much longer,” he grunted, “but I-I can't stop.  I can't even slow down, I never… I've never lost control like this before.”

A shiver ran up your whole body, even seeming to make you clench inside— and he moaned in return, a beautifully pitiful sound.  

“I'm sorry,” he offered between panting breaths, and you barely mustered the energy to laugh. 

“Beloved, what do you have to apologize for?” you teased through a grin.  “Surely you're not worried that I will be left unsatisfied.”

“I would rather bring you to orgasm again,” he explained, “but I'm so desperate for you, I'm afraid I lack the patience for it.”

“I would rather pleasure my husband, for once,” you replied, “but you couldn't possibly feel what I felt, I don't think I'll ever be able to really return the favor—”

“It's no favor,” he insisted.  “Your pleasure is what I desire.  And a good wife gives her husband what he desires, no?”

You whimpered desperately, pathetically even.  “I'll be good for you, Laszlo,” you promised weakly, “I want to be a good wife to you…”

“You're a very good wife, my dear,” he assured.  “Look how much pleasure you've let me take from you, look how you've soaked our bed with your lovely nectar…”

You weren't sure which part of that aroused you the most… but our bed was a serious contender.

“And you taste absolutely divine,” he added, before kissing you again to let you taste it, too.  It was a sloppy and needy kiss, not precise and careful like basically everything else he'd done to you so far, but you loved it.  You loved any sign that he might be just as desperate as you.

Once again his speed and intensity picked up, until you could hear his skin hitting against yours loudly, and your back arched a bit at how perfectly dirty it felt.  His cock hit a spot deep inside you, and you sucked in a sharp breath.  “Laszlo,” you blurted out, and he groaned as he moved his kiss to your neck.  

“Keep saying my name,” he demanded.  “Tell me who your husband is— who makes you feel this way you've never felt before.”

“Laszlo,” you said again, “I'm yours.  Anything you want from me, it's yours.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a heavy sigh.

“Your wife, always,” you continued, and it made your own heart swell along with encouraging him: he moved faster, rocked deeper into you, and breathed heavy against your ear as your back arched from the erotic perfection of the moment.

“My wife,” he repeated, making you whine and nod and bear down on him with your walls.

“Yes,” you gasped, “yes— yours, I’m yours—”

“I-I can't hold back anymore,” he moaned, “I don't… I don't even know if I can bring myself to pull out before—”

“Don't,” you begged.  “I want it inside, Laszlo.  I want all of you inside me.”

“Oh, darling, meine Schatz, I—” he choked, but he never finished his sentence.  He just moaned louder and louder and fucked you faster and faster— until you were nearly screaming from how hard he hammered into you.

It stopped all at once; he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could, so deep you felt like you were struggling to breathe, and hid his face in the curve of your neck as he came inside you.

And for a long, beautiful moment, you just laid together; you were sort of halfway between awake and asleep, your whole body thrummed with emotions and sensations you never thought you could fit within yourself.  Time passed, surely, but you wouldn’t have known the difference.  His weight on top of you wasn’t too heavy, though it did keep you pressed into the mattress and sheets— not that you were going anywhere anyways.

You only really came back to reality when you felt small kisses trailing your neck; you hummed and squirmed a little beneath him, making you both groan as it stirred where you were connected.  He must have been a bit sore, too, though you felt like you’d been through quite a lot more and had a better excuse.

He moved again, just barely, and you winced as you held onto his back.  “Don’t go,” you whispered, afraid of the pain if he didn’t just stay still inside you.

“I have to, sometime,” he breathed in return.

“But—”

“I know, my love,” he cooed, “I’d stay inside you forever if I could.  But I’ll hurt you more if I don’t give you time to rest.”

Resigning yourself with a sigh, you nodded a little and scrunched up your face as he pulled his hips back.  It did sting, but it faded quickly once he was out— and the feeling was replaced with a warm, wet feeling that you realized must have been his seed leaking out of you.  It made you feel a bit dirty, but wonderful, too.

He laid beside you with a deep breath, his hand coming up to your face and turning it so you would look back at him.  You had to blink a few times to really see clearly, and even still, everything seemed a bit blurry around the edges.  The whole world seemed a bit softer, really.  “I love you, darling wife,” he told you simply, his voice soft but no longer a whisper, and he pet your cheek as he leaned in to kiss the bridge of your nose.

“I love you too, husband,” you cooed in reply.  “You’re so wonderful— a-and you’re nothing like I imagined, sometimes.”

“Perhaps I should have been more careful,” he offered nervously.

“No— that was perfect,” you promised.

“I meant the very end, there,” he clarified, his hand running down over your body and resting on your stomach.  “You might have wanted to wait longer… if you had a child so soon, you might wish we had more time just the two of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he meant.  “Oh, that…” you mumbled, smiling a bit to yourself.

“I fully intended to have my finish elsewhere, to lower the chances— I didn’t think I would become so… impulsive,” he sighed.  “I hoped to still control myself, but I’m afraid I wasn’t quite able to, once I was within you.  But I couldn’t help it, with the way you feel…”

“It’s alright,” you laughed weakly, “it’s not as if I were acting rationally.  I never… I didn’t think I could be so… so—”

A thousand words came to mind.  Unladylike.  Animalistic.  Desperate.  Insatiable.

“I didn’t think I’d ever act like that,” you said instead, voice getting a little softer as you felt a bit shy again.

“I knew you would,” he responded, making you look at him with wide eyes and warming cheeks.

“You— but I— I was always—!”

“Yes, you behaved very well each time I met you” he recalled with a proud smile, “always so sweet and well-mannered.  But I knew you had so much need within you, so much hunger… a being of pure instinct just waiting to take over when the time was right.”

Your heart skipped a beat— you felt a bit… accused by that statement, yet you couldn’t really deny it.  Even if you hadn’t known it before, it was clearly true now.  “How… how could you have sensed that?” you wondered.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you again; you loved the way he looked in that moment.  His expression was familiar, but the total lack of composure— flushed cheeks, sweat on his brow, messed hair— was totally new and quite pleasant.  “If you didn’t have any desire to misbehave, my darling, you wouldn’t have been going out with me.”

[thanksforallthesushi]

look at you coming back to your daniel bruhl era. I love it.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | eddie munson x cheerleader!reader (part 3)

(part 1) (part 2)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you really didn’t mean to make eddie jealous… but if you’d known how hot it would be to make him angry, then yeah, you definitely would’ve meant to.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 9.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral f receiving), overstimulation (I mean, y'all know what’s up by now) resulting in crying/dacryphilia (AGAIN, this is not your first time here, you should know the drill), a bit of degradation, possessiveness (but not TOO bad or anything), jealousy, more biting/marking (I mean… read the title…), a touch of angst but also plenty of fluff, mild bullying, abuse/grooming mentions (very brief and not related to the main relationship at all), guest appearances by the hellfire club and cheer team, reader being a bit insecure

. It might be cliché, but lunch really was your favorite period of the day.  The food was pretty awful— which is why you always packed your own meals— but the time with your friends was priceless.

Continuar lendo

[thanksforallthesushi]

I’m stuck on this. Read it four times already. amazing. just flawless. is this what perfection is?

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

technically a sequel to this request, but you don't need to read that one first... this will just make a little more sense if you do

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | buying weed, sneaking guys into your room through the window, hooking up secretly in the middle of the night; it wasn't like you at all, and it was all very unbecoming of the head cheerleader at hawkins high. but it wasn't just a matter of the trouble you were getting into, it was trouble himself getting into you.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, spitting kink, praise kink, more mouth-covering, ring kink, drug use, mild dacryphilia, biting/love marks, sliiiiiight angst but also some fluff

You stirred in your bed, not noticing at first what it was that woke you up; when you heard it again, you sat up and rubbed your eyes— glancing at the clock on your bedside table, you wondered why you were waking up at three-quarters past midnight—

Tap tap tap.

There it was again, that sound.  You turned around to look at your window and nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Eddie there, rapping on the window with his finger— he waved at you, and you rolled your eyes.

“Jesus, Eddie,” you groaned, throwing off the blanket to get up, “are you aware what time it is?”

You got to the window and unlocked it, opening it just enough so you could talk to him.

“Go home, somebody’s gonna see you,” you warned him.

“Just let me in,” he pouted, and you crossed your arms as you stared at him through the window.

"No, absolutely not," you hissed.

"Come on, someone's gonna see me out here any second!  And if they see me, they'll assume I already snuck in here anyway!"

"That's your logic?!  That's your reason why I should let you come in my window at nearly one in the morning?"

“I mean,” he smirked, “there are other reasons…”

You were pretty sure he was talking about how he was absent from school today which meant he had not made good on his promise to meet up and get you some new material.  Your stash was depleted and with the hectic-ness of mid-terms and cheer regionals coming up, you needed to unwind more than ever.

You rolled your eyes as you lifted the window open wider and he ducked in, jumping right out onto your floor with a thud.  

"Shh!" you admonished loudly as he cringed.  "My parents are right downstairs."

You flipped on a lamp and heard him gasp; when you looked at him to see what caused such a reaction, his hand was over his mouth and his eyes were set on your body.

You looked down and felt your face heat up at the sight of your nightclothes, a matching button-up and pants set you'd gotten as a Christmas present from your aunt who still seemed to think you were a little kid.

"Nice jammies," he grinned wide.  "Babe— are those Care Bears?"

Oh yes, they were… believe it or not, you weren't expecting company tonight.

"Oh, have mercy," he purred through his teeth as he pulled you closer.

"Don't be mean," you pouted.

"No, I'm serious!  You make me so hot," he breathed, leaning in to suck on your neck, just beneath your jaw.

"In my Care Bear jammies?" you giggled.

"In your Care Bear jammies," he promised.  "You look so sweet, and your room is so… pink."

"Yeah, well, I've been asking them to let me redecorate for a while, but—"

You cut yourself off when his tongue flicked over that spot on your neck that always made you shiver.  His lips pressed a smile against your skin, a small laugh slipping out of his throat.  "You're so cute," he whispered.  "I asked my parents to let me redecorate, how precious— you wanna decorate your own bedroom, huh?  Like a big girl?"

Fuck, he was relentless.

"Don't be embarrassed, honey, I like it in here,” he assured, looking around at the floral wallpaper and whitewashed vanity covered with scattered cosmetics.  “I'm not sure what I was expecting of a head cheerleader's bedroom, never really thought I’d end up in one… but god, it's perfect."

You stepped back and wriggled out of his embrace.  "Did you bring the stuff?"

"Yeah, duh," he mumbled, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a baggy.  "Pre-rolled, to save us some time."

“Us,” you chuckled.  “Of course you’re staying to partake with me.  I wasn’t actually planning to smoke this in the middle of the night, you know.”

“Well, plans change,” he smiled.

The two of you sat on the floor, leaning against the wall just under the window, which you strategically left cracked open so the room had a chance of not reeking tomorrow.  He lit the end of the joint while it was in your mouth, and you took a long breath in.  You held it in as long as you could, until you had to lay your head back and let the cloud of smoke free from your lungs.  It tasted sweet and herbaceous at the back of your throat, and already your eyes and cheeks and fingertips felt warm.

Passing the joint back to him, he kept his eyes on you as he took a long drag in.  The dim light made the deep brown sparkle even more, and you watched his lips as smoke billowed from between them.  They looked delicious— fuck, you weren’t even high yet and you were getting needy again.

You remembered so well how this all started last time, even if you still couldn’t explain it exactly.  It was normal, at first, even if there was some noticeable tension; and then all of a sudden you realized you were both feeling this energy, and then you were grabbing his shirt and pulling him on top of you— it started out just fooling around, or that's what you told yourself it was, but the way he touched you even through your clothes left you suddenly mumbling something about 'you can fuck me if you want' before you could stop yourself.

He had you bent over that backseat in a matter of minutes.  It would be embarrassing if it hadn’t been totally worth it.

His eyes were tracking all over you— was he wondering, too, how long it would take you this time to give in?

A few tokes later, when you started to get loopy and giggly, Eddie watched you intently as you held his hand, examining his fingers and rings with quiet fascination.

“Mm, I like your hands,” you hummed sleepily.

“Yeah?  You seem to.”

“They’re all… bendy,” you explained.

“Bendy?” he repeated.

You held his palm and started to curl his fingers for him, pushing them around until he snorted out a laugh. 

“You’re easily amused,” he noticed.

“Where’d you get this one?” you asked, pointing to one of his rings, a silver skull.

“Uh, it was a gift,” he recalled.

“This one?” you tapped the next one, on his middle finger.

“Thrift store,” he nodded.

“Ah,” you nodded back, catching his gaze again.  You felt nervous, even weirdly embarrassed though you couldn’t figure out what you had to be embarrassed of, and he smirked at you.

"You're giving me those eyes again, babe," he purred.  "You're begging me."

"I'm not even saying anything…"

"You don't have to," he insisted, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you into him for a kiss.  His hands held your face and you melted, draping yourself over him.

At some point, he stood up, and you started to stumble over to the bed together; it was sort of hazy, your mind and body just floating along with him, and you smiled when he laid you down on your comforter.  His weight on top of you was shockingly comfortable, and he was warm, even through his clothes.

He pulled back to look down at you, brushing some stray hair out of your face, and you blinked up at him as the light from your lamp cast shadows across his face.

"Okay, so, what are my eyes saying?" you asked.

He leaned down and his mouth opened wide against your neck, hot breath tickling your skin.  "They're saying, I need you…"

You shut your eyes and just focused on his words, imagining they were all for you.  I need you.

When his teeth grazed your pulse, your hands shot up to grab his shoulders— something to keep you stable while he grinded against you, pushing you down into your bed.  "I need you, hold me, Eddie," he whispered, not doing as dramatic or condescending of an impression as he did last time.

He rocked his hips again and your back arched.  You could feel the heat of his cock right on your aching core, your hole constantly clenching on nothing each time he moved.  You could come just from this, with everyone's clothes still on and your legs wrapped around his thighs.

He sat up slightly, smiling down at you as he started to undo your buttons.  You bit your lip and watched those beautiful ring-adorned fingers work open each button, from the top down to the bottom, until the anticipation came to a head and he threw either side of your shirt out of the way.

"Oh, babe," he whispered, running his fingers all over your stomach and chest, nearly tickling you; finally, he grabbed handfuls of your tits, and you both sighed.  "Fuck, I always thought you had a… really nice pair…"

He always thought that?  Did he always wanna do this to you?  Because up until a few weeks ago you'd be perfect strangers, and then he became your dealer… and then other stuff happened…

"Didn't get a good look at you before," he remembered, "now I wanna see all of you."

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants, and you lifted your hips to let him slide them down— he navigated them over your feet and tossed them aside, grabbing your thighs proudly as he slowly parted your legs.

A groan echoed in his chest as he looked down at you, naked and spread out on your bed, all for him.  His hands ran all over you, soaking in your body, teasing your tits and ghosting over your pussy; "Eddie, please," you whimpered.

Your cheeks were burning so hot as he used his thumb to gently spread your lower lips… you could hear it, hear that sticky-wet sound as he examined your hole, and he smiled.

"Such a pretty pussy, babe," he praised.  "I mean, you're pretty everywhere, but damn… this tiny little cunt."

Oh, that word was very very bad, and it made your whole body tense up in just the right way.  

When he slipped two fingers into you, you could feel the cool metal of his rings right up against your opening, even putting pressure on your clit; your eyes rolled back.  "E-Eddie," you whispered.

He twisted his fingers inside you, watching with a smile as you writhed on the bed.  Biting your lip and shutting your eyes when you felt him start to rub your clit with his thumb, you heard him laugh softly.  "So cute," he purred.  "I bet I can make you come like this."

He absolutely could, and you groaned when you realized how easily he would.  He set a pattern, thrusting his fingers into you as his thumb pressed your sensitive bud, and you grabbed fistfuls of the sheets beneath you.  

Truth be told, you didn't want to come like this.  But you knew that he knew what you wanted— in fact, he chuckled when he caught you eyeing the bulge in his jeans.  "I know, honey, I'll fuck you soon, don't worry… that's what you need, right?"

You nodded, but you already knew he wasn't going to be satisfied with that.  "Use your words," he reminded you.

"I need you to fuck me," you whispered.

"Mhm?" he encouraged, watching his fingers fill your pussy over and over.

"Please, Eddie— just fuck me, god, please—"

"I told you I will, just wanna watch you come from this first," he explained.

You'd never even come from being fingered before, but you were already close— way too close, and you tried to stave it off by staring up at the ceiling; but even when you couldn't see him, you could hear him breathing heavily through a lopsided smile, you could feel him and his rings inside you, you could smell the weed and cologne and the remnants of an old cigarette on his clothes…

Your legs started to writhe a little more, your thighs were shaking and you couldn't stop them; he hummed proudly as he watched you, and that wasn't helping anything.  "Go ahead, babe, it's okay," he assured quietly.  "Good girl, come for me, just like that—"

Biting down on your lip harder, your neck craned back on its own, pushing your head back into the pillow.  "Fuck!" you gasped, shutting your eyes tight until you just saw white.

"God, I love it when you do that," he breathed, free hand holding your hips still as they rocked on his fingers— it wasn't enough to let you ride it out on your own, he needed to control every sensation you were feeling, even when you thought it might all boil over until you were so loud that you'd both definitely get caught.

You grabbed his wrist, desperate to get him to slow down before your resolve broke and you screamed his name for the whole goddamn neighborhood to hear, but he was so much stronger… you heard him laugh a little bit as he forced you to take more and more, pushing you so far past the edge you didn't even know where you were anymore.

"Oh, you can take it," he promised, "shh— just a little longer, come on, you can take it, right?  You can be a good girl for me?"

Before he said that, you didn't think anything could keep you from fully losing it right now, but the promise of being good for him was just enough to keep you at least 51% sane.  You nodded, and he purred.

"I know you can— that's my girl…"

His girl, his girl— it felt really fucking good to be his girl— but of course, you were only his girl on nights like this.  Tomorrow, you'd just be two strangers again… 

You pushed the thought of that aside, holding onto his wrist tighter just for some stabilization.  He only gave you some reprieve when you made the saddest noise, your attempt to stifle a cry, and he apparently took some pity on you.

A long sigh slipped out of your chest as you relaxed, his movements slowing to a stop— and you only just then noticed that he was breathing heavy, too.  Carefully, he pulled his hand away, and even though the light was pretty dim, you could see clearly that his fingers were soaked; you swallowed thickly as you watched him examine them, moving them around just to watch them glisten.

He kept his eyes trained on yours, a certain darkness overtaking his stare, as he brought the slick fingers to his lips and sucked your wetness off.  Jesus fucking Christ…

"Tastes so good," he groaned.  "Tastes ready for me."

He pulled his shirt off over the back of his head, smiling down at you through all the curly hair fallen in his face as he tossed it aside.  You knew he had tattoos, but you didn't realize how many or the effect they would have on you.  It was bad enough seeing the edge of one poke out from the neckline of his shirt, but it was another thing entirely to see that lightly-toned chest plastered with ink, dark hair getting a little thicker on the way down until it gathered into a little happy trail that led your eyes right to the prize.

He reached down to his belt, moving relatively quickly but way too fucking slow for your tastes; you whined a little, on accident, and he laughed under his breath.

When his jeans were open, he pushed them down just enough to pull his cock out, balancing on one arm to lean over you while his dominant hand gripped himself tightly.  He teased you for just a moment, rubbing his cock over you as you shivered from the friction on your overly-sensitive clit, before finally lining up with your opening and diving in all in one long stroke.

It stung for just a second, and you gasped before your body adjusted.  "Ah, fuck," he sighed, already setting his pace: not too slow, but certainly taking his time, like he was savoring it.  "This is all I've been thinking about for days, babe— thinking about being in this pussy again.  This sweet, sweet little pussy, so fuckin' tight for me…"

"Eddie," you whimpered.

"And the way you say my name— damn, woman, you're gonna drive me crazy," he chuckled lowly.  "One more time, babe, who's making you feel this good?"

"Eddie," you said again.

"Who's stretching you out just the way you need?"

"You, Eddie," you whined.

"Yeah baby, that's me— that's my cock so deep inside you, sweetheart…"

Your back arched a little harder, your toes curling as your legs started to wrap around his hips.  He smiled again, burying his face in your neck just before he really went for it— not too hard or too fast, just deep and intense and… powerful, that might be the word.  You wrapped your arms around his torso, holding on closely as he rocked his hips against yours, and even though you were so wet that you were pretty sure there was a puddle forming under you, there was still this friction inside that made your head spin.

"Fuck," you heard him groan, and one of his hands found your hip and gripped it tightly.  "You feel so goddamn good, honey."

The praise made you moan proudly, and you bit your lip when you realized the volume you'd reached.

"Shh, not so loud baby," he warned.  "We really, really can't have your mom and dad busting in on us, huh?  Do they still think you're innocent, honey?  Still think you're their good girl?"

But I am still a good girl, Eddie, I'm your good girl—

"We gotta stop hooking up places where you need to keep quiet," he noticed.  "One, because you can't, and two, because I wanna hear those pretty screams, baby— I know you wanna scream so loud for me… just for me, right?"

"J-just for you," you promised.  "Nobody else… makes me feel like this…"

"I know," he breathed against your skin, sucking and nibbling all over your neck.  When he sucked just a little too hard for a little too long in one place, you realized what he was doing.

"No marks," you blurted out.  

"Why not?" he breathed in reply, his words tickling your skin where his bite had made it sensitive.

"My parents will ask about it… and the team will too, probably."

"Tell your parents you fell at cheer practice," he suggested, "and tell the team that you're getting fucked halfway to death by this awesome guy you know—"

"Eddie," you admonished lightly with a giggle, and he pulled away from your neck to look down at you instead.

"Okay, okay," he sighed.  "No marks."

You were somehow a bit disappointed by your own rule, now that he'd agreed to it.  Apparently, some part of you was hoping he would just bite down harder and remind you he totally and completely owned you— that he could do anything he wanted to you and you would just thank him afterwards.  

But then again, now that he was just staring down at you, brushing the hair away from your face with his fingers, watching you struggle to keep quiet as he fucked you just a little bit faster… it was sort of having the same effect anyways.

You let your eyes fall shut, just to get a break from the overwhelming intensity of his stare, but you were corrected instantly as he demanded, "look at me."

Blinking your eyes open again, you choked on a whimper as you saw how… possessive his gaze had become in the last two seconds.

"There's my girl," he whispered proudly.  "Keep your eyes open— and open your mouth, too."

You obeyed before you even considered what he might want; god, you were so obedient to him already, you'd be ashamed if you didn't love this so much.

"There you go— stick your tongue out?  Good girl," he praised when you did as you were told, and suddenly he pursed his lips and spit right on your waiting tongue.  It didn't even faze you; you just moaned, the sound perfectly clear with your mouth already wide open, and felt your walls flex around him for a moment.  "Very good girl— you can swallow it now, babe."

Pulling your tongue back into your mouth, you swallowed and sighed a little afterwards, feeling so dirty for letting him do something like that to you.  Of course, you were already addicted to that feeling; you lived for it.  Whatever purpose your life had before this, you couldn't remember… all you wanted now was to be his girl.

"You didn't even flinch, honey," he noticed with a derogatory little laugh.  "You always get fucked like this?  Do you get spit on a lot?"

He seemed almost… jealous?  Even at just the hypothetical prospect that you'd done this before.  In actuality, you'd never done anything like this before, it was just that submitting to him seemed to come to you naturally.

Still, a hint of anger tinted his expression before he laid himself down over you again, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, as he suddenly fucked you harder and faster.  It made you moan a little louder— too loud, in fact— and with his shoulder right by your face, you figured there was one surefire way to keep quiet; you didn't mean to bite down on him so hard, though.  He hissed in a breath through his teeth, the hand by your head suddenly grabbing and tugging your hair.

"What happened to no marks?" he growled.

"Sorry," you breathed.

"Nah, it's fine— you can mark me up as much as you want, sweetheart," he laughed a little, "I'm already thinking I'm gonna have some claw marks on my back tomorrow… actually, I'm kinda hoping I will."

You weren't sure what to think of that; did he want your marks on his back so he could have a little something to remember you by?  Did he just like seeing evidence of how far he'd pushed you?

Or, maybe, was he going to tell everyone that this happened, once he had some proof?  It wasn't like you wanted this to be a secret forever— actually, you'd been imagining for a while how nice it would be to be able to talk to him at school, maybe hold his hand or kiss him… but he hadn't even kissed you in private before.  Sure, he'd fucked you within an inch of your life, but you'd never kissed.  If he told his friends, at least you'd know that you weren't his dirty secret; but, then you'd also have to wonder if all you were was a conquest.  The head cheerleader was a rather prestigious notch on the bedpost, and plenty of guys had pursued you just for the social capital they hoped to gain from you.  Eddie didn't seem like that kind of guy— he seemed like the total opposite, actually— but you couldn't really be sure.  And you didn't want to find out the hard way.

"I-I don't want to hurt you," you mumbled.

"Don't worry about that, sweetheart," he smiled, "I'm pretty tough— and I don't mind a few battle scars."

Though you still tried not to scratch him up too bad, you did end up clawing him a little bit when he moved his hips just right; he held your hair tighter, and the dull pain on your scalp just added to everything.  Your back started to arch, pressing your chest up into his, and you swallowed down as much of your moans as you could.

"You getting close, babe?" he panted, and you nodded quickly.  "Remember, you've gotta stay quiet, sweetheart… even though I'm making you feel so good, you gotta be good and keep quiet for me."

You mostly-accidentally clawed at his back, really you were just trying to hold on tight enough to keep it together, as the feeling grew stronger inside you.  His cock was hitting right on your spot, and it was all happening so much faster than even you expected.

Your moans grew louder and louder, until finally he reached up and clamped his hand down over your mouth again; you shut your eyes tight, hearing his own moans in your ear with his face buried in your neck.

"Fuck, that's it," he encouraged, "you get tighter right before— shit, come for me, baby, come all over me—"

You choked when it first hit you, everything inside tightening up hard as shocks danced up your back.  Your legs flexed where they wrapped around his hips, keeping him deep inside as you felt another wave of sensation come over you.  Fuck, it was even more intense than you remembered, your whole body was alight with energy and your mind was swimming… not even swimming, more like treading water.  A doggy paddle just to try to stay afloat.

"That's my girl," he praised, "my good girl, fuck, love the way you come."

And the way you come is hard, at least when it's Eddie turning your body into his fucking playground.  He kept a steady pace, his cock stroking deep and fast while his tongue lapped at your neck to soothe you.

"That good, huh?" he chuckled when you dug your nails into his back on accident— it felt like your whole body was tensing up, inside and out.  "Tell me— how good is it, baby?"

"S-so good, Eddie," you choked, "it's so good, you— you fuck me so good…"

He purred approvingly, gasping in a moan as he started to move a little faster.  Of course, that was the opposite of what you needed right after coming; you were still so sensitive inside and everything was just building bigger and bigger— you could hardly take it.  That hot, stinging feeling hit the back of your eyes and you fought back tears… but the pleasure was so sharp and ruthless, it was breaking down the last of your sanity and turning your own senses against you.

Big, heavy tears welled in your eyes, and when they fell, you really hoped he wouldn't notice— but of course he did, it was sort of obvious, and as his face hovered over yours he gave you a gentle, sympathetic look.

"Do you always cry?" he asked quietly, taking his hands off of your mouth to wipe a tear off the tallest point of your cheekbone.

But you were afraid to open your mouth, to even try to speak to answer him, in case you started crying harder and couldn't stop it.  

"Is it just with me?" he offered instead, and you bit your lip and sniffled as you nodded.  "Do you want me to stop?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure?"

Use your words, you knew he was really saying.  "Please," you whispered under your breath, "please don't stop…"

"Aw, baby," he cooed, "it's okay, just hold on tight, alright?  I've got you, sweetheart, I'm right here…"

He was just teasing you, but you really did hold him tighter.  And he held you tighter, too.

Again, he picked up the pace right when you needed him to slow down so you could try to just cope with all this; you gasped when he gave you one rough, deep thrust that felt like it hit the back of your throat or something.  He did it again, and you jolted under him.  And then he just kept doing it, faster and faster, until he was fucking you with ruthless speed and aggression.

"Fuck, Eddie," you gasped.  It was like starting all over, except ten times as intense, and the feeling in your gut had spread all over until it was the only thing you felt anymore.  You were so sure you couldn't come again, but also somehow totally aware that you were going to whether it felt possible or not.

"One more?  C'mon, babe, just one more for me— oh, I know, I know," he pouted sympathetically as you quietly sobbed, "I know, it's too much, right?  You can't take anymore?"

You shook your head, fighting so hard not to sob out loud, but he cooed and kissed lightly all over your face.

"But you can, sweetheart," he assured, "you can gimme just one more, I know you can— you're already so close, aren't you?  So close to creaming on my dick again— fuck, there you go, see?  You're so so close, princess, just hold on a little longer."

"Eddie, please, please," you sobbed.

"It's right there, you're right there babe— show me you're my good girl, huh?  Just let go, baby, I'm right here, I know you're so fucking close—"

"Please!" you cried again, totally unable to describe or even imagine what you were asking for.

"Come, right now," he ordered.

It all snapped at once, and you were silent for the first moment of it; you held onto him and buried your face in his neck, muffling your cries against his skin as your body quivered and shook.  Your mind was gone, your body was no longer under your control; all you could feel was raw sensation, something much less specific than pleasure or pain, something more powerful than both.

"Fuck yes," he praised, slowing down slightly but still treating your body like his toy, "just like that— fuck fuck fuck I'm close— I'm so close, baby…"

"Please come," you begged him, not even embarrassed anymore at how pathetic it sounded.

"Should I come inside again?" he asked, grinning when you nodded instantly.  "Yeah, I know how much you liked that— did I drip out of you all night long, honey?  Did you like remembering what I did to you?"

I could barely bring myself to wash it out, I wanted you running down my thighs for days.

"Don't worry, I'm about to fill you up— fuck, gonna fill this pussy up, sweetheart.  Make it mine."

Oh god.  "Yours," you repeated, falling back into the bed limply as he thrusted on top of you.  "Yours, Eddie, it's yours."

"Shit," he winced, hissing in a breath through his teeth.  "All mine, baby?"

"Just yours— only yours, Eddie," you promised, panting, "I'm yours."

"Fuck!" he groaned, the first pump of come coating your insides as you felt your walls clench.  He moaned loudly as he kept filling you, each thrust accompanied by the feeling of another warm shot of come into the deepest parts of you.  You hummed and wrapped your arms around him, feeling him go limp on top of you.  "Jesus," he sighed, "you… you're still…"

Yes, the aftershocks were hitting you hard and your walls were still rippling, milking him for all he was worth.  He rocked his hips to really press himself as deep as he could into you, his hips grinding on your clit, and you whimpered.

He slipped his arms under your back and squeezed you tight; it was a hug, you realized.  He held you like his life depended on clinging to you… it felt like having an enormous, sweaty, sexy barnacle stuck to you.  And, finally, he stilled.  But he didn't let go.

"You… are so beautiful," he whispered, and your face heated up.  You thought he was gonna go back to joking around, but hearing him talk like that made your heart race.

"Uh— thanks," you mumbled nervously.  "You're not so bad yourself…"

He lifted himself up enough to hover above you, looking down at you with a tired smile.  "As soon as I pull out, these sheets are done for," he laughed.

"Then stay inside," you hummed, keeping your legs tight around his hips.

"I mean, hard to say no to that," he breathed.  "Wish I could be inside you all the time."

"Well, you're gonna be inside me for a while— takes a hell of a shower to get all your jizz out after," you explained.

"Then don't shower," he suggested, "and come to school tomorrow like this— and only me and you will know what's ruining your panties under that cheerleader skirt, hm?"

That was a fun idea… but too dangerous.  "I really can't afford to skip a shower," you insisted.

You both sighed and winced a bit as he pulled his softening cock out of you; he collapsed onto his side, pulling you closer with your back to his chest, and started to catch his breath as he kissed your neck softly.

"How long can I stay?" he hummed.

"Just don't fall asleep," you replied, words starting to slur already as you drifted into deeper relaxation.  Your body was spent, and the call of the dark was so tempting that you couldn't help but pass out in just a couple moments.

Eddie stayed awake for almost an hour longer, toying with your hair and watching you sleep— he hoped you wouldn't wake up and call him out for being a little creepy, but thankfully you were totally knocked out (understandably).

He gave you a kiss on your temple, just because he couldn't stop himself.  "Sleep tight," he whispered under his breath.

When he realized that he'd be too tempted to stay and hold you all night if he didn't go now, he slipped out of your bed and carefully tucked you back into it, seeing you shift in your sleep to take up the warm spot he'd left behind.  Finding his discarded shirt and untangling it from its partially-inside-out ball before putting it back on.  Lastly, he flipped off your lamp, and the whole room was dark again.

He spared one more look at you— bathed in moonlight, perfectly still and sinking into the soft mattress— before he slipped out the window, pulling as much of it down as he could behind him; he'd climbed up using the ivy-covered lattice on the back wall of the house, and he was careful not to disturb the plants too much on his way back to the ground.

"Sneaking into the head cheerleader's bedroom," he scoffed to himself, "and now I'm about to hop her fence.  What a world."

[thanksforallthesushi]

AND NOW I’M COMPLETELY ADDICTED TO EDDIE HOW DID THIS HAPPENED? good writing, that it’s the reason

[wintersoldierarchive]

Captain America: The Winter Soldier by Doaly

[sosuperawesome]

Vincent Giarrano on Instagram

[thanksforallthesushi]

Bani 🥺 I feel like I haven’t heard from you in forever. I hope you’re doing okay and enjoying life right now. I miss you and love you immensely 💜🤍

MY LOVEEEEE

I know, I'm being sort of a ghost right now, I'm sorry. I'm good, but super busy. I was trying to answer you since this morning (is night where I am right now) but a lot of thing happened and just now I was able to stop. Miss you so much, hope I'll be able to be here more ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[mypoisonedvine]

𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂 & 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕪 || yandere!Andrea Marowski x reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 || if your fiancé were here, you wouldn't be so hung up on this mysterious, young foreign man who doesn't seem to care about the ring on your finger. but he's not here... and this stranger plans to use that to his advantage.

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 || 3.8k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 || smut (dubcon and noncon; this is a dark fic!), yandere trope, alcohol consumption (and sex while heavily inebriated), infidelity (see summary), slapping, unprotected sex and unwanted creampie (but not really breeding kink)

𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 || 'księżniczko' is a polish term of endearment meaning 'princess'!

You knew from the start that he was trouble because he was exactly your type.

New, different, mysterious. Blonde— why did you always have a thing for that?— with a bright smile but dark eyes. You might not have even noticed him before, when your fiancé was here to keep all your attention, but now? After this many months alone? You didn't have the willpower you used to, and you didn't used to have the hunger that you had now.

But nothing could happen, and nothing would happen because you wouldn’t let it happen.

Your first real interaction with Andrea Marowski was when you went he came through the market while you were selling your honey. While your husband’s military salary was just enough to make ends meet, beekeeping had proven to be a nice way to not only pass the time, but get some extra spending money; recently you had expanded from just selling raw honey and honeycomb to making honey-based soaps and lotions. For a while he walked with the women he was staying with— you knew them well enough, but you weren’t exactly close or anything— until he split off while they looked at some bread and ended up wandering by your stall.

“Ah, miód,” Andrea noticed as he picked up a jar. “Honey.” His pronunciation was good, if a bit stilted in that way one sounds when putting excessive effort into pronouncing foreign words.

“Mhm,” you agreed, “it’s all fresh, and the bees only pollinate clovers and lavender plants so the taste is incredibly pure. Want to try some?”

He didn’t seem to fully understand until you handed him one of the small glass sample vials. His fingers brushed against yours, ever so slightly, as he took the vial from your hands and carefully sipped on the honey inside. You grinned when you saw his eyes get just a bit wider.

“You like it?” you prompted as he licked his lips and swallowed.

“Is good!” he beamed. “Your bees?”

“Yeah! I keep the bees myself,” you answered, feeling a bit more shy when he seemed visibly impressed.

“How… how they not sting?” he wondered aloud, poking his arm with his fingertip as if to pantomime a bee sting.

“Oh, well, they’re very gentle,” you explained, “and they like me.”

You met his gaze again and found it a little glassy— clearly he didn’t quite understand what you were saying, but he still smiled and nodded. You admired how difficult this all must be for him: being in a foreign place, hardly speaking the language, knowing no one. So you thought you should be kind to him, just to make one thing a little bit easier for him if possible. Plus, not everyone was so keen on a foreigner in their quiet little town, and you wanted him to feel welcome in spite of that.

“I’ll give you the honey for free,” you offered, handing a smaller jar towards him. He tilted his head as he looked at it, letting out a small, awkward laugh when he looked up at you again. “Free!” you repeated. “It’s yours, you don’t need to give me any money.”

“Oh,” he sunk his shoulders as he realised what you meant, “no, I couldn’t—”

“Please, I insist,” you beamed as he shook his head. “Consider it a welcome gift!”

He hesitated for a few more seconds before relenting with a little sigh, taking the jar from you with a smile. “Thank you,” he nodded. “I buy something else. To make fair.”

Before you could promise that he didn’t need to, he grabbed a bar of your beeswax soap— the one with lavender and clary sage— and quickly shoved some paper notes towards you. “Thank you for your purchase,” you nodded politely.

"I see you again?" he asked.

"O-oh, I'm sure," you stammered. "I'm at the pub sometimes— maybe I'll see you."

“I hope so,” he agreed, giving you another smile as he waved and continued on his path; you tried not to watch him walk away, but found yourself glancing over at him more than a few times as he strolled down the road— and once he caught your gaze as he looked back himself.

Your heart was pounding, just from a small interaction like that… because you knew exactly how dangerous it was.

Even though you told him you might see him at the pub, you weren't expecting it to happen so soon… even though you'd been coming to the pub more often just in case he would be there.

Yeah, you were down bad. And the pit in your stomach told you that you were asking for trouble. But when he walked through the door and spotted you right away, waving with a smile and crossing the dancefloor to join you at the bar, trouble started looking pretty damn good.

"May I buy you drink?" he asked as he leaned in beside you.

"Oh, um…" you stalled nervously.

"Another whiskey?" the bartender asked before you could even decide if you should let Andrea buy you a drink. Well, you already knew that you shouldn't, but you were on the fence if you were going to let him anyways.

"Sure," you nodded, giving Andrea a small glance.

"And beer for me," he added, putting coins down on the bar where drinks soon appeared instead.

Your eyes met his for a second as you both sipped from your glasses, him smiling at you slightly around the gulp of beer. You glanced away, taking a larger swig of the whiskey (even though it burned a bit), hoping the butterflies in your stomach would drown soon.

Once you’d both set down your glasses, he broke the silence quickly. “I use your soap,” he informed you, leaning in closer and yep, you could smell the scent you’d created on his skin.

“You like it?” you asked, and he nodded enthusiastically.

“And I put your honey on toast,” he added with a grin.

“Always glad to have another satisfied customer,” you chuckled.

The first two drinks went down easy, but you hardly remembered the next three— it was all just little glimpses, snapshots of flirtatious touches and unsubtle glances and his hand around yours as he guided you out the back and around to the secluded alley just behind the pub. You remembered his fingers tracing over your back through your dress. You remembered laughing and purring as his lips hungrily explored your neck, you remembered tongues tangling together and your fingers weaving into his hair. His hair was so soft…

You remembered his hand sliding up your thigh, under your dress, until you slapped it, instinctively.

“N-no,” you slurred, “Andrea, this is wrong.”

More kisses over your pulse soothed you for a moment until you felt his hand moving up again. You squirmed a bit, trying to shake him off, but his body was pressing yours against the wall and his mouth was silencing yours with a hungry kiss and maybe you just melted into it after that, too tired of denying him and yourself.

You remembered all that. Funny enough, though, you didn’t remember how you ended up in his bed.

For a moment, it was peaceful… soft sheets, sun streaming in through the window, his arms draped over you as a satisfying sort of ache filled your body. But then, of course, you realised who he was and who you were and, perhaps most importantly, who your fiancé was. That being: your fucking fiancé.

“Fuck,” you hissed, starting to jump out of bed right away, but his grip on you tightened and he pulled you back into him, the feeling of his skin on yours making it clear that both of you were naked which made you a bit (more) nauseous.

He mumbled some Polish against your neck; his voice was deeper when it was heavy with sleep. His arms still held you tightly, and you shivered against them. “Do not leave,” he requested softly.

“I need to, though, if somebody sees me here— oh god, if somebody knows what we…” you trailed off, realising you didn’t know the exact end to that sentence. “What did we do last night?” you finally asked.

“I can remind you,” he whispered as he kissed the shell of your ear; and when you felt his erection press up against you, you yelped and just barely managed to wrangle yourself out of his grasp to throw the sheets off and stumble out of the bed, ignoring how it made your head pulse with pain.

“Oh, fuck, I need to go,” you reminded yourself as you searched for your dress in a pile on the floor and quickly slipped it on. You turned around to find him exposed completely since you’d pushed the sheets away, and your face burned when you got a glimpse of his cock; no wonder you were sore between your legs. He seemed a little too proud of himself when he caught you looking, giving you a smug grin. “I need to go,” you repeated firmly.

Slipping on last night’s clothes— wrinkled and still smelling faintly of booze— you managed to stumble out of his room and down the stairs. You were lucky beyond all reason that none of the women of the house caught you here; you weren’t sure if they were the gossipping type but it would’ve been humiliating regardless.

As soon as you were home, the phone rang.

“Hello?” you answered, still breathing heavily— oh god, what if it was your fiancé?!

But it was maybe the only thing worse than that: “I didn’t want to chase you,” Andrea’s voice came from the other end, “but want to know why you run so fast…”

“We can’t talk anymore,” you assured him quickly, “don’t call me again.”

You hung up with a sigh, feeling tears burn your eyes already. You were so caught up in washing yourself with a thorough bath and trying to forget about last night that you didn’t even stop to think about how he could’ve possibly gotten your telephone number.

You spent most of the day biting your nails and pacing. It didn’t help your hangover, but you were desperate to find a solution other than the only one you’d thought of so far.

See, the thing was, you really needed to speak to Andrea to make sure he wasn’t going to tell anyone what had happened. You felt sick to imagine seeing him again, but it needed to be done. Everyone in the town knew you were engaged, many of them even knew your betrothed himself, you just couldn’t afford for anyone to know what had happened.

It was a drunken mistake, maybe someday you would find the strength to tell him that yourself… but what he absolutely did not need was an anonymous telegram about how some polock was running around town talking about fooling around with his beloved bride-to-be behind the local pub.

So, even though it made you feel sort of nauseous and you knew that it might be sending him sort of mixed signals, you carefully dialed the number for the house where Andrea was staying. When the housekeeper answered, you tried to change your voice so she might not recognize you as you asked to speak to Andrea.

It still made an uncomfortable, guilty chill run down your spine when he picked up the line and greeted you; he sounded like he already knew who it was, probably just because he knew nobody else would call. You still told him who it was, just in case.

“Could we… meet somewhere? Just to talk?” you asked quietly, whispering even though your house was empty. “I don’t want to go there, in case anyone sees me there— and I don’t want you to come here, in case anyone sees you here…”

“I know a place,” he assured. “Private. No one will see.”

When you arrived, though, you noticed it wasn’t totally private: the house itself was empty, and the door was unlocked, but there were neighbors who could recognise either of you. Fortunately, that wouldn’t be a problem as long as you came in the back and didn’t yell out your conversation loud enough for them to hear— which would never happen anyways.

He was already inside when you stepped in, and by the time you’d shut the back door he was already almost on you, trying to pull you into an embrace.

“No, Andrea, we can’t,” you mumbled, pushing him back— and he relented, thankfully. You took a shaky breath as you began the speech you’d practiced over and over in your head on the bike ride over. “What happened last night…” you trailed off, and he must have understood what you were talking about because his smile widened, his eyes sparkled a bit as he looked down at you, tilting his head a bit to try to meet your gaze. “No one can know, okay? My fiancé… I know he’s not perfect, but if he found out, he’d be heartbroken. And he didn’t do anything wrong.”

He looked at you somewhat blankly, but nodded after a moment.

“So, it needs to stay a secret, okay?” you pressed, stepping a little closer and hoping he would understand. “Okay? Secret. Shh,” you demonstrated, placing your finger to your lips.

“Shh,” he agreed, repeating the motion. You smiled, and he did that, too. But then he held the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss, ignoring the way you pushed against his chest.

“A-Andrea, no,” you mumbled against his lips, gasping a bit when he stumbled forward and pushed you back against the table, lifting you onto it and placing himself between your legs as he pulled your skirt up to your hips.

“It will be secret,” he promised, moving his kiss down to your neck while he ran his hands up to your thighs, “no one will know.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you assured, fighting him harder but finding it just as futile. “Andrea, stop!”

“I no understand,” he mumbled, holding you close with one hand and quickly unbuttoning his fly with the other. “You like so much before.”

“I-it doesn’t matter,” you promised, failing to move your hips enough to stop him from tugging your panties down. You couldn’t even remember how much you had apparently liked it, though you sadly believed him. “We can’t— I told you, we can’t do this!”

“I make you feel good,” he whispered. You couldn’t tell if he meant it as persuasion, or if he was promising what he was about to do. Though you tried one more time to tell him not to, he lined himself up to your entrance and suddenly pressed forward.

It stung sharply when he filled you, making you cry through your teeth for a moment; you were still sore from the last time this had happened. His mouth fell slack with a gasp as he buried himself so deep in you that your chest seized up. “O-oh, księżniczko,” he groaned under his breath, “so tight… warm, like I remember.”

He didn’t waste any time getting right to it, speeding up and slamming into you so hard that the table shook beneath you and your whole body jolted with every thrust. “A-Andrea,” you choked on your sob, somewhere between pleading for mercy and pleading for more, digging your nails into his shoulders and letting your head fall back.

It hurt, in a way, but your body was just as conflicted as your mind by everything that was happening. You felt betrayed by yourself as you heard your own moans, watching your fingers clutch at his back and feeling your legs wrap around his hips. As much as you hated him and hated yourself, you couldn’t deny that you’d never felt anything like this. You and your fiancé had been intimate before, and it was good— gentle, comfortable, patient. But he never kissed you like this, he never held you like this, he never claimed you like this. No one had.

“Oh, fuck, Andrea,” you blurted out, whimpering as he held you tighter and leaned into your neck.

“Scream louder,” he demanded against your ear. “Say my name one more time… I want them to hear. They can all know you are mine now.”

Your gut sank. “N-no, Andrea— they can’t know, no one can know… my fiancé—”

“Will he want you when he knows?” Andrea interrupted you sharply, his left hand squeezing yours so you could feel the sharp diamond on your finger. “Will he want you when I tell him?”

Your eyes fell shut and your stomach twisted— guilt, shame, terror, all of it. You should’ve known better than to believe him when he promised it would stay a secret. Because what difference did it make anyway? It was still wrong, it was still an awful thing to do; and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was what you deserved, in the end.

“You will be mine,” he assured, because you both knew exactly what would happen when he told your fiancé about this.

“Oh god,” you sighed, but not in the sexy way; in the ‘fuck, this is real, he’s going to ruin my life’ way.

“Mine,” he repeated, his voice a little deeper. “Yes?”

Angry and confused and beginning to cry, you whimpered but instinctively shook your head ‘no’; he slapped you across the cheek for that, and again when you yelped.

“Mine. Say it,” he demanded. He raised his hand to strike you again and you panicked.

“Yours!” you yelped. “Yours, Andrea, yours— fuck, I’m yours!”

He kissed you suddenly, roughly, and your whimpers were lost to his lips. Even with his hand clutching your jaw, you held your lips shut tight— but he had a plan for that, too, slapping you on the cheek again, not that hard yet hard enough to force you to gasp which gave him the space he needed to shove his tongue in beside yours and taste every moan you let out.

In spite of everything, you were already on the edge; you did everything you could to hold it back, but he forced pleasure onto you faster than you could swallow it down. He could feel it, too, when you came… you were sure of that, from the way he let out a quiet, mocking chuckle, holding your jaw and watching your face as you gave into it.

“This was how you look before, when you come for me,” he purred. “I want to see it again.”

For all your brainlessness and naivete, this time you did notice the way his English had improved drastically now that he had you cornered: as if he knew that dumbing himself down would make him seem less threatening, and give him an excuse for why he didn’t accept your rejection. But it was much more than a language barrier that kept him from understanding the word ‘no,’ that was clear now.

It was almost too much when he didn’t slow down after that, your sensitive channel clinging to him tighter than ever— but you didn’t take much longer to give him what he wanted, either, coming even harder than the first time after probably less than a minute of his cock spearing into you with reckless abandon.

You were putty in his arms after coming twice, going totally limp and giving in to being used however he wanted; he moaned against your skin as he sucked marks onto your neck, even biting down occasionally. He knew exactly what he was doing, leaving bruises on you this way. Of course he was staking his claim over you: marking territory, if you will, but you didn’t understand just yet how far he was willing to go.

You did just a moment later, though; it took a few more of his deeper, breathier moans, and his hand clutching tighter at your back, for you to realise what was about to happen. “Pull out,” you requested quickly, catching him smiling in the corner of your eye and knowing right away that he had no intentions to listen to you. “Andrea, no, you have to—”

He clapped his hand over your mouth, the other fumbling to push yours away as you tried to shove him off, anything to stop him from coming inside you. “This is what you want,” he promised, having to speak louder over your muffled screams, “you want to belong to me. You will.”

As his hips sped up and the tip of his cock bruised the deepest parts of you at the end of each thrust, his moans got louder and rougher between hissing breaths through his teeth. You choked on a sob as he grunted lowly and you felt warmth bloom from your core, his cock flexing against your walls.

He swore in Polish under his breath, holding your waist to keep you pinned as he stayed as deep as he could go— sure to give you every drop, clearly. Only when he was completely finished did he relax his grip on your wrists and drop the hand covering your mouth… but you had no will to fight now, along with no strength and no purpose to.

Both of you caught your breath for quite some time, just staying that way without moving much at all; you sniffled as wetness began to burn your eyes, and he smiled through his exhaustion as he leaned down to kiss away the first tear that fell.

“Oh, księżniczko,” he cooed softly. “Don’t cry… it only makes me want you more.”

You shuddered, looking away as he lifted your chin with a finger gently stroking beneath it.

“Look at me,” he requested gently. “Look.”

The second demand was a lot less patient; more scared of his violent side than of his oppressive stare, you finally made eye contact and he softened again with a friendly smile.

“So pretty,” he praised, brown eyes scanning your face for a second. “Even when you cry. But you cry because you are happy, yes? Aren’t you happy?”

Too afraid to do anything else, you nodded shakily.

“I know, so am I,” he smiled. “We will leave this place soon— you can come with me to America. A new life for us.”

He hugged you tightly as he kissed your lips again, ignoring the way they quivered while you cried harder.

“It will be so wonderful,” he promised, slipping one hand down to gently remove the engagement ring from your finger. You reached for it but he tossed it away before you could grab it. “Shh, don’t worry,” he soothed, “I will get you a new one soon.”

[thanksforallthesushi]

the thing is: I read everything j.d. writes and I'm never disappointed. 10/10, always.

[paulmescalsnose]

[thanksforallthesushi]

⭐ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. it’s time to spread positivity! ⭐

I love you and I think about you a lot! ❤️❤️❤️

oh sweetie, don't do this to me because i'm emotional as hell and might believe it.

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 19

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are left to make a decision after Bucky’s confession.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: sexual tension, SMUT, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v penetration, some typa feels or idk KSKSKKSKSKKSKSKKSKSKS

A/N: Hmmm enjoy 😏😏😏

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

“I’m in love with you and it drives me crazy.”

You weren’t going to lie, you had expected Bucky’s confession. But even so, it still rendered you speechless and unable to comprehend that fuck, he was in love with you. James Buchanan Barnes, CEO of Barnes Group of Companies had fallen in love with you.

Bucky’s eyes remained on yours after his confession, they were bluer than they used to and they held a hopeful glint in them. His hands on your waist were still tight as ever, as if he was afraid that you’d vanish if he didn’t hold onto you tight.

“I…is that the reason why you had an RFID made for me?”

Continuar lendo

[thanksforallthesushi]

i n e e d t h i s

[mackievanstan]

[thanksforallthesushi]

HI SWEETIEEEEE

thank you so much for this. needed it today. made my heart very happy <3

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 18

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: The day of the event is finally here.

Word Count: 6.5k LMFAO STRAP THE FUCK IN BESTIES

Warnings: Uhhhhhhhhhhh hmmm idk stress? Minor panic attack? The answers to majority of y’alls questions?

A/N: Thank @lokithealligator for threatening forcing me to post this earlier LMFAO It’s finally time for the event, y’all!!! The only reason why this part is so fucking long is because I didn’t want to split it into two parts and leave y’alls asses hanging from another cliffhanger (also I be inserting gifs/photos for references and MAKE SURE TO LISTEN TO THE SONG THAT I WILL BE LINKING IN A CERTAIN PART I BEG YOU) Anyway, I hope everyone will enjoy the event!!!

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Time check: 9:29am

Sanity check: About to lose it

The entire process of planning out the event went really smooth despite a few delays here and there. You didn’t encounter some major problems either so you were confident that the day itself would be just as smooth-sailing.

Much to your dismay, everything went wrong as soon as the day began.

Continuar lendo

[thanksforallthesushi]

me, after reading this:

to quote the event stylist: Oh my god…

please I need more please I'm hurting here god c'mon cannot wait for the next chapter

[1038276637]

[babyboibucky]

Like This

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky shows you how he wants it done.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Oral (m receiving, implied f receiving), handjob, leg riding, lotsa dirty talk from Bucky hnggg

A/N: I wrote this in a jiffy lmfao this idea came outta nowhere 😂

MAIN MASTERLIST

There was something about giving Bucky head that made you instantly wet. You had never gotten this turned on while doing so, your thighs quivering and your pussy throbbing.

Perhaps it was the way Bucky would throw his head back, exposing his neck while he’d let out the most delicious grunts. Or how his Adam’s apple would bob each time he swallowed, followed by a string of curses and praises.

“Fuck, baby. You’re doing so good.”

“God, you drive me insane with that pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock.”

“You look so goddamn sexy like that.”

Maybe it was how his vibranium arm whirred and moved on its own whenever he’d grip your hair, pushing you down until the tip of his weeping cock hits the back of your throat.

Or maybe, it was because he was simply Bucky.

One particular growl made your cunt gush with wetness and you unconsciously began to grind down against his leg as he laid on his bed with his arms folded behind his head.

“Can feel your wetness, baby.” He chuckled, lifting his head up a bit to look down at you.

“Does sucking my cock get you all so worked up? Gets your pussy going, huh?” He continued to tease with a smirk.

You hollowed your cheeks when you pulled back, creating a lewd popping noise when you released his cock only to replace your lips with your hand.

Bucky’s cock was so hard that you could feel every pump of blood against your palm as you slowly slid your hand up and down the shaft. Pre-cum continued to seep out of the tip and you made sure to use it as added lubrication.

“Go faster for me, baby? Yeah?” Bucky grunted, licking his lips as his lidded eyes focused on the way your hand was pumping his dick

You obeyed his request and moved your wrist quicker, biting your lip as you watched Bucky’s face contort in pleasure.

Bucky looked like an absolute masterpiece like that— with sweat rolling down from his forehead sliding to his jaw, dripping onto his chiseled chest. His skin was red and warm, just like how his cock looked and felt in your hand.

And the noises he made? Every growl and grunt sent shivers down your spine. They were deep and rough, you almost felt the vibrations down in your core.

“Faster, baby.” Bucky said, his voice strained.

Before you could even amp up your pace, Bucky’s vibranium hand had replaced yours around his cock, “Like this baby, do it like this.” He said as he jerked his cock.

His other arm remained folded behind his head as he pumped his cock, his vibranium fingers glistening beneath the afternoon sunlight. Your eyes stayed on his hand the entire time, watching them move and squeeze and pump.

Witnessing Bucky pleasure himself put you in a trance, and you didn’t know how much you enjoyed it until now. His breathy chuckle snapped you out of your focus and it was then that you realized that Bucky noticed how you seemed to be enjoying the show.

“D’you like it when I touch myself?” He asked, his nose scrunching in pleasure when he slightly squeezed his shaft.

Words failed to make it out of your mouth and merely a moan came as a response. You eagerly nodded your head as you sat back against Bucky’s leg, rubbing your sopping cunt against it as you continued to watch him.

Bucky gave you a boyish grin before focusing back on pumping his cock fast. Veins on his neck began to bulge, his nostrils flared with every exhale— seeing Bucky like this almost felt like an invasion of his privacy, which even made you hornier.

“See what you do to me? Make me so fuckin’ hard every single time…especially with your tits out like that.” Bucky growled, his eyes trained on your breasts.

“Play with them, baby. Give those nipples a pinch for me, will ya?” Bucky asked breathlessly, his hand stopping at the base of his shaft to give it a slight squeeze.

Doing as told, you started playing with your nipples. Bucky let out a vocal moan as he watched you tweak your buds, pinching and twisting them playfully.

“God, fuck! So fucking hot, gonna make me cum so hard, baby.” Bucky hissed, jerking his cock faster.

“Look at me, baby. Want your eyes on me until I cum.” Bucky said, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth as he brought himself to his climax.

Bucky’s eyes were full of lust as he watched your face. Your breathing was rapid as you rubbed yourself against his leg slowly, leaving a trail of your wetness on his skin and sheets beneath him.

“So close, baby. Gonna cum so hard for you and then make you sit on my face. Want to eat that pussy out so bad, wanna make you cream all over my face.”

Even with just his words, you could feel your abdomen tighten. You wouldn’t even be surprised anymore if you’d explode right there and then.

Bucky’s hips started to thrust up from the bed, his mouth open agape as he kept his eyes on you the entire time.

His neck turned redder and his grunts grew louder, his vibranium arm began to shake from the intensity of his pace. Unable to hold back, you reached for his ballsack and gave it a squeeze, pushing him to the edge.

Bucky choked out a groan as he came, spurting ropes of his release all over his abdomen, coating his chest as well.

“Shit, fuck…” Bucky breathed out, letting go of his abused cock which was still erect.

Bucky collected some of his cum using vibranium fingers before bringing them up to your lips, smearing his release all over your mouth before letting you suck on his thumb.

“Got me so fucking crazy for you, baby.” Bucky chuckled, sitting up and giving you a quick peck on the lips.

You thought he needed time to rest when he laid back down, but before you could even move from your spot, Bucky had pulled you up to his face until your dripping cunt hovered above his mouth.

“And I’m just as crazy for this pussy.” He growled before pulling you down to sit on his face.

[thanksforallthesushi]

this was just..... perfect. felt like I was right there. thankfully.

[dailybruhl]

You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here? CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR (2016)

[barnesdjarin]

bucky barnes + dog tags 

bonus! :)